Hinduism: Balarama

I've been just swamped trying to get my Bible Latin sayings book ready before school starts (I'm up to 2500 sayings now, which is good - but a long way still from 4000, which is the target!), but I did want to post at least something here this week, so I thought I would say something about Balarama, who is the Hinduism widget topic for the week.

Balarama (also called Baladeva) is the brother of Krishna, the avatar of the god Vishnu who is perhaps best known to Americans. Just as Lakshmana, the brother of Rama, another avatar of the god Vishnu, was himself considered to be an avatar of the great serpent and naga lord, Sesha, the same is true of Balarama. You can read more about Sesha (Shesha) at wikipedia.

The mother of Krishna and Balarama, Devaki, was being persecuted by her brother, Kamsa, who had vowed to kill all of Devaki's children because of a prophecy that her eighth child would bring about his own death. Kamsa put Devaki and her husband Vasudeva into prison and killed their children, one after another. He killed six children in this manner; Balarama was then the seventh child. Miraculously, Balarama was transferred before birth from the womb of his mother Devaki into the womb of Rohini, another wife of Vasudeva (or, in a less miraculous variation on the story, he was smuggled out of the prison and then raised by Rohini as her son). Other miracles, of course, attended the birth of Krishna, who also escaped Kamsa's wrath and went on to kill Kamsa, just as the prophecy foretold.

Although Balarama was Krishna's elder brother, he was Krishna's devoted follower. Like Krishna, Balarama participated in the events of the epic Mahabharata, training the Pandu and Kaurava princes in the martial arts that would culminated in the calamitous war between the cousins. Balarama's specialty was the use of the mace, and he trained both Duryodhana and Bhima in the use of that weapon - and in the final battle between the two of them, Bhima used his mace to kill Duryodhana.

Probably the most famous story about Balarama is the story of the river Yamuna and Balarama's plough. Balarama was notoriously fond of drinking and one night he became thoroughly drunk and then summoned the Yamuna river to approach him so that he could take a bath and romp with his lady friends in the water. The river did not move, of course. So Balarama took a plough and dragged it through the river, pulling the river this way and that until the river took on human form and begged Balarama to leave her alone! This story is told to explain why it is that the Yamuna river has so very many small branches: they are the scratches of Balarama's plough in days gone by.

When Balarama and Krishna are shown together, Balarama is traditionally depicted in a light color, while Krishan is a dark color, as you can see in this image, with the light Balarama and the dark Krishna, side by side:

Crucifixion Scene: Titulus Crucis

Although I am really getting crunched by the calendar trying to finish up my Latin Bible sayings book (my goal is 4000 sayings, and I'm not even halfway there yet, gulp!), I did want to try to post something in the blog today and since I have not posted about a crucifixion scene in a while, that is what I have chosen to do!

The crucifixion scene of the week this week is actually a deposition scene, in which the body of Christ is shown being taken down ("deposed") from on the cross. The deposition was an especially popular scene with artists and, like the crucifixion, the deposition has a range of motifs which are usually featured.

This deposition by Fra Angelico was painted in the early 15th century (and is on view these days in the lovely church of San Marco in Florence). Although the colors and composition are radiantly beautiful, there are traces of the violence of the crucifixion, with blood visible from the crown of thorns and from the wound in Christ's side. You can see Mary Magdalene (hair unbound) and Mary, the other of Jesus, along with the other female followers of Jesus, waiting to receive the body as it is lowered down by Joseph of Arimathea and other men using a ladder, which is a typical element in deposition scenes. (You can read more about ladder symbolism.)

What I wanted to focus on here in Fra Angelico's painting is the Titulus Crucis, the sign put at the head of the cross. Although it is a bit difficult to make out here in the painting, it is shown in three languages, following the text of the Gospel of John: "And Pilate wrote a title, and put it on the cross. And the writing was, JESUS OF NAZARETH THE KING OF THE JEWS. This title then read many of the Jews: for the place where Jesus was crucified was nigh to the city: and it was written in Hebrew, and Greek, and Latin."

In Fra Angelico's painting, reflecting the new learning of the Renaissance, you can indeed see the working written out in three languages: Latin, Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iudaeorum; Greek, Ἰησοῦς ὁ Ναζωραῖος ὁ Bασιλεὺς τῶν Ἰουδαίων; and even in Hebrew:
ישוע (Yeshua) הנצרי (HaNotsri) ומלך (U'Melech) היהודים (HaYehudim). Apologies for the Hebrew: I am not an expert in the right-to-left style for HTML, alas.



Now the Latin and Greek texts come from the Biblical text itself, but the Hebrew is more of a puzzle. Historically, the language that would have been used would have been Aramaic, rather than Hebrew. For Christian scholars during the Renaissance, however, the historical factor is not what intrigued them. Instead, they were more interested in the mystical properties of the Hebrew inscription itself, which is how they ended up including a vav, "and" ("Jesus the Nazarene AND King of the Jews"). The result is the four-lettered name of God, the tetragrammaton, yod-he-vav-he: Yeshua` HaNotsri U'Melech HaYehudim. Fascinating! You can find out more about this topic in the extremely detailed article at wikipedia.

An anagram of the Latin inscription, INRI (Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iudaeorum), is commonly found in Catholic art, and you might also note the inscription here on Jesus's halo, which reads: CORONA GLORIE, which would be in classical Latin, corona gloriae, "crown of glory."

You can see the halo here in a detail from Fra Angelico's painting which shows the location of the sign at the top of the cross; you can visit the Web Gallery of Art for more views of the entire triptych.

Bible Book: Psalms

Summer is my only time to really focus on writing, so I'm working hard now on the follow-up book to the Latin Via Proverbs book which I published last summer. It will be a collection of sayings from the Latin Vulgate, organized grammatically, just as in the first book. Over the past two days, I've been pulling verses, or parts of verses, from the book of Psalms to include.

One of the problems I face with the Book of Psalms in Latin is that there are MULTIPLE versions of the Psalms in Latin. So, that is what I thought I would do my post on today, since it gives some insight into the nature of the Book of Psalms in the Hebrew Bible, and also to the fascinating story of the Vulgate and the Latin tradition of Bible translation.

The "psalms" are songs, intended for musical accompaniment. The name itself, "psalm," is a Greek translation from the Hebrew, meaning "song played on a stringed instrument." There is a detailed article at wikipedia about the types of songs contained in the book and their intensive use in both Jewish and Christian worship.

In the Roman Catholic tradition, the old Liturgy of the Hours - matins (vigils, nocturns), lauds, prime, terce, sext, none, vespers, and compline - provided a schedule for the recitation (the canonical hours) of psalms throughout the day.

Written originally in Hebrew, the Psalms were translated into Greek and included in the Septuagint (Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible). Then, in the second century C.E., the Greek version of the Psalms was translated into Latin. This is the so-called "Itala" or "Old" Latin Psalter (Psalterium Vetus) translation, and it survives only in the form of quotations found in the ancient Church fathers, along with some limited manuscript evidence.

Then, in the late fourth century, Pope Damasus asked Jerome to revise the Old Latin translation of the Psalms, making corrections so that it matched the Septuagint (Greek) version more closely. This became known as the "Roman Psalter" (Psalterium Romanum) but Jerome was very unhappy with the results. He believed that the version he was revising was itself so full of errors that the project of revising it was simply misguided. Yet the Roman Psalter is still used in the Vatican, even today.

Jerome then did another version, starting from scratch, using this time the famous Hexapla edition of the Bible, created by the great scholar Origen, which gave Jerome access to multiple Greek translations of the Hebrew, along with the Hebrew text itself. This second version by Jerome is now referred to as the "Gallican Psalter," and it is included in the Vulgate Bible. You can find many beautiful medieval psalters based on this text online, such as the lovely Burnet Psalter. Here is an initial image from the Burnet Psalter showing King David, the putative author of many of the psalms, kneeling with his harp before an altar.



Finally, Jerome completed a third version of the Psalter, done directly from the Hebrew, the "Versio juxta Hebraicum," "Version according to the Hebrew" (Jerome at this point was living in Bethlehem, where he had learned Hebrew; Jerome settled in Bethlehem in the year 388 and he died there in 420). This version of the Psalms is used by scholars today as a way to understand the Hebrew text as it existed in the late fourth century, although the Latin translation itself has no official role in the liturgy of the Catholic Church and it is not part of the Vulgate Bible.

In 1945, Pope Pius XII sponsored a new translation of the Psalms, called the Novum Psalterium, the "New Psalter." Although it is based on the Hebrew, it uses a classical Latin style, rather than imitating the style of the Hebrew in the Latin. This neo-classical Latin version of the Psalms has had both its defenders and its critics, although it is increasingly less well-known since the Catholic Church issued yet another translation in 1969, the Nova Vulgata version, or "New Vulgate" version. This one follows the Hebrew text and also imitates the style of Jerome's Gallican psalter. It is this verison which is printed today in the Roman Catholic liturgy.

The Psalms are truly beautiful, in whatever language you read them. Many phrases from the King James version of the Psalms in English are among the gems of the English literary tradition.

Meanwhile, here is a random quote from the King James version of Psalms - although I've not provided chapter and verse number here, you'll find it easy to Google the words and look up the King James version online (if you are reading this post via RSS, you'll need to visit the blog in order to see the script in action):

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If all goes well, I should have one or more Bible books to report on each day over the rest of the summer!

Bible Woman: Anna, Wife of Tobit

The woman in the Bible Women Widget for this week is Anna, the wife of Tobit, whose story is told in the Book of Tobit.

This is one of my favorite books of the Bible, and is found in both the Catholic and Orthodox Bibles, although it is no longer included in most Protestant Bibles, having been classified with the "apocrypha." That means it is part of the King James Bible, but it is grouped separately from the canonical books. You can read the King James version of the Book of Tobit online - and if you have never read the book, it is one that I highly recommend.

Tobit, the hero of the book, is a pious Jew living during the time of the exile in Nineveh. He is devoted to God, and risks everything to go out and bury a fellow Jew whose body was thrown into the street. Through a series of events connected with this pious action, he goes blind. His wife Anna works to support the family, and the book features some wonderful dialogue between the two of them that reveals a domestic intimacy and personal quality that is quite remarkable for a Biblical text.

For example, one day Anna is given a goat by her employers to bring home. Although her husband Tobit is blind, he can hear the goat bleating, and he thinks she has stolen the goat. She indignantly tells him that is not the case at all. Here is how Tobit tells the story in his own words:

And my wife Anna did take women's works to do. And when she had sent them home to the owners, they paid her wages, and gave her also besides a kid. And when it was in my house, and began to cry, I said unto her, From whence is this kid? is it not stolen? render it to the owners; for it is not lawful to eat any thing that is stolen. But she replied upon me, It was given for a gift more than the wages. Howbeit I did not believe her, but bade her render it to the owners: and I was abashed at her. But she replied upon me, Where are thine alms and thy righteous deeds?

Tobit may be famous for his righteous deeds, but Anna does not like being accused of theft when she is simply working as hard as she can to support the family!

Tobit has a son, Tobias, and most of the book is occupied with the story of how Tobias goes on a long and dangerous journey in order to recover some funds that his father has left deposited in another city. Tobias also rescues a kinswoman, Sarah, who is being tormented by a demon. He marries her, and brings her back home with him. In these adventures, Tobias is accompanied by the angel Raphael, in disguise, and there are many beautiful European paintings which depict Tobias together with the angel, sometimes showing him as a mere child, and at other times showing him as a young man. Tobias and the angel are also accompanied by a loyal pet dog on their journey! Tobias even acquires some medicine which restores his father's sight at the end of the story.

Of course, Anna is not happy when her husband sends their son out on this long and dangerous journey. She does not think it is worth risking his life in order to recover the money; even though they are impoverished, it is enough to get by, at least as far as Anna is concerned!

But Anna his mother wept, and said to Tobit, Why hast thou sent away our son? is he not the staff of our hand, in going in and out before us? Be not greedy to add money to money: but let it be as refuse in respect of our child. For that which the Lord hath given us to live with doth suffice us. Then said Tobit to her, Take no care, my sister; he shall return in safety, and thine eyes shall see him. For the good angel will keep him company, and his journey shall be prosperous, and he shall return safe. Then she made an end of weeping.

Anna stops weeping, but you know she is worried for their son.

Although Tobias is slow in returning home simply becuase he is celebrating his wedding feast at the house of his father-in-law, his parents do not know that, and they become terribly worried when he does not come back:

Now Tobit counted every day: and when the days of the journey were expired, and they came not, Then Tobit said, Are they detained? or is Gabael dead, and there is no man to give him the money? Therefore he was very sorry. Then his wife said unto him, My son is dead, seeing he stayeth long; and she began to wail him, and said, Now I care for nothing, my son, since I have let thee go, the light of mine eyes. To whom Tobit said, Hold thy peace, take no care, for he is safe. But she said, Hold thy peace, and deceive me not; my son is dead. And she went out every day into the way which they went, and did eat no meat on the daytime, and ceased not whole nights to bewail her son.

Finally, she sees him coming home at last: "Now Anna sat looking about toward the way for her son. And when she espied him coming, she said to his father, Behold, thy son cometh, and the man that went with him."

The man, of course, is not just a man, but is the angel Raphael in disguise. In the image below, which comes an illuminated manuscript of the early 14th century, you can see Tobias together with the angel, Raphael, on the right, together with the faithful dog at Tobias's feet. Then, on the left, you can see Anna, together with her husband Tobit, who is blind. I like the way that Anna seems engaged in dialogue with Tobit right here in the painting, just as she engages him in dialogue in the Biblical text itself!

Bible Book: Genesis

Well, it's July - and I'm not sure if I will be able to accomplish my goal of finishing a book this summer (this move to North Carolina made everything topsy-turvy!), but I've started in on a follow-up book to the Latin Via Proverbs book which I published last summer. It will be a collection of sayings from the Latin Vulgate, organized grammatically, just as in the first book. So, I've started going through the Bible looking for likely verses or parts of verses to include. I did the Book of Genesis yesterday, which is always a pleasure to work on.

There are so many marvelous stories in Genesis, and those stories in turn have provoked a huge body of legends and tales outside the Bible, filling in the gaps in the Biblical narrative or amplifying on the stories that are already there. The great scholar Louis Ginzberg compiled a collection of these extra-Biblical stories in his monumental Legends of the Jews.

Luckily for all of us, this book is now available at several websites, including Sacred Texts Archive. The book was originally published in six volumes, with four volumes of stories and two volumes of notes to the stories. Unfortunately, only the four volumes of stories are available online. To consult the notes, you will need to acquire a printed copy, although there are inexpensive paperback editions available of the notes volumes, along with a helpful index volume for all six volumes.

The stories that Ginzberg collected in conjunction with the Biblical book of Genesis occupy the entire first volume and the first half of the second volume! So, for example, if you have always been curious about the legend of Lilith, Adam's first wife, here is Ginzberg's account of that legend:

The Divine resolution to bestow a companion on Adam met the wishes of man, who had been overcome by a feeling of isolation when the animals came to him in pairs to be named. To banish his loneliness, Lilith was first given to Adam as wife. Like him she had been created out of the dust of the ground. But she remained with him only a short time, because she insisted upon enjoying full equality with her husband. She derived her rights from their identical origin. With the help of the Ineffable Name, which she pronounced, Lilith flew away from Adam, and vanished in the air. Adam complained before God that the wife He had given him had deserted him, and God sent forth three angels to capture her. They found her in the Red Sea, and they sought to make her go back with the threat that, unless she went, she would lose a hundred of her demon children daily by death. But Lilith preferred this punishment to living with Adam. She takes her revenge by injuring babes--baby boys during the first night of their life, while baby girls are exposed to her wicked designs until they are twenty. days old The only way to ward off the evil is to attach an amulet bearing the names of her three angel captors to the children, for such had been the agreement between them.

That's just one example out of the literally thousands of stories which Ginzberg collected from the Talmud, Midrash and other traditional sources.

Meanwhile, here is a random quote from the King James version of Genesis - although I've not provided chapter and verse number here, you'll find it easy to Google the words and look up the King James version online (if you are reading this post via RSS, you'll need to visit the blog in order to see the script in action):

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If all goes well, I should have one or more Bible books to report on each day over the rest of the summer!

Film: Children of Men

Well, the weekend ran away from me before I was able to post again about another film I thought would be relevant to this blog, in addition to the marvelous film Saints and Soldiers, which I posted about earlier.

The film is Children of Men, an adaption of the novel of the same name by the author P.D. James (Baronness Phyllis Dorothy James), who is best known for her mystery novels featuring the detectives Adam Dalgliesh or Cordelia Gray. But in 1992, James wrote a book that can be classified as science fiction, although it is shies away from scientific detail. Instead, it simply starts from the premise that all human beings on planet Earth ceased to reproduce in 1995. All men ceased to produce sperm, and all sperm stored in laboratories became infertile. No more babies were born. The action of the novel then starts in the year 2021, when the youngest people on the planet are in their twenties, and all human societies have been changed - brutally, horribly, weirdly - in response to the departure of children from the world of men, which is now heading to extinction. The book takes its title, Children of Men, from a passage in the Psalms: "Thou turnest man to destruction; and sayest, Return, ye children of men."

I read the book when it first came out since I was very struck by the plot's main premise and the book is, indeed, a good read.

The film, on the other hand, is really excellent. Extreme liberties - EXTREME liberties - were taken in the adaptation of the book to film. It's probably more fair to call it a film inspired by the same premise as James's novel, but with a plot that takes on a quite different shape. And, speaking for myself, I enjoyed the film far more than I did the book. A rare event, but that is decidedly the case here. I do wonder what P.D. James herself thinks of what happened to her story! James's novel is extraordinarily bleak with very little human sentimentality of any kind to redeem it. That is not surprising; her mystery novels, too, are brimming over with desperate, sad, lamentable characters whose emotional lives are anything but sympathetic. (Don't get me wrong: her books are great to read, and I've read about a dozen of them... but sympathetic characters are not the appeal.)

In the film version of Children of Men, however, all kinds of changes are made to P.D. James's novel which give it an emotionally satisfying quality that the book, for all its intelligence, never achieved for me. As you can imagine, the plot does involve a woman who becomes pregnant (the story's premise essentially demands that, of course!) - but the film constructs a wholly new character for this expectant mother, and she is a character who resonates much more profoundly with the archetypal figure of the Virgin Mary, the mother of Jesus. And like Jesus, this new baby, born in desperate circumstances - circumstances far worse than a manger in Bethlehem - is destined to save the world, not from sin, but from extinction. The film does a brilliant job with the "nativity" of the child, and the stunning effect that the infant has on those around her (note: her, not him).

The film has garnered very high ratings at imdb.com (although it seems to be a love-it-or-hate-it reaction, as you can see from the viewer reviews at amazon.com). The movie can definitely be appreciated without pondering the parallels between the miraculous birth story in the film and the account of Jesus's nativity. Yet for me, as I watched the film, it was even more satisfying to see in my mind's eye the nativity scenes of the infant Jesus and compare them to the scenes unfolding in the latter part of the film.

The filmmakers, of course, were very aware of this connection: in the U.S., the film was released on none other than December 25!

So, if you are curious, I would definitely recommend this as a film worth watching, especially if you want to ponder a modern inflection of the Christian nativity story from two thousand years ago.

Here's a still from the film, showing Theo, the film's reluctant hero, escorting the mother, Kee, and her newborn baby from the midst of a warzone. Both actors (Clive Owen, Claire-Hope Ashitey) do an excellent job in the film. It must have been a grueling experience to make the movie and, be warned, it is a bit grueling to watch - but well worth it, I think!