Tongued with Fire

                If you came this way,
Taking any route, starting from anywhere,
At any time or at any season,
It would always be the same: you would have to put off
Sense and notion. You are not here to verify,
Instruct yourself, or inform curiosity
Or carry report. You are here to kneel
Where prayer has been valid. And prayer is more
Than an order of words, the conscious occupation
Of the praying mind, or the sound of the voice praying.
And what the dead had no speech for, when living,
They can tell you, being dead: the communication
Of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the
        living.
Here, the intersection of the timeless moment
Is England and nowhere. Never and always.

T. S. Eliot. Little Gidding, ll. 39-53, from Four Quartets (Harvest/Harcourt Brace Javonovich, 1943/1971).

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Missing Page in OTP

Reader Peter Scott brought to my attention that all except for the first printing of Charlesworth’s Old Testament Pseudepigrapha volume 2 are lacking the final page, page 919, which includes the final section of Pseudo-Hecataeus. The first printing included the page, but with an incorrect header of “Artapanus 23:28,” and including no footnotes, which seemed odd to me as the rest of the Hecataeus section was well-annotated. After contacting Random House, which didn’t have a copy of the page, I contacted Robert Doran, the original translator of and commentator on Pseudo-Hecataeus for the OTP volume. He has informed me that he has no record of any footnotes for the last page, having covered the story in the introduction, so the original printing was correct except for the header.

With all this in mind, I’ve created a page with the text from the first printing, correcting the header, and getting the format as close as possible to the original as I could. The page size is slightly smaller than the OTP page size, so that one might simply cut out the actual page, which I’ve outlined in gray, and it will easily fit into the volume without an icky white page so obviously tipped in.

The file is in pdf format, so that all might print it. It is also zipped, to save on download time.

Here it is . Enjoy the great story of Mosollamus the Jew!

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Two Bestiaries

The Phoenix

Take a few hours and browse through the Aberdeen Bestiary. The Aberdeen Bestiary Project has done a magnificent job in presenting this treasure of the University of (you guessed it) Aberdeen. Full color, legible pictures of each page with transcriptions, translations, and commentary are given. It’s a great site and a fine example of what should be done with every manuscript before they fleck away into the dust of forgotten questions and best intentions.

Our second bestiary is of the printed species. One of my favorite books, its source a bibliophile’s dream though it is of far more recent origin that the above bestiary, is D. M. Dooling’s abridged and translated edition of Louis Charbonneau-Lassay’s The Bestiary of Christ (Parabola Books, 1991). (It is out of print, but you might find copies here.) The history of this beautiful volume is as follows:

Le Bestiaire du Christ was originally a book of a thousand pages and over a thousand of the author’s woodcuts. It was published in Brussels just after the outbreak of the Second World War: one of four volumes planned by Louis Charbonneau-Lassay, all pursuing his interest in religious symbolism. The others were Le Floraire du Christ, Le Vulnéraire du Christ, and Le Lapidaire du Christ. All the material was gathered for them, but he did not live to finish and publish any of the three. Le Bestiaire alone has survived, and barely. The firm of Desclée, De Brouwer et Cie. published it in a limited edition of five hundred copies, almost all of which, along with the woodblocks for the illustrations, were lost when a bomb set fire to the warehouse where they were stored. Four other printings of five hundred copies each were printed in Milan from surviving copies of the first edition. That is the entire publishing history of this extraordinary book until its present appearance.

Dooling was fortunate enough to have access to one of the extremely rare first editions of Le Bestiaire du Christ in preparing the volume, which though an abridgment, is still a sizable one of more than 460 pages. This Parabola edition is a beauty in itself. The hardback, which is what I have, is of a satisfying heft, on acid-free paper, with sewn bindings. The creamy, faintly textured paper is a delight to the hands as well as the eyes.

I tend to drop into it now and again, like visiting an old and very learnèd friend with an old-fashioned cabinet of curiosities. Even in translation, there is an Old World charm to the phrasing (Monsieur Charbonneau-Lassy was born in 1871, after all), bringing gracefully to the mind a recollection of a world now sadly passed; for instance:

The Frog—Here is another humble member of God’s family whose name many Westerners will be surprised to see among those whom the reverence of the first Christian centuries linked with the personal symbolism of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Charbonneau-Lassay was a lifelong Roman Catholic believer, and was even a novitiate in an eventually defunct order. During life he was an archaeologist and historian, yet he is known, solely now, for Le Bestiaire du Christ. As Dooling says in the Foreward (p. ii), “He led one of those remarkable unremarkable lives that are probably the reason why God does not lose patience entirely with the human race.” Noble praise, nobly phrased.

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St John of The Ladder

The Ladder of Divine Ascent is a work of thirty parts, and was written specifically for a monastic audience, particularly those of Sinai, where the author John (583-603) was abbot, whose monastery was only a very few decades old when the Ladder was written. In the Eastern Orthodox Church, it is read to the monks at their common refectory meals throughout the course of Lent. The rungs of this Ladder are various subjects, the mastery of which are part of the monastic life. From the first step, “On renunciation of the world,” to the last, “Concerning the linking together of the supreme trinity among the virtues,” the reader/listener is confronted with much intense practical and spiritual advice based in experience. It’s an intense work, not at all intended for light reading, and certainly not for application wholesale by a layperson. To stress the point: the book was written for a group of sixth century monastics living in one of the most inhospitable places on earth, not for people with electricity and running water and anything green in view outside. When read with that perspective in mind, as well as the Lenten refectory reading, it is seen for what it is: a demanding and uncompromising instruction in utter and complete ascesis.

The particular Holy Transfiguration Monastery edition I mention above is a beautiful example of bookmaking. The printing is two colored, black text, with some red page headings, titling, and such. The paper is fine and thick. There are several small drawings in traditional Byzantine style, one full color reproduction of a Ladder of Divine Ascent icon as frontispiece (that above; click it for a closer look), and a truly remarkable pen and ink icon of Saint John by the late Photi Kontoglu, a modern master of traditional iconography. It’s a beautiful hardback edition, most fitting for such a work.

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The Trial of Job

I’ve just finished reading The Trial of Job by they very busy Father Patrick Reardon, pastor of All Saints Antiochian Orthodox Church in Chicago, Senior Editor of Touchstone: A Journal of Mere Christianity, author of Touchstone’s online “Daily Reflections with Patrick Henry Reardon,” contributor to the Touchstone blog “Mere Comments”, and author of Christ in the Psalms and Christ in His Saints. After all my reading of the book of Job, and especially all the reading about the book of Job, I can honestly say that this is the best book that I have ever read on Job.

This is not a detailed commentary, as the subtitle clarifies: Orthodox Christian Reflections on The Book of Job. This is a small book. Nine pages of introduction open onto the body of the text, giving roughly a page and a half to each chapter of Job, ending with page 104. Father Reardon does refer to both the Hebrew and Greek trextual traditions of Job on occasion, but not in an overly simplified or incorrect manner, as is the case of so many short works such as this. Regardless, these parsimoniously proferred pages pack a punch. Father Reardon has managed for me what numerous other scrupulously, eruditically detailed academic commentators have all and always failed at: a clearer picture of the book of Job itself, its structure, its characters, and the overall message(s) of the book.

I don’t wish to give it all away in going into details, but will share perhaps the most strikingly useful suggestion that Father Reardon makes regarding the characters of Job’s three would-be comforters. Each presents a form of ancient Near Eastern wisdom in his responses to Job, and each is of lesser value than its predecessor. First, Eliphaz the Temanite, (re)presents a wisdom born in personal spiritual experience. Second, Bildad the Shuhite (re)presents a wisdom with its basis in tradition, passed down through the ages. Third, Zophar the Naamathite (re)presents a wisdom which is simply unmeditated bias. “That is the line of declination: real vision, accepted teaching, blind prejudice” (p. 26).

I recommend this little book for anyone who is puzzled or daunted by the Book of Job. My copy was sent to me gratis upon subscribing to Touchstone, which is, of course, a fine magazine.

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The Face of the Deep (1.4-6)

4. John to the seven churches which are in Asia: Grace be unto you, and peace, from Him which is, and which was, and which is to come; and from the seven Spirits which are before His throne;
5. And from Jesus Christ, Who is the faithful Witness, and the first begotten of the dead, and the Prince of the kings of the earth. Unto Him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in His own blood.
6. And hath made us kings and priests unto God and His Father; to Him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.

“John to the seven Churches.”—Gracious the speaker, because his mouth was filled with a grace not his own. Whoso speaketh for God must take heed to speak like God. If St. Paul made himself all things to all men, that he might by all means save some, how much more Christ! St. John saluteth, but not with his own salutation: “What hast thou that thou hast not received?”

Continue reading “The Face of the Deep (1.4-6)”

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Popular Patristics

St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press has been publishing a Popular Patristics series for some time now, comprised of various translations of individual Patristic works, selections thereof, or themed editions of excerpts. The translations are fresh, contemporary, and pleasant to read. The books are also of a perfect size for popping into a pocket: 5x7x1/2″ (12.5×18.5×1.3 cm for you metric heretics). I’ve just picked up a short stack of these, rather like Lenten pancakes, and thought I’d recommend them to any readers who are interested in patristic reading, as I am. Each little volume includes a helpful (and surprisingly, for such little volumes, high quality) introduction, and most (all?) include selective but very useful and most importantly thoughtful footnotes. The surface of these translations is perfectly popular, with the depths entirely scholarly. And they’re inexpensive. How delightful!

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The Hound of Heaven

I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
     I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
     Of my own mind; and in the midst of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
          Up vistaed hopes I sped;
          And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears,
     From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
          But with unhurrying chase,
          And unperturbèd pace,
     Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
          They beat—and a Voice beat
          More instant than the Feet—
     “All things betray thee, who betrayest Me.”

Continue reading “The Hound of Heaven”

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The Pulley

When God at first made man,
Having a glasse of blessings standing by ;
Let us (said he) poure on him all we can :
Let the worlds riches, which dispersed lie,
           Contract into a span.

           So strength first made a way ;
Then beautie flow’d, then wisdome, honour, pleasure :
When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that alone, of all his treasure,
           Rest in the bottome lay.

           For if I should (said he)
Bestow this jewell also on my creature,
He would adore my gifts in stead of me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature :
           So both should losers be.

           Yet let him keep the rest,
But keep them with repining restlesnesse :
Let him be rich and wearie, that at least,
If goodnesse leade him not, yet wearinesse
           May tosse him to my breast.

George Herbert, 1633

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On the Biblical Canon

What Books do you call Sacred Scripture?

Following the rule of the Catholic Church, we call Sacred Scripture all those which Cyril [Lucar] collected from the Synod of Laodicea, and enumerated, adding thereto those which he foolishly, and ignorantly, or rather maliciously called Apocrypha; to wit, “The Wisdom of Solomon,” “Judith,” “Tobit,” “The History of the Dragon,” “The History of Susanna,” “The Maccabees,” and “The Wisdom of Sirach.” For we judge these also to be with the other genuine Books of Divine Scripture genuine parts of Scripture. For ancient custom, or rather the Catholic Church, which hath delivered to us as genuine the Sacred Gospels and the other Books of Scripture, hath undoubtedly delivered these also as parts of Scripture, and the denial of these is the rejection of those. And if, perhaps, it seemeth that not always have all been by all reckoned with the others, yet nevertheless these also have been counted and reckoned with the rest of Scripture, as well by Synods, as by how many of the most ancient and eminent Theologians of the Catholic Church; all of which we also judge to be Canonical Books, and confess them to be Sacred Scripture.

From The Confession of Dositheus, available in full here

Patriarch Dositheus of Jerusalem wrote the Confession in 1672 as part of a local Synod of Jerusalem. It is a point by point response to the Confession attributed to Cyril Lucaris, erstwhile Patriarch of Constantinople, which appeared in Latin in Geneva in 1629, but which the Synod of Jerusalem, in comparing Cyril’s other writings, determined was a forgery. (Almost certainly, however, they erred in this determination; Cyril was educated in Geneva and likely found Reformed opinion on the Apocrypha probative.) One of Cyril’s answered questions was on the biblical canon. Here, Patriarch Dositheus gives a short but pithy answer. He does not apportion the “extra” books to a separate, second-class body of Scripture, whether “deuterocanonical” or “Apocrypha,” but maintains an older opinion founded in patristic and Conciliar sources. (It should be noted that the term “Apocrypha” in Byzantine times had developed a connotation of “spurious and heretical,” a connotation that persisted into later Greek Christian usage.)

Continue reading “On the Biblical Canon”

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