For the first day of Advent proper
Dec. 3rd, 2017 11:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
charlie_cochranewhich is today, of course. Advent Sunday (and I've written and will be reading the prayers in church tonight!)
Back in 2010, a chance remark by a pal about the great verse from John’s gospel inspired a story, which I’m reproducing (slightly amended) here. Why? As a reminder that we can only fight darkness with light.
“And the light shineth in the darkness and the darkness comprehended it not.”
Memories of Advent back home: the church, the greenery, candles, swelling grandeur of the organ, that’s what this verse always aroused in Jonty. Hearing it now, with a bright December sun coming through the St. Bride’s chapel window, felt incongruous.
He and Orlando had argued last night in the Senior Common Room, about—of all the most ridiculous things—the correct translation of “comprehended” in this verse. Understood, overcome, defeated, observed: they’d traded synonyms and meanings until Dr. Panesar had intervened and declared it an honourable draw.
“Katalambamo.” Orlando whispered the word, clearly worried the chaplain would catch him speaking during Service.
“What?” Jonty hissed back.
“It’s the original Greek for comprehended.”
Jonty glanced sidelong, to see the smugly satisfied look on his lover’s face. “We’ll talk later.” He resumed his look of studied innocence, perfected for wearing on solemn occasions such as matins, a speech from the master, or gulling Orlando. Whatever it was would have to wait.
“Katalambamo.” Orlando nodded, enthusiastically. “I remembered it from school. It’s the word they used in the early Greek versions of John’s gospel.”
“And this takes the argument further forward? The unpronounceable in pursuit of the untranslatable?” It was now Sunday afternoon, lunch had been eaten, there was no work to be dealt with, so he and Orlando sat over a chess board in their parlour.
“It aids the translation. In my favour.” Orlando’s stern expression changed into a glorious smile. “I’ve remembered all my teacher told me. Apparently, it’s the same word as is used when they talk about someone being possessed.” He stopped. “Dear God, I’m sorry. It’s been so long since…”
“Since I used to ‘go elsewhere’? No need to apologise. Please, carry on.” Jonty could feel brave here, in their own home, far away in time from the torments of his school days.
This is my body, lying in the darkness and the darkness snatches it.
“Tell me all the meanings of the word that you remember.”
Orlando took a deep breath, as though on the point of arguing, then continued, clearly trying to compensate for his error with a show of levity. “To grasp eagerly or tightly, like dunderheads with their beer glasses. Snatching, like you when there’s apple pie on the table. Taking over, maybe like ripping possession on the rugger field. What do think Jonty? Jonty?” Orlando’s voice was all concern.
“Sorry, I was miles away.”
“I shouldn’t have brought it up. I shouldn’t have reminded you.”
“No. I have nothing to be afraid of now.” He tapped Orlando’s hand. “I have found the light—this light, your light—shining in the darkness and at last nothing will overcome it.”
Back in 2010, a chance remark by a pal about the great verse from John’s gospel inspired a story, which I’m reproducing (slightly amended) here. Why? As a reminder that we can only fight darkness with light.
“And the light shineth in the darkness and the darkness comprehended it not.”
Memories of Advent back home: the church, the greenery, candles, swelling grandeur of the organ, that’s what this verse always aroused in Jonty. Hearing it now, with a bright December sun coming through the St. Bride’s chapel window, felt incongruous.
He and Orlando had argued last night in the Senior Common Room, about—of all the most ridiculous things—the correct translation of “comprehended” in this verse. Understood, overcome, defeated, observed: they’d traded synonyms and meanings until Dr. Panesar had intervened and declared it an honourable draw.
“Katalambamo.” Orlando whispered the word, clearly worried the chaplain would catch him speaking during Service.
“What?” Jonty hissed back.
“It’s the original Greek for comprehended.”
Jonty glanced sidelong, to see the smugly satisfied look on his lover’s face. “We’ll talk later.” He resumed his look of studied innocence, perfected for wearing on solemn occasions such as matins, a speech from the master, or gulling Orlando. Whatever it was would have to wait.
***
“Katalambamo.” Orlando nodded, enthusiastically. “I remembered it from school. It’s the word they used in the early Greek versions of John’s gospel.”
“And this takes the argument further forward? The unpronounceable in pursuit of the untranslatable?” It was now Sunday afternoon, lunch had been eaten, there was no work to be dealt with, so he and Orlando sat over a chess board in their parlour.
“It aids the translation. In my favour.” Orlando’s stern expression changed into a glorious smile. “I’ve remembered all my teacher told me. Apparently, it’s the same word as is used when they talk about someone being possessed.” He stopped. “Dear God, I’m sorry. It’s been so long since…”
“Since I used to ‘go elsewhere’? No need to apologise. Please, carry on.” Jonty could feel brave here, in their own home, far away in time from the torments of his school days.
This is my body, lying in the darkness and the darkness snatches it.
“Tell me all the meanings of the word that you remember.”
Orlando took a deep breath, as though on the point of arguing, then continued, clearly trying to compensate for his error with a show of levity. “To grasp eagerly or tightly, like dunderheads with their beer glasses. Snatching, like you when there’s apple pie on the table. Taking over, maybe like ripping possession on the rugger field. What do think Jonty? Jonty?” Orlando’s voice was all concern.
“Sorry, I was miles away.”
“I shouldn’t have brought it up. I shouldn’t have reminded you.”
“No. I have nothing to be afraid of now.” He tapped Orlando’s hand. “I have found the light—this light, your light—shining in the darkness and at last nothing will overcome it.”
