see that the gods are not infallible and do make mistakes. For example, when Enlil causes the flood, Ea criticizes him for doing so, questioning how such a hero could make such a mistake (Gilgamesh 541). The gods, meanwhile, are aware of their own foibles—like the humans, they were frightened by the flood when they realized what they had done.

The relationship between humanity and the divine in this poem, then, is a symbiotic one in which, unlike in many other poems from polytheistic societies, humans are as important a part of the overall balance as the gods are, because neither is infallible or self-sufficient. 

Although the Epic of Gilgamesh was not a theological work per se, it reflects many of the religious beliefs of its period, allowing the reader to infer many things about how people related to their gods in ancient Mesopotamia.

First, it shows a polytheistic religion in which the gods often disagree among themselves about issues concerning mortals. The gods are anthropomorphic and interbreed with mortals, with some mortals having partially divine ancestry. The gods are more powerful than mortals, but they are still similar in nature to humans in character, prone to favoritism and prejudice, just like powerful human rulers. Humans fear the anger of gods due to this power but also try hard to curry favor with the gods to benefit from the gods' power. 

Another quality of the relationship is one described in Latin as "do ut des" or "I give that you might give." Humanity's relationship with the divine is often portrayed as a form of favor exchange.

Kings are shown as having a duty to mediate between the divine and the human, creating and enforcing laws that reflect divine will. Thus kings are expected to be just; Gilgamesh's behavior at the beginning of the book is outrageous precisely because it violates this duty.

In the Epic of Gilgamesh, humanity and the divine are inextricably intertwined. The gods repeatedly intervene in the lives of men when their actions make them angry, and Gilgamesh himself is part divine. What is more, the gods are associated with physical places and people, for whom they act as patrons. Shamash is Gilgamesh's patron, for example, and Anu takes care of the town of Uruk.

The gods, like those in Greek mythology, are constantly scheming and plotting against each other, and people are often the unwitting victims, caught up in these mighty struggles. Likewise, they often hold humans collectively responsible for the offenses of just one person. When Gilgamesh spurns the goddess Ishtar's amorous advances, for example, she persuades her parents to unleash a divine bull on Uruk. 

In addition, the famous Flood itself, noted for its similarity to the Noahic story from the Old Testament, is the result of wrathful gods, angry, essentially, that mankind is too loud and clamorous. Only Utnapishtim, warned ahead of time by the goddess Ea to "take up into [a] boat the seed of all living creatures," survives with his family. Utnapishtim is rewarded with immortality for his exertions. The relationship between mortals and gods, therefore, is often contentious, and those who have not been chosen as favorites by the deities are condemned to suffer.

This passage from the Epic of Gilgamesh explores the universal human fear of death. In the passage, Gilgamesh tells his story to an alewife—essentially an ancient version of a bartender—who comments on Gilgamesh’s "wasted cheeks” and “dejected” appearance. In response, Gilgamesh rants about his sadness at the death of his best friend and the sudden realization of his mortality.

The close relationship between Enkidu and Gilgamesh is evident as Gilgamesh laments his friend’s fate to the alewife. After briefly reminiscing about the time he had spent with Enkidu, Gilgamesh bemoans that something as common as illness, the “fate of mortals,” had killed his friend. In a textbook case of denial, Gilgamesh confides that he refused to allow Enkidu’s body to be buried,

until a worm fell from his nose.

Up until this gruesome moment, Gilgamesh’s friendship with Enkidu provided meaning. With the warmth and comfort of Enkidu’s friendship forever erased, Gilgamesh is left aimless and lacks purpose. This importance of relationships is universally applicable to most human experience. The family relationships and friendships formed during a lifetime are often the measures of a life’s worth.

In addition to sorrow and grief, Enkidu’s death brings an overwhelming sense of terror and foreboding into Gilgamesh’s psyche. He tells the alewife,

I am afraid of death.

This fear of inevitable death is what drives Gilgamesh to wander in a futile search for immortality. In desperation and despair, a tortured Gilgamesh utters the most famous lines of the poem,

Enkidu, my friend whom I love has turned to clay.
Am I not like him? Must I lie down to,
Never to rise, ever again?

The existential nature of this 5,000-year-old story reveals that humans have always feared death and sought to forestall the inevitable. Humans don’t want to die; all of us will. Gilgamesh’s tortured inner conflict plays out, in some form, in all humans as we struggle to come to terms with meaning, reality, and our mortality.