Some Thoughts on the Usage of the Archaic Language in Liturgical Texts
One
sometimes comes across mild debates in Orthodox circles about whether or not
our Sunday Divine Liturgy should employ the archaic forms (e.g. “Thou hast”) or
the contemporary ones (e.g. “You have”). Our own O.C.A. website has perhaps
wisely decided not to jump into the debate and take definitive sides, but to
offer the liturgical texts in both forms, so that one has a choice of
downloading either the “You/ Your Version” or the “Thou/ Thy Version”. What can
one say about this debate?
First of
all, one can recognize that there is no such thing as an inherently holy
language. Muslims declare that Arabic holds such a privileged position, so
liturgical prayers must be offered in Arabic regardless of whether or not the
Muslim worshipper understands the language. But Christians have never made such
claims for their own faith, and accordingly liturgical Christian prayer has
been offered in all languages. That of course was part of the point of
Pentecost: now all the tongues of men have been sanctified by the indwelling
Spirit so that one can pray with complete authenticity in one’s native tongue.
This Pentecostal truth finds expression also in our Bible translations: despite
the fact that the Old Testament was written in Hebrew (and Aramaic) and the New
Testament written in Greek, the Bible may be and has been translated into many
languages, and no one suggests that the product is not actually the Bible. Of
course some translations are better than others, but we do not follow our
Muslim friends. They deny that Scripture can be authentically translated at all
and they dub such translations as only “the meaning of the Quran” and not the
actual Quran itself. Unlike them, we say that Scripture may indeed be
authentically translated. The King James Version or the English Standard
Version, for example, whatever their virtues and flaws, are still the Bible.
All language is simply a vehicle; it is the meaning that matters.
Secondly,
since it is the meaning that matters, the meaning of prayer must be
comprehensible and understood by the person doing the praying. That is why
liturgical prayer has always been translated from the original to the
vernacular of the nation using it. Cyril and Methodius, though doubtless saying
their own prayers in Greek, took pains to translate those prayers into the
tongue of the Slavs for use in their later missionary endeavours. They did not
insist that the Slavs learn Greek in order to commune liturgically with God.
Some people in their time opined that the Church’s worship must be conducted in
either Latin, Hebrew, or Greek, the three languages atop the cross of Christ
announcing to the world that He was the King of the Jews. Cyril and Methodius
demurred, and with them the rest of the Orthodox Church. Pentecost means that
all vernaculars are acceptable, and moreover “it is a thing plainly repugnant
to the Word of God to minister the Sacraments in a tongue not understanded of
the people” (to coin a phrase).
Thirdly,
the importance of liturgical comprehensibility means that both the “You/ Your
Version” and the “Thou/ Thy Version” are legitimate, since both are equally
well understood by speakers of English. The debate over which English forms to
use in North American churches pales in comparison with the debate over whether
to worship in English or (for example) Slavonic. The former debate is not
unimportant, but needs to be put into its proper context. For the debate over
whether to use archaic or contemporary English concerns the proper amount of
reverence required for worship; it is important but less important than the
concern for comprehensibility. Worshipping in a very reverent Slavonic does the
English worshipper no good if he or she cannot understand Slavonic. It would be
like listening to glossolalia: the Slavonic speaker in tongues may give thanks
well enough, but the other man is not edified (1 Corinthians 14:17)—better in
such a case to speak five words that can be understood in the vernacular than ten
thousand in a tongue (v. 19).
Fourthly,
it is true that divine worship must be not only comprehensible, but also
reverent. This debate is muddied by the fact that use of the form “Thou” is
sometimes lauded as more formal and reverent than the form “You”, when in
historical fact the form “thou” was intended as the familiar, not the formal.
In the Anglican classic Book of Common Prayer, God was addressed as “Thou”
since Christ taught us to invoke Him with loving familiarity as our abba; it is
only the bishop in that book who is addressed with the formal “you”. But after all language is more than history,
and what was familiar in one age may end up being formal in another age.
Certainly the present use of the term “thou” does savour of a reverent and
specialized usage.
Some
people say that the Liturgy must be conducted “in the language of the street”
while others insist that it must not be. One must be careful to define exactly
what is meant by the term. If one means by this that there should be no difference
between the language used when speaking to our buddies at Starbucks or the
hockey game (to say nothing of the locker room), and the language used when
speaking to God in church, then this is clearly wrong. People like Fr. John
Whiteford have pointed out that the Church has always used the best and most
elevated form of language available for its divine worship. (See his excellent
fatherjohn.blogspot.ca/2016/09/king-james-english-and-orthodox-worship.html .)
But if by the term “the language of street” one simply means an actual
vernacular, then such a language should be acceptable, for the vernacular can
still be sufficiently elevated and poetic. Take love poetry for example: a man
may write elevated poems of great tenderness and beauty to his beloved without
necessarily addressing her as “thee”. Language need not be archaic to be
elevated and beautiful.
Take for
a liturgical example the exclamation of the Prayer of the Thrice-holy recited
by the priest just prior to the singing of the Trisagion Hymn. At our own St.
Herman’s parish the prayer ends with the words, “for holy are You, O our God,
and unto You we send up glory: to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy
Spirit, now and ever and unto ages of ages”. It is not much different than
praying “for holy art Thou, O our God, and unto Thee we send up glory”. The
former is not any more an unworthy “language of the street” than the latter.
Rendering it in true “street language” would look something like “for You’re
holy, God—glory to You forever”. One need only glance at this true street
version to see the difference. Poetry, beauty, and an elevated spirit do not
depend upon verbal archaism. A poet knows that things as simple as an inversion
of words (“holy are You” instead of “You are holy”) and the use of the vocative
“O” (“O our God” instead of simply “our God”) can work wonders, bringing the
language away from the Starbucks tables and into the divine throne room of God.
It is contemporary, but still elevated.
Once again, comparison is instructive: at Starbucks I might say to my
buddy, “you’re looking good, my friend”; I would not say, “looking good You are,
O my friend”. If I did, he would look at me rather oddly, and perhaps ask me
why I was talking like Yoda.
Finally,
if both the archaic and the contemporary can be equally reverential and
elevated, why choose one over the other? I would suggest that the contemporary
possesses the added advantage as being closer to our speech during the time
when we are not in church. There is always a terrible temptation for all of us
to separate our Sunday morning behaviour from our behaviour after we leave the
church. We can hermetically seal off Liturgy from life, and neglect what some
have called “the liturgy after the Liturgy” so that we are afflicted by a kind
of spiritual schizophrenia, with our worship split off completely from the rest
of life. This can be exacerbated if we possess a special language in which we
address God (not, I hasten to add, that those who opt for the archaic forms are
guilty of this. I speak here only of temptations and of my own heart). As St.
James long ago pointed out, out of the same mouth come both blessing and
cursing—with the same tongue we bless the Lord and Father and also curse men
who are made in His likeness (James 3:9-10). It may be of some help if we
forego use of a specialized liturgical tongue and retain the same language for
both God and men, for then the inconsistency of which James warns us can be
more easily detected and avoided. Using the contemporary vernacular to bless
the Lord and Father ought to carry over after the Liturgy has concluded so that
we refuse to use that language to curse men made in His likeness. Liturgical
language can help unify our lives and our hearts, so that the holiness of the
time spent praying to God flows over into the rest of our lives as well.
One last
added thought: it is important after we have made our liturgical choices to
maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace (Ephesians 4:3). Both
choices can be and have been made by people genuinely concerned to honour God
and to please Him. As St. James reminds us, honouring Him means holding our
brethren in honour as well, regardless of whether or not their own liturgical
choices are the same as ours.
By Fr.
Lawrence Farley
Source: https://blogs.ancientfaith.com/nootherfoundation/liturgy-language-street/
