By Harald Strohm
Like Hegel and Nietzsche before him, Plato already saw in Zoroaster a figure of unique world-historical significance; and like them, the ancient Athenian flirted with the idea that he himself was a kind of reincarnated Zoroaster. Not only in his Iranian homeland was Zoroaster a central figure in intellectual and religious history for at least twelve centuries until the Arabian conquest and Islamization of the country. His influences on Judaism and Christianity, though often disputed, are overall quite probable; the same applies to his influence on the Greek intellectual world. And last but not least, much of Zoroaster's teaching lived on in the diverse currents of Gnosticism; it often continues to do so to this day.
Zoroaster was (alongside Akhenaten) the first to proclaim a rigorous monotheism combined with a claim to exclusive truth. He was the first to interpret world history as a linear process and, at the same time, as a permanent war between the powers of good and evil. And he was the first to prophesy a cosmic trial by fire for the end times of world history, in which all evil and all evildoers would be finally destroyed in favor of his—the true—religion...
Detailed insights into Zoroaster's religion were first made possible by the young Frenchman Abraham Hyacinthe Anquetil-Duperron. In 1754, he set out for the largest remaining community of Zoroastrianism: the Parsis in Bombay. "A few books, two shirts, and a pair of socks," it is said, "were his only luggage." Anquetil brought home the Avesta, a collection of predominantly Zoroastrian writings, as well as the initial knowledge required to decipher them.
Research took its course. It was a fortunate coincidence that, parallel to and closely interwoven with the first Avesta studies, the new linguistic science of Indo-European studies made rapid progress. As a result, it soon became apparent that the oldest textual layer of India, the poems of the Rigveda, was closely related to an identifiably ancient layer of the Avesta: the so-called Gathas, seventeen "singing stanzas" which, although largely misunderstood, remain sacred to the Parsis today.
In the course of deciphering the less recalcitrant Rigveda, the content of those Gathas could soon at least be surmised: the Gathas speak of a concrete historical person, a prophet filled with religious zeal, anger, and military fantasies. Initially unpopular and rejected, he came under the protection of a local ruler named Vishtaspa at around the age of forty and was henceforth able to freely proclaim his visions of the one true God and the permanent war between good and evil.
In short: the poet of these Gathas was none other than that legendary ancient Iranian prophet himself, a priest from the Spitama lineage, whose name "Zarathushtra" probably meant "he of the aging camels"—and who only received the now-familiar form "Zarathustra" from Nietzsche. It is now generally assumed that he lived around 1000 BC.
There are no Nobel Prizes intended for the immeasurable diligence and scientific ingenuity that the decryption of these unique and politically persistently volatile texts requires to this day. Mastering the precise linguistic "finger-play" and the trained, fine ear for the poetic possibilities of long-lost languages are always the most important reward and laurel here. That they were sufficient is evidenced by the writings of F. Carl Andreas and Paul Thieme, of Karl Hoffmann and Mary Boyce, and also those of the "youngest" in this circle: Helmut Humbach, 88, whose book on Zarathustra and his antagonists was recently published.
The first part of the book is a tour through Humbach's linguistic laboratory, the most prominent in modern Gatha research. In it, Humbach primarily refers to the different written and linguistic traditions, his intimate knowledge of which enabled him to gain new insights time and again. After opening his tool cabinets, Humbach then leads us to his workbench and shows his latest pieces. One is the translation of the word "Graehma." Zarathustra was always harsh in his judgment of opponents of other faiths. He called them "liars," one he considered a "sodomite," and he mocked their cultic drink as "piss."
The designation "Graehma" remained problematic for a long time. F. C. Andreas and Lommel translated it as "sacrifice-devourers." Humbach now shows, however, that the Old Indian and Greek relatives of the word point to the Avestan meaning "grass, hay." And this has not only further grammatical considerations in its favor. It also makes immediate sense when one considers what the word "grass" is obviously used for again today: for hashish. Humbach therefore replaces "sacrifice-devourers" with "grass-gang" and renders a corresponding passage of the Gathas as: "... the priest of lies prefers [stoning/pot] to being truthful."
In the second part of the volume, Humbach's latest research results are incorporated into a new complete translation of the Gathas, his third after those of 1959 and 1991. Produced with the active support of his colleague Klaus Faiss, it will in all likelihood remain the standard for years; in professional circles anyway—and one would wish, in the public interest, not only there.
Book reviewed: Helmut Humbach and Klaus Faiss: Zarathushtra and His Antagonists, A Sociolinguistic Study with English and German Translations of His Gathas. Reichert, Wiesbaden 2010. 216 pp., € 69.–.
Article appeared in: Neue Zürcher Zeitung; 22.12.2010 Link to article: https://www.nzz.ch/wider_die_kiffenden_luegenpriester-ld.959944