I had told my fellow collaborators that I planned to inaugurate my contribution to this blog with a discussion about Forbes Magazine, the Mexican drug war, and the shifting place of the billionaire in the American conscious. Forget that. Rather, with this first post, lets completely invalidate the whole basis for this blog thing. Nice idea, guys, but I am calling the thought police on you and taking your stuff.
In all seriousness, I have often wondered where we get the idea that free speech is a right. Of course, for us Americans, we have a legal permission for such a thing. I suspect that free speech has also become an assumed part of most western cultures, as well – the difference between them being how they define “free” and “speech.” In fact, the American understanding of free speech is different today than in our parents’ time, and certainly different than during the various times when our congress has imposed anti-sedition laws.
My problem with free speech begins with the fact that I have no idea what it is. I know that I am permitted to say just about anything that I want, but I don’t want to do that. I may want to tell you, gentle reader, where you should spend your afterlife, but I really don’t want to do that. The simple fact of conflicting desires restrains me. I am permitted, but I am not free, and I do not want to be free.
Last year, on Pascha(1) morning, I walked into church a little bit early. My priest and his daughter(2) giggled airily from the choir’s apse as they practiced the day’s songs presto. As I approached them, my priest asked me whether I had a copy of today’s gospel reading in Old English. We had been up until about 3:30am that morning, after having celebrated our Paschal liturgy and then concluded our Lenten fast with an amazing lamb shank dinner. We all arrived a bit punchy the next day for Agape Vespers (3), so I thought my priest had been kidding around. I wasn’t sure anything like that even existed (4).
I decided to learn Old English several years ago, and I am still working on the pursuit. Having nobody to teach me, and being something of an infant upon this stage of fools, I turned to the Internet for help. I had hoped to find something familiar to me in Modern English that had also been rendered in Old English. Beowulf being a bit too long, I came across The Lord’s Prayer:
Fæder úre, ðú ðe eart on heofonum,
Sí ðín nama gehálgod.
Tó becume ðín rice.
Gewurde ðín willa
On eorþan swá swá on heofonum.
Urne dægwhamlícan hlaf syle ús tódæg.
And forgyf ús úre gyltas,
Swá swá wé forgyfaþ úrum gyltendum.
And ne gelæd ðu ús on costnunge,
Ac álýs ús of yfele. Sóþlice.
The version that I found at the time included an audio recording. It may not look like English, but it reads like English, or at least reads in a way that struck me as hauntingly familiar.
I could not have anticipated how this prayer would strike me. Once the recording stopped, I realized that my ancestors had recited this very prayer a thousand years ago, and longer. Until I was an adult, though I knew this prayer, it was not a part of my prayers. Now it had become a central figure, and now I had something to share with my forebears. My family was no longer just the relatives that I knew in my lifetime, but also all those people who shared this prayer with me all the way back to the first convert among my ancestors, whoever he or she may be. Our Father. Give us our daily bread. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. The connection in faith provided by language stuns me.
Freedom of speech is meaningful to me when speech is needed, with or without permission. Whatever laws or restrictions impose privation on free speech are nothing compared to the freedom provided by a long tradition of people who can say, “our Father” in any language.
(1)The globally more common word for Easter
(2)Orthodox priests, unlike Roman Catholic priests, may be married and have children
(3)Agape Vespers is often observed during the early afternoon following the Paschal liturgy. No communion is offered at this service, thus making it atypical for a Sunday. It is also significantly briefer than an average Sunday liturgy. Also, and importantly for this story, the laity are invited to read the gospel reading in as many languages as the members of the church can provide. Thus, at our church, we may read it eight or nine times. The gospel reading appointed for the day is John 20:19-25.
(4)I have since found a copy.
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Nice post, Gilbert. This reminds me of that classic admonition, "If you can not remain silent you should never speak, for you will have nothing to say." Bloggers of the world, take heed.
ReplyDeleteI sometimes miss doing the Latin reading at Agape Vespers. My Latin is so rusty now I'd have to rehearse it like lines in a play!
I too find the idea of free speech a difficult one. It is an interesting idea that it is not the government that regulates what we say as much as we ourselves do. But that is entirely true. I am allowed to say many things that I would never choose to say. It's like film ratings - the film industry self-regulates with the rating system. And we do much the same thing - or rather, we should do much the same thing.
ReplyDeleteAnd, on another note, I find the idea of tradition completely fascinating. That was one of the things I loved so much about living in Europe - this sense that so many other people, more intelligent people, more talented people have stood there/looked in awe at that/ wondered about that. I almost felt like I was being infused with the traditions and the history of the places I went, merely because I stood in the same spot. I think saying the Lord's Prayer in Old English is the same idea: A greater understanding through tradition.
-Jen
p.s. I find footnotes sexy. That's probably odd.