Books: The Sayings of the Desert Fathers

This Lent, I decided to read The Sayings of the Desert Fathers, edited by Benedicta Ward, SLG.  I bought this book last May at the International Congress on Medieval Studies at Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo.  My wife is currently pursuing her doctorate in history (and I think she's gaining on it), and her specific area of interest is medieval England.  For the past few years (three? four?) we have been attending the ICMS at Kalamazoo, and this past year we both presented papers: hers was on the Book of Hours belonging to Sir William Porter and what it reveals about him ("Affinity, Nationalism, and Religious Devotion"), and mine was on an eschatological perspective on JRR Tolkien's use of geography in his Middle Earth literature.  Sadly, we are not attending this year, as we have too many things on our plates, and too many plates in the air.

WMU is home to an Institute of Cistercian Studies, and there is a good showing of Cistercians at the ICMS each year.  One of the book vendors is Cistercian Publications.  It was at their booth last May that I found The Sayings of the Desert Fathers.  I don't tend to buy too many books at the ICMS because most of them are, to be honest, over my head and out of my realm of interest.  I do get a few each year, though.  Last year I also bought a commentary on Second Corinthians (by CCSS) and a book about the medieval literature behind the writing of JRR Tolkien, The Keys of Middle-Earth.

These books are in good company in my man-cave in the unfinished basement of our house.  A man-cave I have not spent much time in lately, because it's been winter, and because we sometimes get floods down there, and because my part of the basement is a federal disaster relief site.  It's a real mess.  Now that the temperature is warming up, I might be able to straighten it up a bit.  A lot.

But about my books.  I have a lot of books down there, but many of them are unread or barely started.  I've decided to create a virtual bookshelf program (using Google Books' API) so that my wife and I can keep track of the books we own, categorize them, log a history of which ones we're reading, how far we are, and when we've finished them.  With a simple program in place (and enhancements to come in time), I've resolved to enter the books I own into the system, read them, and make notes about them.

So that brings us to The Sayings of the Desert Fathers.  This 250 page alphabetical collection of sayings (not necessarily "wisdom" sayings, but sayings) from the eremitical men and women of the Egypt from the third through fifth centuries is the sort of book I like.  It introduces me to the writings and thoughts of people and potentially whets my appetite for more.  Case in point, my wife has suggested I read Athanasius' Life of St. Anthony, who has some 38 sayings in this book, four of which I marked as particularly meaningful to me.  The book is dog-eared and pencil-marked now: I put asterisks next to scriptural citations (for entry into a database later), and I turn down the corner of a page on which I find a saying that resonates with me, and draw a line down the margin next to it.

I imagine there are about two thousand sayings in this book, and they range from the utterly practical to the astonishingly absurd.  Some are amusing anecdotes about the trials of living as a well-known and sought-after hermit; a couple of these end up sounding like a fourth-century rendition of "Get off my lawn!"  Others are mind-blowing accounts of the severe ascetism of these secluded monks: eating only once every other day, fighting off sleep, not speaking a word unless it would be a sin not to do so (hospitality to one's neighbor — a funny concept among people living mostly solitary lives — was very big among the Desert Fathers and Mothers), and refusing to accept gifts or retain possessions.

Some are quite fantastic, like the story of Abba Sisoes of Calamon who, to avoid sleep, hung himself over a precipice.  It is related that "an angel came to take him down and ordered him not to do that again and not to transmit such teaching to others." (p. 219)  Others are quite mundane, like the story of Abba Macarius who had nothing in his cell but some stagnant water.  Two brothers noticed this and invited him to accompany them to a village where they would get clean water for him.  Abba Macarius asked if they knew the man who owned the bakery in the village; they did.  He asked if they knew of the field which lay adjacent to the river; they did.  Then he said to them, "I know it too.  So when I want to, I can go there myself, without your help."

A simple "No thanks" would have sufficed!

There are many real gems among these sayings as well.  Love of neighbor as love of Christ comes up often.  The radical nature of life for Christ alone, to the exclusion of virtually every worldly comfort, is a constant theme.  And then there are frequent reminders that we should be concerned for, and weep for, our own sins, rather than judge another person.  I was surprised at the sort of laissez-faire attitude towards sin that several of these sayings contain, along the lines of "If you see a brother sinning, say nothing to him."  A brother is being judged by the other brethren, and the abba shows up and asks to be judged too; or the abba appears carrying a large sack of sand on his back and holding a small satchel of sand in front of him: "In this sack with contains much sand, are my sins which are many; I have put them behind me so as not to be troubled about them and so as not to weep; and see here are the little sins of my brother which are in front of me and I spend my time judging them." (Abba Pior, p. 199)

I found one saying near the end of the book that aligns with the popular saying, "hate the sin, love the sinner."  Amma Syncletica says, "Hate sickness but not the sick person." (p. 233)  There were also striking encounters with sinners (often harlots) wherein the abba converts the sinner by sorrow for his or her life of sin and concern for his or her immortal soul.

There is practical wisdom to be found as well.  Abba Silvanus said, "Unhappy is the man whose reputation is greater than his work." (p. 224)  Abba Pambo lamented that a courtesan had greater desire to please wicked men than he had to please God. (p. 196)  Abba Poemen states matter-of-factly that "where there are enemies, I become a solider." (p. 194)

A few sayings remind me of the encounter between Jean Valjean and the bishop in Les misérables.  Valjean is shown hospitality by the bishop but in return steals some silverware and runs off in the night.  When Valjean is apprehended by lawmen and returned to the bishop, the bishop insists that the silver was a gift.  Not having read the book, but having seen the musical (does that count?), the event is told in this way:

Constables: Tell his reverence your story, let us see if he's impressed.
You were lodging here last night; you were the honest bishop's guest.
And then out of Christian goodness, when he learned about your plight,
You maintain he made a present of this silver.

Bishop:                                                               That is right.
But my friend you left so early, surely something slipped your mind.
You forgot I gave these also.  Would you leave the best behind?
So messieurs, you may release, for this man has spoken true.
I commend you for your duty: may God's blessing go with you.

And remember this, my brother: see in this some higher plan.
You must use this precious silver to become an honest man.
By the witness of the martyrs, by the Passion and the Blood,
God has raised you out of darkness.  I have bought your soul for God.

This is the sort of reaction some of the abbas have toward a brother who is sinning.  One brother is suspected of having given into the temptation of fornication, and the other brothers decide to search his cell for the woman.  The local abba, Ammonas, knowing what has happened, enters the cell first and sits upon a barrel; he knows the brother has hid the woman inside.  He lets the other brothers in to search the cell, but they do not find the woman.  When they leave, Abba Ammonas takes the brother by the hand and says, "Brother, be on your guard." (p. 28)  Other stories relate how an abba, upon seeing his cell being raided by thieves, would not cry out in alarm, but assist the thieves in stowing what little possessions he had on their camel.

Clearly this way of life is not for everyone.  The extreme asceticism and the "look the other way" mentality do not apply to every situation of life.  Still, there is a great deal to be learned from these wise (and probably thin) men and women of the desert.  They emphasize the need to cast off vices and grow in virtue, preferably in all the virtues a little, rather than in one particular virtue a lot.  They praise obedience and humility.

I give Abba Silvanus the last remark.  Abba Moses asked him, "Can a man lay a new foundation every day?" Abba Silvanus replied, "If he works hard, he can lay a new foundation at every moment." (p. 224)

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Filling the void with books!

I'm finding it difficult to blog regularly lately.  It's probably because I read a lot of blogs and comment on a few of them fairly often, and I tweet, and I'm writing a book on the Eucharistic Prayers... oh yeah, and I have a wife and a job and a dog and teach Confirmation students.

So the blog has suffered a lot because of that.  Just look at the past few months:

• February - 1 post
• January - 1 post
• December - 4 posts
• November - 4 posts
• October - 4 posts

I only posted 54 times in 2011, less than half of 2010's output, which was less than a third of 2009's output!  True, some of my posts have been short and a bit mundane, but I just don't write here much anymore.  I've got tons of "series" of blog posts which are stagnant, and a lot which never really ever got started.  I've also got two other blogs (related to the new liturgical translation) which haven't had much going on lately.

So, facing the decision of 1) not changing my blogging habits, 2) increasing my blogging, or 3) stopping blogging here altogether, I'm going to try #2.  I'm going to blog about the books I'm reading, because if there's one thing I have a lot of, it's unread books on Christianity!  I wouldn't call these book reviews, per se, although I'll tag them as such for good measure.

My first installment will be on The Sayings of the Desert Fathers translated by Benedicta Ward, SLG.

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Scripture reference database

If you're like me, you have plenty of books on your bookshelves that contain references to passages from the Bible. I'm not talking just about scriptural commentaries; I have many books, which I would classify as spiritual reading (like I'm Not Being Fed! by Jeff Cavins and The Imitation of Christ by Thomas a Kempis), that quote or refer to Scripture.

Several years ago, I compiled a list of scriptural annotations in the Catechism of the Catholic Church and made a search engine so that I could look up paragraphs of the Catechism that refer to a specific biblical passage. I also went through a couple of books with collected excerpts from the writing of Pope Benedict XVI and made the same sort of database, but never got around to using it.

But that's going to change. I've recently started writing a little library database (using the Google Books API) for my wife and myself to keep track of all the books we own. I'm taking this opportunity to create a catalog of all the scripture references in the books I read, in the same library database. I'll eventually make this available to the public.

If you're interested in helping out, leave a comment here or tweet me.

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Treasures of the Roman Missal: Eucharistic Prayer IV

There are inexhaustible riches buried in the Eucharistic Prayers of the modern Roman Rite. The new English translation helps uncover them, but to delve even deeper, we need to look directly at the Latin. I recommend a look at Eucharistic Prayer IV, which is rarely used, but is a stellar recounting of salvation history filled with resonant biblical language and powerful imagery.

Here's a selection from the Post-sanctus of EP IV, first in the new English translation, and then in the underlying Latin:

You formed man in your own image
and entrusted the whole world to his care,
so that in serving you alone, the Creator,
he might have dominion over all creatures.
And when through disobedience he had lost your friendship,
you did not abandon him to the domain of death.

Here is the Latin:

Hominem ad tuam imaginem condidisti,
eique commisisti mundi curam universi,
ut, tibi soli Creatori serviens,
creaturis omnibus imperaret.
Et cum amicitiam tuam, non oboediens, amisisset,
non eum dereliquisti in mortis imperio.

There are two pairs of bolded words in the English and in the Latin: commisisti and amisisset, imperaret and imperio. The two pairs are translated in different manners. Let us look at the second pair first.

The word imperaret is a third person imperfect subjunctive form of the verb imperare "to order, command; to rule (over)." The word imperio is the noun form of that verb: "command; authority; rule". It is sensible to translate them into English as "might have dominion" and "the dominion", for this captures the sense of the Latin words and the linguistic link between them. The treasure I see here in the text is this: God gave dominion (mastery, you could say, or stewardship) of His creation to man, but when man sinned, He did not let death have dominion over man. This treasure is not too hard to spot in the new translation. (The previous English translation was another matter, translating these two words as "to rule" and "power", two words not immediately related to each other in English. The proposed 1998 text used "be stewards" and "power", even less associated with each other.)

But I think a more concealed treasure (partly due to the translation) is in the first pair: commisisti and amisisset. The first is the second person perfect form of the verb committere which means "to entrust" along with "to bring together, unite"; the second is the third person pluperfect subjunctive form of the verb amittere which means "to lose" along with "to send away; to part with". Both verbs are related to the root verb mittere which means "to send". The treasure to be uncovered here is that God unites — sends together, com-mittere — man and the rest of His creation as part of His friendship with man, but then man casts away — sends away, a-mittere — this friendship. God puts something special and precious into the hands of man, and man casts it aside.

These are just two pearls of great price I've uncovered as I study the Eucharistic Prayers (during the research phase of my work on Praying the Mass vol. 3, The Eucharistic Prayers). There are many more to be uncovered!

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Critiquing the new translation alongside earlier ones

I'm still reading Anscar Chupungco's critique of the official English translation of Eucharistic Prayer for Reconciliation I:

ICEL2010 takes liberty with the Latin text in unum corpus congregentur in Christo, a quo omnis auferatur divisio, whose literal meaning is: “they may be gathered into one Body in Christ, from which may every division be {482} removed.” It is obvious that a quo refers to corpus, not to Christo. There can be no division in Christ in the first place. (A Commentary on the Order of Mass, pp. 481-482)

That is a good literal translation of the Latin provided by Fr. Chupungco (a Benedictine monk). The English text he is critiquing, from the new English translation of the Roman Missal, is "they may be gathered into one Body in Christ who heals every division." He goes on to say:

The Latin text does not say that Christ “heals” every division. The verb “to heal” is not a dynamic equivalent, much less a literal translation of auferatur. What is prayed for is that all division be eliminated from the community, the body gathered into one in Christ. (Ibid, p. 482)

He has a valid point here. The verb auferre means generally "to remove". It appears in a penitential prayer of the Extraordinary Form of the Mass (commonly called the Tridentine Mass), aufer a nobis... ("Take away our iniquities from us...").

I wonder, though, why here in the commentary on translation, mention is not made of earlier translations (e.g. 1975 and 1998) of the same Latin text; comparing the 2010 text to earlier translations happens quite frequently in this particular commentary. The two earlier translations I have noted (1975 and 1998) employed dynamic equivalency, and yet they rendered the phrase in question as "healed of all division" and "in whom all divisions are healed". Perhaps this is why a comparison or remark is absent.

While Fr. Chupungco is correct that "healed" does not translate (literally or dynamically) auferatur, I would dare to suggest that "healed of all division(s)" does dynamically (though not quite literally) translate omnis auferatur divisio. For, in this case, the divisions are in a body, a body which is meant to be perfectly united, perfectly one, utterly undivided. The removal, therefore, of divisions in this body appropriately be called "healing".

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Translating the Sanctus

The Adoremus Bulletin had an article nine years ago about the proper translation of Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus, Dominus Deus Sabaoth. This article pointed out that while "Deus" is a noun in the nominative (subject of a verb) and vocative (direct address) cases, "Dominus" is only properly a nominative noun. The vocative form of "Dominus" is "Domine", as in Miserere, Domine.

This means the strictly literal translation of the first line of the Sanctus is really "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God of Hosts," instead of what we're used to, "Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Hosts."

So I was a bit surprised when reading Anscar Chupungco's analysis of the new English translation, wherein he writes:

In compliance with the norms of formal correspondence advocated by [Liturgiam Authenticam], the English Sanctus for [Eucharistic Prayer for Reconciliation I] in ICEL2010 (“Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of hosts”) appropriately corrects its 2007 gray book translation of this prayer (Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God of hosts). (A Commentary on the Order of Mass, p. 478)

There are a number of other inaccuracies in the final translation of the Latin text which the numerous authors in the Commentary have pointed out, but I was surprised at this one.

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Biblical exegesis and interfaith sensitivity

I'm reading a new massive commentary on the Roman Missal by the Liturgical Press. It's very helpful for my research on the new translations of the Eucharistic Prayers, but every now and then it rubs me the wrong way with statements like these (emphasis added):

A mystagogy of EP IV needs to point out that the early church or a patristic typological interpretation of OT passages can be problematic for contemporary interfaith sensibilities. Appreciation of the prayer does need to carry with it a certain note of caution concerning its appropriation of Jewish salvation history. In other words, contemporary exegesis of OT texts lets the Hebrew Scriptures stand on their own terms. That being said, the biblical approach of EP IV can be valued and appreciated on its own terms as long as one is aware of the contemporary critique. It is important to note that the NT texts themselves often approach the Hebrew Scriptures typologically. (A Commentary on the Order of Mass of The Roman Missal: A New English Translation, pp. 427-428)

While contemporary interfaith sensibilities might justly govern interfaith activities, there is no need to abandon the scriptural tradition of the Church in reading the Old Testament in light of the revelation of Jesus Christ.  Yes, this is not just an "early church" tradition (as in going back to, say, St. Ignatius of Antioch), it is a scriptural Church tradition:  the evangelists did it, the apostles did it, John the Baptist did it, and Jesus Himself did it.  I see no reason to avoid typological interpretation of the Bible in a mystagogical context.

Perhaps this will come off sounding insensitive, but do we risk losing parts of our authentic Catholic identity, to use a Johannine phrase, "for fear of the Jews"?

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New Translation: Awkward wording in the doxology

While I am for the most part pleased with the new English translation of the Roman Missal — what I've read and heard of it — there are a few awkwardly worded sections.

In this post, I'd like to examine one example: the concluding doxology of the Eucharistic Prayer.  In the old translation, the priest said:

Through him, with him, in him,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
all glory and honor is yours,
almighty Father,
forever and ever.

This is a decent (although not exact) translation of the Latin, which reads:

Per ipsum, et cum ipso, et in ipso,
est tibi Deo Patri omnipoténti,
in unitáte Spíritus Sancti,
omnis honor, et glória,
per ómnia sæcula sæculórum.

If you haven't noticed, I'm putting the prepositions in bold. Here is a strict word-for-word translation:

By him, and with him, and in him,
is to you God Father almighty,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
all honor and glory,
during all ages of ages.

And here's how it is rendered in the new translation:

Through him, and with him, and in him,
O God, almighty Father,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
all glory and honor is yours,
forever and ever.

As you can see, the individual lines of the prayer have been re-arranged to match their order in the Latin, but I think it ends up being a little anti-climactic. The order of the Latin phrases is not, in this case, necessary to the form of the prayer; this is not a collect, for example, where the prayer takes the form of "O God, who did X, we ask you, grant us Y."

There is another problem which exists in both the old and the new translation: a missing preposition. This may not seem like a big deal, but the Latin does not simply say that all glory and honor is the Father's; it specifically says that all glory and honor is (that is, it goes) to the Father by (through), in, and with the Son, and in the unity of the Holy Spirit. This small detail is not captured by either translation, and can be tricky to convey in natural-sounding English.

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Does the new translation of the Mass over-emphasize our sinfulness?

My parish prayed the Confiteor at Mass this morning.  One thing I have read complaints about, in the new translation, is that the Confiteor over-emphasizes our sinfulness.  "I have greatly sinned ... through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault."

Did you happen to notice, new translation aside, the First Reading from this morning's Mass?

Behold, you are angry, and we are sinful;
all of us have become like unclean people,
all our good deeds are like polluted rags;
we have all withered like leaves,
and our guilt carries us away like the wind.
There is none who calls upon your name,
who rouses himself to cling to you;
for you have hidden your face from us
and have delivered us up to our guilt.

Geez, Isaiah!  Lighten up, would you?  And yet, the First Reading ends thus:

Yet, O LORD, you are our father;
we are the clay and you the potter:
we are all the work of your hands.

And so ends the Confiteor, or whatever Penitential Act is used:  we acknowledge that God is almighty in His mercy, capable of granting us forgiveness of our sins, and ready to do so.

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