So. One of the good things about Congregation Beth Bolshoy is that they are big enough to have a variety of meetings and sessions of various kinds on various topics any day of the week. Something for everybody. Well, not everybody, but still. The rabbis decided (for what reason, I have no idea) that they would start a weekly mid-day study session on the Song of Songs. The first week we met in the Senior Rabbi’s palatial office, but there were too many people even for that space, so this week we met in one of the classrooms. And, of course, fewer people showed up, but I was less worried about spilling my tea. On the other hand, it would have been nice to have the Rabbi’s bookshelf to go to for reference. They are renovating the library (as part of the five million dollar capital campaign), so maybe they’ll have a good space in there for study meetings, with access to their shelves. On the other hand, nobody but me has shown any inclination to use anything but the English text in front of them. You know, Reform.
I want to talk about the Song of Songs, not Jewish politics, but do any Gentle Readers claim the Reform movement as their own? I am finding it disconcerting. Mostly, I am against the whole vernacular business. Are there Catholic GRs who are old enough to have undergone the adoption of the vernacular? I understand grudgingly accepting the need for some English in the liturgy, because in fact not very many Jews speak or understand Hebrew, and concessions must be made. On the other hand, I’ve been in congregations where the whole congregation sings along in Hebrew, so it can be done. YHB, after all, speaks no Hebrew outside of the liturgy, but could probably, in a pinch, lead Shabbat Shacharit service. No, the thing is that Reform Jews—and here I’m drawing from our Papa Rabbi—appear to prefer to pray in English. What’s up with that?
No, seriously, what’s up with that? I’m serious, here. I know you Anglicans settled all this hundreds of years ago—how’s that working out for you? Do you miss having a special language of prayer? Do you not feel cut off?
When reading Scripture—and leaving aside the question of whether you consider the particular English you use Inspired, but assuming that the English is at least in some sense Scripture—do you take the words as they are in English, or are you kissing through a kerchief? I find I can’t really study Scripture in English, without having the Hebrew to hand to attempt to pry out something from behind the wall. I imagine it’s the same with New Testament Greek. And since I don’t actually have the Hebrew, I rely on the concordance, and Strong’s comments. At least I know how to pronounce the words and can sometimes hear a pun, although I know I’m missing a hundred for every one I catch.
I grew up in a Conservative shul, and it was quite conservative even for a Conservative shul in those days. In my adult years, I’ve mostly attended unaffiliated synagogues, when I’ve attended at all. Some have had more English in the service, and some less, but there’s always been a sense that English was, if necessary, an inferior language for prayer (or study). It’s part of the odd Conservative divided view, where (for instance) the members don’t want to keep kosher themselves, but they want their Rabbi to keep kosher, and to tell them that they ought to keep kosher. Similarly, the congregants want to pray in Hebrew, even though they don’t necessarily want to learn the language. But it’s more than that. I want to say the Ma Tovu and the Alenu the way my father says it, the way my grandfather said it, the way Rashi said it, the way the Rambam said it. Which is ahistorical nonsense, but it’s important anyway. Except that I want to change the text where I can’t accept it. But I want to change it in Hebrew.
Feh. Perhaps I’ll get back to talking about the Song of Songs later.
chazak, chazak, v’nitchazek,
-Vardibidian.
Worshiping in the manner of the Religious Society of Friends, I seldom any more pray set prayers. I came to this way of worship in part because I did not like spending my time in church arguing with the words of worship, and I feel much more at home as a result of the change. However, all of that has to do with the meaning of the words, and not the language used.
Speaking, on the other hand, as a Protestant growing up reading the English Bible, I think that reading the Bible in Englsh rather than in the original Hebrew/Greek or the Latin Vulgate is a quite different for me than what you describe as your experience, Vardibidian. It is a great matter, in my experience, that the Bible was made available to people in English. People gave their lives for it, and William Tyndale invented or refined much of what is great about English prose in order to render Scripture fittingly in English. Awareness of this history and of the beauty of the language in the English Bible has made me generally content with it as the word of God spoken to me in the language that is native to me. I find it interesting to consider the Hebrew and Greek originals and their great Latin translation in the Vulgate, but not having them is not, for me, like kissing through a kerchief.
Although I don’t know the specifics of it, I know that the history of Hebrew in Jewish worship and Scripture in relation to the Jewish community is vastly different from the history of Hebrew/Greek/Latin in Christian worship and Scripture relation to communities of English speakers, so I expect the meaning of the language of worship to be quite different also.
Hm. I certainly didn’t mean to knock Tyndale, and the translation of Scripture into English—heck, the transcription of Scripture into Greek—was a Good Thing. I’ll even give props to the Vulgate, although grudgingly. And I agree with the Rambam that the Lord speaks to men in the language of men, and I see that in principle, that would extend to speaking to Americans in English. But still.
Thanks,
-V.
Yeah, I’ve had issues with this for a long time (probably involved in the proverbial Son of the Preacher Man becoming an Erisian).
I have Heard Things about your so-called Scripture, including that a kabbalistic interpretation of the Hebrew words with numerology and the Tetragrammaton and blah leads to blah and isn’t that cool. But even GROOVIER is something I heard (from a Jew who was also a Stoner, and ergo somewhat Discordian in his own right) that (dig this crazy shit):
Another translation for the Aramaic or Hebrew or whatever word that Luke or whomever translated into Greek, and has henceforth been translated in perpetuity, as “carpenter,” being the profession of Jesus’s dad, Joseph (“Cuckold of God,” they used to call him in all the bars), that another translation of this word is:
“Magician”
And doesn’t THAT make for an interesting reading of the New Testament?
But that’s not the point. The point is that yeah, it’s always been a little weird to me to take literature out of its original language, including and especially scripture.
I mean, yeah, I’m a big fan of, for instance, Haruki Murakami, but I really can’t dig a lot of the stuff that goes on in his books, because A) it was written for an audience that is culturally Japanese, and B) it was written in (drumroll) Japanese.
But I love the fact that some nice person translated it, ’cause I am after all an Ignorant American, and I speak (and read) English.
I used to read German well enough that I read much of Also Sprach Zarathustra in it, but where my Gunther Grass goes, give me English! I mean, I’m sure my experience of The Flounder would have been enhanced by having been raised Polish in Germany or whatever, but I loved it anyway. So there!
But, I’ve really come to the conclusion that to the extent that the Lord is a Lord, and not an insane, grubby, as it were, Wench, (s)He speaks to men in the language of men, indeed. And one of the Intuitions I have about this is that all Writing (except possibly my own) is the Word. In fact, I think all Thinking and all Speech is also the Word. Furthermore that there is something to be taken from even Bowlderized (or indeed Tyndalized) Scripture, regardless of the language in which it is inscriven.
Of course, one of the Reasons I hold this belief as firmly as I really can, for it is after all a Mystery, is that it is Written that Everything is true. Which is, of course, completely ridiculous.
Also, I’m glad that my scriptural truths require no translation into English, having been written therein.
On the other hand, how cool would it be to have an Aramaic edition of the Principia?
Wow.
peace
Matt
V.,
I didn’t mean to imply that you were knocking Tyndale, only to try to explain how the history of Bible translation contributes to my feeling a stronger connection to the translation than to the original.
The preference that you have for Hebrew as the language of your religious practice challenges me to think about my own sense of tradition. I often think of myself as a traditionalist — teaching all that old literature and all — and yet I don’t have a sense of tradition that connects me strongly to anything as enduring and grand as the Hebrew liturgy, and I’m not searching for one. What’s up with that? If I am a traditionalist, what are my traditions, really? If I am not really much of a traditionalist, why do I think of myself as one? A puzzle.
My son Dan told me about the conversation here so I will venture to throw out my reflections on this issue since I am Anglican and also studying Hebrew (I studied Greek 2 years ago)in seminary.
There were good reasons, I think for Scripture being translated into the vernacular because prior to that, the Reformers believed, access to the Scriptures were restricted to the clergy–and even some in the church hierarchy felt that your average priest couldn’t adequately understand Scripture, much less your average person. It does make Scripture more accessible when it is in your everyday language. However, we are mostly unaware of the issues faced in translating Scripture. Something is always lost in tranlation.
Since I am interested in teaching Scripture, I realized that the understanding of Scripture I had from English translations would only take me so far. Also, I was dependent on other people to tell me how to interpret it. Now that I have studied Greek and am in the process of learning Hebrew, what I realize is that there really is a sense that my previous understanding of Scripture was what you called “kissing through a kerchief”. Scripture, both the Hebrew Scriptures and the Greek Scriptures are far more nuanced in the original languages than their English translations can convey. In addition, I have learned about exegetical fallacies–the ways in which Scripture has been erroneously interpreted (especially based on translations rather than original text). There is a richness of the culture and the thinking of the people who spoke the Hebrew or Greek that also is lost in the translation. Reading Scripture in the original language is richer, I do feel more connected with the story and the historical setting, and I experience a deeper intimacy with the Lord of the Universe as well.
In my Hebrew class (I am only 5 weeks into my first quarter) we have been learning the Sh’ma. I have started reading it in Hebrew to begin my daily devotional prayer time. Yesterday, I tried reading the first verse of Psalm 103 in Hebrew and realized that I could understand everything I read in that line. I cried because of the nearness to the Lord that I felt.
Also, I have come to appreciate the fact the Muslims learn to read the Koran in Arabic, and do not consider translations to be holy scripture. We can learn something from their views, I think.
I haven’t really talked about the language used in corporate worship (though there was a big brouhaha in the Episcopal Church when the new prayerbook came out and eliminated the King James English of the earlier prayer book–some even split off from the denomination over it), but these are all live issues for me.
I have some thoughts about other things in your post, but I will save them for later. I will look forward to hearing about Song of Songs.
Yes, there are definitely two issues (at least): the issue of studying Scripture, which was originally written (or inspired or what have you) in Hebrew (or Greek), and the separate but connected issue of liturgical language. My Rabbi certainly understands that, as with any translated text (Murakami or Grass), there are layers of understanding that can only be approached in the original. And, of course, his Hebrew is excellent, and he is willing to answer questions about the original and whether he is happy with a particular translated word or phrase. Not enough for my tastes, but it turns out I’m not the only one in the shul.
The liturgical Hebrew, though, is a Big Deal for me, and not for him, or for most of my fellow congregants at Temple Beth Bolshoi. There’s something extraordinarily powerful for me in speaking the Hebrew, not only the same words my grandparents’ grandparents said but the same words being said tonight in Jerusalem and Shanghai and Managua. I am, in some ways, in congregation (I hesitate to say communion, but that has some of the flavor of what I mean) with Jews across the world, and with our ancestors through time. When we say the Sh’ma, or Mi Chamocha, it’s one big congregation that includes me and Moses and the Orthodox Jews over on Albany, and Judah the Prince and the Rambam and the Lubovitcher Rebbe and my mother in Arizona (whether she is actually attending services or not). Not that I like all my fellows, you understand. But we’re together anyway.
I do not get that feeling in English at all. I can pray in English, and I admit that I don’t understand the words in Hebrew unless I’m actually looking at the English translation while I’m singing, but I do that most of the time.
I’ve spoken with some Anglicans who say that they don’t particularly feel that sense of togetherness, that they certainly don’t feel like they are praying with Thomas Cranmer and don’t care to. I get that, although I must say it took me a while to realize that it wasn’t a lack, but a different sense of what was wanted.
Hm-I should add to Matt that I’m not ignoring your comment, but I don’t think I have an actual response to it. The kind of world in which everything is Scripture, but that it all still retains some meaning as Scripture … well, it may be too much for me. Not that it’s untrue, but it’s like those three-dee magic dot pictures that my eyes don’t work together well enough to see-I keep staring at them, and sometimes I think I glimpse something there, and I know there is something there, but it remains hidden. Unless it’s a hoax. Damn.
And as for Chris, well, in some ways the hardest thing is to be a traditionalist by inclination who doesn’t have strong traditions (or doesn’t have a strong connection to those he is given or finds himself in). It’s like being, I don’t know, a meat-eater in a commune of vegetarians. You can live without meat just fine, and most of the time you don’t actively miss it. You get up from table full every night, but with a sneaking suspicion that there’s a kielbase somewhere.
Thanks,
-V.
I think one issue is that Judaism is the religion of a People, and that Christianity is a populist religion. So I think there is something to what you’re saying of your Scripture linking you (and communion is a fine word) with your ancestors and your People through the ages, where Christians don’t really have that feeling from Scripture, per se. There is a Mystery (for some of them) to Communion (the blood and the flesh and all that) that connects them to Their Lord, and by extension to all the people who have ever taken said Communion, and for that moment, they are Legion. But it’s a mystical thing, rather than a cultural thing.
For me, the Mystery is that we are all Legion all the time, and it is only our own limitations as human beings (or dogs, or rocks, or quasars or whatever we happen to be at the moment) that separates us one from each other. I think Gurdjieff called this idea (or something like it) the kundabuffer (which is kind of a goofy word, but what the hell, Gurdjieff was kind of a goofy philosopher). People who have had religious experiences have felt the breakdown of this buffer, but they confuse it with the tradition that they were raised in and often have conversion experiences to a religion that doesn’t acknowledge the totality that they experienced, and they end up disillusioned atheists. Or institutionalized.
Which is sad, in a way. But everything is true, even atheism. And psychosis.
So more power to them.
peace
Matt
But it’s a mystical thing, rather than a cultural thing.
Well, it was a cultural thing, earlier in the history of western Christianity, when Christendom a lively experience for European Catholics. I believe that, for some contemporary Catholics, being a part of the culture of Christendom is still a part of their religious experience. I expect that, teaching at a Catholic college now and being next door to Notre Dame, I will learn more about that.
I can see that, Chris.
I can imagine that Latin American Catholicism has some of that, and sure, other branches (Russian Orthodoxy retains some of it, I understand). Also, when there was still a Holy Roman Empire, per se, I’d imagine there was a connection through the ages to the Rood.
My experience with Catholicism is entirely through the lens of various Catholic girlfriends, none of whom were particularly devout. And my personal experience of Christianity comes from one liberal Protestant congregation or another across the American south, growing up as the Son of a Preacherman, himself the Son of a Preacherman. But, you know, the Christian experience was couched as choice to become Christian (even Catholics can Be Saved, or whatever), and it wasn’t really cultural, per se. There were too many KINDS of Christians, and they didn’t seem really to get along very well…
I can totally see that the Christian cultural experience might be different for a Catholic. Or a Mormon, for instance. There’s a lot of culture involved in that flavor of Christianity, too.
So, YMMV.
peace
Matt
Another possibility is that the Scripture you are reading at the moment was written for a different audience than you.
My problem with pointing at something and saying “THIS is holy, but THAT” *pointing at some pornography* “is PROFANE! FOUL! UNCLEAN!” is that there is beauty and wisdom everywhere.
OK, I’m done. This screed went on and on and got more and more preachy, and you folks don’t need that. Sorry to impose.
peace
Matt
me i prefer the marley version. clapton sounds like he’s confessing falsely to protect a friend.