Jay, over at mu-pàd-da, has some interesting thoughts on language work within academic sub-disciplines. I found his thoughts worthwhile, and I’d encourage others to visit his blog and comment.

I have noticed something related to Jay’s thoughts in regards to studying the Hebrew Bible. Most students who set out to study the Hebrew Bible will also study another major area in their PhD work. Most of those students will opt for Akkadian, whereas a relatively small number will opt for either Egyptian or intensive work in Northwest Semitic dialects. I’ve also found this fascinating for several reasons. First, when I was an undergrad student, I naively believed that becoming an Old Testament scholar required a sound knowledge of Hebrew and Biblical Aramaic. Greek–I believed–was for those who studied the Jesus Festschrift (HT: Jim Getz). Now, of course, I know better. In fact, by the time I graduate from GCTS I’ll have at least some proficiency in Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek, Ugaritic, Moabite (if you consider this to be separate from Hebrew), Middle Egyptian and Akkadian (if knowing some basic grammar and vocabulary counts as “proficiency”).

This actually brings me to the second reason that I find Jay’s thoughts so fascinating: those of us who work with ancient documents, specifically those from the ancient near east, learn a very large number of languages. I find this to be a helpful and fun pursuit, though I doubt everyone feels that way. I’m not sure what a PhD program in Classics looks like, but I would assume that it does not expect the same number of ancient languages to be mastered.¹ I’m not making a judgment on whether this is good or bad, simply observing that I find it interesting.

In Ugaritic this week we discussed our vocalization and translation of KTU 2.16. At lines four and five we ran into an issue that produced a good fifteen minutes of conversation on the various possibilities. I should make a disclaimer at this point that I have less than one semester of Ugaritic under my belt, so it is entirely possible that I will make some painfully stupid and unlearned remark in this post–I beg your forgiveness in advance. For those who don’t have the Ugaritic text handy, I’ve reproduced the two lines in question below:

2.16:4 – yšlm . lk . ily
2.16:5 – ugrt . tǵrk

The issue basically revolves around ily. In class we came up with a variety of possibilities on how to put these two lines together. It seems obvious that lines 1-3 are the introduction, and so we don’t need to worry about finding the subject of line four in line three. It also seemed plain to everyone in class that line six began a new clause. The question is, how should one take ily? That is, should it be vocalized as a plural or singular? What is the final y? Is it actually in construct with ugrt in line 5? Here are some of the possibilities we came up with:

1. The y is gentilic – I’m not sure how a gentilic makes sense in reference to the gods, but someone threw it out as a possibility.
2. The y is a mater – This would make sense, except that my understanding is that there is no agreement among scholars on whether or not mater letters exist in Ugaritic (I’m actually inclined to say that a majority say that Ugaritic does not have them, but I could be completely off base there).
3. The y is a textual corruption – This just seems like throwing ones hands up and saying “I don’t know!” but it is certainly a possibility, I suppose.
4. Enclitic y on analogy with enclitic m – Professor Kline actually proposed this as a possibility, though I don’t know enough about Ugaritic yet to make a judgment on the likelihood.
5. The y is the 1cs personal pronoun – This was actually how I had taken it in the first place, and others had done the same.

The majority of the class favored one of the first four explanations and translated: “May it be well to you. May the gods of Ugarit guard you.” A small minority favored the fifth option and translated “May my god grant welfare/health/wellness to you. May Ugarit guard you.” This second option obviously only works if Ugarit is grammatically feminine.

I know many of you who read The Floppy Hat are far more knowledgeable of Ugaritic than I am. I’d love your thoughts on this section of text. How would you explain ily? What would your rough translation look like?

One thing that neither Mandy or I have blogged about much is our experience of learning Aramaic in Seminary. I had some negative things to say about our Biblical Aramaic course last spring. To be fair, looking back, I imagine I was simply overwhelmed during the first week of the semester and thus panicking. The class wasn’t as bad as the first post linked above makes it out to be, nor is the work described in it unreasonable. However, I never really went over any of the positive things about learning Biblical Aramaic at seminary, specifically at GCTS.

The first and most obvious positive to learning Biblical Aramaic at GCTS is that we are able to take a course in it at all. As Peter Bekins has pointed out (his post was actually the inspiration for this one), many seminaries do not offer Aramaic, and if they do many seminarians do not take it. That’s not the case at GCTS. To be sure, the Aramaic class was not even close to the size of the Hebrew and Greek courses, but it was fairly sizable (perhaps 30 students).

Having taken Aramaic I have a much better idea of how semitic languages work. I imagine this will be even more true once I complete Ugaritic this fall. Taking Aramaic also means that I can read the entirety of the Hebrew Bible in the original language.

Although this next positive is specific to GCTS, it still applies in my case, as well as Mandy’s. By achieving an A or A+ in Aramaic, students here are able to take two directed study courses with Dr. Stuart, if they would like. Those two courses are Targumic Aramaic and Syriac. To be completely honest, the number of dead languages taught at Gordon-Conwell was one of the main reasons Mandy and I chose to come here for our Masters’ work.

I’ve not studied Aramaic as much, or for as long, as Pete Bekins. Nevertheless, I see the beginnings of the importance to an understanding of Hebrew, and semitics generally, as well as Biblical studies, that he discusses in his post. Also like him, I would love to see Aramaic as a requirement at seminaries–of course, I’d also like to see two full years of Hebrew as a requirement, but I won’t hold my breath.

Learning Aramaic allowed me to see how some of the things that Hebrew does are carried on in a related language. I really can’t overestimate how helpful that has been to me as I continue to read the Hebrew Bible and refine my knowledge of Hebrew. Johns’ Grammar also includes some helpful charts in regards to the way in which Aramaic is related to other semitic languages, including very brief discussions of proto-semitic consonants and the Canaanite vowel shift.

Overall, I’m extremely pleased that I was able to learn Aramaic while in seminary. Likewise I’m pleased to be taking Aramaic this semester, and I plan to take both Targumic Aramaic and Syriac if I can fit them into my schedule. Of course, my desire is to eventually obtain a PhD, so I may be an odd ball. But I even know some M.Div. students who took advantage of the Aramaic offerings here at Gordon-Conwell. I highly recommend it.