Author Archives: Kevin P. Edgecomb

Our Prayers Say Who We Are

There’s a beautiful prayer of St Ambrose which I’ve found is recommended in Roman Catholic Missals for the use of the faithful. Below I present the original Latin, and then two translations, one dating from 1962 from a Missal of that year, the other from the current English translations propogated by the Roman Catholic International Commision on English in the Liturgy, dated to 1980. I’ll follow with commentary

Oratio S. Ambrosii
Ad mensam dulcissimi convivii tui, pie Domine Iesu Christe,
ego peccator de propriis meis meritis nihil praesumens,
sed de tua confidens misericordia et bonitate,
accedere vereor et contremisco.
Nam cor et corpus habeo multis criminibus maculatum,
mentem et linguam non caute custodiam.
Ergo, o pia Deitas, o tremenda maiestas,
ego miser, inter augustias deprehensus,
ad te fontem misericordiae recurro,
ad te festino sanandus,
sub tuam protectionem fugio;
et, quem Iudicem sustinere nequeo,
Salvatorem habere suspiro.
Tibi, Domine, plagas meas ostendo,
tibi verecundiam meam detego.
Scio peccata mea multa et magna, pro quibus timeo:
spero in mesericordias tuas, quarum non est numerus.
Respice ergo in me oculis misericordiae tuae,
Domine Iesu Christe, Rex aeterne, Deus et homo,
crucifixus propter hominem.
Exaudi me sperantem in te:
miserere mei pleni miseriis et peccatis,
tu qui fontem miserationis numquam manare cessabis.
Salve, salutaris victima,
pro me et omni humano genere in patibulo Crucis oblata.
Salve, nobilis et pretiose Sanguis,
de vulneribus crucifixi Domini mei Iesu Christi profluens,
et peccata totius mundi abluens.
Recordare, Domine, creaturae tuae,
quam tuo Sanguine redemisti.
Paenitet me peccasse,
cupio emendare quod feci.
Aufer ergo a me, clementissime Pater,
omnes iniquitates et peccata mea,
ut, purificatus mente et corpore,
digne degustare merear Sancta sanctorum.
Et concede, ut haec sancta praelibatio Corporis et Sanguinis tui,
quam ego indignus sumere intendo,
sit peccatorum meorum remissio,
sit delictorum perfecta purgatio,
sit turpium cogitationum effugatio
ac bonorum sensuum regeneratio,
operumque tibi placentium salubris efficacia,
animae quoque et corporis
contra inimicorum meorum insidias firmissima tuitio.
Amen.

1962 Translation
O gracious Lord Jesus Christ, I, a sinner, presuming not on my own merits, but trusting to Thy mercy and goodness, fear and tremble in drawing near to the Table on which is spread Thy Banquet of all delights. For I have defiled both my heart and body with many sins, and have not kept a strict guard over my mind and my tongue. Wherefore, O gracious God, O awful Majesty, I, a wretched creature, reduced to extremity, have recourse to Thee, the fount of mercy; I fly to Thee that I may be healed, and take refuge under Thy protection, and I ardently desire to have Him as my Savior Whom I am unable to withstand as my Judge. To Thee, O Lord, I show my wounds, to Thee I lay bare my shame. I know that my sins are many and great, on account of which I am filled with fear. But I trust in Thy mercy, for it is unbounded. Look down upon me, therefore, with eyes of mercy, O Lord Jesus Christ, eternal King, God and Man, crucified for man. Hearken unto me, for my hope is in Thee; have mercy on me, who am full of misery and sin, Thou Who wilt never cease to let flow the fountain of mercy. Hail, Thou saving Victim, offered for me and for all mankind on the tree of the cross. Hail, Thou noble and precious Blood, flowing from the wounds of my crucified Lord Jesus Christ and washing away the sins of the whole world. Remember, O Lord, Thy creature, who Thou hast redeemed with Thy Blood. I am grieved because I have sinned, I desire to make amends for what I have done. Take away from me therefore, O most merciful Father, all my iniquities and offenses, that, being purified both in soul and body, I may worthily partake of the Holy of Holies; and grant that this holy oblation of Thy Body and Blood, of which all unworthy I purpose to partake, may be to me the full remission of my sins, the perfect cleansing of my offenses, the means of driving away all evil thoughts and of renewing all holy desires, the advancement of works pleasing to Thee, as well as the strongest defense and protection for soul and body against the craft and the snares of my enemies. Amen.

1980 Translation
I draw near to the table of your most delectable banquet, dear Lord Jesus Christ. A sinner, I trust not in my own merit; but, in fear and trembling, I rely on your mercy and goodness. I have a heart and body marked by many grave offenses, and a mind and tongue that I have not guarded well. For this reason, God of loving kindness and awesome majesty, I, a sinner caught by many snares, seek safe refuge in you. For you are the fountain of mercy. I would fear to draw near to you as my judge, but I seek you out as my Savior. Lord, I show you my wounds, and I let you see my shame. Knowing my sins are many and great, I have reason to fear. But I trust in your mercies, for they are beyond all numbering. Look upon me with mercy, for I trust in you, my Lord Jesus Christ, eternal king, God and man, you who were crucified for mankind. Have mercy on me, you who never cease to make the fountain of your mercy flow, for I am full of sorrows and sins. I praise you, the saving Victim offered on the wood of the cross for me and for all mankind. I praise the noble Blood that flows from the wounds of my Lord Jesus Christ, the precious Blood that washes away the sins of all the world. Remember, Lord, your creature, whom you have redeemed with your own Blood. I am sorry that I have sinned, and I long to put right what I have done. Most kind Father, take away all my offenses and sins, so that, purified in body and soul, I may be made worthy to taste the Holy of holies. And grant that this holy meal of your Body and Blood, which I intend to take, although I am unworthy, may bring forgiveness of my sins and wash away my guilt. May it mean the end of my evil thoughts and the rebirth of my better longings. May it lead me securely to live in ways that please you, and may it be a strong protection for body and soul against the plots of my enemies. Amen.

First, look at that Latin! Nice! St Ambrose was a past master of the Latin language, and this prayer displays his fine control of it. I suspect that the rhythmic quality of so many of the verses, the kind of sing-song balance of meter, may reflect that this particular prayer was originally one of his hymns, which we are aware of St Ambrose having composed in Milan to great acclaim. Not only is the rhythm balanced, but there is rhyme, and also a few intersecting chiasms. It’s a fascinating prayer, composed in a way to make it interesting for people to say, and easy to remember through the repetitions, the rhythm, and the rhymes. It shows St Ambrose’s pastoral concern for catechesis, which he was justly famous for.

The approach of the two translator or translation teams is different, owing as much to the particular piety of the translator(s) as to knowledge of Latin. So we see two very different kinds of personal piety displayed through these works. The 1962 translation displays a distinctly penitential bent, which is certainly present in the original, but is more strongly emphasize in the translation. This, of course, was a period dating to before the Vatican II Council, and the alterations to the fabric of Catholic piety that ensued afterward, a period in which this kind of penitential piety was still quite common, and was an ideal. The pentitential spirit shown in this translation is one that is thus somewhat fierce, but not insane. That is, it was based in the reality of the lived Catholicism of its day, and is precisely as one should expect it to be. Aside from this aspect, the translation is somewhat clunkier than necessary. A little more effort would have made it flow better.

The 1980 translation gives an entirely different impression, from an entirely different age, though they’re separated by only 18 years. Notice the opening: “I draw near to the table of your most delectable banquet….” It appears that the person praying is a gourmand of some sort, relating an autobigraphical detail of a trip to a restaurant owned by Jesus! This subconsciously sets the reader in the context of reading the prayer not as a personal prayer shared with others, but as something separate, someone else’s prayer that a kind of voyeurism is allowing the reader to see. Also, just as there was a strengthening of penitential language in the prayer by the 1962 translation, in the 1980 translation is a toning down of the same. Relatedly, it’s entirely gauche to begin a prayer to our Sovereign God with “I.” And Jesus has now become “dear,” as well, connoting that the Senior Ladies’ Knitting Circle has composed the prayer, and not the fiery Archbishop of Mediolanum who told off an Emperors to his face.

To summarize and exemplify the differences, compare these:
Paenitet me peccasse, cupio emendare quod feci.
I am grieved because I have sinned, I desire to make amends for what I have done. (1962)
I am sorry that I have sinned, and I long to put right what I have done. (1980)

In the end, these translations are showing something that I’ve noticed subconsciously for some time now. In the translations of prayers for liturgical churches, there has been a consistent trend toward the softening of the translations of these kinds of prayers for decades now. Not only can the worshipper no longer be expected to share the worldview of the ancient writer and interact with the recommended prayer on the level of its original language with at least a modicum of understanding the depth of riches of the language, but they cannot be even expected to share a remotely similar worldview, a worldview in which we are unworthy sinners, wretched and poor, stupid and weak, putrid by inches, and the only salvation is God, through His Son. Rescue from this dismal state is not through meeting the old ladies and eunuchs of the local religiously themed social club (some call them churches, which might offend some people!), but through transformation as a member of the Body of Christ, conforming onself, though God’s grace alone, to the Divine image inch by inch, a process we Eastern Orthodox call theosis, often translated “divinization,” the primary vehicle of which is prayer. The translations of prayers anyone uses are an important part of Christian transformation, because they must accurately reflect the theological worldview that lies behind them in toto, without alteration. After all, for each prayer like the above that makes it into prayer books, the original language version is chosen for its powerful and effective words, and for its orthodoxy and usefulness to the faithful. Translations of such prayers need to reflect that power as much as possible.

I think St Ambrose would certainly have preferred the 1962 translation of his prayer, if he had to choose between that and the 1980 version above. It clearly reflects a worldview similar to his own, while the 1980 translation does not.

❧

Treasure for a thorn

At morn I plucked a rose and gave it Thee,
     A rose of joy and happy love and peace,
          A rose with scarce a thorn :
          But in the chillness of a second morn
     My rose bush drooped, and all its gay increase
Was but one thorn that wounded me.

I plucked the thorn and offered it to Thee,
     And for my thorn Thou gavest love and peace,
          Not joy this mortal morn :
          If Thou hast given much treasure for a thorn,
     Wilt Thou not give me for my rose increase
Of gladness, and all sweets to me?

My thorny rose, my love and pain, to Thee
     I offer ; and I set my heart in peace,
          And rest upon my thorn :
          For verily I think to-morrow morn
     Shall bring me Paradise, my gift’s increase,
Yea, give Thy very Self to me.

Christina Georgina Rossetti
“A Rose Plant in Jericho”
Dated before 1876

❧

The General and the Saint

General Placidus had been hunting the great-antlered, magnificent stag, the finest he’d ever seen, for three days now. He and several of his servants had followed it through a wooded valley to the side of a mountain late in the day, just a great storm blew in. The proud general gained the distinct impression that he was being taunted by this haughty stag, which seemed to be leading them onward, waiting, and then bounding out of range of their javelins as soon as he or his men would close in. Now the rain began pouring down, and day seemed to turn to night. Lightning began to flash all around, and the thunder was deafening. Still, the general could catch glimpses of the stag further up, higher up, waiting, but then always moving toward the top of this rocky mountain. He looked for his men, but couldn’t see them, shouted, but they could not have heard him through the downpour and the thunder. For all he knew, they may have been felled by the lightning already or fallen down the steep slopes. In the prime of his life after many conquests in the far-flung empire of his lord the Emperor, Placidus continued uphill, pulling himself up the rocky face hand over hand, feet finding slight purchase on the slick rock, the rain running off his cloak. With a flash of lightning just above, he sees the mighty stag standing on a jutting rock just above him, very close, looking down at him. A little more climbing, and he finds himself exactly where the stag was, on a roughly level area, next to a craggy peak. More flashes of lightning illuminate the scene, and he sees the stag looking back at him and bounding up the peak itself. Placidus roars and bounds forward himself, javelin at the ready, knowing the stag will have little chance of escape. Lightning strikes dangerously close all around the general, and yet he scrambles onward and upward. He can no longer see the stag. There, near the peak, he sees what seems to be a cleft in the rock, and a glow coming from within it. He supposes his men to have found a cave and set up a fire within, the lazy slaves. Still, a warm fire in a dry cave without lightning flashing all about would be welcome. Yet he wondered where the stag went, if not into this very cleft. He heads toward the cleft in the rock, and then notices the strange quality of the light, how it is steady and bright, like sunlight, not flickering like a fire. He proceeds out of the rain, entering the cave cautiously, but then stops in his tracks, dropping his javelin. There, inside, stands the stag, magnificent, mighty, bigger than any stag should be, with the finest antlers imaginable. Placidus, the fearless general, commander of Rome’s legions, is suddenly frightened, for between the mighty antlers of the great stag shines the image of a man on a cross. The great stag stands, noble, impassive, staring directly down at Placidus, who falls face-down in worship, striking his fists on the floor of the cave, weeping. He knows the Crucified One. He hears a mighty voice, loud as the thunder, and is paralyzed, nearly fainting in fear. It says, “You have hunted Me long enough, Placidus. Now you have found Me.”

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

After his visionary conversion experience, the general Placidus and his family were soon all baptized as Christians, with him taking the baptismal name Eustachios, either late in the reign of Trajan or early in the reign of Hadrian. He gave most of his wealth away to help the poor. He and his family were martyred. The feast of St Eustachios, also known as St Eustathios and St Eustace, and his family, is 20 September. The place of his conversion, where he saw the vision of the stag, is called Mentorella, and is a place of pilgrimage.

❧

Regula fidei scriptorumque

The challenges of the second century, including local persecution of Christians and the growth of heresy (Gnosticism, Marcion, and the Montanists), were not responded to by the establishment of a biblical canon in the second century, but rather by setting forth a “canon of faith” (regula fidei), namely, a creed that stated what was generally believed to be the true teaching of the church at that time. There was no firmly fixed biblical canon at the end of the second century, but rather several books of the NT—primarily the Gospels and several of Paul’s Letters—were beginning to be called “Scripture.”

Lee Martin McDonald. The Biblical Canon: Its Origin, Transmission and Authority, p. xix.

McDonald raises an interesting point, one which bears elaboration and extension into the first century. Rather than characterizing the regula fidei as a “creed” particularly, which calls to mind a classic verbal summary formulation of beliefs, like the Apostle’s Creed or the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed, among others, it’s better to understand the regula fidei as a shared worldview, which includes not only particularized statements of beliefs, but is truly an entire complicated mindset involving behavior, action, belief, vocabulary, and writings, just as it still is today. The regula fidei that I know as an Eastern Christian is more than the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed we recite in the Divine Liturgy, much, much more. But I digress.

McDonald mentions a series of instances in which the Church was forced to clarify its beliefs in the face of disbelief or wrong belief. Eventually, these clarifications would take the form of Ecumenical Councils, which would respond to various heresies and administrative issues. But earlier, before such a universally organized and effective response was possible, what was the practice? McDonald mentions here the formation of the regula fidei in the second century in response to such stimuli. I would say that we quite literally need to date the establishment of this back into the first century itself, finding the writings of the apostles and their successors reflecting an earlier establishment of the regula fidei that was operative at that time, the original apostolic deposit of faith, not so well-articulated as in later years, once it had gained interest, so to speak, yet obviously present. In this sense, the actual writing of the Gospels and Epistles and other books fits also into that framework of stabilization later represented by the Ecumenical (and other) Councils, following as the writings do on the verbal, personal establishment of the faith communities, the local churches, by the apostles. Notice that in every one of the New Testament writings we find clarification on various topics in the form of correction or even polemic which is sometimes so mild as to be missable and other times sharply, almost viciously, explicit. In this sense, the writings themselves are an expression of clarification of that regula fidei established by the apostles in their missionary work, and preserved among the communities thus founded. This is particularly clear in the letters of Paul, where in several letters we find him misunderstood (I think primarily of the two letters to the Thessalonians) and so clarifying issues, or explicitly reacting against improper beliefs imposed by others (seemingly every other letter of his!). The Gospels too, contain more subtle evidence of such, as well, if only by their existence and acceptance among the apostolically founded groups that they were believed to represent Christ more truly, indeed, to reflect more clearly the regula fidei than other gospels did.

So, I would like to suggest that the writing of the individual New Testament books, their preservation, and subsequent canonization as part of the New Testament was all a part of the growth of the deposit of faith, part of the safeguarding of the original apostolic regula fidei. During the second and third centuries, the work of safeguarding the faith continued differently, by producing other, different writings, and also thereby extending defense of the faith more fully. Eventually, the first expressions of defense and establishment of the faith, those books we know as the 27 books of the New Testament, being related to the apostles themselves and the first generation of Christians, were recognized as authentic and particularly more foundational and special than subsequent orthodox writings, and were established as a canon. The recognition of these books in particular was also somewhat circular. As there was an original deposit of faith at the establishment of the various churches of the Great Church, as it was then known, and these works were shared among those apostolically founded communities, the worldview or the regula fidei in the communities and the writings meshed, and each reinforced the other. The esoteric expansive writings of the New Testament apocrypha didn’t stand a chance outside their own communities, as they literally made no sense in the context of a different regula fidei. On the other hand, various other writings, like the Shepherd of Hermas, the Letters of Ignatius of Antioch, etc, and popular expansive writings like the Acts of Paul, written also from within the same apostolically founded regula fidei, were very popular, but recognized as sub-apostolic, and not as valuable as those earliest documents.

In summary, the writing of the New Testament documents occurred for the reason of defense of the faith, as the further clarification of the very rule of faith (regula fidei) established by the apostles when the local church communities were founded in the first century.

(As a side note, I use two terms in the above: “esoteric expansive writings” and “popular expansive writings.” I am putting these terms through a trial run, to test them for applicability as replacements for “apocrypha” and “pseudepigrapha” in relation to both the Old and New Testaments. That is, all such materials tend to be expansive literature based on some element or other of the core canon of the OT or NT. The “esoteric expansive writings” show clear sectarian markers that indicate their use in only a particular group. The “popular expansive writings” were those works which were, of course, popular, more well-known, and thereby better preserved. Using “esoteric” and “popular” seemed good choices to avoid the arguments which would ensue by using “heretical” or “gnostic” versus “orthodox,” which would be anachronistic or incorrect. The popular works are occasionally of questionable orthodoxy, and “gnostic” wasn’t the only kind of non-orthodoxy around. In any case, new terminology to replace “apocrypha” and “pseudepigrapha” is necessary, and these are my suggestions.)

❧

❧

❧

Lost in the Stars

Before Lord God made the sea or the land
He held all the stars in the palm of his hand
And they ran through his fingers like grains of sand
And one little star fell alone

Then the Lord God hunted through the wide night air
For the little dark star in the wind down there
And he stated and promised he’d take special care
So it wouldn’t get lost no more

Now, a man don’t mind if the stars get dim
And the clouds blow over and darken him
So long as the Lord God’s watching over him
Keeping track how it all goes on

But I’ve been walking through the night and the day
Till my eyes get weary and my head turns gray
And sometimes it seems maybe God’s gone away
Forgetting his promise and the word he’d say

And we’re lost out here in the stars
Little stars big stars blowing through the night

And we’re lost out here in the stars
Little stars big stars blowing through the night

And we’re lost out here in the stars

Kurt Weill/Maxwell Anderson. An especially nice version of this song is sung by the inimitable Frank Sinatra.

❧

On McDonald’s The Biblical Canon

Back in January I wrote about Lee Martin McDonald’s book The Biblical Canon: Its Origin, Transmission, and Authority (Hendrickson, 2007), detailing a number of errors that I’d noticed that finally put me off reading the book. As you can see there, Dr McDonald has left a very illuminating comment, in addition to sending me a private email covering the same points, showing that several of these errors were actually caused by the editor, rather than being allowed to slip past the editor, as I had so ungenerously assumed. As I explained in my apology to Dr McDonald, it simply had not entered my mind that a professional editor could be so inept. The lesson here is quite obviously caveat scriptor! I reproduce his comment in full here:

Dear Readers:

Thank you for these comments. I looked at the manuscript that I sent to Hendricksons to see what I actually had sent to them because the sentence about Sirach translating the Septuagint on p. 80 was just as surprising to me as to you. My original manuscript to them said: “These “writings” circulated in Palestine and were later translated from Hebrew into Greek— probably by the time of Sirach’s translation—not only for the Jews in Egypt, but also for the other Jews in the Diaspora.” The editor dropped out “the time” and it came out absolutely wrong. As you can see on pages 83-84, I only claim that the grandson of Sirach translated his grandfather’s work. I would not consciously claim that any one individual translated the LXX –no one says that. Thank you for catching this.

Also, the word “theraputae” (a plural form) should, of course, be “Therapeutae.” It is listed as Theraputai in some volumes, but here it is clearly wrong in my volume.

I was just as disappointed as you when I saw how the editor butchered the Neusner dictum on p. 170. changning “not” to “know” destroyed the whole point of the saying.

By the reference to three-dimensional stelae on pp. 39-40 I mean to focus on height, breadth, and depth. I am sorry for the confusion.

I do accept the other comments also as quite helpful. I was told by one of the readers that Hendrickson has issued a new printing in March and they were supposed to have caught several of these mistakes. I called them about several of them in January, but I do not know if they were caught. I have not yet seen the new printing, but several of the mistakes were, of course, embarrassing and I apologize that they appeared. The pressure to get the volume out after many editorial delays allowed for a quick read and not a good one. Ultimately the errors are my responsibility and I accept that. I assure you that I will be much more careful in my next volume.

Thank you again for your help. If you find any other errors, I will be most happy to receive them and I will ask that they be corrected in the next printing. I am on sabbatical leave at the moment, but I may be still be contacted this year at lee.mcdonald<at>acadiau.ca

Thank you again.

Lee Martin McDonald

I intend to recommence reading the book, making a detailed list of everything that seems odd. If any other readers were so inclined, it would be good to forward those lists to Dr McDonald for the sake of corrections made in a future printing, or perhaps a second edition. The book itself, corrected, would be a great resource, I think, and an excellent summary of the status quaestionis about the Biblical canon. It would certainly make a fine textbook for any classes on the subject.

At this point I also want to recommend to those readers who may not know it, a volume co-edited by Lee Martin McDonald and James Sanders, The Canon Debate (Hendrickson, 2002). Each chapter is by a different scholar covering various subjects related to the development of both the Old Testament and New Testament canons. Several of the chapters in that book were starkly illuminating, and altered my thought on several issues regarding canon formation, particularly the Mason, Lewis, and Lightstone chapters. Keeping in mind that the work is multi-authored, with some overlap of coverage and even some minor instances of contradiction between chapters inevitable, the work as a whole flows well and coherently. I cannot recommend it more highly, and trust that I shall soon be able to recommend McDonald’s The Biblical Canon with equal enthusiasm!

❧

Samgar in Jeremiah 39.3

John Hobbins, Charles Halton [dead link], Chris Heard [dead link] and I have been discussing (offline) some other details regarding Jeremiah 39.3 in light of the Jursa discovery. John has the latest update out of the gang, here. These are just some preliminary notes on one aspect of that conversation that seem good to share. I’ll be sure to post any major adjustments to the below, as they occur.

I’ve been focusing on the word sāmgār ( MT סַמְגַּר ) which is generally agreed to represent the Babylonian word sinmagir, or, more properly, Sîn-magīr. The relationship suggests that the Hebrew should perhaps be repointed to סִמַּגִר, with the Akkadian /n/ elided into the doubled /m/ in Hebrew. The word is obviously a title of some sort belonging to the immediately preceding name Nergalsharezer, just as the other two Babylonian officials mentioned also bear titular epithets. (Their titles, I’m sure, will be taken up elsewhere.) The issue is that of the meaning of this title Sîn-magīr, not just here in Jeremiah 39.3, but even in Neo-Babylonian texts.

The epithet, when understood as such, has been taken as alternately either a place name (as is reflected in the NIV and NET translations of Jeremiah 39.3: Nergal-sharezer of Samgar) or simply as a title, “the Sîn-magīr official,” as is the preferred meaning in the Chicago Assyrian Dictionary. Throughout the last century and up to the present, there has been no decisive conclusion made regarding the meaning, and so some scholars treat it as a title, while others treat it as a geographic name. Neither of these, however, quite conveys the proper meaning, as this name (for indeed, it is a personal name) has a very long history in Babylonia.

It seems to have first appeared as the name of King Sîn-magīr of the First Dynasty of Isin, who ruled 1827-1817 BC. The name perhaps means “(the moon god) Sin is noble.” Thereafter, Sîn-magīr was a very popular name during the Old Babylonian period, as we see from it popping up in numerous legal and economic texts of the period. In the late Kassite Dynasty and in the Second Dynasty of Isin (circa 1200-1125 BC), we find that there was a province called Bīt-Sîn-magīr, “House of Sîn-magīr,” perhaps originally named for a Kassite tribal chief bearing the name Sîn-magīr. During this period the governor of that province was called šakin Bīt-Sîn-magīr, all of which was preceded by the logographic determinative LÚ, pronounced awīl or amēl in Babylonian, meaning “man” in general or more specifically “official” in contexts like this. Over the course of the next several centuries, something very interesting appears to have happened with the name of this territory and this governor’s title. By the time it is mentioned again in the late Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian periods, we see LÚ.DINGIR Sîn-magīr, that is, “Sîn-magīr man” or “Sîn-magīr official.” There is a mechanism to explain this.

Already in the Isin II period, the phrase šakin māti “governor of the land” was being reduced to simply šakin in the case of this governor and others. This may be because immediately following the māti would sometimes occur the KUR (read as māt, “land of”) logographic determinative right before the name of the region, and this duplication was considered dysphonic. Another interesting thing is that in the phrase Bīt-Sîn-magīr and in other such Bīt-PN phrases where the personal name is compound, the PN is not in the genitive, as it is in the case of non-compound examples: Bīt-Adini, Bīt-Zamāni, etc). This seems to be a rule, as it is consistent. In any case, the Bīt-, “House of…” drops from the phrase Bīt-Sîn-magīr during the course of the roughly five centuries between Isin II and the Neo-Babylonian period, for whatever reason, perhaps simply for hypocoristic reasons. The end result is that the remaining Sîn-magīr, which was always a personal name and was still understood as a personal name, does not appear to bear geographic determinatives, though perhaps future discoveries will show these to us. We also now find the title of the ruler of this province or territory now being simply LÚ.DINGIR Sîn-magīr, “the Sîn-magīr man” or “the Sîn-magīr official.”

Recognizing Sîn-magīr as a hypocorism, or familiar nickname, for Bīt-Sîn-magīr makes this title much more clear. In support of this particular understanding is a text often referred to as Nebuchadnezzar’s Hofkalender, a clay prism found in the Etemenanki, the temple of Marduk at Babylon. This text dates to Nebuchadnezzar’s seventh year, 598 BC, and give a list of his chief court officials, and also of the “chiefs of the land of Akkad,” first among whom is listed I.DINGIR Nergal-šar-uṣur LÚ.DINGIR Sîn-magīr, that is, Nergal-šar-uṣur the Sîn-magīr official, followed by a list of governors of all the other provinces of Akkad. The proper connotation of “the Sîn-magīr official,” therefore, judging from the above, appears to be “the governor of (Bīt-)Sîn-magīr.” This same individual appears in Jermiah 39.3 as “Nergalsharezer of Samgar,” and is often referred to in English as Neriglissar, the form of his name found in the epitomes of Berossus. He was married to the daughter of Nebuchadnezzar, and was the instigator of a successful coup which ended the reign and life of Amel-Marduk, and brought Neriglissar to the throne.

In summary, then, Sîn-magīr is a personal name hypocoristically standing for the fuller geographic name Bīt-Sîn-magīr, which had included that personal name. By the Neo-Babylonian period, the traditional title of the governor of this territory had also shortened to simply awīl Sîn-magīr, “man of Sîn-magīr.” I would thereefore suggest that the clearest ranslation of this phrase into English would be “governor of Sîn-magīr.”

Thanks especially to Charles for prodding me to express all this better, and his patience.

❧

Which Byzantine Ruler Are You?

From Mike Aquilina’s The Way of the Fathers blog, the Which Byzantie Ruler Are You? quiz.

Which am I? Why, Saint Justinian, of course! (He was in mind as I giggled my way through answering the questions!) Here’s Mike’s blurb on this undeniably great emperor:

In the sixth century, Justinian accomplished the brief recovery of the empire’s old territory in the east, in Africa, and in the west. His victories, however, were hard won over the course of decades, and they came at a great cost in human life, not to mention taxation. Paradoxically, Justinian’s military successes probably contributed to the empire’s subsequent decline. The conquered lands were hardly secure, and many were lost in the years after his death. During his reign there was a great flowering of Byzantine culture, whose monuments remain in Istanbul (e.g., Hagia Sophia) and Ravenna. His reconstitution of Roman law, the so-called Justinian Code, is still the basis of civil law in some modern states. Justinian is venerated as a saint in the Orthodox Church.

Next to Justinian’s law code, we have several important different works on this period from a man very close to the Emperor, the consiliarius of the great general Belisarius, Procopius of Caesarea, who wrote the extraordinary Wars in eight books (Loeb edition: Books 1-2, Books 3-4, Books 5-6.15, Books 6.16-7.35, Books 7.36-8) chronicling Justinian’s reign and Belisarius’ remarkably successful campaigns, and the Buildings (in a volume with a general index to all the Loeb Procopius volumes), describing Justinian’s magnificent building program which included the Great Church, the Hagia Sophia. He also wrote the unfortunate Anekdota, often called The Secret History (Loeb volume), an embittered attack on Justinian, Theodora, the Church, the State and apparently anything else that entered Procopius’ sight. (Procopius seems not to have been a happy man.) Ostensibly a continuation or supplement to the Wars, the work is marred by the bitterness of its invective, and sometimes outright viciousness. This makes it, owing to the delight in gossipy trash so reflective of popular culture, the most well-known of his works. Of course.

❧