P
ProVobis
Guest
I imagine every language has this quirk, and English is no exception. You may even hear it in many songs. “Please please me,” for example. How do you explain that one to a foreigner?
- Status
A
Aeden
Guest
I don’t pretend to be a biblical scholar, but I have take Latin for a few years. From what I know of that, my guess is that that’s because a great deal of meaning is lost in translation between Latin, a language that has something like a dozen meanings per verb, per noun, etc to English, a language of, as my priest put it “brute force”
S
Sara_Balzano
Guest
For me, I feel I am getting more intimate with the Lord with Latin, since it was not only sanctified on the cross (along with Hebrew and Greek), it was also one of the languages spoken by Jesus and His apostles.
V
Vico
Guest
Context!I imagine every language has this quirk, and English is no exception. You may even hear it in many songs. “Please please me,” for example. How do you explain that one to a foreigner?
Last night I said these words to my girl,
I know you never even try, girl
Come on …
Please, please me, whoa yeah
Like I please you.
P
ProVobis
Guest
Here’s one that might very well be better understood in the Latin:
“Buffalo buffalo that Buffalo buffalo buffalo, buffalo Buffalo buffalo.”
Buffalo - city in New York or ones that come from or live in Buffalo
buffalo - bison animal (bos)
buffalo - bully, intimidate (terrere)
“Buffalo buffalo that Buffalo buffalo buffalo, buffalo Buffalo buffalo.”
Buffalo - city in New York or ones that come from or live in Buffalo
buffalo - bison animal (bos)
buffalo - bully, intimidate (terrere)
Q
Qwestions
Guest
Regardless of WHEN the universal, catholic, Roman liturgy became Latin, it was perpetuated because one language is a heckuva lot easier for numerous reasons: printing costs, familiarity in any land where one would participate in a Roman Mass, absolutely no deviating or straying from what had been ordained as THE words of the Mass, and probably other reasons I can’t recall at this late hour. The catholicity, or universality, was so comforting; in four different nations I participated in the Roman Mass just as I did back in the heartland of the United States, without missing a beat…
Most missals had the Latin on the left, and the vernacular of the country on the right. Although the priest sang or said the words, only certain phrases could be heard, so it was easy to learn the tempo of a given priest and read the English, with the familiar Latin phrases that I’d catch now and then queing me in to the exact location on the page. My family life, school life, and employment life could be churning, upside down, or completely shattered, but every time I participated in Mass, it was ALWAYS the same, with the daily adaptations, of course.
The Latin was part of the uplifting experience of participating in the Holy Mass; it was part of the aura of holiness; its august pomp and circumstance exuded reverence; it made me WORK at participating in the very best way that I could, for Jesus, for His Father, for my soul. Participation was such a far cry from today’s Mass, by comparison, that, after all these years, I still feel as though I’ve not done my share when I walk out of the church, something like the guilt I felt when students giggled and cavorted when a teacher left the classroom, with an “anything goes” result.
Spoken nowhere else in my little realm, the very sound of Latin raised the bar for my thoughts and words and deeds to try to stretch to heaven, to help me make myself as worthy of communion with Christ as I could possibly be. Since Latin was spoken only at Mass, it imparted dignity and stability and reason and constancy. It offered precision and hope and comfort and solace. It was promise and contract and fulfillment and joy. And that was only with the words we said aloud or read!
Then, when the Latin was sung, whether by the church proper, the choir, or a soloist, the sheer beauty of the sounds of the words let me soar with the music. It probably helped that I, and those around me, wore our “Sunday best” and made certain that our shoes were polished. (Yet, no one took note of someone who wasn’t in his/her Sunday best, because it was simply understood that they had a very good reason, and it was far better to participate than not cross the threshhold.) We made an effort to look and feel special, for we were in the house of the Lord. And, yes, we still are there in His house, and, yes, it still should feel special to participate in the Mass, and it does, but nothing like it once did.
Latin stitched the components of the Mass together, whether French or German, or Spanish might be the vernacular, no matter how far from home we might wander. It was as certain and caressing as a mother’s touch. No matter how tumultuous the world or our lives, Latin formed the underlying continuity of the Mass because of its sameness, its universality, its catholicity. No matter what happened, it was always there . . . until, one day, it wasn’t. Latin may be deemed a dead language, but it was the vibrancy of Latin that made it an experience to anticipate, to savor, to fondly remember, and, for too many years, to sadly mourn.
Most missals had the Latin on the left, and the vernacular of the country on the right. Although the priest sang or said the words, only certain phrases could be heard, so it was easy to learn the tempo of a given priest and read the English, with the familiar Latin phrases that I’d catch now and then queing me in to the exact location on the page. My family life, school life, and employment life could be churning, upside down, or completely shattered, but every time I participated in Mass, it was ALWAYS the same, with the daily adaptations, of course.
The Latin was part of the uplifting experience of participating in the Holy Mass; it was part of the aura of holiness; its august pomp and circumstance exuded reverence; it made me WORK at participating in the very best way that I could, for Jesus, for His Father, for my soul. Participation was such a far cry from today’s Mass, by comparison, that, after all these years, I still feel as though I’ve not done my share when I walk out of the church, something like the guilt I felt when students giggled and cavorted when a teacher left the classroom, with an “anything goes” result.
Spoken nowhere else in my little realm, the very sound of Latin raised the bar for my thoughts and words and deeds to try to stretch to heaven, to help me make myself as worthy of communion with Christ as I could possibly be. Since Latin was spoken only at Mass, it imparted dignity and stability and reason and constancy. It offered precision and hope and comfort and solace. It was promise and contract and fulfillment and joy. And that was only with the words we said aloud or read!
Then, when the Latin was sung, whether by the church proper, the choir, or a soloist, the sheer beauty of the sounds of the words let me soar with the music. It probably helped that I, and those around me, wore our “Sunday best” and made certain that our shoes were polished. (Yet, no one took note of someone who wasn’t in his/her Sunday best, because it was simply understood that they had a very good reason, and it was far better to participate than not cross the threshhold.) We made an effort to look and feel special, for we were in the house of the Lord. And, yes, we still are there in His house, and, yes, it still should feel special to participate in the Mass, and it does, but nothing like it once did.
Latin stitched the components of the Mass together, whether French or German, or Spanish might be the vernacular, no matter how far from home we might wander. It was as certain and caressing as a mother’s touch. No matter how tumultuous the world or our lives, Latin formed the underlying continuity of the Mass because of its sameness, its universality, its catholicity. No matter what happened, it was always there . . . until, one day, it wasn’t. Latin may be deemed a dead language, but it was the vibrancy of Latin that made it an experience to anticipate, to savor, to fondly remember, and, for too many years, to sadly mourn.
B
BListon
Guest
There is a Syriac Catholic Church. They observe many of the same traditions as the Syriac Orthodox Church… AND they are in communion with the Roman Church.
Q
Qwestions
Guest
Just yesterday a friend forwarded to me one of the most extraordinary bits of magic I’ve seen on my computer. Please do visit this page and use the zoom and retreat buttons, as well as all of the arrows at the bottom of the page. The subject is a beautifully ornate wooden Church in Southwest Poland, with workmanship and painting skill that is rarely seen in this era. I believe that you’ll agree that the person(s) responsible for designing this site deserve accolades for this computer masterpiece.
You can use the arrows to go completely around the church, as though you’re standing in one spot and pivoting, or you can look up into the topmost reaches. Be sure to use the zoom button (plus sign, I think) to check out the fine gilt painting on the ceiling cherubs, the stations of the cross, the details on the upper altar, and the writing on the plaques in the higher seating levels. Notice that when you first see the interior, you see only a portion of the two red fire extinguishers, but when you move closer, you see them in their entirety. Wait a few moments at the very end, then hit Esc to leave the page.
This church is simply magnificent! I hope you’ll enjoy the excursion into it as I have. And, boy! A High Mass with full choir in the Tridentine Rite would be unforgettable!
You can use the arrows to go completely around the church, as though you’re standing in one spot and pivoting, or you can look up into the topmost reaches. Be sure to use the zoom button (plus sign, I think) to check out the fine gilt painting on the ceiling cherubs, the stations of the cross, the details on the upper altar, and the writing on the plaques in the higher seating levels. Notice that when you first see the interior, you see only a portion of the two red fire extinguishers, but when you move closer, you see them in their entirety. Wait a few moments at the very end, then hit Esc to leave the page.
This church is simply magnificent! I hope you’ll enjoy the excursion into it as I have. And, boy! A High Mass with full choir in the Tridentine Rite would be unforgettable!
[dsu.swidnica.pl/spacery_wirtualne/kpg/kps.html](http://www.dsu.swidnica.pl/spacery_wirtualne/kpg/kps.html)
P
patrick457
Guest
I doubt that there would have been regular interactions between Jesus and the Romans. For one, unlike in certain old movies where Roman soldiers perpetually patrol the streets and bully locals and, well, just be plain menacing (a picture which would probably be more accurate during the Jewish revolt of the 60s rather than the AD 20s-30s), at our time period Romans usually contented themselves with keeping themselves away from sight.
In Judaea, the prefect and most of his troops - which, considering that the prefect was of equestrian status and thus not of high rank enough to command a legion, would have been composed of 3,000 auxiliaries recruited from local subjects who did not hold Roman citizenship (peregrini), usually from areas like Samaria or Syria - would have stayed in Caesarea Maritima, the capital of the province, with other gentiles for most of the year. Since Rome did not govern Judaea on a day-to-day basis but apparently preferred an indirect form of rule (hey, it was effective), the prefect’s normal duties, such as management of daily affairs and collection of taxes, were usually handed down to local officials, such as the high priest and his council. The prefect would have only showed up a few times each year in public, usually in potentially dangerous seasons like Passover to watch out for potential unrest, to ensure that the huge crowds did not get out of hand, hence the reason why Pilate was ‘available’ in Jerusalem during Good Friday. Aside from such special occasions, regular Roman presence was largely limited to the small garrison in the Antonia Fortress just beside the Temple (because you can’t completely trust those Jews, I guess
) and certain other fortresses in the countryside.In the Galilee, meanwhile, the tetrarch Herod Antipas was pretty much independent. Rome still had the final say on crucial matters, but he was more or less free to run the kingdom as he wished. He fulfilled the main conditions by keeping order, paying tribute and cooperating with Rome, and in return Rome gave him protection against implied threat of retaliation against invaders. The troops and the taxes were his (though Rome would have supplied him with additional reinforcements when necessary), district governors were his appointees, and local rulers served at his pleasure. Hence, there would have been no major Roman presence.
I quote from E.P. Sander’s The Historical Figure of Jesus:
Since so many readers and scholars of the New Testament have imagined Jesus living in a context in which the populace was daily oppressed by Roman soldiers and officials, and some scholars are now claiming that there was a substantial Gentile population in the Jewish cities, I wish to re-emphasize the actual situation. In Galilee there was no official Roman presence at all. Greek-speaking Gentiles lived in the cities that they had long inhabited, which formed a kind of crescent around Galilee: there were Gentile cities to the east, to the north and to the west. In geographical Galilee there was one Gentile city, Scythopolis, but it was independent of political Galilee. In Judawa the official Roman presence was very small. There was one Roman of rank in residence, and he was supported by a handful of troops. This Roman and his small military force lived among a lot of other Gentiles in Caesarea, seldom came to Jerusalem, and did nothing to plant Graeco-Roman laws and customs to the Jewish parts of the country. In Jerusalem there was not a substantial Gentile presence. In the place of the image of Roman soldiers patrolling the towns and villages of Palestine, forcing Jews to carry their burdens, and motivating shopkeepers and farmers to cater to their tastes, we should think of a few Roman soldiers, banded together, living in or around one city, with only very small outposts occupying forts in potentially hostile territory. Effective rule was in the hands of local aristocrats and rulers.
Granted, there was the incident between Jesus and the centurion, but we should really imagine it as a kind of exception to the norm.
And you do raise a really intriguing question there. Did Jesus allow His divinity to ‘intrude’ into the normal aspects of His human life (say, His health, language, etc.), and if so, just how did it manifest itself?
P
ProVobis
Guest
Incredibly beautiful. And nicely done.
P
ProVobis
Guest
Normally that would have been the case between Judeans and the Romans but Jesus especially attracted a lot of Roman attention, especially when they found out He spoke of His own kingdom while stirring up crowds of people. The “Cleansing of the Temple” brought Him a lot of attention. Unlike the older Rome with the two consul government, the Rome of Julius and Augustus and Tiberius was very protective of its new heredity rule. Jesus was looked upon as a heavy threat to Rome. I found it very interesting that Pontius Pilate was recalled by Tiberius for his “mismanagement” of the trial.
Did I mention a PBS documentary on this?
topdocumentaryfilms.com/roman-empire-first-century/
It’s four-hours long so bring on extra popcorn.
P
patrick457
Guest
If I were feeling a bit naughty I’d quip that the church is too Baroque for my tastes (I simply don’t like Baroque and Rococo, after being drenched in it for about a quarter of my life, or for that matter most stuff from the 17th-18th centuries, unless it’s guys like Zurbarán, Velazquez, Rembrandt, Vermeer or Goya, or something that is not EuropeanIncredibly beautiful. And nicely done.
), but still I agree that it’s a very beautiful church, way better than the warehouse-style edifices many of us have to put up with nowadays.
P
patrick457
Guest
This is true (the “kingdom of God” vs. the kingdom of Caesar), but I think this element really had only come into the fore during the events of Holy Week, since it was then that Jesus actively began attracting attention to Himself: riding to Jerusalem in fulfilment of a messianic prophecy (and a possible subversion/parody of a Roman triumph) with disciples hailing Him as “the king who comes in the name of the Lord,” performing a public demonstration in the Temple, and whatnot. All this while Pilate is just nearby, mind you.
Pilate was actually recalled from his duty because of his heavy-handed way of quelling a ‘disturbance’ instigated by a Samaritan prophet, who claimed to know the location of certain hidden artifacts supposedly hidden by Moses in Mount Gerizim, and who attracted a huge (and armed!) following. Pilate soon got wind of the man’s plan: before the group could even ascend the mountain, he sent (according to Josephus) “a detachment of cavalry and heavy-armed infantry” down their way, which produced many casualties. Among those captured, he even executed “the principal leaders and those who were most influential.” Needless to say, this rather excessively brutal course of action made the Samaritans complain against Vitellius, the legate of Syria, who sent Pilate to Rome to explain his actions regarding this incident to Tiberius. Before Pilate could even Rome, however, Tiberius had died.
P
ProVobis
Guest
Exactly when this occured seems to be unclear. Some say the money-changer overthrow happened much earlier in His ministry, but it certainly caught Rome’s attention. As well as other people of Judea.
In any event that Pilate (very brutal individual according to Tacitus) had the inscription of the cross written in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew meant something too. Were the Roman soldiers there the only ones understanding Latin? I hardly think so.
But imagine if Pilate had chosen not to include the Latin. Would Christianity have subsumed the Roman Empire to the extent it did during the reign of Caligula and Nero? Hmmm. I think even St. Paul was surprised to find as many Christians in Rome as he did when he arrived there.
A
anp1215
Guest
That’s awesome! Is that the tabernacle above the Chi Rho?
- Status