PatronizingWhen the stomach is full, it is easy to talk of fasting. September 30th: The feast of Saint Jerome (circa 347-420) Patron saint of librarians, archivists, Bible scholars, students and… but of course, translators. Unlike many saints in history who endured an exciting variety of gruesome tortures and fiery tests of their faith, our Jerome appears to have led a rather typical scholarly existence, albeit not without drama and hobnobbing. After wandering amok and living in deserts for several years – as holy men were wont to do in those days – Jerome studied the scriptures with several leading scholars in Antioch and (that most beautifully-named place) Constantinople, then returned to Rome in 382 where he was hired as secretary to Pope Damasus. Said Pope decided the Gospels and Psalms needed a new Latin translation, so hired Jerome to do it – although the only portion of the New Testament that Jerome rendered was the Gospels. He drew on many sources but relied mainly on the original Hebrew (for which he got a good deal of flack since the Christians were trying hard to obscure the fact that they’d essentially expropriated Hebraic texts… but never mind that). The fact is that my native land is a prey to barbarism, that in it men’s only God is their belly, that they live only for the present, and that the richer a man is the holier he is held to be. When Damasus died, and replaced by a Pope who was much less fond of Jerome (who was notoriously outspoken, so as not to say irascible, and to whom the phrase “Never look a gift horse in the mouth,” is attributed), our saint wandered back into a monkish existence, performing good deeds, creating a magnificent library, writing theological commentaries and translating the Old Testament. (I’m not sure what he did for fun.) Is there indeed any learned or unlearned man, who when he picks up the volume in his hand, and takes a single taste of it, and sees what he will have read to differ, might not instantly raise his voice, calling me a forger, proclaiming me now to be a sacrilegious man, that I might dare to add, to change, or to correct anything in the old books? He worked very quickly – too quickly no doubt, as he admits to misunderstanding the source text more than once, sometimes replacing the baffling literal with allegory, and occasionally perpetuating earlier faulty translations. Though earnest, I believe, in his endeavour not to impose interpretation. Over the years, a number of Jerome’s errors have been pointed out – the most infamous no doubt being his mistranslation of a line in the Hebrew text of Exodus which states that when Moses came down off Mt. Sinai he had “rays of light” coming from his head – the word for “ray of light” being the same word for “horn” in Hebrew. Jerome chose B, which led Michelangelo to do this. And then there was the flaming controversy over the Septuagint, which put him up against such luminaries as Saint Augustine. But I’ll not trouble you with that (unless, of course, you beg me). Aside: It’s curious, while writing all this I feel a slight discomfort, knowing that I do not accept the Scriptures as a guiding force, though recall the trembles of girlhood when caught in their ritual and song – but still I remain endlessly curious about the texts’ evolution and their still awesome ability to conduct and sway. And wonder why I cannot reconcile the fact that I’m sometimes oddly saddened by the Bible’s disappearance as a mainstay for allusions – having been replaced by ephemeral contemporary cultural references. No doubt just nostalgia for the familiar. Today’s non-sequitur: Mathematicians born before 500 AD (Nifty)
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