The claim that Genesis 1–2 is merely a plagiarized version of the Enuma Elish (you read the Enuma Elish here!) is as unfounded as it is reductive. While it is true that both texts originate in the ancient Near East and address the theme of creation, any honest comparison reveals that the differences far outweigh the superficial similarities. Far from borrowing or copying the Babylonian creation myth, Genesis presents a radically different theological vision that directly challenges the polytheistic and chaotic worldview of the Enuma Elish. Genesis 1–2 offers a unique and transformative perspective that stands apart as a revelation of a transcendent, sovereign God.
The Enuma Elish begins with a world born out of chaos, where primordial deities Apsu and Tiamat represent the chaotic waters. These gods give birth to other deities who eventually engage in violent conflict. Marduk, the chief Babylonian god, defeats Tiamat in battle, splits her body in two, and uses it to create the heavens and the earth. Humanity is later formed from the blood of a defeated god, fashioned to serve as slaves to the divine. The message is clear: creation is the result of violence, strife, and exploitation, and humanity exists to meet the needs of the gods.
Genesis, on the other hand, stands in direct opposition to this worldview. It opens with a calm and orderly act of creation: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth” (Genesis 1:1). There is no chaotic prelude of warring deities. Instead, there is one transcendent Creator who speaks the universe into existence. Genesis 1:3 declares, “Then God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.” God’s Word alone has the power to create—no violence, no conflict, no rivals. This foundational difference demonstrates that Genesis is not borrowing from the Enuma Elish but offering a completely different vision of reality.
The theology of Genesis further distances itself from the Enuma Elish in its treatment of humanity. In the Babylonian myth, humans are created as an afterthought, formed to perform menial labor for the gods. By contrast, Genesis 1:26-27 declares: “Then God said, ‘Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness; and let them rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over the cattle and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.’” Humanity is not an accident or a tool in Genesis; it is the pinnacle of creation, endowed with dignity and purpose. To claim that Genesis borrows from the Enuma Elish is to ignore the starkly different view of human value and vocation presented in the biblical account.
Another point of departure is the treatment of natural elements. In the Enuma Elish, the sun, moon, and stars are deities with their own agendas and powers. In Genesis, these celestial bodies are demythologized. They are described simply as creations of God, “great lights” to govern the day and the night (Genesis 1:16). This radical rejection of polytheism and idolatry underscores the monotheistic core of Genesis, presenting a Creator who is wholly distinct from His creation.
Perhaps the most profound theological contrast lies in the concept of the Sabbath. The Enuma Elish ends with the gods resting, but their rest is dependent on humans fulfilling their laborious tasks. Genesis, by contrast, elevates rest to a divine institution. Genesis 2:2-3 states: “By the seventh day God completed His work which He had done, and He rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had done. Then God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it.” God’s rest is not born out of need or dependence but is a model of completeness and sanctity. The Sabbath is a gift to humanity, a reminder of God’s provision and the inherent value of rest and worship. There is no parallel in the Enuma Elish to this profound theological insight.
Critics who claim that Genesis plagiarized the Enuma Elish often point to the shared motif of creation from watery chaos. However, even here, the differences are striking. In the Enuma Elish, the waters are personified deities locked in combat. In Genesis, the “formless and void” waters are inert, subject entirely to God’s command. Genesis transforms what might have been a shared cultural motif into a declaration of God’s sovereignty over all things, including the forces of chaos.
The idea that Genesis 1–2 is merely a derivative of the Enuma Elish ignores the overwhelming theological and literary distinctions that set these texts apart. Genesis is not a plagiarized myth but a polemic against the pagan worldviews of its time. It presents a transcendent, singular Creator who brings order out of chaos, creates humanity with purpose and dignity, and establishes a rhythm of work and rest that reflects His holy character. Far from borrowing, Genesis 1–2 subverts and redeems the ancient Near Eastern worldview, offering a vision of creation that has shaped the Judeo-Christian tradition for millennia. To suggest otherwise is to misunderstand both texts and miss the profound theological depth of the biblical creation narrative.
