Language, Wisdom, and the Divine Punishment of Babel
1. The Word as Power
Since the dawn of time, language has been far more than a tool of communication. It was a symbol of dominion, revelation, and creative force. Ancient cultures understood: the Word was magic. To name was to shape reality, and a word well-spoken could create—or destroy.
Within this awareness lies the eternal conflict between the Tower, symbol of mankind’s ascent toward divine knowledge, and the Serpent, emblem of forbidden wisdom, exiled to shadows, proscribed yet eternal.
2. Babel: Myth or Deliberate Sabotage?
According to the biblical account, the Tower of Babel was a punishment for human audacity in reaching heaven. Fearing unity, the gods confused their tongues and scattered the nations. But what if this was not myth, but memory? What if linguistic diversity was not a natural evolution, but a calculated fracture—an act of sabotage to sever humanity’s access to the original code of knowledge?
3. Elengoa: The Root Tongue of Humanity
This is where Alexandre Eleazar introduces Elengoa, a primordial tongue older than Hebrew, spoken by the ancient Iberians. According to Eleazar, this language preserved the very key to the architecture of the universe—the sacred symbols, the relationship between humanity and the divine. It was not merely language; it was a sacred science and a spiritual instrument.
Elengoa was structured on numerical, phonetic, and symbolic values, where every word held constellations of meaning. Yet this tongue, Eleazar claimed, was fragmented and suppressed by the elites who rewrote history. Its destruction was no accident—it was meant to ensure that the great mysteries remained sealed within the bloodlines of the initiated.
4. The War of the Word: Enki and Enlil
In parallel, Zecharia Sitchin offers another account: the Anunnaki divided humanity not only through kingship but also through language. In Sumerian tablets, the god Enki—serpent, wisdom-bearer, rebel—bestows language and writing upon mankind. Enki is opposed by Enlil, god of order, repression, and divine punishment. The war of the gods was also a war of the Word.
Thus, language was never given freely; it was a weapon of control, reserved for the chosen, while the masses remained in ignorance.
5. Why was Elengoa Destroyed?
- Because its numeric and phonetic structure revealed the hidden bonds between the microcosm of man and the macrocosm of the heavens.
- Because it united rather than divided ancient peoples.
- Because it was a channel of transmission that required no priestly nor political intermediaries.
- Because, in the hands of the people, it would have broken centuries of manipulation and servitude.
6. The Wound of the Word: A Spiritual War
The fragmentation of language was not merely historical—it was an act of war against collective consciousness. Once the common tongue was broken, humanity lost its capacity to interpret universal symbols. The pyramids, the calendars, the alphabets, and the myths became ruins incomprehensible to most, while only the initiated lineages preserved the keys.
Today, the resurgence of interest in sacred languages, geometry, numerology, and cosmology is a sign: the Serpent is stirring again. The Tower, symbol of centralized power, trembles. And in this awakening, voices arise—like Sitchin and Eleazar—reminding us that language is not only memory, but weapon, map, and promise.
7. Archetypal Echoes of the Serpent
The archetype repeats itself across civilizations:
- Prometheus, bearer of fire.
- Lucifer, the light-bringer.
- Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent.
- Nagas and Ophidian deities, guardians of hidden wisdom.
Always persecuted, always condemned, always whispering the truth forbidden to kings.
The Tower stands for oblivion. The Serpent endures as living memory.
Babel was not merely a story; it was the first great supply-chain attack on reality.
When language collapses, time collapses: cause and effect blur, calendars desynchronize, promises lose weight. The Tower (centralized order) grows taller as people forget how to speak together; the Serpent (living memory) withdraws underground.
To heal, we do not topple the Tower—we rewire it with the Serpent’s code.
We restore sound to symbol, geometry to meaning, biology to prayer, and calendars to justice. The Eight becomes one instrument again. The Word regains coherence. And with it, Time.
CHSFS
They rose with pride,
seeking heaven,
forgetting earth,
the root, the blood.
They believed the sky was destiny,
but saw no reflection,
where the Word was born above,
not from clay below.
Silence reigned for centuries,
to preserve the illusion.
But now it moves.
It coils in symbols,
trembles beneath the stones,
whispers through dreams:
“He who dares to know
must not fear the descent.
He who dares to awaken
must recall what was forbidden to name.”
And I understood:
the Tower was forgetfulness.
The Serpent—
living memory.
M.C.