Getting Lost in the “Translating”

In the written word, we all know that some things can be misunderstood. Misinterpreted. Subtle cues and clues can be overlooked. Puns can be missed. Intended plays-on-words can be taken too narrowly—one-dimensionally—thereby losing their force. And, etc.

I suspect this happened in my last post “Translating Sorrow”. The word “translating” is multivalent, with a few different nuances. I intentionally played on those nuances. From dictionary.com are the following definitions for translate:

1) to turn from one language into another or from a foreign language into one’s own: to translate Spanish.

2) to change the form, condition, nature, etc., of; transform; convert: to translate wishes into deeds.

3) to explain in terms that can be more easily understood; interpret.

4) to bear, carry, or move from one place, position, etc., to another; transfer.

The first definition was clearly used in the translation of the Polish subtitle of Górecki’s work. Yet the second was intended in my reference to Psalm 30:5, both at the beginning of the first section (Weeping may spend the night…) and the end of it (Weeping may spend the night, but with the morning: joy [Psalm 30:5; cf. Luke 24:1-10; John 20:10-18]).

The cue was in its bookending—its opening and closing of the section. A further clue was the added Luke and John references in the parentheses. Both these sections of Scripture refer to the disciples’ post-Crucifixion distress and their subsequent post-Resurrection joy—mirroring Psalm 30:5. That is, their sorrow was ‘translated’ into joy.

Further, the text of “Holy Cross Lament” depicts Mary’s sorrow at the Crucifixion. Of course, we all know that this temporary distress was alleviated at Jesus’ Resurrection. Hence, again, my inclusion of the Luke and John references next to Psalm 30:5.

In the Giya Kancheli section, the composer’s persistent sorrow was ‘translated’ into his music, exemplifying 2 above. Later, he apparently yielded to some optimism following his friends’ rescuing him from the brink of death. This represents definition 4 above. Moreover, this literally life-altering event may have moved Kancheli (I opined this, in hope) from his seeming indifference to his Christian heritage to a (re)affirmation of Christian faith. Assuming so, once again definition 4 would apply here.

Lots of ‘translations’ in one post!

Translating Sorrow

Psalm 30:5: Weeping may spend the night…

Sorrow. Sometimes I perceive it in the eyes that look through me at the store. Sometimes I see it in the aging man’s eyes peering back at me in the mirror. Sometimes it seems all-pervasive.

Perhaps it’s no coincidence that of late I’ve been drawn to neo-Classical composers who have works in this vein.

Henryk Górecki

Already familiar with Polish composer Henryk Górecki, I decided to try the Nonesuch Records 1992 release of Symphony #3, aka Symphony of Sorrowful Songs. Stricken, I played it over and over for a time. Unbeknownst to me, the disc somehow became popular the year it came out, eventually selling over a million copies—well above typical Classical sales levels.

The symphony consists of three movements, each a different song. The text of the first is taken from a 15th century Polish prayer as from the point of view of Mary, mother of Jesus, called “Holy Cross Lament”:

My son, my chosen and beloved
Share your wounds with your mother
And because, dear son, I have always carried you in my heart,
And always served you faithfully,
Speak to your mother, to make her happy,
Although you are already leaving me, my cherished hope.1

The subject of the third movement is similar to the first in that it is from the perspective of a mother and about her son. In this one, using text from a Polish folk song, the mother knows her son is dead but cannot find his body. Despite this, she finds some solace.

Between these two is the shortest of the three, both in terms of text and music, this one themed opposite of the others. An 18 year old Polish girl, in poetry to Mary, pleads with her to not weep for her. The words were inscribed on a basement wall in what was then Gestapo headquarters in Zakopane, Poland. The young woman, identifying herself as Helena Wanda Blażusiakówna, dates the start of her imprisonment as 26 September, 1944.

In native Polish the subtitle of this three movement symphony is Symfonia pieśni żałosnych. The English rendering (Symphony of Sorrowful Songs) inadequately captures its rich multivalence. According to the liner notes,

[t]he subtitle . . . has suffered much in translation. Pieśni is simply ‘songs’; but the qualifying Żałosnych is archaic, and more comprehensive than its modern English, German, or French equivalents. It comprises not only the wordless ‘songs’ of the opening double basses and monastic lament, but also the prayer and exhortation (“Do not weep”) of the Zakopane graffito, and the lullaby, both elegiac and redemptive, of the final folk song.

The final three verses of the folk song exhibit acceptance and hope:

Perhaps the poor child lies in a rough ditch
And instead he could have been lying in his warm bed

Oh, sing for him God’s little song-birds
Since his mother cannot find him

And, you, God’s little flowers, may you blossom all around
So that my son may sleep happily2

Weeping may spend the night, but with the morning: joy (Psalm 30:5; cf. Luke 24:1-10; John 20:10-18).

Giya Kancheli

Forget writing music like Giya Kancheli’s, I’d be ecstatic if I could write prose the way he does. The introduction to his Piano Quartet in l’istesso tempo (1998) can nearly serve as a preface to his oeuvre following his 1991 emigration from his native homeland of Georgia (post-dissolution of the Soviet Union):

Again and again we witness with deep regret how, despite the obvious improvements of the civilized world, our planet is still torn apart by bloodshed and conflicts. And no artistic creation can withstand the destructive force that so easily rejects the fragile process of progress.

Taking everything that goes on around me very much to heart, I try to express my own mental state in music. In essence, I write for myself without harboring any illusions that—as Dostoevsky put it—‘beauty will save the world’.

So my music is sad, rather than joyful, and the coloring of my personality means it is not at all destined to find a wide audience. One won’t find any calls here to struggle, to equality, to the bright future. Rather, one will find bitter sorrow over the imperfection of a society that cannot draw lessons from the most terrible historical examples.

I express my thoughts in an extremely simple musical language. I’d like to believe that listeners will not be left cold by my music, and will not identify its deliberate simplicity with what I think is the most dangerous feeling: indifference.3

Yes; it’s been said that the opposite of love is not hate but indifference.

Yet Kancheli exhibits seeming indifference to his own region’s religious tradition. For his composition Time…and again he slices a verse from Paul’s letter to the Galatians out of context, applying these words to the contents of this work:

Now the things which I write unto you, behold, before God, I lie not (1:20).4

In the notes to another release, a writer observes that “[u]nlike Pärt and Górecki, Kancheli makes no direct appeal to Christian doctrine”, but is inspired by ‘the widely understood feeling of religiousness which is manifest in all music dearest to [his] heart.’5

In verbiage accompanying the 2004 release Diplipito is a review of Kancheli’s Valse, Boston written by John von Rhein from Chicago Tribune: “…Nobody conjures troubled landscapes in sound like Kancheli. He has given [us] a bleak, very Eastern view of modern existence, but the effect is cleansing.”6 I think that’s the essence of why Kancheli writes: catharsis. I know that’s what I derive from most of his works.

The title piece (Diplipito) of the release referenced just above appropriates a line from Russian-American poet Joseph Brodsky: “My work of silence, my mute creation…” For the part of the countertenor, Kancheli’s score is marked simply: “Meaningless words from a Georgian epic.”7 Is Kancheli playing us here? Is a clue found in the dedication to the companion piece Valse, Boston: “To my wife, with whom I’ve never danced.”?8 Or should these works be understood alongside his others of the time, such that the former expresses the inexpressible with wordless utterances, while the latter states the sad truth that he’d never danced with his wife? I suppose dancing seems a needless luxury when one feels such persistent, crushing sorrow.

Yet the 2015 release Chiaroscuro sees a turn in outlook. The meaning inherent in the title of the title track is the juxtaposition of light and shade—contrasts. This piece is paired with Twilight, an apparent self-reference to his advanced years. In his notes on Twilight, Kancheli observes from his desk a pair of poplar trees. They change with the seasons from spring, to summer, to fall, and then winter, in which the bare branches reveal, “a perspective reaching into infinity…”9 This functions as a metaphor for life:

After being seriously ill, I now associate the wonders of nature with human life. Up to a certain point we do not pay attention to problems with our health. And then, suddenly, comes a moment of serious trial, when life—to speak metaphorically—hangs by a hair. It’s only a combination of circumstances that allows us to return and continue it—temporarily, alas, in comparison to my poplars.10

He dedicated Twilight to Julia Mironova-Khoperiya and Sergie Mironov:

The Lord has given them a rare goodness that cannot be expressed in words. I don’t know whether I could even partially depict it in my music. I am infinitely grateful to fate for the fact that these two people were beside me at the critical moment, and literally brought me back to life…and to my poplars.11

We are never more alive when trials and tribulations subside.

Kancheli passed away 2 October, 2019. I’d like to think he (re)embraced the Christian faith—that he embraced Christ—before his passing.

In homage to the composer, I direct you to this version of Chiaroscuro:

_________________________________

1 English translation by Krystyna Carter, ©1992 Boosey & Hawkes Music Publishers, Ltd (unpaginated).
2 Ibid.
3 Text here is an amalgamation and a slight adaptation of the liner notes from ECM New Series 1767, In l’istesso tempo, 2005, pp 17-18 (as translated by Eileen Walliser-Schwarzbart) and the liner notes from ECM New Series 2442, Chiaroscuro, 2015, pp 4-5 (translation uncredited).
4 As from ECM New Series 1767, In l’istesso tempo, 2005, p 2 (and p 21).
5 Wilfrid Miller’s notes to Vom Winde beweint, ECM New Series 1471, 1992 (unpaginated).
6 Taken from ECM Records’ description for ECM New Series 1773, 2004. (The bracketed “us” replaces “as” in the text, which I take as a typographical error.)
7 As translated by Eileen Walliser-Schwarzbart in the liner notes to ECM New Series 1773, p 14 (see immediately preceding note).
8 ECM New Series 1773, p 2.
9 Taken from ECM New Series 2442, p 7 (no translator credit).
10 Ibid.
11 ECM New Series 2442, p 16.

Jesus’ Kingly Appearance

What did Jesus look like? We have no portrait of his likeness. We have no bust showing his facial features.1

What we know is that Jesus was born in a manger—that it was as a baby he came into our world. Though we don’t know much about his childhood, we can read about him as a twelve-year-old in the Temple (Luke   2:41-52), providing amazement to the teachers there (Luke 2:47). But, again, we don’t know what he looked like: his facial features, build, etc.

Yet we can state with some confidence what Jesus didn’t look like. Almost certainly, he resembled nothing like some images of Him, portrayed as a fair-skinned, fair-featured European. On the contrary, Jesus had Middle Eastern Jewish ancestry. Accordingly, he was likely olive-skinned with dark or brown hair, in keeping with others hailing from the Judean area. But as regards any specific physical characteristics, the New Testament (NT) is silent.

We might be able to infer that Jesus was an average looking man by analyzing some NT scenes. For example, Judas Iscariot pointed Jesus out to the soldiers marshalled to arrest him (Matt 26:47-49; Mark 14:43-45; Luke 22:47-49).2 This might suggest Jesus had no special physical qualities to make him stand out amongst the others. But, then again, it was dark, and the light from the torches may have distorted the faces of Jesus and the disciples such that an insider like Judas could more easily identify him. Or, it could be that at least some in the group were in the dark as to what Jesus looked like in the first place.

This Jesus a King?

Perhaps more compelling, Pilate showed apparent surprise upon meeting Jesus. Was he expecting someone more kingly, more ‘regal’ looking? All four Gospels are unanimous in how they record Pilate’s question, which can be phrased either “You are the king of the Jews?” or “Are you the king of the Jews?” (Matt 27:11; Mark 15:2; Luke 23:3; John 18:33). By the phraseology (syntax) of the Greek, emphasis seems to be on “you” here.3 But there is no specific wording in the context with which to find a substantive answer as to what exactly provoked Pilate’s response.

However, viewing the description of the Suffering Servant in Isaiah 53 may provide a glimpse. Of Isaiah 53:2 J. Alec Motyer observes and opines:

[H]e looked unimpressive (no beauty . . . to attract). To such an extent was he but a man among men that the ordinary tests of beauty (‘looks’), majesty (‘unimpressiveness’) and appearance could be applied—with negative results.4

From this we might conclude that the earthly Jesus was an average looking man. No striking features. But it is possible the physical description here strictly relates to Jesus’ battered body hanging on the cross.5 Yet, even if Isaiah 53 is specifically about the Atonement, the description in verse 2 cannot be ruled out as simultaneously providing a description of the earthly Jesus in a general sense.  Whichever the case, this passage, on its face, cannot be used to definitively determine Jesus’ physical features.

Motyer’s statement above may prompt another possible avenue for inquiry. If we consider the example of Saul’s selection as king, we may find a more solid basis upon which to accept Isaiah 53:2 as providing a description of the earthly Jesus. This, in turn, may provide some substantiation for understanding Pilate’s surprise as pertaining to Jesus’ physical characteristics.

To be more specific, recall that one of the apparent reasons Saul was selected king was because he was tall and handsome (1 Sam 9:2; 10:1,23-24). In other words, the Jews seemed to have selected Saul, at least partly, because he ‘looked like’ a king, in their eyes. In comparison, using the same criteria, the Suffering Servant described in Isaiah did not ‘look like’ a king. Thus, if Isaiah 53:2 describes Jesus, Pilate may have been bewildered upon seeing him, for he may have been expecting someone more ‘regal’ in appearance.

A basis for such thought finds itself in the pseudo-science of physiognomy, as detailed in the work of Mikeal C. Parsons.6 This term reflects the idea in the idiom ‘judging a book by its cover’. To some even the converse is true: judging a cover by its book. In this latter view, by knowing a person’s character, one can determine corresponding physical characteristics even before first sight.

Returning again to Motyer’s statement, observe his final words, “with negative results.”  It appears the author here understands some sort of physiognomic connection.

Parsons notes the presence—and the possible presence7—of the practice of physiognomy in the Old Testament (OT), using the selection of King Saul as but one example. 8 Extra-biblical Jewish texts from this time period evidence this same outward/inward connection.9 All this could point to the lack of physical descriptions of Jesus in the NT—if indeed he was an average man in terms of earthly physical characteristics, such as the description in Isaiah 53:2.

In other words, the Gospel writers’ silence on this issue may be quite purposeful. Knowing the contemporary tendency towards judging outward characteristics as the bases for determining inner qualities, the writers may have been dissuaded from describing Jesus’ physical form in any way. They may have been concerned that readers might make a caricature of him.

A stronger connection of this practice of physiognomy rears its ugly head in contemporary Hellenistic (Greek) culture.10 It “permeated the Greco-Roman thought world.”11 This thought may have emanated from the prominent anthropological and philosophical notions centering on a separate soul and body:

[S]oul and body react on each other; when the character of the soul changes, it changes also the body, and conversely, when the form of the body changes, it changes the character of the soul.12

The Hellenistic version of physiognomy encompassed a wide range of criteria, differing a bit according to the eye of the beholder. These include color of hair, eyes and skin; shape and size of forehead, nose, ears, cheeks, hands, etc.; size of head; sizes of features relative to others; asymmetry/symmetry; size of physique generally; as well as gait and other movements.13

An example of a negative imagining of Jesus’ physical features based on this pseudo-science is found in Cook’s The Interpretation of the New Testament in Greco-Roman Paganism.14 In this work Celsus described Jesus as “small and ugly and ignoble”.15 Celsus apparently arrives at his conclusions on Jesus’ physical features based on distorted understandings of Jesus’ incarnation, death and resurrection, which thereby informed Celsus’ view of Jesus’ morality.16 Since the crucifixion was reserved for criminals, Jesus’ death ‘confirmed’ his supposed “base origins and unworthy character”.17 In other words, a person of such ‘lowly’ character—according to Celsus’ misconstruals—surely was correspondingly “small and ugly”.18

Celsus sarcastically critiques Jesus in his mock-questioning of an imagined Jesus: Upon learning of the child king Jesus, Herod slaughtered innocent children (Matthew 2:3-16),

“lest you should reign instead of him after you were grown. Why then, when you were grown did you not reign? But you, ‘child of God’, ignobly beg in this manner [cf. Matt 10:9-11], poking about in fear and wandering up and down in ruin.”19

Celsus’ apparent awareness of the Gospel accounts of Jesus carrying neither food nor money20 likely contributed to his scathing judgment as “ignoble”.21 In accordance with such a view,

‘Evangelical poverty’ was unimpressive to Celsus. The title ‘king’ for such an impoverished individual is ridiculous to Celsus. Jesus never became a ‘king’ in the sense of the word that Celsus takes for granted.22

Considering all the above, isn’t it possible, perhaps even probable, the silence in the NT regarding Jesus’ earthly physical form is, in fact, by design? And could this account for why there are no direct NT quotations of the physical features portion of Isaiah 53:2?

Appropriating Jesus’ words in John 8:15, “You judge according to the flesh” (cf. 7:24).

Yes, Jesus is King!

Some use Psalm 45:2 to support the idea of a handsome Jesus. But this is probably best understood—if applicable to Jesus at all—as reflective of the post-earthly Jesus, his glorified form.23 And while the NT is silent regarding Jesus’ physical features during his earthly ministry, a few NT texts feature descriptions of a post-glorified Jesus.

We catch a glimpse of Jesus’ glory in the Transfiguration scene (Matt 17:1-8; Mark 9:2-8; Luke 9:28-36). But John the Revelator describes Jesus in his post-earthly glory. In the first chapter of Revelation, John witnesses:

13 someone like a son of man, dressed in a foot-length robe and girded with a golden wrap around his chest, 14 his head and hair white like wool—white as snow—and his eyes like flames of fire, 15 his feet similar to fine bronze polished in a furnace, and his voice as vibrant as voluminous waters. 16 In his right hand he held seven stars, and out of his mouth a sharp double-edged sword proceeds. His face shines like the sun in its full force.

What a description!

With the words “like a son of man” (homoios huios anthrōpou), John evokes the human-like figure in Daniel 7:13 (hōs huios anthrōpou).24 To explain, “son of man” is a rendering of the Hebrew idiom ben Adam, which translates as son of Adam, and is understood to mean human.25 Thus, “son of man” also means human. Comparatively, the particularized the Son of Man, used by Jesus in self-reference throughout the Gospels, refers solely to him. Accordingly, without the attached to “son of man” in both Rev 1:13 and Daniel 7:13,26 this conveys that the figure coming on the clouds (Dan 7:13; Rev 1:7) is human-like in appearance—though, of course this figure is King Jesus at the Second Coming, the parousia. In other words, in Rev 1:13 John is not using the Son of Man, because this term represents Jesus in his earthly ministry. Therefore, the context here (and Dan 7:13) is best understood as referring to King Jesus in his suprahuman, glorified form—like a human.

John provides another magnificent description of King Jesus in Revelation 19:

11 Then I saw heaven standing open, and behold! A white horse! The one riding it is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he judges and wages war. 12 His eyes are like flames of fire, and on his head are many diadems. A name has been written upon him, which no one knows except him. 13 He is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and he has named himself THE WORD OF GOD. 14 The armies in heaven follow him on white horses, wearing pure white linen. 15 Out of his mouth proceeds a sharp sword with which he may strike the nations/people. He will shepherd them with an iron staff. And he tramples the winepress of the furious wrath of Almighty God. 16 And upon this robe, where it rests on his thigh, a name is inscribed: KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS.

To use a term that has been diluted in popular culture due to persistent misuse, but here meant in all its original splendor: AWESOME! The verbiage appears to be figurative to some degree, yet we can see points of contact with 2Thessalonians 2:8:

And then the lawless one will be revealed—whom the Lord Jesus will cast away with the breath of His mouth and extinguish by the radiance of his coming/arrival (parousia).

The “breath of his mouth” seems to be a rephrasing of both Rev 1:16 and Rev 19:15 (cf. Isaiah 11:4). The “radiance of his coming” is similar to the final portion of 1:16, though it is implied in the whole context of 19:11-16.27

Come soon King Jesus!

_________________________

1 For possible reasons why, see the section titled Use of ΙΧΘΥΣ in early Christianity in Fishers of Persons article.
2 John’s Gospel portrays this scene a bit differently (John 18:3-5).
3 The Gospels are uniform here, to include word order: Σὺ εἶ ὁ βασιλεὺς τῶν Ἰουδαίων, Su ei ho basileus tōn Ioudaiōn, You are the king of the Jews? This would be the word-for-word rendering, and the one I prefer here. Since Greek finite verbs encode person and number, a pronoun is not necessary unless the subject is unclear in the context. In this case the referent is obvious: the 2nd person singular encoded in the present tense-form “are” (εἰ̑, ei) can only refer to Jesus. Thus, the presence of the Greek pronoun “you” (σὺ, su) here is unnecessary, for the question can just as easily stand without it: Εἶ ὁ βασιλεὺς τῶν Ἰουδαίων (You are the king of the Jews?). The reading of the text per all four Gospels could even possibly be rendered: You? You are king of the Jews? (see Bernard and Evans just below). This would be in keeping with the context. For these reasons, I deem the use here emphatic.

Though not the consensus, this view of su as emphatic is far from rare. Cf. Charles L. Quarles, Matthew, EGGNT, Andreas J. Köstenberger & Robert W. Yarbrough, gen. eds. (Nashville, TN: B&H Academic, 2017), p 333: Σύ is emphatic and may imply a mocking tone . . .; Joel Marcus, Mark 8—16, The Yale Anchor Bible (New Haven, CT: Yale UP, 2009), p 1033: . . . the sarcastic tone of Pilate’s initial question . . . [is] because the Jewish authorities have reported his royal pretensions and/or reputation…however, such pretensions seem outlandish, since . . . Jesus’ bound condition is the opposite of the unfettered power associated with kingship; Craig A. Evans, Mark 8:27—16:20, Word Biblical Commentary [WBC] (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 2001), p 478: The emphatic pronoun carries with it a touch of mockery, perhaps suggesting Pilate had anticipated meeting someone more impressive (i.e., “You? You must be kidding!”); B. F. Westcott, The Gospel According to St. John, Westcott’s Commentaries on the Gospel of John, Ephesians, Hebrews, and the Epistles of John; Accordance electronic ed. version 2.8 (Altamonte Springs: OakTree Software, 2006), para 5147: The form of the sentence . . . suggests a feeling of surprise in the questioner: “Art thou, poor, and bound, and wearied, the King of whom men have spoken?”; J.H. Bernard, The Gospel According to St. John, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary; ed. Samuel Rolles Driver, Alfred Plummer, and Charles A. Briggs; Accordance electronic ed. version 2.8 (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1928), para 15345: “Thou! (σύ is emphatic) art Thou the King of the Jews?” Evidently Pilate did not believe that Jesus was a revolutionary leader . . . There was nothing in His appearance or His demeanor to make such a charge plausible.; Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According to John XIII-XXI, The Anchor Yale Bible; (New Haven: Yale UP, 1974), p 2.851: In the question Pilate asks, it is possible the ‘you’ is emphatic . . . expressing incredulity. Pilate . . . may have been amazed at the mien of Jesus who has been accused of claiming the title.; Leon Morris, The Gospel According to John, New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1971), p 768: “Thou” is emphatic. “Art thou the King of the Jews?”; Murray J. Harris, John, EGGNT (Nashville, TN: B&H Academic, 2015), p 305:If Pilate’s question is formal, σύ will be without emphasis…but if he is being sarcastic, σύ will have the sense, “Are you, of all people, the king of the Jews?”

Some commentators supporting no emphasis tend to see a direct parallel between Pilate’s question (Su ei . . . ) and Jesus’ response (Su legeis . . . ), therefore construing that if emphasis (“You!”) is understood with Pilate, then Jesus was similarly snarky in return, which is then deemed untenable; however, as Lidija Novakovic remarks (John 11—21: A Handbook on the Greek Text, BHGNT [Waco, TX: Baylor UP, 2020]) regarding Jesus’ response: σὺ [su] is contrastive, distinguishing Pilate from others . . . (p 239).  (Novakovic is non-committal regarding su in John 18:33 [p 238], though.) In all those supporting emphasis there are slight variations as to the reasoning, but most agree Pilate’s surprise relates to fathoming Jesus as king. There is the possibility that Pilate was expecting—at least in part—an individual with more striking physical features, such as being taller in height, handsomer, etc., which then elicited his surprise. See below.
4 J. Alec Motyer, Isaiah: An Introduction and Commentary, TOTC (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1999), p 377.
5 That is, the description here could provide a graphic description of the ‘slain Lamb’ of Revelation 5:6 (cf. John 1:29) instead of the earthly Jesus in his usual appearance. See, e.g., G. K. Beale & Sean M. McDonough, “Revelation” in Commentary on the New Testament Use of the Old Testament, G. K. Beale & D. A. Carson, eds. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2007): The Isa. 53 background especially highlights the atoning aspect of the lamb’s sacrificial death and also applies the metaphor’s “root” (cf. Rev. 5:5) and “lamb” to the sacrificial victim. In fact, “root” also occurs in Isa. 11:1, 10 (alluded to in Rev. 5:5), which may have inspired attraction to the same metaphor in 53:2 (p 1101). Cf. Craig L. Blomberg, “Matthew” in Beale & Carson, who describes, the servant’s disfigured appearance (p 31).
6 Mikeal C. Parsons, Body and Character in Luke and Acts: The Subversion of Physiognomy in Early Christianity (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2006 / Waco, TX: Baylor UP, 2011). The Baylor appears to be a straight reissue of the Baker. All references below will refer to the original Baker issue. (See my review of this work here.) Parsons’ main thesis is that Luke/Acts illustrates the reversal of physiognomic thought as “Luke presumes physiognomic principles only to overturn them by story’s end” (p 15).
7 Here Parsons references Lev 21 and its requirements for both sacrifice and priest (p 40), noting how some construe the lack of corresponding moral requirements to go with the physical in Lev 21:16-18 as implying “a connection between the outward and the inward” (p 41).
8 Parsons, pp 39-40. The author also uses King David (1 Sam 16:12) and Absalom (2 Sam 14:25) as examples (p 40).
9 Parsons, pp 42-45.
10 Parsons, pp 17-37.
11 Parsons, p 17.
12 Parsons, p 14. I note that this is not foreign to modern culture, as evidenced, e.g., in the band Talking Heads’ track “Seen and Not Seen” (from the 1980 Remain in Light), in which the narrator wishes to change his facial features by consciously adapting his thoughts, assuming others shared this same ability.
13 Parsons, 18-37.
14 John Granger Cook, The Interpretation of the New Testament in Greco-Roman Paganism (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2002).
15 Cook, p 35.
16 I draw these inferences from the way Cook frames some of his statements (p 35, 48), but particularly his quote of Celsus—which follows in the main text above—as viewed through the lens of the pervasive influence of physiognomy.
17 Eugene V. Gallagher, Divine Man or Magician: Celsus and Origen on Jesus (Chico, CA: Publishers Press, 1982), p 122, as cited in Cook, p 48.
18 See the corresponding verbiage in the main text of note 15, and see note 16 and its corresponding text.
19 Cook, p 35. Though Cook does not place child of God in quotes, I understand Celsus’ use here as sarcasm, since it is obvious he deemed Jesus unworthy to be a son of god or a king; and, therefore, my quotes are to indicate this cynicism. See also the comments relating to Origen’s Against Celsus in Claudio Moreschini and Enrico Norelli’s Early Christian Greek and Latin Literature: A Literary History: Volume One (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2005): Celsus . . . criticized the idea of a descent (future for Jews, past for Christians) of a Son of God to earth, for this contradicts the very nature of God by attributing a change to him (p 291). Given such an a priori view (mistaken as it is), Celsus clearly does not grant ‘Son of God’ status to Jesus.
20 Cook, p 35.
21 This is my extrapolation of Cook (p 35) here given his earlier quote of Celsus’ “ . . . and ignoble” (see content referenced at note 15 above).
22 Cook, p 35.
23 Psalm 45:2 is variously translated in the English versions; however, the first part of the verse, which includes “handsome” in some versions, is not quoted or alluded to in the NT—as far as I’ve determined. The latter part of the verse (with “grace” or “gracious”) may be alluded to in Luke 4:22, though. Thus, I infer the possibility of this pertaining to Jesus only insofar as the citing/allusion to other verses in Psalm 45 (6-7) in the context of Hebrews 1:8-9 (See George H. Guthrie, “Hebrews” in Beale & Carson, pp 937, 939). And even if it does apply to Jesus, then it must be post-resurrection, as per the Hebrews context (1:3ff).
24 The words homoios and hōs are synonymous; in fact John uses the latter quite a bit in vv 13-16. John also uses homoios huios anthrōpou in Rev 14:14.
25 For more explanation on this, see ‘Son of Man’ in the LXX here.
26 In other words, these lack both Greek articles—one before huios (“son”) and one before anthrōpou (“man”), in comparison with the other occurrences in the NT where Jesus self-references as the Son of [the] Man during his earthly ministry. Relatedly, I have argued extensively that this same non-particularized huios anthrōpou in John 5:27 is meant to indicate “son of man”, aka “human” in that context in order to tie it to Daniel 7:13 and Rev 1:13; 14:14: see The Son of God Given Authority to Judge Because He is ‘Human’: A Study in John 5:27, pt 4 and pt 5.
27 And the latter part of 19:16 is parallel to 14:14, and 19:11-16 has other points of contact with 14:14-20.

Clamoring Like Seals

Biblical not-yet-fulfilled prophecy is probably best understood in retrospect, upon or after its presumed fulfillment. Sometimes, though, current events seem a lot like the dawning of unfulfilled prophecy.

When I hear words like “cleanse” in reference to how to manage a large block of people—as I heard in the clamoring media—my eyebrows raise and my ears go back. Then I ponder. I’m reminded of something I’d read years ago. Its writer was Barbara Marx Hubbard. She has the distinction of being the first woman nominated to a shot at the US Vice Presidency (in 1984)—though Geraldine Ferraro eventually landed on the Democratic ticket with Walter Mondale (losing to Republican incumbent Ronald Reagan). But that’s not all she’s known for.

In an unpublished manuscript from 1980, Hubbard reinterpreted sections of the New Testament. The title of the work—composed of three parts—is The Book of Co-Creation: An Evolutionary Interpretation of the New Testament.1 The most, shall we say, interesting reinterpretation of Scripture finds itself in the section on the seals in Revelation. This is in the third section titled: The Revelation: Alternative to Armageddon.

Defining Terms in Hubbard’s Ideology

Before going further I need to explain what she means by “evolutionary”. In her ideology—as with many in the “New Spirituality” (formerly “New Age”) movement—humankind is on the cusp of a planetary evolution from homo sapiens sapiens to homo universalis (universal humankind). But not everyone will be keen to “evolve” in such a way. Such individuals are an impediment to “evolution”, for this “evolution” requires nearly all to participate—or none will be able to ‘progress’. This poses a problem requiring some kind of—uh—solution.

In addition, Hubbard’s underlying cosmology and anthropology needs to be defined. These closely resemble Gnosticism. That is, the world (cosmology) is composed of corrupted matter made by an inferior god. Humankind (anthropology) is entrapped within this inferior matter, though there is an inherent spark/seed of deity inside all humans (aka “Christ in you”). But humans also have an “ego”, or lower self, in addition to this spark/seed, or higher self. Thus, each person is made up of a lower self and a higher self, yet is trapped inside corrupted matter, according to this ideology.

The goal, then, is to “deify” oneself, to become “gods” by shedding the inferior shell (body). This is accomplished by enlarging the higher self, such that the lower self disappears, all through self-effort. But the ultimate goal is for all the sparks/seeds of deity (higher self) to unite, while the entirety of corrupted matter is destroyed. Right after this occurs, the now-one spark/seed unites with “The One About Whom Naught Can Be Said” (TOAWNCBS), i.e., the New Age deity existing outside the universe. This will be the point, as one very popular rock song’s near-conclusion states, “when all are one and one is all”.

Described just above is one version of panentheism. The term means ‘all-in-god-ism’. To provide an analogy for further explanation, imagine an aquarium. Outside the aquarium is TOAWNCBS enveloping it—surrounding it—in its entirety. Inside the aquarium is the universe which has sparks/seeds of god in each human. Looking at the aquarium from the outside, from the perspective of TOAWNCBS, all is in-god—deity surrounds the entire universe: all-in-god. From the perspective of all life in the aquarium, each human has god (spark/seed) inside—god is in-all: god-in-all. That is, panentheism here is both god-in-all and all-in-god: the deity outside the universe along with the deity within every human in the universe.

Hubbard’s Alternative Armageddon

This version of panentheism underlies all Hubbard’s works. It’s imperative to properly conceive this in order to understand the driving force behind them and in the selections quoted below.

Before paraphrasing and quoting from selections of this unpublished manuscript, I shall provide the subsequent ‘evolution’ of the work. In 1993, Barbara Marx Hubbard published The Book of Co-Creation: The Revelation, Our Crisis is a Birth, which is a revised version of her 1980 manuscript.2 Then, in 1995, a revised version of this ’93 work was released, titled The Revelation: A Message of Hope for the New Millenium.3 A selection from this book, under the subheading “The Alternative to Armageddon”—the same wording as the subtitle for the 1980 unpublished work—is below:

That miracle is the gentle Second Coming of Christ through the rapid evolution of enough humans linked up by the planetary nervous system, so that the social body will flood with empathy, healings will abound, and the world will smile with joy4

That sure doesn’t sound like the Second Coming as described in Scripture! (And see Not One Parousia, But Two.) The 1993 work describes it a bit differently:

The alternative to Armageddon is the Planetary Pentecost. When a critical mass are in the upper room of consciousness on a planetary scale, each will hear from within, in their own language, the mighty words of God. All who are attuned will be radically empowered to be and do as Jesus did. If those people who are not self-centered align their thoughts in perfect faith, that they are whole, created in the image of God, the world can be saved.5

This is an obvious perversion of Acts 2. In some ways Hubbard’s theology is an inversion of Biblical theology. But it also sounds, in part, not unlike words I’ve read and heard by those in the so-called New Apostolic Reformation (NAR). A bit later in this book Hubbard claims that such action will avert the opening of the seventh seal (Rev 8:1).6 But it’s the earliest work, the unpublished manuscript, which provides the most colorful language.

In the two newer works (1993 and 1995) Hubbard omits commenting on Revelation 6:7-8, the fourth seal, entirely. However, in the unpublished work she goes into some detail on these verses. She divides humanity up in fourths. One group is fully onboard with the plan, a second group is ready, once the first provides the example.7 The third group is resistant and unreachable, incapable of reaching their higher self; but, the last group is worse—they are “destructive”, “disconnected”, and “defective seeds”.8 This last group is a problem in need of a solution. And Hubbard, as an “elder”, has it.

6:7 And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see.

8 And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth. (Revelation 6:7-8, KJV)

Hubbard understands those of her elite group as the ones that must wield the sword, and etc., as per above:

We, the elders, have been patiently waiting until the very last moment before the quantum transformation, to take action to cut out this corrupted and corrupting element in the body of humanity. It is like watching a cancer grow; something must be done before the whole body is destroyed.9

These “defective seeds” must go, for “it is a case of the destruction of the whole planet, or the elimination” of this one-fourth of the population.10

But there is a silver lining! Her readers are not charged with this act.11 They can just sit passively by—sort of like what some did during World War II, I suppose.

…We are in charge of God’s selection process for planet Earth. He selects, we destroy. We are the riders of the pale horse, Death. We come to bring death to those who are unable to know God. We do this for the sake of the world…

Now that [the planetary system] is being born into its universal, whole-conscious phase, the disconnected must be destroyed.12

While it’s the elders that do the cleansing, it is the others still alive that will be tasked with the reconstruction:

You do not have to participate in the destruction. You are to be responsible for the construction which shall begin as the tribulations come to an end.13

You didn’t expect the elders—the elites—to clean up, did you?

[See related post Chuck Pierce Hosts Conference Referencing ‘One New Man’.]

__________________________________

1 From the title page of this part, which was released separately from parts I and II, is the following: “The Book of Co-Creation is a three part unpublished manuscript written by Barbara Marx Hubbard in 1980. Part III follows in its pre-publication form.”

2 Published by The Foundation for Conscious Evolution, Sonoma, CA. I have a copy of the first edition, 1993. On its dedication page it reads: To Founders of a New Order of the Future: A deep communion of pioneering souls from every race, nation and religion, who experience within themselves the birth of the Universal Human.

3 Novato, CA: Nataraj Publishing, 2nd ed. Dedication page reads same as above.

4 Ibid. p 175; italics in original

5 The Book of Co-Creation: The Revelation, Our Crisis is a Birth, p 147; bold and italics in original.

6 Ibid. p 162.

7 The Book of Co-Creation: An Evolutionary Interpretation of the New Testament, Part III: The Revelation: Alternative to Armageddon, p 59.

8 Ibid.

9 Ibid. p 60.

10 Ibid.

11 Ibid.

12 Ibid. pp 60-61.

13 Ibid. p 61.

Christmas Came Early!

Who can forget the part in A Charlie Brown Christmas when Linus recites Luke 2:8-14 (KJV)? This captures the birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. This captures the meaning of Christmas.

But, arguably, the story of Christmas comes a bit earlier than that. Before the Virgin Birth was the Virginal Conception. This is found in Luke 1:26-38 and Matthew 1:18-24.

Yet the implication of Jeremiah 1:5 shows that Christmas came even earlier:

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you came out of the womb, I sanctified you and appointed you a prophet to the nations.

If God assigned Jeremiah’s role before forming him in the womb, then he surely knew Jesus’ assignment before His miraculous birth! Can we know how early?

We know from John chapter 1 that Jesus predates His earthly existence as “the Word” (Logos).

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us… (John 1:14).

The first portion “And the Word became flesh” can be understood as either the Virginal Conception or the Virgin Birth. I think it means the former. Whichever the case, strictly speaking, “the Word” predates Jesus of Nazareth. That is, before John 1:14 “the Word” existed without human flesh. In fact, a careful reading of John 1:1-3 illustrates that “the Word” predates creation, for He was the Agent of all creation:

1 In the beginning the Word existed, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God (by nature). 2 He [the Word] existed in the beginning with God. 3 Through Him [the Word] all things came to be…

While God is the Creator (see Rev 4:11, e.g.), “the Word” was the Agent by which all things were created. Thus, when “the Word became flesh” the uncreated Agent of all creation became part of all creation!

Yet we still haven’t answered the question of whether or not we can know how early Jesus’ assignment was. The book of Revelation implicitly provides the answer!

Depending on which Bible version you have (the Greek syntax here can be construed two different ways), the implication of Revelation 13:8 (cf. 17:8) is such that either: {a} names were placed in the Book of Life before the foundation of the world (NIV, ESV, NASB, HCSB) or {b} the Lamb (Jesus) was slain before the foundation of the world (KJV, Douay-Rheims, ISV, YLT). In either case, this indicates salvation was worked out before creation.

Thus, Christmas came VERY early!

Contrasts: One Reads “The Palmist”; the Other “2 Corinthians”

The crickets are chirping so loudly I can’t hear myself think. I’m referring to the lack of Big Media coverage of Joe Biden’s gaffe in reading from “the palmist” on Thanksgiving Day. Now, I cannot know what was on the teleprompter he was struggling to read, but when Biden got to the actual quote from Psalm 28:7, surely he should have realized his error and corrected himself.

In any case, Big Media has, as usual it seems, given Biden a pass on this gaffe.

Contrast this to the Big Media lambasting then-candidate Trump received when he quoted 2 Corinthians 3:17. He was even chastised in Christian and “Christian” media for pronouncing it “2 Corinthians” instead of “Second Corinthians”. That’s wrong, right?

Isn’t it?

Go to your Bible—whether a physical book or an online version—and search for 2 Corinthians 3:17. Doesn’t it have a “2” in front of “Corinthians” either at the top of the page (physical book) or in front of/on top of the chapter and verse? Can you find one that actually reads “Second Corinthians” on the page or screen?

In the online criticisms of Trump I find many are printed as “Two Corinthians”. But why not “2 Corinthians”—as in the number 2—which is more likely what Trump was reading from?

Arguably, Trump was even correct from a technical perspective. Though it may be current convention to refer to the verse aloud as “Second Corinthians three seventeen”, this is not even the way the inscription reads in the Greek manuscript tradition.

Go here , select “Jump to Book” (left side of page under 1. Description of Manuscript) and select “2 Cor” from the drop-down menu. Then look at the top of the manuscript page, which reads:

ΠΡΟC ΚΟΡΙΝΘΙΟΥC B

The “B” represents the number 2 in Greek isopsephy (similar to Jewish/Hebrew gematria). Most literally, this translates “To [the] Corinthians, 2”. The first letter to the Corinthians is identical except it has “A” instead of “B” at the end of its inscription. This practice is the same in Paul’s two letters to the Thessalonians and Timothy.

However, Peter’s and John’s epistles have different inscriptions. Instead of a Greek “A” or “B” (or “C”), these spell out either “First” (prōtos), “Second” (deuteros), and, in John’s last brief letter, “Third” (tritos).

Thus, we might more correctly read Paul’s letters to the Corinthians, the Thessalonians, and Timothy with the appropriate number “1” or “2” in front, while prefacing Peter’s or John’s epistles with the corresponding “First”, “Second” or “Third”.

To conclude, an argument can be made that Trump was not incorrect in the way he cited the Scripture reference as “2 Corinthians 3:17”. Comparatively, there is no realm of possibility in which Biden was correct when he stated—twice—“the palmist” in his preface to reading Psalm 28. Why the Big Media disparity in the treatment of these two?

Gonna Be a Great Weekend!

I just received two items I ordered. The first is a multi-author book on John 6. I’ve been looking for additional material pertaining to a portion of this chapter to ponder over for a projected blog post. The second item is a new (for me, but previously released except one cut) disc of jazz music from the late sixties.

The book features contributors from diverse (including multi-national) perspectives: Paul N. Anderson, Johannes Beutler (SJ—Germany), Peder Borgen (Norway), Dr. R. Alan Culpepper, Dr. Robert Kysar, Maarten J. J. Menken (Netherlands), Francis Moloney (SDB—Australia),  Gail R. O’ Day, John Painter (Australia), Ludger Schenke (Germany), and Dr. Marianne Meye Thompson.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The music is led by the relatively unsung Charles Tolliver (trumpet, composer of all tunes here). Rounding out his quartet—augmented by Gary Bartz (alto sax) on four of the seven tracks—are Herbie Hancock (piano), Ron Carter (acoustic bass), and Joe Chambers (drums). All great musicians. At the time, Hancock and Carter were two-fifths of the Miles Davis quintet—rounded out by Wayne Shorter (tenor & soprano sax) and Tony Williams (drums)—the greatest band ever assembled in any music idiom. That’s not just opinion, that’s fact! Not debatable. Also note that both Bartz and Chambers would end up playing with Miles later.

I received one item from NW USA (Oregon), the other from NE USA (Connecticut). And I’m in between the two, though much further South (Texas). What a great country!

This Labor Day weekend let’s consider the wonderful diversity of this great country and not let the media, politicians, Hollywood celebrities, and sports icons divide us.

Freedom and diversity of thought and expression. Freedom to think independently. But let’s labor to give grace to others with their own independent thoughts and different opinions—except regarding the best band ever, of course.

Addendum

Upon reading the Preface to the book above, I think Culpepper’s remarks are quite appropriate:

One suspects that [the contributing authors’] civility and collegiality even in the midst of sharply conflicting points of view–which could be a model for scholars in many other disciplines–is probably borne of their perennial brooding over the depths of the Gospel of John.

John Arranges Things Differently

The Gospel According to John differs from the Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke). Markedly so, in some areas. John’s Gospel contains things the Synoptics lack, yet omits content they have. But even the overlapping content is somewhat different in John.

It’s similar to Claudio Abbado as compared to Rudolf Barshai conducting Bartók.

Or like John Coltrane’s rendition(s) of “My Favorite Things” compared to Julie Andrews’ vocal version in The Sound of Music. Like Miles Davis’ cover of Cindy Lauper’s “Time After Time”.

Or like R.E.M.’s cover of Wire’s “Strange” (or the fact that early R.E.M. borrowed a bit from the sound of The Byrds).

Or like Public Enemy’s (and others’) sampling of Melvin Bliss’ “Synthetic Substitution”—specifically, the great Bernard “Pretty” Purdie’s drum intro—in their “Don’t Believe the Hype”.[1]

Quoting P. Gardner, F. F. Bruce suggests John’s Gospel is a transposition into a higher key.[2] Continuing the musical analogies, John doesn’t so much harmonize with the Synoptics as provide counterpoint. Similarly, John resembles Ravel in taking his own six movement piano solo suite Le Tambeau de Couperin and later transforming into four movements for orchestra. Some elements are the same, colors and shades are added, some notation is omitted.

Putting the earlier words of Bruce in context:

If in this Gospel the words and deeds of Jesus appear to have undergone ‘transposition into a higher key’ [as compared to] the Synoptic Gospels, this is the effect of the Spirit’s enabling the Evangelist to adapt the story of Jesus to a different public…[3]

Following this, Bruce provides a Shakespearean analogy.

The day following Julius Caesar’s assassination is recorded in Plutarch’s Life of Brutus. Plutarch provides the account of Mark Antony reading Caesar’s will to the public. When the audience heard that, among other things, the dictator had willed 75 drachmas to each citizen, they grew sympathetic. Sensing this, Antony adjusted his speech and tone, taking Caesar’s bloodied gown in his hand and graphically pointing to the knife and sword cuts into it. At this, the crowd grew angry at his assassins. Chaos ensued. Some insisted that those who had slain Caesar should be killed.

Shakespeare paraphrases and amplifies this account. However, he also reorders it. The writer situates Antony holding up the tattered gown and showing Caesar’s bloodied corpse before reading the will. Moreover, he ‘quotes’ Antony using words not even recorded in Plutarch’s account.[4]

Bruce calls this

a translation of the freest kind, a transposition into another key; but Shakespeare’s genius enables him to put just the right words into Antony’s mouth…‘to give the general purport of what was actually said.’*

What Shakespeare does by dramatic insight (and, it may be added, what many a preacher does by homiletical skill), all this and much more the Spirit of God accomplished in our Evangelist. It does not take divine inspiration to provide a verbatim transcript; but to reproduce the words which were spirit and life to their first believing readers in such a way that they continue to communicate their saving message and prove themselves to be spirit and life to men and women today…—that is the work of the Spirit. It is through the Spirit’s operation that, in William Temple’s words, ‘the mind of Jesus himself was what the Fourth Gospel disclosed’;** and it is through the illumination granted by the same Spirit that one may still recognize in this Gospel the authentic voice of Jesus.[5]

John is different. I like that. I can’t wait to meet John on the other side.

__________________________

[1] Unrelatedly, tangentially: Is Public Enemy (PE) original in coining the idea of “fake news”? Witness these lyrics from “Don’t Believe the Hype”, relating to how the music press distorted PE (in their view):
Chuck D.: False media, we don’t need it, do we?
Flavor Flav: It’s fake that’s what it be to ya, dig me?

[2] F. F. Bruce, The Gospel & Epistles of John (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1983), p 15. Bruce here quotes Gardner’s The Ephesian Gospel (London, 1915), p 284.

[3] Bruce, p 15.

[4] Bruce, pp 15-16.

[5] Bruce, pp 16-17. *Here Bruce cites Thucydides’ History 1.22.1. **Here Bruce quotes Temple’s Readings in St. John’s Gospel (London, 1939), p xxxii.

Traversing the Via Dolorosa with Shostakovich, Vasks, and Schnittke

Different people grieve differently. Some busy themselves with busyness. More productively, some write. Some write music. Some listen to music that some have written as catharsis for their pain.

And some enjoy listening to such heart-rending music—even when not necessarily in distress. That would describe me. When grieving, I concurrently feel the composers’ agony. When I’m not, it’s as if I’m empathically sharing in their burdens (Galatians 6:2).

One of my favorite ECM New Series releases, Dolorosa features—as the title suggests—themes of death, sorrow, and lamentation. It includes one work each by Dmitri Shostakovich, Pēteris Vasks, and Alfred Schnittke—all from the former Soviet Union. The title of the release appears to be truncated from Vasks’ own “Musica Dolorosa”, with perhaps a nod to the Via Dolorosa (Latin for “sorrowful way”), Jesus’ route to crucifixion. I make these speculations since it is convention to use doloroso (“o” instead of “a” at the end) in musical direction.

Dolorosa

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dolorosa – Shostakovich / Vasks / Schnittke
Dennis Russell Davies, cond.; Stuttgart Chamber Orch.

 

These three works for string orchestra are appropriately somber, though at times dramatic, adequately expressing the subjects’ range of emotions.

The disc begins with Rudolf Barshai’s (1967) adaptation of Shostakovich’s Eighth String Quartet. The composer himself approved of Barshai’s arrangement, agreeing to rename it Chamber Orchestra op. 110bis. I much prefer the orchestral version to the quartet, as it adds weightiness to the original, better conveying its inherent bleakness. Shostakovich dedicated the composition “[t]o the memory of the victims of fascism and war”. At the time the original quartet was written (summer 1960), the composer had succumbed to persistent pressures to join the communist party, causing great inner turmoil, according to musicologist Isaak Glikman, as per the accopanying liner notes. Apparently the composer’s dedication included himself as a victim.

At just under 25 minutes, this rendition is one of the longest. DRD conducts the second movement, Allegro molto, slower than all other versions I’ve heard (3:38 long), which I find more appropriate, given the inscription and the overall tenor of this arrangement.

The impetus for Vasks’ “Musica dolorosa” was the death of the composer’s sister Marta. Vasks’ grief evidences itself in the climactic section beginning at around 5:50 of the single movement piece. The pain conveyed becomes almost unbearable until about 8:00 when the discordance begins to subside, seguing into a dark melancholy. This subsequently gives rise to what seems to be a reluctant acceptance of this tragedy. As much as I like the Shostakovich, this is my favorite piece on the disc.

Closing the set is Yuri Bashmet’s orchestral arrangement of Schnittke’s String Trio (1985), rebranded Trio Sonata (1987). This work is the least somber of the three, for the Alban Berg Foundation commissioned the original string trio for the occasion of the 100th anniversary of Berg’s birth. However, within a few weeks of the string trio’s premiere, the composer would suffer his first of many strokes, thus curtailing his activity for the remainder of his days. Of the piece, Gerard McBurney opines in the liner notes: “It is music which strongly suggests an elegiac farewell to the past, as though the composer knew he were facing impending and radical change…” Schnittke would die one year after this disc was released.

Listening to this recording can be cathartic, as it is for me many times. I suppose, though, that the listener’s experience would pale in comparison to the emotions felt by the composers at the time of writing—or shortly thereafter in the case of Schnittke’s revision by Bashmet.

Consider the Source

You’ve undoubtedly come across the statement “consider the source.” Wise words, if meant to induce you to consider the biases of a speaker or writer before reaching any conclusions on the material.

But it is unwise to categorically reject material simply because its originator has statements you disagree with. It is equally unwise to categorically accept material simply because its originator has statements you agree with. Both are examples of the genetic fallacy, a logical fallacy in which a particular work is either uncritically accepted or uncritically rejected based solely on its origin, its genesis.

The wholesale acceptance of all claims by a trusted source, and/or the wholesale rejection of all claims by an untrusted source, can stunt intellectual growth. Just because a source is right in one area, does not mean the source is right in all areas. Conversely, just because a source is wrong in one area, does not mean the source is wrong in all areas.

Any claim should be judged on its own merits, regardless of source. If you know the biases of the speaker/writer, you may be able to more critically review the claim for these sorts of biases. Such informed critique may find the claim either true or false, mostly true or mostly false, etc.

An example may help you recognize this fallacy and perceive the possible ramifications for falling prey to it.

I have seen websites explicitly forbidding the excellent resource A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, 3rd Edition (usually abbreviated BDAG), simply because the lexicon is based on an earlier one by Walter Bauer. The reasoning? Bauer also authored the controversial Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity.

In it, Bauer theorized there were competing ‘Christianities’ in the first and second centuries. Christianity as we know it today won out. All other losing beliefs were actively suppressed or eradicated by the victor. A sort of ‘might makes right’ theological battle. Bauer purports that the resulting Christian belief of today is different from that of Jesus and the Apostles.

But Andreas J. Köstenberger and Michael J. Kruger ably refute this theory in their The Heresy of Orthodoxy: How Contemporary Culture’s Fascination with Diversity Has Reshaped Our Understanding of Early Christianity. Yet this doesn’t necessarily mean that the lexicon based on Bauer’s original is similarly defective (or that Bauer’s German language original itself is defective). In the Foreword to the Köstenberger and Kruger book, I. Howard Marshall makes this point very well, defending Bauer’s lexicon:

Old heresies and arguments against Christianity have a habit of reappearing long after they have been thought dead…When this happens, they need fresh examination to save a new generation of readers from being taken in by them.

Such is the case with the thesis of the German lexicographer Walter Bauer, who single-handedly read the entire corpus of ancient Greek literature in order to produce his magnificent Lexicon to the New Testament. Its worth is entirely independent of the fact that its compiler was in some respects a radical critic who claimed on the basis of his researches into second-century Christianity that there was no common set of “orthodox” beliefs in the various Christian centers but rather a set of disparate theologies, out of which the strongest (associated with Rome) assumed the dominant position and portrayed itself as true, or “orthodox.”[1]

One faulty book and one excellent resource by the same author! Marshall illustrates how not to fall prey to the genetic fallacy.

Let’s all endeavor to fairly evaluate material that comes our way. Yes, consider the source. Don’t categorically accept or reject it. Assess a claim by a particular source with a critical eye on known biases for evidence of such. Evaluate each individual claim on its own merits.

________________

[1] Andreas J. Köstenberger and Michael J. Kruger, The Heresy of Orthodoxy: How Contemporary Culture’s Fascination with Diversity Has Reshaped Our Understanding of Early Christianity (Wheaton, Illinois: Crossway, 2010), p 11. Bold added for emphasis.

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