New Books on the Psalter

I discovered two new books on the Psalter today while browsing the Seminary Co-op. 1st is a comparative Psalter with parallel versions of the Masoretic text, the LXX, the NRSV, and the New English Translation of the LXX. It looks to be a valuable resource for those who wish to do comparative work but do not have access to an electronic version such as Bible Works or Accordance. The other is a new translation with commentary of the MT Psalter by Robert Alter. Alter is known for his artful renderings of the Old Testament due to emphasis on the narrative structure and other literary features of the Hebrew Bible. While his translation would never be appropriate for liturgical use (or private devotion for that matter), his rendering of the Psalter will no doubt provide excellent insights into native Hebrew tradition from which it sprang.

(Gabriel, if you ever wish to borrow these, let me know. My library is your library.)

On the Orthodox Western Rite

While trudging through the discouragingly difficult syntax of Syriac poetry this morning, I began listening to the King's College Choir of Cambridge production of the Mass of the Nativity of the Virgin Mary, one of my favorite recordings of Gregorian chant. While listening to this recording, I was reminded of all that I truly love about the pre-schism Western Rite. In a word, it is the aesthetic of the pre-schism Western Church that I love. The sweet melodies of Gregorian plainsong bring it all back to me. After listening to rather copious amounts of liturgical chant the past few days on Ancient Faith Radio, I think Gregorian plainsong is perhaps my favorite among styles of chant. Some (but certainly not all) Russian chant, while very beautiful, often becomes too ornate and artsy, given the influence of later Western music. While the Divine Liturgies of Rachmaninoff and Tchaikovsky are beautiful to listen to, in the words of iconographer Vladislov Andrejev, they are not "iconic" of the Orthodox tradition. Some Russian choral arrangements of Orthodox liturgical pieces are so complex as to be almost impossible for an average parish choir to sing, and even more impossible for the congregation to join in singing with (which is, of course, the purpose of having a parish choir: to lead the congregation). Byzantine chant, on the other hand, avoids much of the temptations of Russian music in that it is wholly different than any form of secular music. There is no four-part harmony or counterpoint to allow the composer or arranger to add his or her "artistic expression." Liturgical music is not "art," per se, but rather an icon of the worship and theology of the Church, and as such, it should be devoid of humanistic artistic expression. While Byzantine chant accomplishes this, to Western ears, it is often dissonant and even jarring. While some, like myself, eventually get used to the melodies of Byzantine chant and even grow to love them, most westerners remain culturally alienated from it. Gregorian plainsong, then is, in my opinion, a wonderful alternative for Westerners, having the iconic simplicity of Byzantine chant, yet with tonal melodies that are pleasing to the Western ear.

This aesthetic of the pre-schism Western tradition is broader than liturgical music, but extends throughout the visual and auricular liturgical expressions, be it the vestments, architecture, the the Liturgy and Daily Office, and even the Western iconographic tradition (before the Renaissance). It is this aesthetic expressing the Western Orthodox tradition that has nourished countless Western saints unto salvation, saints such as St. Benedict, St. Bede, St. Patrick, and others. It is because of these saints that we know that at least in their time, the Western liturgical tradition was Orthodox, divinely inspired, and profitable for salvation.

Whether it is in our own day, is a matter of serious debate among the Orthodox. Saints and sinners alike have added their voice to the debate, and only time will tell who is right. I often remind people that, at least in my opinion, the Orthodox Western right is still in a "beta" stage, if you will excuse the computer analogy. There is still much work to be done by our clergy to standardize and Western Rite. As all things regarding the Church, these decisions and actions are not made overnight, but take time as our bishops discern the Holy Spirit and "rightly divide the word of truth." It is in this state of development that the Orthodox Western Rite may leave some, including myself, with an uneasy feeling at certain points, points where the aesthetic described above is obscured. Of course, this is a subjective judgment, and not at all worthy of being a standard. Yet, when the magnificent Gregorian plainsong is substituted for Willin or Marbeck, and acapella voices are substituted for organs, my sense of the aesthetic that originally brought me to Orthodoxy is obscured. This is not merely a Western Rite phenomenon. As I explained above, some Russian liturgical music suffers from the same ill effects, and organs are not unknown in the Greek churches. Again, why are they bad, in my opinion? Because they are not iconic. We know the difference between a Byzantine icon and De Vinci's Last Supper. But, as even the history of the iconographic tradition demonstrates, that distinction is often obscured. Thankfully, God still works his grace in spite of it, and men and women are saved, but it is not ideal.

What is the conclusion of the matter? I simply wish to express a bit of sympathy with those who are critical of the Western Rite. I understand these criticisms, and believe that they are valid points to be made. However, I urge patience among those who are quick to dismiss the Western Rite as I truly believe from experience, that there is something truly worth reviving in the Western tradition, something iconic that accurately and beautifully reflects the glory of our God as does the Eastern tradition. Instead of opposing the saints and bishops who have worked to establish the Orthodox Western Rite, let us pray with them and for them, that the Western Rite may continue to mature and grow in accordance with the inspiration and grace of the Holy Spirit.

The Cockpit or The Library?

Sometimes I glance up at the sky watching a 747 make its final approach, and I wonder, whether or not I made the right career decision. The cockpit of a Piper Warrior became my 'office' for two months as I finished my flight training. The plane I flew, "Tuna," took on special sentimental significance for me (excuse the alliteration). Sitting in Tuna's left seat for those thirty-some-odd hours was an experience that I will take with me for the rest of my life. It was wonderful, not because it was easy and "fun," although it was a blast. No, it was difficult - perhaps the greatest challenge I have faced thus far. As I have explained to several people, flying requires of me an entirely different set of skills than Semitic philology. In the library, I sit with my dictionaries and grammars where I am at leisure to take as much time as I need to solve a philological problem. I may spend half and hour or more working through just one difficult sentence. In the air, I am required to make split-second decisions, communicate with ATC, maintain situational awareness, and respond to emergency situations with quick, calm, and decisive action. All of this is is mental, but it must be translated into tactile responses through the manipulation of the flight controls. Pitch + Power = Performance, etc. The result of meeting this challenge and developing these skills is great satisfaction at achieving a monumental goal and the thrill of getting to experience the miracle of flight while being at the controls.

But I am equally thrilled when working with the languages and history of the ancient world. I find great wonder and awe in deciphering an ancient Aramaic inscription or reading the Dead Sea Scrolls. I know that I am at the University of Chicago doing what I love, and I know that my motives for doing it are not tied into some fruitless and vain desire to "understand the Bible more" by learning the Biblical languages. Orthodoxy has given me all that I could ever want or handle in that regard. That is not to say there is no connection between my faith and my studies of the ancient and medieval Near East. There is a sense that, in studying these eras, I can vicariously live in them and experience them - the very eras that gave birth to and developed the faith that I cherish. The fact that I have the privilege to study them here at the University of Chicago is a blessing that I never want to take lightly. At the end of the day, the fact that I am here, instead of Embrey Riddle Aeronautical University, confirms that I am doing the right thing.

But what about the cockpit? Where does that fit in to my life? I am not quite sure yet, but I hope and pray that it will factor in to things in some significant way. At any rate, what drives me to achieve at both of these fields of study and others is the desire to be excellent at them, to master them, to achieve. Whether it be reading ancient languages, flying airplanes, drawing portraits, or roasting coffee, I want to take the desires, talents, and gifts that God has given me, and put them to use. I suppose it is like the parable of the talents - I hope to make many returns on the blessings that have been given to me.