June 18, 2007
GOVERNATOR: "Turn Off the Spanish Television Set"
(Jimmy Akin)
There are a lot of things I disagree with Arnold Schwarzenegger about--from abortion to immigration--but he was dead-on recently when he indicated the best way to learn a language.
EXCERPT:
Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger told a gathering of Hispanic journalists that immigrants should avoid Spanish-language media if they want to learn English quickly.
"You've got to turn off the Spanish television set," the Republican governor said Wednesday night at the annual convention of the National Association of Hispanic Journalists. "It's that simple. You've got to learn English.
"I know this sounds odd and this is the politically incorrect thing to say and I'm going to get myself in trouble," he said. "But I know that when I came to this country, I very rarely spoke German to anyone."
Now telling a group of Hispanic journalists that Latinos should avoid media produced in Spanish was bound to provoke reaction, and it did:
"I'm sitting shaking my head not believing that someone would be so naive and out of it that he would say something like that," said Alex Nogales, president and chief executive of the National Hispanic Media Coalition, who called the remarks "preposterous."
Nogales said Schwarzenegger must have forgotten the challenges of being an immigrant in the United States. Hispanic immigrants need Spanish-language media to stay informed and "function in this society," he said.
"That doesn't mean they are going to sit there," he said. "They are also going to learn English in the meantime."
I'm sorry, but it's Mr. Nogales that is naive and out of it. You will have greater success in a country if you can speak the local language, and you will learn the language faster and better if you use a total immersion methodology, which means denying yourself access to material in languages you already speak. The more time you force yourself to spend interacting with the local langauge, and the less you use your native language as a crutch, the better you will learn the new language. Period.
To the extent Spanish-speakers--or speakers of any language (English included)--allow themselves to have recourse to their native language, it will slow their acquisition of a new one. Every hour a person spends watching TV in their native language is an hour that they're not spending watching TV in the language they're trying to learn, or studying the language formally, or talking to people who speak the new language. It hinders their ability to think in the new language, which is essential for language mastery.
Slowing (or stagnating) your acquisition of the language of the local environment is precisely what will cause one to have problems trying to "function in this society."
The longer you don't know the local language, the longer your ability to function in the society will be limited, leaving you more vulnerable and exploitable by those who do know the local language. Getting the local language down is key to personal empowerment and the ability to succeed in a society.
The course recommended by Mr. Nogales would prolong and intensify the struggles that native Spanish-speakers in the U.S. have, potentially (especially for those who are here illegally) putting them or keeping them in situations of exploitation and danger.
If I relocated to a non-English speaking country, one of my highest priorities would be learning the local language as fast as possible, and the way for me to do that would be to spend as much time functioning in the new language as possible, denying myself the crutch of English at every possible opportunity.
Once I'd mastered the new language, I could indulge myself by reading English language newspapers or watching English language television or listening to English language music or reading English Internet sites, but during the crucial period of language acquisition, I'd avoid English as much as possible.
This is not a matter of identity politics; it's a matter of how humans learn languages.
Posted by Jimmy Akin in Languages | Permalink | Comments (120)
February 09, 2007
The Our Father In Aramaic
(Jimmy Akin)
Yesterday there was a caller on the show who wanted to know about finding the Our Father in Aramaic. I mentioned that it's found in the Pshitta, an Aramaic translation of Scripture, and it's also available online. Unfortunately, the address of the site I had was too long, so I promised to put it up on the blog this morning.
Unfortunately, after the show, a closer inspection of the site showed it to be kooky to the extreme. The translation they gave of the Aramaic into English was completely wrong, so I decided just to print the text of the Lord's Prayer in Aramaic.
First, though, here's an audio file of it (.wav format):
After doing a little digging around, I found the following nice image, which contains the prayer in English and the Aramaic alphabet, with an Aramaic pronounciation also. Bear in mind that the English and the Aramaic pronunciation runs left-to-right, while the Aramaic script itself runs right-to-left.
Also bear in mind that the pronunciation the prayer is given in Aramaic will vary from one group of speakers to another, based on accent. For example, the first word of the Lord's prayer in Aramaic is Abun, which will be pronounced by some groups as "Ah-boon," others as "Ah-woon," and still others (as in the transliteration below) as "Ah-voon."
Click to enlarge.
One word of warning about the above: What's on the Aramaic transliteration line doesn't always match up to exactly what's on the English line. Because of word division and length, the lines don't match up exactly. For example, on the third line from the bottom in the Aramaic column, you'll see the word Malkutha ("Mal-koo-tha"), which means "Kingdom," but Kingdom is on the fourth line from the bottom in the English column.
I can't go through the whole prayer line by line right now, but some folks might find it interesting to understand a little of how the language works.
The prayer is often called the Abun Dbashmaya in Aramaic, which are its first two words. This is similar to the way we call it the Our Father after it's first two words. But in Aramaic "Abun Dbashmaya" means more than just "Our Father."
The "Our Father" part of it is just the first word: Abun. As you know, one of the Aramaic words for "father" (there are actually several variants) is Abba, which is just spelled ABA in Aramaic (it being understood that the B reduplicates in pronunciation).
In Aramaic, pronouns often take the form of suffixes on the ends of words, and the suffix -un is a pronoun suffix that means "our." When you stick -un on Abba, you get "Abun," meaning "Our Father."
The Aramaic word for "heaven" is shmaya, and you can see that in the second word of the prayer. The prefix b- (sometimes followed by a vowel, sometimes not) is the Aramaic equivalent of "in" (remember the in/on discussion we had recently?), so bashmaya means "in heaven." And the prefix d- is the Aramaic equivalent of "who," "which," or "that." Dbashmaya thus means "who (is) in heaven." (Aramaic sometimes omits the verb "to be," as it does here.)
Thus you can see how "Abun dbashmaya" translates as "Our Father, who art in heaven."
Cool, huh?
Posted by Jimmy Akin in Languages | Permalink | Comments (38)
December 05, 2006
A Public Service Announcement
(SDG)
SDG here with an important public service announcement:
Please Note:
Prophecy is a noun — not a verb. It is pronounced "prof-e-see" — not "prof-e-sigh."
Prophesy is a verb — not a noun. It is pronounced "prof-e-sigh" — not "prof-e-see."
Prophesize, also spelled prophecize, is not a word. Do not pronounce it.
Thank you.
(P.S. Feel free to note additional public service announcement in the combox.)
Posted by SDG in Languages | Permalink | Comments (126)
August 16, 2006
Latin-Speaking Guy Or Gal Needed!
(Jimmy Akin)
I'm seeking someone who speaks Latin well to help me out on something.
As part of an effort to be of service to the broader Catholic community, I'm trying to translate a number of documents that generally aren't available in English and that aren't likely to receive an official translation.
What I need, though, is someone to look over my shoulder and nitpick what I'm doing, because I want the translations to be as good as possible.
This AIN'T a secret project, though, so I can tell you exactly what I'm doing:
At the moment, I've got a translation I did of the old Rite of Excommunication and Absolution, by which a bishop would impose and rescind the sentence of anathema on a person.
It seemed to me that translating the rite would provide a tangible demonstration that a lot of what you hear about the meaning of anathemas is simply wrong. They aren't sentences to hell. They aren't things that take effect automatically. They were a special kind of excommunication that had to be applied with a special ceremony by the bishop and that were meant to prompt repentence (so they were lifted when the person repented). As a result, they almost never were applied to Protestants since Protestants made no pretense of being part of the Catholic community. When Trent said things like, "If anyone says X, let him be anathema" that meant basically "If anyone claiming to be Catholic says X then let him be ceremonially excommunicated" not "We hereby damn all Protestants to hell."
So it seems to me that this document would be a useful thing to have in English but, because it's no longer used as the penalty of anathema has been abolished in canon law (Surprise! Anathemas also no longer exist!) it's not likely to get officially translated by anybody.
So I did it.
It's about 1400 words long in Latin and a similar (slightly longer) number of words in English. I've got it in a Word-readable document with the Latin and English in facing columns, lined up so that it's easy to read one paragraph in Latin and then the same thing in English.
If you have significant Latin skills and would be willing to nitpick the translation for me, I'd really appreciate it!
Also, this is a one-time deal without a long-term commitment. I won't come bugging you to nitpick future documents I translate.
Thanks much, and lemme know by combox or e-mail if you'd be willing to help!
Posted by Jimmy Akin in Languages | Permalink | Comments (15)
May 22, 2006
Sen. Reid's "Racism"
(Jimmy Akin)
According to the Washington Times:
Senate Minority Leader Harry Reid called a proposal to make English the official language "racist" on the Senate floor [Thursday].
"This amendment is racist. I think it's directed basically to people who speak Spanish," the Democrat said during the already tense debate over immigration reform.
Moments later, the Senate approved the measure on a 63-34 vote. Virtually all Republicans were joined by 11 Democrats to approve the largely symbolic amendment. Immediately following that vote, the Senate approved a second amendment, declaring on a 58-39 vote that English is the "common and unifying language."
It comes as little surprise that as the Senate head of a party specializing in identity politics, Senator Reid would attempt to play the race card to get his way in Congress, but isn't this particular card getting rather worn?
There was a time--in the wake of the Civil Rights Movement and the numerous injustices that it served to correct--that the accusation of racism was a potent thing, and playing the race card could be a powerful instrument for altering the state of a discussion.
But the race card has been played so often--and so inaccurately--that it's getting rather worn and easy to spot as part of a political bluff (to keep with the card playing metaphor for a moment).
False accusations of racism have been made so frequently (as, for example, by Congresswoman Cynthia McKinney) that the potency of the racism charge is diluting. People no longer reflexivly assume that when the charge is made that it must be based on truth because those making the allegation have so over-used it that the situation has begun to resemble "The Boy Who Cried 'Wolf!'"
Particularly noteworthy is Sen. Reid's accusation that a move to declare English the official language of the nation to be "racist" on the grounds that it is "directed basically to people who speak Spanish."
For a speaker of contemporary, 21st century English, this may leave one scratching one's head: "What does race have to do with language? They're completely separate. People of any race can speak any language that they choose to learn. This charge makes no sense."
It would have made a little more sense in the 18th century, when the term "race" still had more of its original meaning, which was to refer to a family, tribe, culture, or nation, such that one could speak of "the English race" or "the French race" or "the German race" or "the Spanish [meaning: 'from Spain'] race," but that usage has been virtually lost from contemporary English.
As a result of the history of racism in the English-speaking world, the term "race" has changed to refer in normal speech to particular genetic backgrounds associated principally with skin color.
Given that change in meaning, language simply has nothing to do with race because people of every genetic background have the same basic language genes and can speak any language they choose to learn. Saying, "In this country the official language is English (or Spanish or Mandarin or Swahili or Arabic or Hebrew or Russian or what have you)" has nothing to do with a person's genes and thus has nothing to do with race.
People of every race can speak every language, as illustrated by the fact that there are already millions of Americans of every race who are native English speakers.
Now, you'll note something interesting about the 18th century use of the word "race": in examples like "the English race," "the French race," "the German race," and so on the distinguishing terms ("English," "French," "German") are also the names of languages.
There's a very good reason for that: Language is one of the most fundamental aspects of culture--arguably the most fundamental aspect of culture--and so people who are members of a common nation and its culture tend to share a common language.
It is not easy to maintain a nation that does not share a common language. If you don't believe that, look at Canada.
If people don't share a common language then from an important perspective they simply aren't part of the same culture because they can't talk to each other and thus can't participate to any significant degree in common cultural life.
Nations that don't have a common language thus fail to have a common culture. What they have instead are different, sharply-defined cultures within them which are separated by linguistic barriers. This leads to friction between the language communities and to identity politics.
Sen. Reid's refusal to endorse the idea of English as the common language in America thus would have the tendency to foster more identity politics and more friction between groups in American society.
Whether you want to call that "racism" or not, it's something that we don't need.
Posted by Jimmy Akin in Languages | Permalink | Comments (38)
February 03, 2006
Language Questions
(Jimmy Akin)
A reader writes:
A few quick questions:
1) Is the only difference between classical latin and ecclesiastical latin the pronunciation?
No. Ecclesiastical Latin also has vocabulary that classical Latin doesn't (esp. biblical and theological terms). The grammar and syntax are also a little different. For example, ecclesiastical Latin has a tendency to use prepositions where classical Latin would rely on cases alone. This makes ecclesiastical Latin easier for English-speakers since we are used to using prepositions rather than cases.
2) I know there are at least three different versions of the Vulgate floating around currently . . . is there a particular version/edition you recommend? I checked out a version of the Vatican's edition of the 'Nova Vulgata' and it has absolutely no footnotes, introductions, etc., so I'm looking for something a bit different . . .
I'm afraid that I don't have a special recommendation, here. I tend to use the Neo-Vulgate because it's available for free, in electronic form, on the Vatican's web site. (HERE.) I've seen a nice edition of the Vulgate NT with the Greek NT on the facing page, but with my preference for electronic formats (makes it easier when I'm writing), I haven't bothered getting one. (And, unfortunately, I don't have the name of it, though Googling should turn it up.)
3) Similar question for the Septuagint . . . what edition should I pick up?
Same kind of answer as before. I don't really have a recommendation. Almost any edition of the Septuagint will suffice for most purposes. Unless you're doing someting of a scholarly nature, it really doesn't matter which edition of the Vulgate or the Septuagint you use. Neither are original-language versions of the Bible, and if you're just wanting them for language study or personal Bible study or for writing non-academic articles then any edition will work well.
Readers are welcome to share their favorite editions in the combox, though.
Posted by Jimmy Akin in Languages | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBack
January 17, 2006
Amabo Te
(Jimmy Akin)
Down yonder some folks were asking about a Latin equivalent for "please" and someone wrote:
Doesn't Latin have "amabo te"? That's what I learned, anyhow...
Another person then wrote:
This subject was discussed before on JA.O, and I also asked about "amabo te." I think Jimmy said it wasn't really used that much.
I don't recall saying that "amabo te" isn't used much, though that's certainly true in prayers. One reason why may be that--I am given to understand--"amabo te" is considered distinctive of women's speech, but most prayers in Church historically have been lead by and composed for men.
The fundamental thing, though, is that "amabo te" is not a particle, the way "please" is. "Amabo te" is an idiomatic phrase used to express entreaty, but not a particle of entreaty. Literally, "amabo te" means "I will love you."
Every language has ways of expressing entreaty, but in some languages (like English) we have a particle we do it with and in other languages (like Latin) they have a phrase (or other devices) they do it with.
Also, I don't know that it's a very Christian sentiment to use "amabo te" in prayers.
I for one would feel *even less polite* saying to God "I will love you if you do this for me" or "Do this for me and I will love you."
I want to love God whether he does it for me or not.
To a native Latin speaker "amabo te" might possibly have lost its literal resonance (the way "roll out the red carpet" has lost its literal resonance for most native English speakers), but I'm not a native Latin speaker, and putting "amabo te" in prayers I say in Latin would totally call attention to its literal meaning in my mind.
Translating it literally into English prayers would be even worse.
Posted by Jimmy Akin in Languages | Permalink | Comments (13) | TrackBack
January 10, 2006
"Truthiness" Is The Top Word Of 2005? That's Just Cruisazy.
(Jimmy Akin)
Actually, I'm not wild about either "truthiness" or "Cruisazy."
"Podcast," however, deserves recognition.
And "sudoku" is likely to have legs.
"Pope squatting" may also come back to haunt us some day.
(CHT to the reader who e-mailed.)
Posted by Jimmy Akin in Languages | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBack
December 13, 2005
Lost In Translation
(Michelle Arnold)
Michelle here.
Last week my brother-in-law found some time to install the DVD player he and my sister gave me last Christmas -- which goes to show you that I'm no techno-geek, since it had to sit on my couch for nearly a year. Delighted to finally have DVD capability, I went out and bought three seasons worth of I Love Lucy (Seasons One, Four, and Five), my all-time favorite TV show.
When I put in Season One for my own personal I Love Lucy marathon, I was frustrated to find that most of the episodes were subtitled in Spanish. I was even more frustrated that Ricky Ricardo's famous Spanish rages were not translated into English, but that's another story. Since I couldn't figure out how to turn off the subtitles, I assumed that they were standard to the set and decided to tolerate them.
Once I did, I started to notice something interesting.
I am not especially well-versed in Spanish, having only taken three years in high school and nothing since, but I can read a bit of it unassisted and recognize some more if put side-by-side with English. What I found fascinating during my viewing of I Love Lucy was seeing how English was translated into Spanish. Being fluent in English (I hope) and knowing enough Spanish to recognize translations, I found that a lot was lost in translation.
Some examples:
- English colloquialisms apparently did not have exact translations. When the English-speaker would say "Easy!" while moving something, the translation into Spanish would be "Careful!" or "With caution." The meaning of the colloquialism was captured, but not a translation.
- A whole range of English versions of "okay" would have one Spanish translation: "Bien."
- The subtleties of language, which were sometimes used to humorous effect, were lost. Comical alliterations like "tubby trio" and "flabby foursome" could not be recaptured once they were translated.
All of this made up for the annoyance of subtitles that were not needed. Eventually, after fiddling around with the DVD remote, I finally figured out how to turn off the subtitles. But the translational game was so much fun I may turn them on again in the future to see if I can catch more translational glitches.
Posted by Michelle Arnold in Languages | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBack
August 30, 2005
Bad Mood
(Jimmy Akin)
They had a visting priest at Mass this weekend, and he preached a really good homily (for the most part). His celebration of the liturgy of the Eucharist was also generally good, but he had a few quirks in how he said thing.
Most notably, he used the wrong mood when in greeting the congregation.
When the priest does this, he is supposed to say "The Lord be with you."
This gentleman, unfortunately, said "The Lord is with you."
He may not know enough grammar to understand the shift in meaning and simply thought that the latter is a more contemporary, vivid way of saying the same thing as the former.
It's not.
The "be" in "The Lord be with you" is an example of the subjunctive mood, while the "is" in "The Lord is with you" is the indicative mood, and there is a marked difference in meaning between the two moods.
In English (and in many other languages) the indicative mood is used to make statements about the way world is. In other words, to state facts. (It also is used to ask questions about the way the world is, but the above isn't a question.)
The subjunctive mood, however, is more tentative than the indicative. It doesn't claim to state the way the world is, but the way it might be. Thus it gets used in hypothetical clauses ("If I were a rich man . . . "). It also is used to expres wishes. That's what it's doing in "The Lord be with you." The priest is expressing a wish that God be with the people, not stating for a fact that he is.
English has been losing it's subjunctive mood and its functions have begun to be taken over by auxiliary verbs like "may," "let," and "should." Sometimes an auxiliary appears in the same sentence as a subjunctive verb, calling attention to it. Thus "May the Lord be with you" conveys the same meaning as "The Lord be with you."
Unfortunately, as the subjunctive has weakened in English, many people don't recognize it if one of the auxiliaries isn't present. That may be what happened with this priest. In the absence of "may" or "let" in front of "The Lord be with you," he may have thought that the latter is just a stuffy, old fashioned way of saying that "The Lord is with you."
But it's not. While the Lord is omnipresent and thus present with all people everywhere in that sense, he is also "present with" certain people in additional senses. He may be "present with" people in blessing, approval, etc.
That's what's happening here. To say "The Lord be with you" means something like "May the Lord bless you, approve of your moral conduct, comfort you with his presence" or something along these lines. In any event, it's the expression of a wish that God do something good for the people.
It's therefore presumptuous for the priest to shift the mood to the indicative and simply up and declare that God will do this good thing (whatever it is understood to be) with respect to the people.
Posted by Jimmy Akin in Languages | Permalink | Comments (27) | TrackBack
August 19, 2005
Blessed Vs. Blessed
(Jimmy Akin)
A reader writes:
Is there a difference between using Blessed (Bless-Ed), or Blessed (Bles-t) outside of a grammatical preference or usage?
If I understand you correctly, the answer is that the adjective "blessed" originally had a single meaning but that it has come to be pronounced differently in different situations. It also has related noun and verb forms. There isn't much of a difference in meaning much of the time (besides the obvious shifts caused by using the word as a verb or a noun), but there are rules on how it is pronounced.
We say /bless-ed/ when:
- We use it as a title (not an adjective), as in "Blessed John of Wherever."
- We are using it as an adjective in front of a noun, as in "What a blessed fool you are!"
- It comes immediately before the verb, as in "Blessed be the beasts and the children" or "Blessed are the peacemakers."
On the other hand, we say /blest/ when:
- We use it as a past tense verb ("The pope blessed the people"), and
- We use it as an adjective following the verb ("He felt very blessed").
At least that's how it sounds to my English-speaking American Catholic ear.
Your mileage may vary.
And it may vary in particular if you are a member of a different religious community. The above are the way Catholics do it, I've heard converts who haven't absorbed these usages yet do it differently.
Posted by Jimmy Akin in Languages | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBack
August 11, 2005
An Issue Of Capital Importance
(Jimmy Akin)
A reader writes:
how is it determined in texts when to capitalize letters and when not to, particularly in languages that have no distinction between capital and lower-case, and also when the writer does not use a captial (for example, I have seen Aquinas write the latin equivalent to "Catholic" with a little "c")?
There's not a universal rule on this, but I can tell you what the general practice is.
First, though, lemme clarify for folks who may not be familiar with the issue: English and other languages that use the Latin alphabet (and variants on it) have both UPPER CASE and lower case letters. This ain't the way it was originally, though.
The first alphabets did not have a distinction between upper case ("majuscule") and lower case ("minuscule") letters. They were written entirely in upper case letters. This applied to (among other languages) Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek, and Latin.
This means that the Bible--all of it--was originally written in capital letters. The lower case letters you see in a modern Greek Bible came later and were subbed in by scribes and printers. The original manuscripts were all majuscules.
Over time (around the A.D. 600s), Greek developed a lower case alphabet. So did Latin. Other languages (Hebrew, Aramaic, Arabic) did not and still use only one kind of letter, traditionally referred to as "upper case" or "capital" letters, though this term is anachronistic as there is no alternative to this kind of letter in these languages.
Folks using Greek and Latin-derived alphabets got in the habit of mixing upper and lower case letters, typically using upper case letters (since they're bigger) for the more important words. The habit of capitalizing certain words fell out from this.
Now. . . . If you're translating a text that was originally written in all capital letters then there is only one thing to do when rendering it for folks used to reading lower case texts with an occasional capitalized words: Follow the rules of the receptor language. In other words, if you're translating, say, a Hebrew text into English, you follow English rules about capitalization. That means that you capitalize the first words of sentences, proper nouns, acronyms, and possibly a few additional words (mostly or religious origin), depending on the rules that the publisher goes by.
The reason that this is the only thing to do is that the original text doesn't contain any capitalization information that you could go by. It's all upper case letters, with no words capitalized distinctly. The only alternative would be to render EVERY LETTER OF YOUR TRANSLATION IN CAPITAL LETTERS, WHICH IS HARD ON THE EYES AFTER A WHILE AND WHICH IN SOME CONTEXTS IS TAKEN TO INDICATE SHOUTING.
But what if your source text is one that contains a mix of lower and upper case letters, with some words capitalized. What do you do then?
If the languages are close enough in the rules they follow then you might make the decision to capitalize a word wherever the source text does. You might get away with that, for example, translating an Italian text into English.
But this strategy gets problematic if the rules the other language uses for capitalization are too different from English. For instance, German (I am given to understand) capitalizes basically every noun in a sentence. That will really annoy Your typical English Speaker after a While, don't You think? I mean, Nobody wants to see that many capital Letters in a single Sentence. It gets irritating to have to switch Your Mind back and forth between upper Case and lower Case Emphasis when You aren't used to doing It.
So the rule defaults back to obeying the conventions of the language that you're translating into (English in this case).
What those rules are can be complex in and of itself. For one thing, the rules change over time. A hundred years ago English speakers capitalized many more words than they do now (for example, pronouns that have God as their referent). Today, most publishers don't do that, though there is still a mix of conventions that different publishers will follow.
This affects other languages, too. I've seen some Latin documents that had words like "Catholic" in lower-case, but other, later documents that had it upper case.
But that's the thing about languge: It's always changing.
Posted by Jimmy Akin in Languages | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBack
August 01, 2005
What's The Point?
(Jimmy Akin)
A reader writes:
I was wondering if you would have any insight into the contradictory translations of Isaiah 63:9 in the RSV-CE and the NAB.
While taking a class on the theology of the Holy Spirit, I came across the fact that this verse is rendered differently in the two Catholic translations:
Isaiah 63:9 (RSV-CE) In all their affliction he was afflicted, and the angel of his presence saved them; in his love and in his pity he redeemed them; he lifted them up and carried them all the days of old.
Isaiah 63:9 (NAB) in their every affliction. It was not a messenger or an angel, but he himself who saved them. Because of his love and pity he redeemed them himself, Lifting them and carrying them all the days of old.
In the RSV it was the angel that saved them; in the NAB is was not an angel.
A book used heavily in the class was The Holy Spirit: Growth of a Biblical Tradition by Fr. George T. Montague. Fr. Montague makes a passing reference (on page 54) to the verse:
"...depending on how the identical Hebrew letters are pointed, one can derive the [opposite] translation..."
I was wondering how Hebrew works, such that you can get an opposite translation from the same characters, differently "pointed."
Sure, no problem. First, take a look at this Hebrew word:
This is the word B'reshit, which is the Hebrew equivalent of "Genesis." It's pronounced something like "bray-SHEET."
It's the first word in the book of Genesis, and it's customarily translated into English as "In the beginning."
Now, the thing about the Hebrew writing system is that it developed over time, and originally it didn't have any vowels, just consonants.
In modern Hebrew script, the consonants are written in the large, black blocky letters that you see here. Originally, b'reshit would have simply been written B-R-SH-T (only in Hebrew letters). If you were an ancient Hebrew, you would have relied on your knowledge of Hebrew vocabulary and context to figure out what words you were looking at in the text from just the consonants.
KND F TH WY Y CN WTH THS TXT.
Only they didn't have spaces between written words then, either, so it all would have run together.
Over time, the Hebrews noted something about writing their text this way with only consonants.
It sucked.
So they started coming up with different ways to indicate what vowels ought to go into words. One of the first attempts was to impress certain consonants into doing double duty, so sometimes they represented consonants and sometimes they represented vowel sounds. Kind of like our letter Y, which can be either a consonant or a vowel.
That happens in Hebrew, too. In b'reshit the next to last letter (starting from the right) is a yod, which can be either a Y or an I sound. Here, it's an I, though it sounds like a long-E (as in "sheet').
These double-duty consonants made it much easier to figure out how to read texts, and so they became known as "the mothers of reading" (Latin: matres lectionis).
Unfortunately, there were only four maters, and they didn't help enough, so the scribes set about coming up with real vowels.
Instead of coming up new blocky letters to put in the middle of words, they decided to rely on little dots, like the ones you see under several of the letters in b'reshit. (Arabic and Aramaic use similar systems of little marks above and below their consonants, too.)
For example, under the second letter (counting from the right) of b'reshit has a couple of dots under it that look like a colon laying on its side. That's the mark for a long-A vowel sound. (The A-sound in "bray-SHEET.")
Over time, they also came up with spaces between words (as you'd see in a modern Hebrew Bible) and other marks to help the reader out. For example, in the first letter of b'reshit there is a dot right in the middle of the letter. This is because the letter can be pronounced either B or V, but the dot tells you to pronounce it B.
Similarly, there is a dot over the right hand side of the fourth letter, which looks kind of like a stylized W. This letter can be pronounced either S or SH. If you put a dot over its left side, it's S, but if you put the dot over its right side (as here) then it's SH.
The guys who came up with these marks were known as the Masoretes, and they didn't finish their work until the Renaissance, giving us the fully-marked or Hebrew Bible called the "Masoretic Text." Since the marks are (mostly) dots, the process of adding to a Hebrew text is called "pointing" it.
Pointed texts are much easier to read, but they are harder to write, and so today in Israel newspapers, street signs, and books are commonly written in unpointed form. Texts where getting the exact reading correct--like the Bible--are written in pointed form to eliminate ambiguity.
As you can imagine, there can be considerable ambiguity without the vowels, spaces, and other marks. Sometimes the meaning of a sentence can change dramatically or even reverse itself without these to help us along.
Unfortunately, the Masoretes were not (despite some claims otherwise) divinely inspired in their readings, and so it is possible for them to have gotten things wrong, and a translator who doesn't simply accept the reading they gave a word will have to make a choice about how it should be understood.
That's what's happening in the case of Isaiah 63:9.
As you can see, there is a disagreement with the RSV translators and the NAB translators. I haven't looked it up, but my guess is that the RSV is going with the Masoretic reading and the NAB is going with an alternate reading.
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May 17, 2005
But What Do You Mean By That Woof?
(Michelle Arnold)
So, you say you want to know how man's best friend really feels? A South Korean cell-phone company will be trying to fill that void in your life:
"South Koreans hoping to communicate with man's best friend could be getting help soon from their cell phones. KTF Corp., a South Korean mobile phone operator, said Thursday it will begin offering a service that will enable dog owners to know whether their pets are feeling happy or sad.
"The users must first connect to Internet with their cell phones, and then register information of their dogs such as the breed and age. The service will then record the dog's bark.
"The owner will receive text messages telling them how their pet is feeling, such as 'I am happy' or 'I am frustrated.'"
You know, dogs are very capable of letting you know what they're thinking. You really don't need a novelty service to translate for you. The dog I had a few years ago would stand by the back door when he wanted to go out. If he was ill, he'd lay down and whine. If he was eager for a walk, and he always was, he'd yip and prance when a leash was produced. He would stare at me with wide, sad eyes when he was trying to beg a treat.
And that's all I really needed to know about his inner dog, thank you very much.
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May 03, 2005
Jesus, Mary, And The 12: What's In A Name?
(Jimmy Akin)
A reader writes:
As a recent reader of your (extremely interesting and original) site, I've noticed that you have some knowledge of Aramaic. Could you answer some questions I've had since viewing the movie "The Passion of the Christ"?
What would be the spoken and written Aramaic form of "Jesus of Nazareth"? In the movie it seemed it was pronounced with slight variations by different characters, such as "Yeshua n'Zaret", or "Yeshua an'Zaret" or "Yehsua m'Zaret" (I writing this phonetically from memory, so please forgive the mistakes). I realize that spelling and pronounciation can change as to a word's function and place in a sentence, but if one wanted to say or write simply, "Jesus of Nazareth" in Aramaic, seperate from any place in a spoken or written phrase, what would it be?
The phenomenon of actors pronouncing the name differently is caused by the fact that the actors in the movie weren't native speakers of the language and, so I understand, didn't even speak it as a second language. Thus their own accents tend to bleed through into their delivery of Aramaic.
I should also mention that there were no standardized dictionaries in the ancient world and folks tended to spell words more like they sounded to them, so you'll get variant spellings from time to time.
As to how Jesus' name is pronounced, that's going to change over time and region. Just as we have different accents in English, they have different accents (pronunciation schemes) in Aramaic, and words can sound significantly different depending on where and when an accent was based.
In the first century, Galilee and Judea had different accents, as we know because Peter's northern (Galilean) accent accent gave him down south in Jerusalem, when he was at the high priest's house. ("Yew ain't from aroun' these here parts, are ya, sir?") Even villages not that far apart (by modern standards) probably had different accents, like the Aramaic-speaking communities in Iraq do today (a Mosul accent ain't the same as a Zakho accent, though they're both in northern Iraq).
The best I can do is show you how "Jesus of Nazareth" is spelled in the Pshitta and tell you how that would be pronounced by a speaker with an eastern (Iraqi) Aramaic accent (i.e., the kind of Aramaic I'm most familiar with pronouncing), so here goes.
First, "Jesus of Nazareth" gets written different ways. Here's how it's written in Acts 2:22:
This is literally something like "Jesus the Nazarite." I'd transliterate it Isho` Nassraya. Pronounced in an Eastern accent, it'd be something like ee-SHOW-ah* naas-RYE-yah, but it's hard to get across the exact sound because English does't have two of the sounds that are used. That final character on Isho` (read from right-to-left) isn Aeh, which isn't really like an English "ah" sound, which is why I starred it in the pronunciation. It's a harsh gutteral sound that, to tell you the truth, sounds like you're being choked, the airflow through the throat is cut off so abruptly. Make a kind of gutteral grunt choking noise and you're about as close as you can get without hearing someone say it.
The other sound is easier. It's the second character in Nassraya--the one that looks line of like a backwards Y. This letter is Sadhe (SAH-thay), and it's a "dark S" sound. I doubled it in the transliteration to convey the idea that it in't an ordinary S sound. Pronounce an S at the very back of your mouth (instead of at the front) and you've got it.
I checked some other passages as well, and the closest I found to something that's literally "Jesus of Nazareth" was in Acts 10:38, where we find this:
Hyper-literally, this would be "Jesus of-from Nazareth," but nobody would translate it that way. "Jesus of Nazareth" or "Jesus from Nazareth" would be the correct translation.
I'd transliterate it like this: Ishoa dmen Nassrath, and it'd be pronounced ee-SHOW-ah* dmen NAAS-rath. It's hard for an American to pronounce dmen if you haven't practiced, but just say the D really, really fast on the front of the word "men." Don't forget the dark S in Nassrath, either.
The reader then asks:
Second, what would the name "Mary" be in Aramaic? I've heard it is "Miriam", but in the movie, Mary Magadaline calls out, "Marian". Which is it, if either? Also, isn't the Blessed Mother also addressed as "Emi", "Mother" in the movie?
This one is easy. "Mary" in Aramaic is Maryam, but you pronounce the R as a tap or flap R, creating a false pseudo-syllable between the R and the Y, making it sound a little like MAR-(ee)-yaam. Strive not to pronounce it with three syllables. That tap or flap R in the middle doesn't give rise to a full syllable.
Here's what it looks like:
Oh, and about "Mother," what he's saying is emmi (pronounced EM-mee), which is literally "my mother." The word for "mother" is emma and the -i suffix functions as "my."
Now the reader asks:
Third, and perhaps the most lengthy, what would be the names of all of the Apostles in Aramaic. The movie only gives us "Kepha" and "Yohanan".
Owww! Perhaps the most lengthy?
Okay glutton for punishmentobliging soul that I am, here are the names of the twelve apostles (plus a couple extra words I've circled for reasons that will become clear) taken from Matthew 10:2-4:
I would bore everyone to tears for me to give detailed pronunciation instructions for these, but here's the gist:
- Simon (Shem`on, shem-*on [it's got that harsh Aeh sound in it])
- Kepha (KAY-pha, though folks today pronounce it KAY-pah)
- Andrew (Andareos, ahn-da-RAY-oss)
- James (Ya`qob, YAH*-qobb [note: the two words that follow this are bar Zabday or "son of Zebedee")
- John (Yohannan, yoh-HAN-nan)
- Phillip (Pilipos, pih-LIP-poss)
- Bartholomew (Bar Tolmay, bar TOL-may)
- Thomas (Toma, TOE-mah)
- Matthew (Mattay, matt-TAI)
- James son of Alphaeus (Ya`qob bar Halpay, YAH*-qobb bar haal-PAI)
- Thaddeus (Tadday, tad-DAI)
- Simon the Cananaean (Shem`on Qananaya, shem-*ON qah-nah-NAI-yah)
- Judas (Yhuda, yuh-HOO-dah)
- Iscariot (Skaryota, skar-YO-tah)
Hope that helps! 'Bout the best I can do on the fly, though I'm sure I could refine it if I had more time.
Again, I'm writing this from memory and phonetically with no real knowledge of Aramaic, so please forgive my mistakes. Thanks for your help.
No prob! And I'm impressed at how well you've done picking up stuff by ear from the movie!
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April 22, 2005
Like . . . Whatever!
(Jimmy Akin)
Analogies and metaphors supposedly found in high school essays:
1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room temperature Canadian beef.
5. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
6. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
7. He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
8. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge free ATM.
9. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
11. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.
12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
14. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.
16. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
17. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.
18. Even in his last years, Grandpappy had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
19. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
20. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
23. The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.
25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
26. Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any pH cleanser.
27. She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
28. It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
NOTE!: Add your own humorous metaphors and similies in the combox!
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April 12, 2005
MLK
(Jimmy Akin)
So the other day I was driving along in my pick-up truck, listening to country music, puffing my pipe, and thinking about Semitic languages (Hebrew, Aramaic, Arabic, etc.).
Words in these languages tend to be built around roots that have three consonants, which then have a variety of prefixes, suffixes, and infixes shoved around and into them. (An infix is a affix that goes into a word, as you might imagine, instead of on the front or on the back, like a prefix or suffix.)
F'rinstance: the root K-T-B gets use in Semitic languages to make words like "write," "writing," "book," "bookkeeper," "library," etc.
'Nuther instance: M-L-K gets used for a lot of royal words . . .
- In Hebrew the word for "king" is melek, in Aramaic it's malka, and in Arabic it's malik.
- In Hebrew the word for "queen" is malkah, in Aramaic it's malktha, and in Arabic it's malika.
- In Hebrew the word for "angel" or "messenger" (i.e., a messenger of the king or the heavenly King) is mal'ak, in Aramaic it's malaka, and in Arabic it's malaak.
So lots of M-L-K words denoting kings and king-related things in Semitic languages.
Which got me thinking about this guy:
America's own M.L.K, or Martin Luther King.
Go fig.
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April 10, 2005
Rosary in Latin Question
(Jimmy Akin)
A reader writes:
Hello Jimmy, I have recently started praying the Rosary in Latin. (only the Hail Mary) I have found with great joy this "method" is extremely awesome for me. I just need your personal opinion. THink that it is ok to say this prayer this way? I find that it add a liturgical sence to the devotion. Thanks in advance.
If I understand you correctly, you're saying the Rosary with the Hail Mary in Latin and the other prayers in English, so it's a bi-lingual Rosary.
There's nothing wrong with that! There is no requirement that the Rosary all be said in one language. It's a private devotion, and there is no single way in which it is to be said--a point John Paul II made in his apostolic letter on the Rosary. If it adds extra meaning to the prayer for you to say part of it in Latin, by all means do so!
Over time, you may even want to learn the other prayers of the Rosary in Latin so that you can say the whole thing in Latin if you wish.
One tweak in the language I suggest you use, though: Since the Rosary is a private devotion, it is not liturgical. Therefore, I'd describe saying part of it in Latin as adding a sense of "solemnity" or "ceremoniality" or "devotion" to your saying of the Rosary rather than a "liturgical" sense.
Hope this helps!
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March 23, 2005
Slainte!
(Michelle Arnold)
The Irish language may be all but dead in Ireland, but it is being kept alive at the University of Notre Dame (a school, I was surprised to learn, really doesn't have Irish roots -- despite its team's famous nickname, "The Fighting Irish.")
"In Ireland, the Irish language is viewed by some affluent citizens as a peasant language that should be allowed to fade into oblivion.
"But at the University of Notre Dame, where students pay nearly $40,000 a year to attend, the little-used language is enjoying a renaissance.
"'There are a lot of kids here who are the grandchildren of the very successful and the very rich, and their grandparents were taught to forget about their Irish past,' said Eamonn O Ciardha, program director at Notre Dame's Keough Institute for Irish Studies. 'They want to know about their language, they want to know about their history, they want to know about their culture.'"
Now all we have to do is to reintroduce Notre Dame's students to their Catholic heritage and culture. Notre Dame does have some Catholic orthodoxy on campus -- for a heartening example, check out The Shrine of the Holy Whapping, a blog run by a group of Notre Dame students -- but certainly less than its fair share, as evidenced by this distressing article.
Let's all pray that Notre Dame and other Catholic universities realize a resurgence of Slainte Mhath ("Good health"; pronounced "Slanzh'va").
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March 04, 2005
Greek: Ancient & Modern
(Jimmy Akin)
A reader writes:
I've made a strong commitment to learn to read and write New Testament(Koine) Greek. I also want to learn to speak Modern Greek because it seems that is the most useful to know of the variations.
What I'm unsure about is if I can learn to read Koine Greek but learn to speak Modern Greek without there being a conflict of understanding.
I'm willing to work very hard and desire learn as quick as possible, but don't I know the best methods to learn. How would you suggest to go about learning to read Koine Greek and speaking Modern Greek, assuming that they don't conflict in that way.
Anything else that you think I would need to know please let me know. I know you're very busy and would greatly appreciate your help in this matter. Thank you so much.
My standard recommend for learning New Testament Greek is Bill Mounce's Basics of Biblical Greek (including the workbook). Best set out there. Lots of good ancillary study materials in the same line of books. Only major flaw is Mounce is too heavy on morphology.
For starting to learn Modern Greek, I recommend Pimsleur's Greek set. (I only say starting because they only have 30 lessons in Modern Greek, so you have to switch to something else after that, but it's still the best way to start studying it.)
Thing is, though: I wouldn't recommend learning them at the same time. There are significant differences between the two dialects. Not only is the pronunciation quite different, the grammar is different, too. For example, modern Greek has no dative case (except in a few isolated expressions).
Learning one dialect will help you learn the other, but only in sequence. Try to learn both at once and it'll be too confusing.
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February 16, 2005
Language Recommends
(Jimmy Akin)
A reader writes:
I am seriously considering pursuing a Ph.D. in Systematic Theology. I have a quick question. The programs I have looked at all have a language requirement. I have graduate degrees, in other fields; however, I have never taken any foreign languages. Now I am facing the task of becoming proficient enough to translate New Testament Greek, Latin and German (or French) with a dictionary. Do you have any recommendations of programs that I can begin preparing now? I am currently working on a MA in Theology and Christian Ministry (distance learning) from Franciscan University so I have some time to get ready. I would greatly appreciate any suggestions you might have.
For living langauges like French and German, definitely Pimsleur.
For the biblical ones, SEE HERE and ALSO HERE.
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February 10, 2005
Evil Ad-Speak
(Jimmy Akin)
Y'know how you sometimes run into maddeningly overused cliches in advertising?
For example, when was the last time you read a restaurant menu that described something as being made with "tomatoes"? That's it: just "tomatoes."
I'm betting it's been a while.
For Madisson Avenue has apparently decided that the word "tomatoes" cannot go unaccompanied. It must be chaperoned by two adjectives.
And not just any two adjecives. Saying "juicy, delicious tomatoes" ain't enough. It has to be two specific adjectives: "red" and "ripe."
Yes, that's right. Because of some evil adman sitting, cackling in his office somewhere, you now can no longer pick up a menu with a straight-forward description of a food as being made with "tomoatoes." It has to be "red ripe tomatoes."
Every.
Single.
Dang.
Time.
And that's not the only ubiquitous advertising cliche. How about "farm fresh eggs," which is likely justifiable only in the sense that the eggs were at one time on a farm (likely an industrial farm) and they were at that time fresh. Now, they've been in cold storage for who knows how long, yet the evil adman wants you to believe that they have been whisked to your table fresh from under the hinder of Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm's favorite laying hen.
Restaurants aren't the only place that use such deceptive cliches. How about when you're at the end of a TV episode and the announcer tells you to watch some clips from next week's "all new!" episode, despite the fact that next week's episode is a clip show!
AAAAARGH!
<hyperbole>I think it's time for Madison Avenue to get an "all new" vocabulary before I give an evil adman such a thumping with my "farm fresh" fists that he becomes a "red ripe" pulp.</hyperbole>
Share your own evil ad cliches in the comments box.
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February 08, 2005
Yes-less languages
(Jimmy Akin)
Down yonder, a reader writes:
My daughter has been learning some Mandarin, and she advised me that the expression for "yes" in Mandarin is "shi" (it is so) or "hao" (okay). I checked it out at the following webpage:
http://www.elite.net/~runner/jennifers/yes.htm
That page also cites expressions for "yes" in Latin and Irish.
Thanks for the input, but what your daughter told you isn't strictly correct.
In Mandarin, "shi" is the verb "to be," and it is used to signal agreement, but it isn't a direct equivalent for "yes."
"Yes" is a particle that is used to signal agreement irrespective of the content of the question it answers. Questions like "Are you an American?" or "Can you speak English?" both get answered in English by "yes."
In languages that don't have "yes," like Mandarin, agreement is signalled in a different way that generally depends on the content of the question. Typically, yes-less languages will grab the main verb of the question and use it to signal affirmation.
Thus if someone asks you in Mandarin "Ni hui shuo Yingwen ma?" ("Can you speak English?") , you'd grab the main verb "hui" (sounds like "whey", means "can") and use it where you'd use "yes" in English.
Similarly, if someone asks you "Ni shi Meiguo ren ma?" ("Are you an American?"), you'd grab the main verb "shi" (sounds like "sure", means "is/are/be") and use it in place of "yes."
(NOTE: These transliterations are very rough as the English alphabet is not designed to convey the sounds used in Mandarin; for example, "shi" actually sounds more like the English word "sure" clipped short, or just "shr!")
Other yes-less languages tend to do the same thing. That's why, in translations of the liturgy, questions like "Do you believe in God the Father Almighty?" get answered with "I do" (grabbing the main verb) rather than "yes."
The same is true of Irish.
A while back I was reading a 20th century British apologist (Chesterton?) who noted that Irishmen who speak English tend to do this even in English as it's the way their culture's native language handles questions. Ask an Irishman "Are you a Catholic?" and you're more likely to get the answer "I am" than you would if you asked an English or American Catholic the same question (they'd be more inclined to use "yes"). Upon reading this, I recognized that my friend from Dublin would do this all the time, but I hadn't noticed it before.
As to the yes-in-550-languages page, pages like that are neat, but you have be careful. The people who put those pages together don't really speak 550 languages, nor (so far as I can tell) are they linguists who could responsibly handle data from a language they don't personally speak. As a result, there are errors and oversimplifications on those pages.
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February 07, 2005
Aramaic For "Please"?
(Jimmy Akin)
A reader writes:
Dear Jim: I note that please is a word that never shows up in the mass nor in our prayers. I know that Jesus gave us the words to the Our Father which does not include the word please. There are a number of places in that prayer where I (as a wretch) would feel please is appropriate (please give us this day our daily bread, please forgive us etc). Is it possible that please is not used because the language spoken by Jesus did not include such a word?
You're on to something here, though the problem isn't just confined to Aramaic, in which the Lord's Prayer was originally given. It also affects Latin, which is determinative of Mass and most other standard prayers. Neither of these languages has a ready-made word for "please."
"Please" is so important in English politness that it boggles our minds how another langauge can make do without an equivalent to this word, just as our minds boggle that some languages (like Latin, Irish, and Mandarin) manage to make do without a word for "yes."
Thing is: Words like "please" and "yes" don't really have meaning as such. They are "function words"--words used to perform specific functions. "Please" is a particle of entreaty and politeness, while "yes" is a particle of agreement or affirmation. (Particles are typically short words that never change their form and perform specific functions.)
But it isn't the particles themselves that are important: It's the functions they perform. Every language has a way to perform the functions of entreaty, politeness, agreement, and affirmation, they just don't have handy particles to do it.
A common way in many languages to express entreaty, for example, is to use the imperative mood. That's what's going on in the Lord's Prayer, for example. You look at it in Aramaic (or Greek or Latin), and the verbs in the petitions are in the imperative mood ("give us," "forgive us," "lead us not").
That's where the problem comes in for us English speakers: The imperative mood does double-duty in languages like the ones just mentioned, where it can serve either to mark a request or a command, but in English since we've sloughed off the entreaty function to "please" and other constructions ("Can you . . . ?" "Would you . . . ?"), the imperative is much more associated with commands in English.
If you just bring over an Aramaic, Greek, or Latin imperative into English literally ("Give us this day our daily bread"), it can sound to us like we're commanding God to do something, when to the speakers of the original languages, it would have been obvious that in these cases the imperative is being used to signal entreaty. (Nobody commands God around.)
The problem is significant enough that people who might be tempted into the Health & Wealth Gospel movement have to be warned about how not to interpret imperatives in the original languages. If you look in Bill Mounce's book Basics of Biblical Greek, for example, he has a passage warning people against intepreting imperatives directed toward God as commands. All kinds of screwy Hagan-esque "Write your own ticket with God" theology can get started if you don't recognize how to interpret imperatives toward God.
So you're right: There ain't an Aramaic word that is directly equivalent to "please." The language conveys requests and politeness in other ways. That leaves us (including me) as English-speakers wishing "please" was in our standard prayers, but it ain't. The thing for us to do is to just relax and recognize that the function is being performed by the imperative mood and that we have to take this account when we're saying our prayers.
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January 26, 2005
Aramaic Update
(Jimmy Akin)
A piece back, someone was asking about what it means when Scripture says that God "hates" something.
One possibility that was raised was the idea that the term for "hate" may at times only mean "to prefer something else to," as when Jesus says that we can't be his disciples unless we "hate" our family members.
In that passage, it's clear that what Jesus means is that we can't be his disciples if we prefer others to him, but it isn't clear that that's what the word means in this case. Jesus may be using hyperbole to make a shocking statement that is intended to provoke thought and encourage us to tease out his meaning (the way God often lets us figure things out for ourselves so that we will use the intellects he gave us and thus glorify him).
I said that I'd check with my Aramaic instructor, who is a native speaker of the langauge, and see what he had to say.
I did.
Unfortunatley, I failed to report back in a timely manner, so when I got together with him this week, it jogged my memory.
Here's the deal:
He says that the relevant verb in Aramaic means what it does in English. "Hate" means "hate." It doesn't mean "to prefer less than." Jesus is using the word in the shocking, hyperbolic way suggested above, and his original audience would have been as shocked and hyperboled (to make up a word) as we are when we hear the statement.
Of course, my instructor is a native speaker of contemporary Aramaic, not first century, but he does have a familiarity with classical Aramaic (which he also teaches), and my money is that he's right on this. Jesus is being deliberately provocative with what he says (i.e., he's trying to provoke thought).
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January 20, 2005
Beyond Silent E
(Jimmy Akin)
Silent E is an interesting phenomenon in English orthography. It's a letter, usually at the end of a word, that we don't pronounce--as in the word "pronounce." That ends in an S-sound, not an E-sound.
Thing is, silent E didn't used to be silent.
Our English-speaking forebears used to pronounce those Es, which is how they got into the words in the first place. Then, over time, they started droppin' 'em (like I "drop" my Gs). But the letter in the written form of the word stayed, or "stay-ed" as our forebears would have said.
You can hear a reflection of this in the fact that converts often start by saying "Blessed art thou among women" and pronouncing "blessed" as "blesst" instead of "bless-ed."
So it seems that we can do without all those Es.
But can we do without the letter E altogether and still communicate meaningfully? It is, after all, the single most commonly-used letter in the English alphabet. just look at the number of times I've had to use it in this post to say what I wanted to say. Surely nobody could go on for, say, fifty-thousand words of meaningful text without using the letter E.
Oh, no?
CHECK OUT THIS NOVEL THAT IS TOTALLY E-FREE.
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January 14, 2005
I'm Going To Have To Figure This Out
(Jimmy Akin)
Would you expect to find languages using a form of the verb "to go" to express intention? . . . or a form of the verb "to have" to express obligation?
Well, English does. In fact, you just read a sentence (the title of this post) where forms of those words appear in those senses.
They're somewhat strange senses. Consider:
- I am going to Rome.
- I am going to visit Rome.
- I am going to study now.
In the first sentence the verb "go" has its normal, literal sense of moving from one place to another. In the last sentence it clearly has a metaphorical meaning. You may be sitting in the chair where you plan to study when you say it and may not be physically going anywhere at all. The middle sentence is actually using the same metaphorical sense as the last one, but you may not have noticed it since the topic under discussion was a visit, which would involve moving from one place to another.
Now consider:
- I have a book
- I have a headache.
- I have to study now.
In the first sentence the verb "have" is in its original, literal meaning of possessing a physical object. In the last sentence it has a clearly metaphorical meaning that speaks of an obligation (to study now) as if it were a physical object that could be possessed. The middle sentence also involves a metaphorical sense since headaches are not physical objects that can be possessed, though this is somewhat masked since "a headache" is more obviously a noun phrase than "to study now" is (though, in actuality, "to study now" is a noun phrase since it is based on the infinitive "to study" and infinitives are verbal nouns).
Pretty weird, huh? There's no necessary connection between the verb and the metaphor that is built out of it. That's not to say that there is no logic in basing the metaphors on these verbs, it's just that there is no necessity that the words be used in these metaphorical ways. We could not, for example, substitute synonyms for these verbs and have the resulting metaphors sound normal at all:
- I am travelling to study now. (When you're sitting in the chair where you intend to study)
- I possess to study now.
Nor could you do the reverse:
- I intend to Rome.
- I am obligated a book.
With no requirement for "go" and "have" to bear the metaphorical meanings that English ascribes to them, most langauges (at least most languages I've studied) do not do this. To express intent and obligation they either use special words (their equivalents of "intend," "obligated," "must," etc.) or they may put the verb in a special mood. In any event, they don't do what English does.
Imagine my surprise when I found a language that does.
Lately I've been studying Pimsleur Spanish I. (I'm now in the last lesson). It's been a long time since I studied Spanish systematically, so I've forgotten lots of stuff and was quite rusty when I started the course.
Early on I started getting distracted by the way Pimsleur was using the verb voy ("I go" or "I am going"). For example, it would want me to express intention by saying things like "Voy a comer" ("I am going to eat"). "That's too much like English," I thought. "Can that be right? Can it be that simple? It sounds like a too-literal translation of English." But no, thinking back to when I'd taken Spanish before, I realized that "Voy a comer" is how one would say "I'm going to eat." So I just accepted it.
Then I hit the part of the course where it starts wanting me to express obligation with tengo ("I have") by saying things like "Tengo que ir ahora" ("I have to go now"). I'm used to tengo being used in its literal sense, like "Tengo un libro" ("I have a book") and the idea that Spanish would use the exact same metaphor of obligation for tengo that English does for "have" seemed incredible to me.
It couldn't be a coincidence.
But what was the source? Since English is a Germanic language and Spanish is a Romance language, they aren't that closely related. They are both Indo-European languages, but Indo-European was spoken a long time ago, and it didn't strike me that such metaphors were likely to survive that long a passage of time with that much linguistic change going on around them (change so severe it resulted in the creation first of Old High German and Latin and then of English and Spanish). I also have no way to check it out as I don't have good resources on Indo-European (what little is known about it).
But I thought: "There might be a closer explanation. The metaphor might have spread to English and Spanish from ecclesiastical Latin (which also may have spread it to other European langauges)." I couldn't think of any examples off the top of my head in which forms of tenere (Latin for "to have" and the ancestor of tengo) is used to express obligation, so I called my Latin mentor and asked him if he knew if it was used this way.
"Oh, yeah! All the time!" he replied.
So there you have it: The metaphors may be derived from ecclesiastical Latin. (Or maybe somewhere else.) Unfortunately, I don't have time to investigate further right now.
I have to go write another blog entry for tomorrow.
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January 12, 2005
All 8's. Sweet!
(Jimmy Akin)
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