Toward a "Protestant" Acceptance of the "Apocrypha"*: Part I...

Over the last several years, my own explorations of Christian theology, doctrine, and practice have increasingly become less "conservative" and more "liberal" in comparison with mainstream Protestantism--so much so that I now do not associate myself with any particular mainstream denomination, but more with a post-denominational and emerging Christ-centered worldview. One of the most recent "liberal" (at least, "liberal" to mainstream Protestantism--although, given the overall Christian tradition, I find this idea a humorous paradox) views I have been leaning toward is a deeper appreciation and even acceptance of what has been deemed by Protestants as the "Apocrypha" and by Roman Catholics as "Deuterocanonical." I will refer to these works as the Apocrypha throughout my discussion, though I do not mean those books that all Christians reject from Scripture as "Apocryphal"--the extra-biblical accounts that do not find themselves even on the pages of the Roman Catholic or Eastern Orthodox Bibles (such as other apocryphal and pseudepigraphical literature); instead, I mean the fifteen additional works (for Orthodox, 17 plus an additional Psalm) no longer accepted by mainstream Protestantism as Scriptural: 1st and 2nd Esdras, Tobit, Judith, Additions to Esther, Wisdom of Solomon, Ecclesiasticus, Baruch, Letter of Jeremiah, Prayer of Azariah and the Song of the Three Young Men, Susanna, Bel and the Dragon, Prayer of Manasseh, 1st-4th Maccabees, and Psalm 151.

This post is dedicated to examining the reasons for "traditional" Protestant rejections of these works, as well as ecclesiastical-historical background for such rejections, and a second future post will examine my reasons for skepticism about such rejections.

First, I would like to present the reasons for Protestant rejection of the Apocrypha as Scriptural (often taken too far to flat-out rejection and militant attitudes against the works), taken from this Christian site (at InPlainSight.org) and discussed in The New Oxford Annotated Bible with the Apocrypha (Metzger xiv-xviii). Primarily, these reasons are due to the:
1) Non-Acceptance in the Hebrew canon or by the Jewish community
2) Exclusion from Jesus' teachings
3) Lack of reference in the New Testament to apocryphal works
4) Rejection by some early church patriarchs
5) Lack of propheticity or knowledge about the authors
6) Inconsistencies in the works

Although controversy has surrounded these works from the first century through to the present moment, these books have been accepted in the Scriptures of both Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches since the earliest moments of Christianity. Throughout the Middle Ages, the Apocrypha was largely distributed and influential through the reading of the Vulgate, translated into Latin by the Patristic forefather Jerome--especially evidenced in England during the Anglo-Saxon era, in which several works of literature and homilies (esp. by Ælfric) were based upon the books of Tobit, Judith, Susanna, Esther, and the Maccabees.

With the Protestant Reformation in Western Europe (1517-1648), however, doctrinal turmoil ensued, and many Protestants who militantly rejected the views of the Roman Catholic Church also chose this moment to reject the Apocrypha from Scripture (though it is important to note that Martin Luther himself--the instigator of the Reformation--did not reject the Apocrypha from the pages of the Bible). In response to these doctrinal and Scriptural controversies, on April 8, 1546, at the Council of Trent, the Apocrypha was deemed by the Roman Catholic Church to be "sacred and canonical" (Metzger xvii). The Apocrypha, however, remained part of Protestant Bibles (such as the Geneva Bible in 1599 and the King James Version in 1611), intended to be read for edification, for several centuries afterward (Metzger xvii-xviii). Over time, these works came to appear less and less in Protestant Bibles, and a more averse view of the Apocrypha became more pronounced in mainstream Protestantism--the implications of which still may be seen in current Protestant circles in attitudes rejecting the Apocryphal works altogether.


* I have placed the terms "Protestant" and "Apocrypha" in parentheses in my title because of the problematic nature of both terms. For me, Protestant is problematic because the term denotes a traditional stance against the Roman Catholic Church (and too often a militant rejection of all things from that tradition, despite doctrinal paradoxes that emerge from such a rejection) that I reject as an attitude, although the term also remains the overarching categorization of the tradition that I hold to as a member of the Christian community without following the doctrines and practices of the Roman Catholic Church. Furthermore, the term is problematic for me in its basic category because over the last several years, I have increasingly identified myself as non-denominational and (most recently) post-denominational--and I have instead striven toward an eclectic stance in my practicing Christianity, in which I appropriate traditional practices (from Jewish practices to the earliest Christian practices through to traditions only brought about after the Reformation) but also strive to join them to relevance for the present state of Christian in a post-religious largely secularizing world. The term "Apocrypha" is problematic, of course, for the reasons discussed in this post as a whole.

Sources:
Bahnsen, Greg. "Why isn’t the Apocrypha in the Protestant Bible?"
Metzger, Bruce, ed. "The Apocrypha of the Old Testament." The New Oxford Annotated Bible with the Apocrypha. Expanded Edition, Revised Standard Version. (Oxford: Oxford UP, 1962).

Post-Semester MLT...

As a summary of my Old Norse knowledge from the semester, and because it's wonderfully fun, I'm offering for this week's MLT a translation. The following is an excerpt from the Vǫluspa of the Poetic Edda, as found in Snorri Sturluson's account of the "Doom of the Gods" in his own Prose Edda--the last four lines actually appropriated from Vafþruðnismal of the Poetic Edda--a passage found in E. V. Gordon's An Introduction to Old Norse 19-20 (with line numbers in brackets). The following is a literal line-by-line translation--using Gordon's glossary--with some of my notes in brackets.

Heimdallr blows loudly, horn is in the air,
Oðinn speaks to Mimir's head;
the standing ash of Yggdrasil shakes,
[475] old tree groans, and a giant is loose.

What's with the Æsir? What's with the elves?
All Jǫtunheimr groans; the Æsir are at the assembly;
the dwarves groan before the doorways,
wise of the rock-way. Do you know when or what?

[480] Hrymr drives from the east, holding [his] shield before him,
Jǫrmungandr goes into a giant-fury;
serpent beats the waves, eagle will scream,
yellow-beaked (one) might get torn; Naglfar is loose.

A ship fares from the east, Muspell will come
[485] over the sea with people, and Loki steers;
monster-kin fare wholly greedy;
in company with them is a brother of Byleistr.

Surtr fares from the south with crafty switches;
sun shines off the sword of the warrior-gods;
[490] rocks crash, and trolls fall,
men tread the hell-way, and heaven splits.

Then the second grief of Hlin comes forward,
Oðinn is come to fight against the wolf,
and the death of Beli bright against Surtr;
[495] then beloved Frigg will fall.

Oðinn's son goes to fight against the wolf,
Viðarr off to fight against the wolf;
[Viðarr] commands with might to be able to stick the sword in
the heart of the monster; then the father is avenged.

[500] The noble son of Hloðyn [Thor] goes
down undismayed faint [dying] from the serpent;
men will all empty the homestead,
when with fury the protector of Miðgarð is killed.

Sun will blacken, earth sinks into the sea,
[505] heaths turn from stars in heaven;
smoke rages and life-nourisher [fire],
high heat plays against heaven itself.

Here again says thus:
[From Vafþruðnismal:] The plain is named Vigriðr where in battle
[510] Surtr and the beloved god meet;
he is rushed by a hundred from each way;
he who appointed the plain for them.

Back When Place Names Had Meaning...

I'm continually fascinated by cultural conceptions of naming, so today I bring you an MLT about:
Place names in Norse sagas.

The Norse--and the medieval Icelanders in particular*--seem to have had a particular investment in place names, a trend which continually appears in the Norse sagas as digressions about how certain places obtained their names. While they may seem like tangents within the sagas, they add a great amount of cultural flavor, and really add to the underlying designs of the sagas themselves. Some prime examples come out of Hrafnkels saga (Gordon selection VI, 58-86; my translations, Gordon's line numbers are noted in parentheses):

Around winter the foreign bondwoman died, who is named Arnþruðr, and therefore that is since called by Arnþruðarstaðir [lit. "Arnþruðr's Stead"]. (8-9)

And afterward with him [Hallfreðr] there was a she-goat and a [male] goat. And the same day, when Hallfreðr was away, a landslide fell down on the house, and those animals perished there, and therefore that is since called by Geitdalr [lit. "Goat-Dale"]. (16-18)

And he commanded to bring Einarr [his dead body] west to the hill near the shed and raised a cairn beside the grave. That is called Einarsvarða [lit. "Einar's Cairn"].... (182-83)

About these instances, E. V. Gordon writes, "The author's interest in place-names and his attempts to explain them are note-worthy" and he notes several other similar instances (Gordon 221). What I find interesting here is that these explanations of place-names act similarly to mythological explanations of natural events. Thus the saga writer is not only interested with geographical locations and the events occurring there but also with the cultural origins of place names and their deep significance to the story. Such place names and their interactions with saga events in Hrafnkels saga (and in other sagas, though Hrafnkels saga seemingly contains the most authorial intention in this endeavor) create a fascinating connection between geography, familial and social space, and the subsequent historicity running through the sagas.


* Yes, I understand there may be Icelandic readers who would take offense to specifying Icelanders as distinct from Norse, but because of medieval Scandinavian history and the amalgamation of certain socio-linguistic-political cultural issues during the Middle Ages, I use the term Norse to encompass a wider array of culture, people, language, and literature in Scandinavia than solely medieval Iceland.

Sources:
Gordon, E. V. An Introduction to Old Norse. 2nd ed. Rev. by A. R. Taylor. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1956.

Semester Reflections...

As a way of looking back, I'm using this post to reflect on the past two semesters of MA graduate work in medieval studies at UConn. It's both a reflection and a way to sum up the courses I've taken and papers I've written so far. Currently one year completed (with a few last translation tests to finish up this semester), I've completed five courses in the following: the theory and practice of teaching academic writing, Old English, a seminar in Beowulf (part two of the Old English sequence), Old Norse, and Old Irish. Out of these courses, I've written two papers dealing with medieval studies, titled "Wulfstan's Reform Message in the Sermo Lupi ad Anglos and Bethurum XXI of Cotton Nero A.i" (for the OE seminar) and "Homiletic Discourse in Beowulfian Speeches" (for the Beowulf seminar). Both papers have been immensely fun--one offering me a conference paper on Wulfstan as a cultural agent--and, from the titles as well as what I've said here, I seem to have become tagged by my colleagues as the medievalist who "studies homilies" in Anglo-Saxon literature. Such studies opened up several areas of inquiry for me, and new ways of reading OE literature (in a broad A-S cultural context, and in specific views of the literature I've read) that I hadn't encountered before coming to UConn.

It has been a great first year, filled with good experiences, great seminars, and what I hope are papers that will lead my studies further into Anglo-Saxon literature--especially homilies and, more broadly (but becoming my main interest), the portrayal/conception of religion in OE literature. Also, my enjoyment of languages has increased, from Old English to Old Norse--a cousin language that I've enjoyed getting to know over the past semester, drawing lines between the languages and cultures--to Old Irish, the oddest (and scariest) language I've stepped into. I obviously intend to continue with my Old English/Anglo-Saxon studies (my primary interest lately), as well as Old Norse (especially the Eddas), and will continue in the grammar and language of Old Irish (auditing) as much as I can. Mostly, next semester means stepping out of my comfort zone and into three seminars all focused on the centuries following the Anglo-Saxon period--one on "piety and place" in England 1050-1300, one on Chaucer, and one within the methodological framework of looking at the conception of the City in MidEng literature. I am, however, excited to broaden my interests, and I do intend to still keep myself rooted as much as I can in the Old languages (in conjunction with the MidEng) as I continue into the second year.

My biggest projects this summer are reading as much as I can from the MA reading list as well as learning Latin to pass my MA exams next spring. No doubt my posting will feature both of these forays in the weeks and months ahead.

Conceptualizing MLT...

My MLT this week will be a little different from previous posts, mainly because I'm still working on finishing up end-of-the-semester duties. So, this week, I present to you an MLT Roundup:

The Naked Philologist (TNP) offers several posts--and it looks like she'll continue to do so--on medieval language and etymology, especially about Viking language in Anglo-Saxon England, and Middle English semantic shifts.

A growing number of word studies based on medieval languages appear at Christopher Williams's blog (thanks to TNP).

Aaron Hostetter, at the Anglo-Saxon Narrative Poetry Project continues his ambitious and growing project of translating Old English poetry that isn't Beowulf--and he's now approaching the end of Andreas.

Michael Drout at Anglo-Saxon Aloud--bringing the sounds of medieval English to modern ears--has posted Psalms 51-58.

Sophist offers several musings on medieval Icelandic, including conceptions of how the Icelanders talked about their own language and thoughts about language gender.

And finally, Jonathan Jarrett (and those providing comments) offer several websites with full editions of some of the most prominent Latin texts--from Classical Antiquity up through the Middle Ages--so that you can encounter textual medieval languages for your own eyes.

This Is Just to Say...

I have eaten
the MLT
that was in
the icebox

and which
you were possibly
waiting
for at breakfast.

Forgive me
it was delicious
so sweet
and so cold.*

That said, my MLT has passed without posting, and I probably will not get it up for a few days. I'm trying to finish up my Beowulf seminar paper in a draft form by Friday, on top of other end-of-the-semester work. Perhaps the MLT will see the light of day over the weekend.

*Thanks to William Carlos Williams for the farcical use of his brilliant poem for my own ends.

Old Norse Clouds and Zombies...

Yesterday I received my edition of Klaeber's Beowulf (4th ed., edited by Fulk, Bjork, & Niles) in the mail. I'm excited, and have spent some time thumbing through its pages to see what bits have been added--especially as they pertain to my seminar paper for this semester. The next few days, however, will be devoted to polishing up my paper about four texts in MS Cotton Nero A.i, in preparation for my presentation on Thursday.

Yet I'm taking time away from the coursework and paper polishing for this week's MLT:
Two Old Norse words from Grettis saga (The Fight with Glam, provided in Gordon 100-05).

The first word is one of the great instances of imagery within the poem, gluggaþykkn, glossed by Gordon as "dense clouds with openings in them." In Zoëga, this compound word may be found as two separate words, gluggaðr (pp. "with windows") and þykkr (adj. "thick"). Essentially, the word may be translated as "(clouds) thick with windows"--a beautiful image.

The second word is another compound, found only a few lines later, aptrgǫngumǫnnum, glossed by Gordon as "one who walks after death"--a zombie (in this part of the saga, Glam's role as Grettir's adversary). Zoëga has this word as a compound of aptr (adv. "again"), ganga (v. "to walk"), and mǫnnum (derived from the noun maðr "man")--in fact, he defines aptrgǫngr as "ghost, apparition." Literally, this verb means "a man who walks again (after death)." Practicality rules the day: how else could a zombie really be imagined?

Sources:
Gordon, E. V. An Introduction to Old Norse. 2nd ed. Rev. by A. R. Taylor. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1956.
Zoëga, Geir T. A Concise Dictionary of Old Icelandic. 1910. Mineola: Dover, 2004.