The Egyptians of pharaonic times thought a great deal about their mortality – about death and the afterlife – all of which makes them very much like many people of today. And the person of today who wants to understand more about ancient Egyptian beliefs regarding death and the afterlife would do well to read The Egyptian Book of the Dead.
Throughout its history, the influence of the Book of the Dead has been considerable, particularly as it was translated by the well-known Egyptologist E.A. Wallis Budge in 1899. As fellow Egyptologist John Romer explains in a helpful foreword, Wallis Budge, who came from humble antecedents and was largely self-educated, alienated the older generation of Egyptologists by his Johnny-come-lately presumptuousness. In later years, Wallis Budge’s work has been denounced by many modern Egyptologists for what they see as his “gentleman amateur” approach – a lack, they feel, of professionalism and scholarly rigour.
And yet Wallis Budge, for all his many detractors (including James Spader’s character from the 1994 movie Stargate -- “Wallis Budge! Why do they keep reprinting him?”), remains the go-to Egyptologist for many; and it is his translation that Penguin Books chose for this 2008 reprinting of The Egyptian Book of the Dead as part of their Penguin Classics series. Why is that?
Perhaps, Romer suggests, because Wallis Budge’s use of Biblically inflected cadences conveys to the modern English-speaking reader what a sacred thing it would have been, for a person of ancient Egypt, to encounter and read the spells or “chapters” that make up this text. This particular translation, as Romer explains, has had enormous resonance within Western culture, influencing everything from James Joyce’s experimental novel Finnegans Wake (1939) to Philip Glass’s opera Akhnaten (1983), and even some of the lyrics of rock musician Jim Morrison from The Doors.
This edition of The Egyptian Book of the Dead benefits from including not only Romer’s modern foreword but also Wallis Budge’s original introduction. And that is most fortunate, because, for all the negative reactions that Wallis Budge has evoked among Egyptologists from his time to ours, he knew a lot about pharaonic Egypt, and does well at helping modern readers to understand the complexity of the ancient Egyptian religion.
For example, it is important at the outset to understand that the Egyptian concept of the soul is much more complex than what most readers might be used to. For Aristotle, the soul (the psyche or Ψυχῆ) is that which gives a living thing life and awareness and the motivation to keep on living; in most branches of Christianity, it is the immortal spiritual part of a human being that leaves the body at death but will be reunited with a resurrected body at the Last Judgment. But what is the soul for an Egyptian from the time of the pharaohs?
As Wallis Budge takes some pains to explain, it’s complicated. The nine parts of a human being included, among others things, the khat or physical body; the ka, the spiritual double to the physical body; the ba or “heart-soul”; the khaibit or “shadow”; the khu or spiritual soul; the sahu, the spiritual body or habitation of the soul; and the sekhem, the power or vital force animating a human being. Confused yet? As the spells or chapters of the Book of the Dead use these terms with considerable frequency, it may help you to familiarize yourself with all of these terms, in all their nuance and difficulty, before you move forward into the book proper.
Conscientious to a fault, Wallis Budge even provides the reader with a précis for each and every chapter of the Book of the Dead. These chapter summaries provide the reader with a helpful sense of the great Egyptologist’s own impressions of the text, as when Wallis Budge writes of Chapter 125 that “This Chapter is one of the most interesting and remarkable in the Book of the Dead, and it illustrates the lofty moral and spiritual conceptions of the Egyptians in the XVIIIth Dynasty” (p. cciii).
And indeed, this chapter is most informative for the modern reader, as it provides what Egyptologists call the “Negative Confession,” in which the recently deceased person, upon arrival in the underworld, assures 42 gods (!) that he or she has not committed any of 38 listed sins (!!). With regard to some of these sins, the citizen of the modern world may feel relatively safe telling the gods, for example, that he or she “had not stolen the offerings in the temple…or cut the bank of a canal” (pp. cciv-ccv). But when it comes to certifying that one “had not committed fornication” (p. cciv) – well, suffice it to say that not all people of modern times may be able to provide that assurance quite so easily.
After all of this conscientious introducing and “forewording,” it is finally time to get on to the Book of the Dead itself. Wallis Budge’s above-mentioned use of Biblical diction emphasizes how sacred texts from religions around the world often offer similar assurances that God, or the gods, will provide divine justice to an often unjust world – as when one of the texts in Chapter 17, from the Papyrus of Ani, states that the hawk-headed god Horus “bestoweth wickedness on him that worketh wickedness, and right and truth upon him that followeth righteousness and truth” (pp. 104-05).
The spells or chapters in the Book of the Dead have the shared goal of helping the recently deceased person successfully negotiate the complexities and challenges of the afterlife. The ancient Egyptians themselves would have known this book as The Book of Coming Forth by Day; and Chapter 64, “The Chapter of Coming Forth by Day,” is characteristic in the way in which the worshiper appeals to the sun god Ra regarding his or her prospects in the afterlife: “Make thou thy roads glad for me, and make broad for me thy paths when I shall set out from earth for the life in the celestial regions. Send forth thy light upon me, O Soul unknown, for I am [one] of those who are about to enter in, and the divine speech is in my ears in the Tuat [the underworld]” (p. 212).
A reader of the Bible might see, in passages like that one, parallels with the ways in which King David appeals to God in the Psalms. And when Chapter 151 stipulates that “The great god…leadeth thee along the path of happiness, and sepulchral meals are bestowed upon thee; he overthroweth for thee [all] thine enemies, and setteth them under thee” (p. 507), I could not help but think of Psalm 23 in particular: “He leadeth me beside the still waters….[H]e leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies…my cup runneth over.”
Biblical parallels may emerge even more forcefully for some readers once they get to Chapter 125. Remember the “Negative Confession,” in which the aspirant to the Egyptian afterlife swears to 42 gods that he or she is innocent of 38 different sins? Well, that is followed by an “Address to the Gods,” in which the recently deceased person tells the gods of the good things that he or she has done – “I have given bread to the hungry man, and water to the thirsty man, and apparel to the naked man” (p. 372). This passage immediately calls to mind the “Judgment of the Nations” passage from Chapter 25 of Saint Matthew’s Gospel – “For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in; Naked, and ye clothed me…”
Christian theologians like to speculate about what are called “Jesus’ lost years” – the time between the finding of the lost child Jesus in the Temple (about age 12) and the beginning of Jesus’ ministry (approximately age 30). Could Jesus of Nazareth have traveled to Egypt during the “lost years”? Could Jesus as a young man have paid a visit to the Library of Alexandria, read the Book of the Dead there? Interesting to wonder about.
There are, of course, major differences between the religion of pharaonic Egypt on the one hand and the major religions of the modern world on the other. In the Book of the Dead, there are many invocations like this invocation to the sun-god Ra in Chapter 133, from the Papyrus of Nu: “[W]hen the gods who dwell in the heavens see the Osiris Nu…triumphant, they ascribe unto him as his due praises which are like unto those ascribed unto Ra. The Osiris Nu…is a divine prince” (p. 401). Nu, for the record, was the scribe Hunefer, and the “Papyrus of Nu” is simply his personal copy of the Book of the Dead scrolls (as the Papyrus of Ani was Ani’s own copy), to be recited by his household on his behalf after his death. Nu's and Ani's papyri are simply among the most complete of the Book of the Dead scrolls, and therefore the most helpful for modern scholarship and understanding. Neither Ani nor Nu was a “divine” pharaoh.
What, therefore, is the meaning of these references to “the Osiris Nu” as someone who is “divine,” who deserves the same sorts of praises that are offered to Ra? Recall that Osiris is the murdered-and-resurrected god who presides over the world of the dead. So, does Nu, or Ani, become Osiris? Does an ordinary human being become divine? In Judaism or Christianity or Islam, such ideas would be blasphemous. In pharaonic Egypt, perhaps they were par for the course.
The Book of the Dead reveals much regarding pharaonic Egyptian society, including the culture’s class biases. Chapter 190 on “Making Perfect the Khu within Ra” includes an endnote to the effect that “This book is indeed a very great mystery; and thou shalt never allow those who dwell in the papyrus swamps of the Delta (i.e., ignorant folk) or any person whatsoever to see it” (p. 644).
It would seem, therefore, that the joys of the Egyptian afterlife – e.g., riding across the sky every day in the chariot of Ra the sun god – are reserved for the wealthy. If you’re a scribe like Nu or Ani – someone wealthy and well-connected, with a good education and ties to the royal house – then you can afford your own copy of the Book of the Dead, and you can afford for your family to recite all these spells and make all these sacrifices on your behalf after you’re gone. But if you’re one of the “ignorant folk” living in the Delta papyrus swamps, it sounds as though you’re out of luck.
I read The Egyptian Book of the Dead while traveling in Egypt. Taking a cruise boat down the Nile, seeing the tombs in the Valley of the Kings and the Valley of the Queens, stopping at pharaonic temple complexes like Philae and Luxor, I imagined how often, at these sacred sites of the kingdom, the spells from this book were recited for the nobility of ancient Egypt – people like the king’s-lieutenant Yuya and his noble wife Thuya, whose amazingly well-preserved mummies are the center of an exhibit on the second floor of the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. Anyone who wants to gain an understanding of the religion, society, and culture of ancient Egypt should make a point of seeking out the Book of the Dead.