Wednesday, November 30, 2022

A Meditation on the Shema

שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל יהוה אֱלֹהֵינוּ יהוה אֶחָד׃

There is one small difference between the Shema (Devarim/Deuteronomy 6:4) as I have typed it above and as it appears in most printed Bibles, but the difference does have significance. In most printed editions, the last letter of the first word and the last letter of the last word are printed in a larger font size, like this:

The size-difference is sometimes even greater. The purpose of this typological trick is to emphasize the verse and set it apart. I am not aware of any other verse in the Tanakh (Hebrew Bible) that is treated in this way. The Shema is, arguably, the most important verse in the entire Tanakh:

"Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One."

This "One" has to be put in historical context. Judaism is classified by scholars of comparative religion as "ethical monotheism." We see the ethical part in the Ten Commandments. The neighboring countries of ancient Israel had many gods. Was Judaism the first monotheism? Not quite.

Pharaoh Akhenaton (the alternative spelling "Aknenaten" is due to Wallis Budge's convention of putting in an "e" wherever the correct vowel quality was unknown) was history's first monotheist. He replaced Egypt's huge pantheon with a single god, the disk of the sun, which he called "Aton." When he promulgated this revolution, he also changed his personal name (as opposed to throne-name) from "Akhenamun" to "Akhenaton." Unfortunately foe Akhenaton, his monotheistic revolution put a lot of priests and temples out of business, and so was highly resented by the priestly establishment. In time there was a counter-revolution, which seems to have put Akhenaton out of business. His son, Tutankhamun, became Pharaoh, and was probably murdered at the age of eighteen.

The Egyptian monotheism of Akhenaton had a symbol, the disk of the sun with many rays, each terminating in a hand holding the "Ankh" (Life) sign. The monotheism of Moses (מֹשֶה, Moshe) used no such symbol for its deity, and did not allow graven images.

This Moshe had an Egyptian name. In names such as "Tutmose" (Son of Thoth), the "-mose" means "son." But Moshe was the son of One who could not be named, or pictured. This Moshe doubted that the Israelites would listen to him, because he "spoke with uncircumcised lips," so Aaron spoke for him. This Moshe was Egyptian.

"Shema" is an imperative. This is what we are to do: "hear, listen."

"יהוה" is the tetragrammaton, the Name, too holy to be spoken except by the High Priest in the holy-of-holies, once per year. In place of that Name, we customarily say, "Adonai," usually translated as "Lord."

But this "Adonai" is an odd-looking word. If it is taken to mean "my Lord," then it should be in the form "Adoni," and it appears as such in many biblical names (e.g. Adoniram, "my Lord has exalted"). Some may explain it as an "honorific plural," as Elohim supposedly is for El, but I am not convinced. My own theory is that it is Egyptian for "my Aton," originally referring to the disk of the sun, and having come to mean "my Lord." This confusion of vowel quality fits well the hieroglyphic sign that looks like a vertical feather, transliterated as "a," "i," or "ai." "Adon" in Hebrew means "master," "Lord," or "sir." "My adon" in Hebrew is "adoni," not "adonai."

"Eloheynu" means "our God."

"echad" means "One," which in this context is the key word.

The remaining verses through verse 9, we are told to love the Lord with all our heart, all our soul, and all our strength, to keep the words of the Shema in our heart, to teach them diligently to our children, to speak of them when we sit, when we walk, and when we lie down, and when we rise up. We are also told to bind them for a sign upon our hand, have them as frontlets between our eyes, and to write them on the door-posts and gates of our houses (which is why there are tefillin and mezuzahs).

What other words of the Tanakh have been stressed to such an extent? I cannot think of any.

Saturday, November 26, 2022

Aging Project XIII

Thursday, November 24, 2022

I Want to Speak in Rhythmic Cadences

Wednesday, November 23, 2022

This "I"

Tuesday, November 22, 2022

Aging Project XII

80.16 years

Anyone who makes it into their eighties is likely to have a few battle scars, from things that happen and the resultant surgeries. That is true of me as well, although I've been relatively lucky. On Thursday, November 17, I had surgery to repair an inguinal hernia. The hernia had been quite visible for about five years, and had reached the stage where it looked like I had a baseball under my skin. Now it's gone.

The above shot is from the day of the surgery, about five or six hours after the operation. The incision, nearly three inches long, is outside the frame and not visible. What looks like a monogram tattoo is the surgeon's initials. Mine were there too, verifying the correct location for the procedure. For the first time in years, there is no visible hernia.

In this second shot, taken five days after the surgery, the thin, dark line is the incision. Although you can't tell from the photo, the incision is sealed up with something like super glue. The thicker line, taking off at an angle, is a post-op bruise, of which there are several. The surgeon's initials can still be faintly seen, although I've been trying to wash them off.

In this third shot, also taken today, five days after the surgery, one can see more of the post-op bruising. It's not too bad, but it does also affect the scrotum, with which the hernia was involved.

It's a great relief to have this done and behind me. My recommendation to anyone needing this type of surgery would be to go for it. Advances in medical science over the past twenty years have made the recovery far quicker and easier than it was before.

Sunday, November 20, 2022

At Eighty Years

Friday, November 18, 2022

Aging Project XI - I Have Got My Body Back

Monday, November 14, 2022

On Translating the Psalms - IV

I published the following translation of Psalm 137 on December 10, 2018:

By the rivers of Babylon,
there we sat and wept,
when we remembered Zion.
On the willows,
there in its midst,
we hung our harps.
For there, those who
had taken us captive
requested words of song from us,
those who were afflicting us
demanded joy.
"Sing us some songs
of Zion."

How shall we sing
the Lord's song
on foreign soil?
If I should forget you,
O Jerusalem,
may my right hand
go also to oblivion,
may my tongue
stick to my palate
if I do not remember you,
if I do not set Jerusalem
at the head of all my joy.

Remember, O Lord,
the sons of Edom,
on the day
of Jerusalem,
saying "destroy it,
destroy it,
down to its
foundations."
O daughter of Babylon,
you despoiler,
blessed is the one
who will repay you
for what you have done to us.
Beatus qui tenebit et adlidet
parvulos tuos ad petram.

I included the ending, Verse 9, only in Latin. Due to its cruelty and barbarity (so I thought), I could not bring myself to translate it into English. (This trick was also used by the Victorians, whenever the thing being published or translated contained sexually explicit material. It caused many young students to study their Latin much more diligently.)

Here is Verse 9 as it appears in the RSV:

"Happy shall he be who takes your little ones

and dashes them against the rock!"

Putting the verse into inclusive language doesn't help:

"A blessing on those who will seize your infants

and dash them against the rock!"

(THE INCLUSIVE BIBLE by Priests for Equality: Lanham, MD, A Sheed & Ward Book, Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc. 2009. ISBN-13:978-1-58051-213-8; ISBN-10: 1-58051-213-5)

Houston, we have a problem! This time, it may be an insoluble one.

In retrospect, Psalm 137 was pretty much the end of my project to translate the Psalms. But Psalm 137 was only the tip of the iceberg.

What are we to do when the values of Scripture do not match our own values? Are we to believe that the world is only 6,000 years old, because Genesis would have us believe it? Should we still be practicing "an eye for an eye," just because it was relatively merciful in its own time? Should we ignore the dictum of science that approximately ten percent of every mammalian species is homosexual (from birth, not by choice)? Should we be so respectful of tradition that we are cruel, just because our ancestors were cruel? Should we cling so tightly to traditional beliefs that we devalue what we know in favor of what we believe, and so live our lives in ignorance?