St Jerome
I write this on the feast of St Jerome, who translated the scriptures into Latin around the turn of the fifth century. Jerome was a pugnacious old character, some of whose views (as for instance on the moral superiority of the single to the married state) I find a bit distasteful, and he was very unkind to the memory of Origen, a great earlier theologian. The really positive point about Jerome, though, is his fervent desire to translate the scriptures, so that they could be understood. Christianity had emerged in a Greek-speaking environment, and in New Testament times Greek was the language of the people among whom Christianity was expanding, but three hundred and fifty years later this was no longer the case, and Jerome saw the need for an authoritative Latin translation of the scriptures. By Jerome's lifetime, although reading Greek was a badge of scholarship in the Roman world, it was no longer essential, as Latin had conquered the academic as well as the administrative world. For example, his great contemporary Augustine did not read Greek. More importantly, ordinary people in most of the Empire knew Latin rather than Greek.
There was a Latin New Testament before Jerome, which the scholars call the "Old Latin" text, the "Vetus Latina", only, confusingly, it was written in what linguists call "Late Latin" not "Old Latin", nor was it strictly "a Latin New Testament", because there were many different translations of separate books. So Jerome's work on the New Testament was partly about establishing a single, authoritative, version, in a consistent prose style, and he worked from the Vetus Latina, correcting translations against the oldest Greek manuscripts he could find, and generally improving the grammar. When it came to the Old Testament, although there were Vetus Latina versions for some books, Jerome was essentially starting from scratch, producing his own new Latin version, and going back where he could to Hebrew texts, rather than just the Greek. to work from.This was controversial in itself, as the Greek Septuagint was regarded by some of his contemporaries as itself a divinely-inspired text (rather as some Christians today regard the King James Bible) and Hebrew texts were, in some eyes, tainted by their association with Judaism. For Jerome, though, it was obvious that getting back to the oldest versions of biblical texts would reveal the most authoritative text, and enable the translation to be reliable.
Ironically, Jerome's Latin Bible (the "Vulgate") only finally officially displaced all the Vetus Latina versions in the sixteenth century, at just the moment that Reformers were translating the scriptures into vernacular languages under exactly the same impulse. Liturgy and scripture need to be understood by the faithful, was Jerome's view, and that of the Reformers.
At the school Mass this morning I took the Year 4 class into the middle of the nave and got them to look up at the ceiling to see the portrait of St Jerome up there. He is, of course, easily recognisable, as he is dressed in his broad-brimmed red hat and red robes as a (completely anachronistic) cardinal. I didn't bother with the anachronism, but asked them to find a man with a big red hat and red cloak, and a big black beard. They were very pleased to find him easily. Talking about putting the scriptures into different languages makes sense in this environment where there are more than fifty different home languages among the pupils.
I was struck while I was doing this with the thought that our attitudes to translation go to the heart of the difference between Christianity and Islam. In Islam, the text of the Qur'an is believed to have been uttered by God in classical Arabic, and taken down as dictation by the Prophet Muhammad. While translations exist, they are never allowed to claim to be the Qur'an, but "versions" of it, and essentially the believer is urged to learn classical Arabic in order to approach the text. The text is given; it is the person who must change. A perfect example of the "submission" embodied in Islam. Christianity meanwhile, maintains a notion of the sacredness and inviolability of the scriptures, but accepts that translation has always taken place (even in Old Testament times) and believes that the scriptures need to be translated into the languages of humanity so that humanity may hear the message properly. We don't even know for sure whether Jesus spoke Greek; we assume he taught in Aramaic, which means that the Gospels contain translations of his teaching. He could almost certainly read and speak Greek, but the evidence suggests he generally spoke Aramaic to ordinary people, because that was their language. So Christianity has always wanted to be accessible to different cultures on their own terms (despite remoulding Christianity into a European shape in colonial times, and an American shape in the modern world).
Monday 30 September 2019
Monday 16 September 2019
TOWN AND COUNTRY
Wellness, or not.
Writing last Sunday's sermon was derailed on Friday lunchtime when I got a call from the PDT staff in the church, saying there was a lady there who was asking for the priest. So I went over. Three hours later I returned home. When I went into church one of the junior PDT staff said to me, "I'm pretty sure she's having a psychotic episode," so I asked them to please stay around while I talked to the lady. That turned out to be a correct observation, but the lady didn't seem dangerous, just very distressed. Fortunately the staff member thought to call someone who had delivered mental health first aid training for them, who came at once, and we spent the rest of the afternoon essentially trying to interact with the lady. She would talk about God, but not about herself, so we couldn't get any of the sort of information you need to help someone, It soon became clear that we weren't getting anywhere, so an ambulance was summoned, but it took the best part of two hours to get to us. This enabled the lady to have a rest, and she was more switched on when they arrived, but she wouldn't tell them her name, or let them look in her bag. She went outside with them, but then ran away when she saw the ambulance. They went after her, in a gentle way.
The last time we had someone as unwell as that at the church he ended up impaling his foot on the railings, trying to climb over them. The fire brigade had to be summoned to cut him loose, because apparently you aren't allowed to lift someone impaled off whatever they are impaled on in case it causes catastrophic bleeding. Actually the blood vessels in your foot aren't huge, so this wasn't much of a danger, but they had to follow their procedure, so I was reduced to saying, "That's a Grade-1 listed gate, be careful! And make sure I get it back." I was delighted to find a charming police officer on my doorstep later that evening (a Westcountryman) who gave me back the portion of gate, which St Mary's A&E had removed from the foot, and said, "Sorry, if I was back home, I'd weld it for you myself, but I haven't got my gear here." We found a blacksmith who did the necessary. It was at that point that I noticed that the gates and railings had clearly had extra spikes welded onto them at some point. Not the way we do it today.
Saturday night
Saturday night involved a lot of noise outside the house. When I went over to say Morning Prayer I observed a load of fast food cartons on the road, and about 50 nitrous oxide canisters. My virtuous churchwarden decided to sweep it all up, as you did have to pick your way through it to get to the church door, which she thought wasn't a great look for us. Cycling over to St Peter's to collect all the service sheets (which I would have done on Friday if I'd had an afternoon) I ran over a rat on the Canalside; it was spooked by a bike in front of me and ran straight under my front wheel. Still, it wasn't there when I came back, so I concluded that I didn't injure it much.
Music night
On Thursday, the Music Society celebrated the completion of our building work with an organ recital interspersed with talks from Nicholas Kaye and me, a recipe that worked generally very well (though I underestimated the length of some of the passages from G.E.Street's Life that I was going to read). This was very well received, so I think we shall use a similar recipe again, maybe featuring Betjeman, for instance. James made a very good choice of music, with a piece by Bill Lloyd Webber, who was choirmaster at St Mary Mags in the 1930s (before going to Margaret Street) as well as a Durufle piece that made reference to his "Messe Cum Jubilo" which had its first UK performance here in 1968 (and other rousing items). We were told that both Jean Langlais and Flor Peeters (famous composers for the organ) came here in the 1960s, which gives us some more repertoire.
At the Museum
On Friday evening (somewhat shell-shocked) to the British Museum for the historian Tom Holland giving a lecture to launch his new book "Dominion"; the perfect antidote. I have rarely been at an event when I so thoroughly agreed with the speaker's every word. It is an account of how everything good in our civilisation comes from Christianity (I simplify, obviously). I bought the book, and he signed it. As he did so, I said that I had expressed some of what he had said in a recent sermon, which might worry him. He did look a bit worried. Still, buy the book!
The Thames Valley
On Saturday we thought to go out into the country to take advantage of the nice weather. A friend had an exhibition of his pictures in Henley-on-Thames, and so I thought we would go there and meet friends for tea. As a late afterthought, I decided to pop into All Saints, Boyne Hill, in Maidenhead, another major work by G.E.Street, on the way. We spent an hour and a half in Maidenhead, chatting to an enthusiast and looking carefully. That meant we didn't have long to get to our tea date in Henley, but I thought it would be easy, as it isn't far. However, traffic has got heavier in the Thames Valley since I lived there, and we spent forty-five minutes in queues and trying to park. This did not make for an enjoyable time. Still we managed to meet up with our friends, and had a very pleasant riverside walk in the end. Henley is a bit manicured for my taste, but the upper Thames is very lovely.
Writing last Sunday's sermon was derailed on Friday lunchtime when I got a call from the PDT staff in the church, saying there was a lady there who was asking for the priest. So I went over. Three hours later I returned home. When I went into church one of the junior PDT staff said to me, "I'm pretty sure she's having a psychotic episode," so I asked them to please stay around while I talked to the lady. That turned out to be a correct observation, but the lady didn't seem dangerous, just very distressed. Fortunately the staff member thought to call someone who had delivered mental health first aid training for them, who came at once, and we spent the rest of the afternoon essentially trying to interact with the lady. She would talk about God, but not about herself, so we couldn't get any of the sort of information you need to help someone, It soon became clear that we weren't getting anywhere, so an ambulance was summoned, but it took the best part of two hours to get to us. This enabled the lady to have a rest, and she was more switched on when they arrived, but she wouldn't tell them her name, or let them look in her bag. She went outside with them, but then ran away when she saw the ambulance. They went after her, in a gentle way.
The last time we had someone as unwell as that at the church he ended up impaling his foot on the railings, trying to climb over them. The fire brigade had to be summoned to cut him loose, because apparently you aren't allowed to lift someone impaled off whatever they are impaled on in case it causes catastrophic bleeding. Actually the blood vessels in your foot aren't huge, so this wasn't much of a danger, but they had to follow their procedure, so I was reduced to saying, "That's a Grade-1 listed gate, be careful! And make sure I get it back." I was delighted to find a charming police officer on my doorstep later that evening (a Westcountryman) who gave me back the portion of gate, which St Mary's A&E had removed from the foot, and said, "Sorry, if I was back home, I'd weld it for you myself, but I haven't got my gear here." We found a blacksmith who did the necessary. It was at that point that I noticed that the gates and railings had clearly had extra spikes welded onto them at some point. Not the way we do it today.
Saturday night
Saturday night involved a lot of noise outside the house. When I went over to say Morning Prayer I observed a load of fast food cartons on the road, and about 50 nitrous oxide canisters. My virtuous churchwarden decided to sweep it all up, as you did have to pick your way through it to get to the church door, which she thought wasn't a great look for us. Cycling over to St Peter's to collect all the service sheets (which I would have done on Friday if I'd had an afternoon) I ran over a rat on the Canalside; it was spooked by a bike in front of me and ran straight under my front wheel. Still, it wasn't there when I came back, so I concluded that I didn't injure it much.
Music night
On Thursday, the Music Society celebrated the completion of our building work with an organ recital interspersed with talks from Nicholas Kaye and me, a recipe that worked generally very well (though I underestimated the length of some of the passages from G.E.Street's Life that I was going to read). This was very well received, so I think we shall use a similar recipe again, maybe featuring Betjeman, for instance. James made a very good choice of music, with a piece by Bill Lloyd Webber, who was choirmaster at St Mary Mags in the 1930s (before going to Margaret Street) as well as a Durufle piece that made reference to his "Messe Cum Jubilo" which had its first UK performance here in 1968 (and other rousing items). We were told that both Jean Langlais and Flor Peeters (famous composers for the organ) came here in the 1960s, which gives us some more repertoire.
At the Museum
On Friday evening (somewhat shell-shocked) to the British Museum for the historian Tom Holland giving a lecture to launch his new book "Dominion"; the perfect antidote. I have rarely been at an event when I so thoroughly agreed with the speaker's every word. It is an account of how everything good in our civilisation comes from Christianity (I simplify, obviously). I bought the book, and he signed it. As he did so, I said that I had expressed some of what he had said in a recent sermon, which might worry him. He did look a bit worried. Still, buy the book!
The Thames Valley
On Saturday we thought to go out into the country to take advantage of the nice weather. A friend had an exhibition of his pictures in Henley-on-Thames, and so I thought we would go there and meet friends for tea. As a late afterthought, I decided to pop into All Saints, Boyne Hill, in Maidenhead, another major work by G.E.Street, on the way. We spent an hour and a half in Maidenhead, chatting to an enthusiast and looking carefully. That meant we didn't have long to get to our tea date in Henley, but I thought it would be easy, as it isn't far. However, traffic has got heavier in the Thames Valley since I lived there, and we spent forty-five minutes in queues and trying to park. This did not make for an enjoyable time. Still we managed to meet up with our friends, and had a very pleasant riverside walk in the end. Henley is a bit manicured for my taste, but the upper Thames is very lovely.
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