Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Tardy Thomas...

Today was the Feast of the Dormition (Assumption) of the Blessed Virgin Mary on the Julian Calendar (which my Russian Church follows). At Liturgy, the thought occurred to me, reflecting on the traditional account, that Thomas should not be called "Doubting Thomas" but, rather, "Tardy Thomas." He showed up too late to see the Risen Lord. And he also showed up three days late to be present at the passing away of Our Lady. But precisely because he asked to pay his last respects to her directly, the Church learned that she had been assumed body and soul into Heaven. 

Now, Protestants don't believe any of that, of course, since it's not in the Bible. What I'm about to describe is certainly not an attempt to persuade a Protestant (which I used to be myself) on the matter of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary.

Anyway, the thought occurred to me that anyone studying these two stories from a folklore standpoint would conclude that Thomas was turned into the late arrival at the Dormition because he had already served that role in Canonical Scripture.

And I realized, it's actually the other way around.

Even though the story of Our Lady's Assumption did not find literary form for four centuries, I assert that it happened, and that knowledge of certain details of it was current in the Church from the very earliest times. It was known so early, that it influenced the final formation of the Gospel of John.

It has long been accepted by Biblical scholars that the Gospel of John absorbed additional endings for a period of time. John 20:30 reads like a full break conclusion, and then things just keep going. The intrusion of the story of Thomas not being at the appearance of Jesus to the other Disciples is curious, since it follows the report of how Jesus imparted the Holy Spirit upon the Disciples. We are forced to assume that Jesus quickly later gave the Holy Spirit to Thomas so he could perform valid Confirmations out in India.

But here's my ultimate point. The story of the Disciple who wasn't at the first appearance wasn't originally about Thomas. It was about a Disciple, but the account didn't record which one exactly. The fact that the account describes this as being about "Thomas, One of the Twelve, called the 'Twin'" (John 20:24) has preserved the curious detail that apparently readers don't know that Thomas was one of the Twelve? I mean, why not? His name appears in all the 12 Disciple lists (Matt 10:1-4, Mark 3:13-19, Luke 6:12-16).

Originally, this was a story about a disciple who wasn't at the first appearance of Jesus to his other disciples. And the account didn't remember which one it was. John 21:2 records an event with Peter, Thomas, Nathanael, the Sons of Zebedee, and "two other of his disciples." So names can be forgotten in Tradition. So the account told us all that was known. This was "One of the Twelve." When someone eventually added in the name Thomas, they preserved the description "One of the Twelve" because no scribe feels comfortable deleting data, only adding it.

But why add Thomas in to this story? Because he was already known in the Tradition as someone who came late to an important event regarding a Resurrection. He came three days late to the death of the Mother of God. And when they opened the tomb, they discovered it empty and knew that she had been assumed into Heaven.

Adding the name Thomas to the account in John 20:24-29 was a natural development from the already known details of the Assumption.

Friday, August 17, 2012

Musings on the Sign of the Cross

Riding the tram this morning from our apartment here in Bucharest to the National Library (my quiet, clean, smoke-free refuge to get some work done), one can't help but see that people in this majority Orthodox country still make the Sign of the Cross when they see a Church. It's a seemly practice, one which I added to my inventory when I was chrismated Orthodox years back. 

When Should You Do It?

A non-Orthodox observer would have quite a few questions while watching the practice. First off, there is the phenomenon of people crossing themselves when there is no apparent Church in sight. I've come to understand that some people are aware of a Church in the near vicinity, but which is not, in fact, visible from this spot on the street. And this raises the question of whether you should cross yourself when you see other people do it.

And this is a bigger question than just the possible presence of a Church down that dark alley. I see this all the time during Liturgy as well. Almost everyone will cross themselves when the Liturgy contains the words "Father, Son and Holy Spirit." That's a moment where, if you're going to do it, you really ought to cross yourself. But others will cross themselves at any mention of the Virgin Mary. Or even at every Lord, Have Mercy. And if one person crosses themselves, there can be a cascade effect, as other people must wonder, "Oh no, this guy knows we're supposed to cross ourselves! I'd better do so as well." I've at times gone to scratch an itch on my forehead and seen people near me make the sign of the cross.

How Many Times is Enough?

 I cross myself once when I see a Church. Some people cross themselves twice. (I guess because if once is good, twice is better.) Most people I observe do it three times, I'm sure for each person of the Trinity. But yet, while you make the sign of the cross, you invoke the Three Persons of the Trinity. Theoretically, once you've multiplied to three, you wonder why it doesn't then jump to nine, you know, three times for each person of the Trinity. 

It should also be pointed out that, while the Sign of the Cross includes invocation of the Trinity, the movement itself is not Trinitarian. It is, true to advertising, the shape of a Cross. I've seen people assign the forehead to the Father and then give the Son and the Holy Spirit each a shoulder, as if really trying to fit a square inside a triangle.

Back to the matter of invisible Churches. If some person is aware that there's a Church on the other side of the block, but you can't see it from here, that raises the question of just how far away a Church has to be before people agree you don't have to acknowledge it. I mean, there just has to be some sort of statute of limitations on these things. In a city like Bucharest, there really is a Church on every block.

And in the end, why are we crossing ourselves as we pass Churches anyway? I fear that on a popular level some of this comes from a sense that if we don't do this, God will be offended. It's an old sentiment, the very thought that made the Athenians erect an altar to the "Unknown God." 

We should cross ourselves when we see Churches because it is an opportunity to worship God and show proper respect for his Temples. 

And so, I have a simple rule I follow on public transportation or while driving. I cross myself when I see a Church. If I'm packed into a bus and pointed one way and I see other people cross myself, I don't do it just because apparently it's the time we're supposed to cross ourselves. And I don't believe God is mad at me. Nor do I risk hurting myself and others by letting go of the handrail to perform the practice (which I've seen done). 

What Counts as a Church?


Along my route to the area of the Bucharest University, we pass a large Armenian Church. And I've noticed that many fewer people cross themselves there than as we pass a Romanian Church. I guess they are aware we are not in Communion with the Armenians (or other Orientals, owing to their non-acceptance of some matters resolved at the later Ecumenical Councils).

I personally cross myself when I can be reasonably sure that there's at least a cross inside that place of worship. So cross myself at an Armenian or Catholic Church? Of course! And I've visited enough Protestant Churches to know which ones are not Iconoclastic and thus have something inside them that makes them worthy of the title "Temple of God." 


[This is the image of Jesus I saw every Sunday of my formative years at Trinity Lutheran Church in Madison, WI. I'd kiss this icon, except it's twenty feet up the front wall.]

And I'm not going to lie. There are some denominations, in front of whose temples,  I don't cross myself. I guess in the end, my criterion will finally be, I'll cross myself in front of any Trinitarian Christian house of worship that uses the word Church. St. Paul didn't ever write an epistle to the "Praise Center" at Corinth.

Right to Left, Left to Right?

I might as well wade into the final controversies. Catholics and Orthodox famously cross themselves in different directions. A common notion you'll hear among Orthodox is that the Catholics stupidly changed their direction because they were trying to imitate the movement of the priest's blessing from their perspective.

Looking at the matter scientifically, I think it's much more probable that the Orthodox changed their direction.  I changed the direction of how I cross myself when I became Orthodox (and I crossed myself even as a Lutheran). I now cross myself Eastern Style. But here's why I believe the Western Style is more original.

First off, we need to acknowledge that the oldest references to making the Sign of the Cross describe just making a Cross motion on the forehead, presumably with just one of your fingers. (2nd Century, Tertullian, De cor. Mil., iii.) So there isn't even an original practice handed down from the Apostles. This was a practice that developed over time. And if it had developed differently in different places, it wouldn't make anyone right or wrong in how they do it.

In terms of Population Study, we've got data points on how to make the Sign of the Cross in the West, East, and further East and South. Copts down in Egypt, as well as other Orientals not in Communion with the Orthodox, cross themselves Left-Right, just like Western Style. They do so under no influence from the West. Then you've got this massive body of Eastern Christians, with contiguous borders, all crossing themselves Right-Left. The other thing to keep in mind is that in the time these practices were developing, the vast majority of Christians were in that Eastern population group. 

A mutation (a change) is always more likely to emerge inside a larger population group. That's the reason small and isolated populations preserve older forms of language than large and connected population groups. So evidently, after the practice of making the full-body Sign of the Cross had developed, a change in orientation (or occidentation in this case) popped up in the East. In fact, it's not impossible that people started crossing themselves Right-Left in order to imitate the movement of the priest from his perspective. This innovation quite naturally spread only within the large and connected communities making up the Eastern Church. This innovation did not spread into groups which, at the time, were smaller and more isolated, such as the Coptic and Roman Churches. And the fact that groups, separated geographically by the larger group, share a common practice is actually sufficient proof that they preserved an older form.

In the final analysis, it doesn't matter. I will say, however, that the way in which I have heard some Orthodox describe their claimed rectitude on this matter is unkind, unseemly, and, ultimately, unnecessary.  And if it turns out the East were the innovators, such talk is deeply embarrassing. 

We know we preserve the original practice on crucial matters, not least of which are the words of the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed and the age for the reception of the Sacraments. Let's continue talking about that. Even if it weren't possible that the Eastern Church changed the original practice, we should not be teaching children that the "Catholics are doing it wrong" when this is a matter on which Christian practice does not need to be uniform.

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

The Least of My Brethren

I've expressed my frustration at times with a basic lack of civility in Romania, at least in Bucharest. It isn't, for instance, uncommon here to see someone take a long final drag off a cigarette, throw it on the ground, step on the bus, doors close behind her, and then exhale. It baffles me every time I see it. I wish I could say it was rare. It's not. I saw it yesterday. And until Romanians themselves stand up en masse and claim for themselves a country not ruled by thugs, these things will not change. 

But today I twice saw acts of Charity that brought tears to my eyes.

I was in a pedestrian crossing beneath a major fare. And old lady was struggling with a heavy cart. One step after one step she was struggling up several dozen more. I began walking toward her to help. I've so sadly seen old ladies in this circumstance ignored. Not today. Two people appeared, both offering to carry her cart up for her. A woman carried it up and waited for her until she emerged at the surface.

That alone made me feel better about the state of humanity.

Today we hit 42 Celsius in Bucharest. That's 107 Fahrenheit. That's hot.

I'm standing at a Tram stop. There's a derelict resting in the shade of a tree. They're everywhere in Bucharest, I'm not going to lie. He's holding an empty glass. 

I see an elegantly dressed business woman. She's taking a drink off a bottle of water she's just bought at a nearby vendor. She walks over and fills the derelict's glass from her bottle. 

He drinks the water and slurs what I barely understand as a thank you.

Both of these people served Christ today. They served Him in the person of the Least of His Brethren.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

More Bad Translations






 A Mercenary








A Non-Mercenary











I dissed the Greek titles of the Pentateuch recently. To  be fair, it's time to shed some light on a simply God-awful English translation commonly found within Orthodoxy.

There is a tradition of Saints, who while medical doctors, practiced their craft without taking pay for their services.

One paragon of this righteous act is Saint Panteleimon. In Romanian, he is described as a "Doctor without Silver" (fără de arginţi).

But someone decided to translate this concept into English as "non-mercenary." Certainly, the Latin word merces (from which we get merchandise) has to do with wares for sale. And the word mercenary probably once did mean generically "person selling a service." 

But we all know what today the word mercenary means "gun for hire." And so a non-mercenary would mean "not a gun for hire." And a "Non-Mercenary Doctor" would mean "A Doctor--also not a gun for hire." 

I suggest we clean up this act by calling these people, in the English language Orthodox Tradition: "A doctor who didn't charge money." Plain and simple, that's what they were.  

Saturday, August 4, 2012

Just Between Thee and Me...

As I was on pilgrimage in Greece for the last eight days, I was thrust into a linguistic experience in Romanian of which I have little practice, namely, the formal register. When speaking with someone you aren't close to, you use the 2nd Person Plural and the pronoun dumneavoastră (which basically translates into "You Lord"). 

I'm usually with people I know quite well, and so I have ample practice with the familiar 2nd Person Singular. Like all Romance languages, the word for you singular is tu.

Suddenly needing to call everyone dumneavoastră and use the plural when I'm talking to a singular human being was exhausting. And on the bus rides from Church to Monastery to Church, the Priest Guide would lead us in Akathists connected to our next point of arrival. And I found myself relieved in those prayers, directed to God and the Saints, to find the familiar 2nd person singular again. To hear, tu, te, cu tine... it was salve to my tired soul.

And the experience really convinced me that we've sadly lost something in English. The singular/familiar cognate for tu was thou. And it died in English, replaced by the plural you now use for singular and plural. Even more sadly, we've taken what was once an intimate way to speak with God as with a friend and exalted it into "Church Talk." So where I was really was speaking to my Father when I said "who art in Heaven," now I'm using the "Holy Register."

Having been raised on the Thees and Thous, I'm not inclined to let them go. And I want to find a way somehow in English to revive them with the understanding that I use them because God loves me and wants me to speak with him as with a Father, not a stranger on a bus.

Friday, August 3, 2012

What's in a Name?

Genesis means "Beginning." Exodus means "Departure." So I was taught in Sunday School. The English translations were just a little less holy than the exotic Greek titles. 

But as my wife and I were on pilgrimage in Greece, I spot that things may be a bit more mundane than all that. Turns out, Exodus is the simple word for "exit":



Now, the linguist in me should have known this all along. Ex means out of in both Latin and Greek. hodos is the word for street.

(Our English word exit comes to us from the delightful preservation of theater directions. "Exit Stage Left" means "he goes out" that way.)

Even so, seeing this stark image has me thinking a bit critically of the Greek titles of the Pentateuch. 

Things start out just fine. Genesis, Beginning. The earth begins in that book, as well as the whole story of Salvation with the Family of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

Exodus, Exit. Gotta give this title a poor grade. There's just so much more to this book! If only whoever was making up these titles could have indulged in more than single words. And the Hebrew tradition was so inclined. The first or first few words serve as titles. In the case of Exodus,  the title is 'eleh ha-shmot, These are the names... If we could have used more than one word, a great title for Exodus might have been "The Sojourn in Egypt." Tolkien might have named it "A Patriarch's Tale: There and Back Again." 

Leviticus, Levitical Things. Meh. But I gotta give this title a pass because the book really is overwhelmingly concerned with such matters. Even so, I find the book one of the most fascinating reads in the entire Hebrew Bible. Virtually every verse hints at massive once known information about cultural matters that now can only be guessed at. Also, don't forget that this is the book that actually contains "Love your neighbor as yourself" (Lev. 19:18).

Numbers. This book does contain a census and a whole bunch of counting. But it's also an important travelogue in which the People of Israel reach the very borders of the Promised Land. We have here the curious episode of Nehustan (Num 21) and Balaam's Ass (Num 23-24). If we could have used more than one word, perhaps "Continuing the Journey." 

Deuteronomy, Second Law. This would be a simply awesome title in a collection that contained a book entitled "First Law." As it is, the First Law referred to is in the book entitled "Exit." Bad title.

The fact that we keep the Greek words (with the exception of Numbers) is almost an admission of how inadequate these titles really are. We want our biblical books to maintain an air of mystery and holiness, and somehow placing a layer of unknown language between us and the divine accomplishes this (hence the tendency to keep archaic versions of language around in Liturgy).



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