Tag Archives: Arabic

Review: A Brief Introduction to the Arabic Alphabet.

513Gt9F-IsL._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_Ever since my brief stint studying Arabic last year, I’ve wanted to get back into it.  Since I won’t have any Hebrew courses this spring, now seems like the perfect time.

In preparation, I picked up John F. Healey and G. Rex Smith’s A Brief Introduction to the Arabic Alphabet.  This short (106 pages) book details the history of the Arabic alphabet.  Both authors are scholars of the Arab world, and Healey in particular specializes in writing systems of Semitic and Near Eastern languages.

This book’s seven chapters can be divided into roughly three parts.  The first part contains two chapters on the various writing systems that led up to the Arabic alphabet: Nabatean, Syriac, Aramaic, etc.  I really liked this chapter because it helped me see the connections between the Arabic and the Hebrew alphabets, including how letters that sound different in Arabic and Hebrew today likely corresponded more in biblical times.  He spends several pages reviewing every letter of the Arabic alphabet to trace how its shape evolved from Nabatean to early Arabic papyri to the Arabic script we know today.

The next two chapters describe the earliest Arabic writing, including inscriptions (dating back to the 3rd/4th century CE) and papyri (7th century CE).  The earliest papyri, dating to 643 CE, is a receipt given by ‘Abdullah ibn Jabir, the commander of the Muslim conquest of Egypt, for 65 sheep.  This corresponds to year 22 in the Islamic calendar — the 22nd year since Muhammad and the early umma moved to Medina.  It fascinates me to think that the earliest extant written texts in Arabic correspond to the beginnings of Islam.  One wonders if this is the actual beginning of Arabic writing on an extensive scale.  The Mecca of Muhammad’s youth was a major trade hub, and it stands to reason that there were receipts and other trade-related documents written in Arabic before Muhammad began his prophetic career.  And while there were oral poems in Arabic before the Qur’an, one wonders if the Qur’an marks the beginning of written literature in Arabic.  I wish Healey and Smith had discussed some of these issues.

The final part of the book describes various Arabic scripts.  Of course, Arabic’s cursive script lends itself naturally to calligraphy, and Islam’s aniconic tendencies meant that Arabic writers developed complex, artful, and often practically illegible forms of calligraphy with which to embellish the words of Allah.  Healey and Smith provide 16 illustrations of various forms of calligraphy.  They conclude the book by describing other languages that use the Arabic script, including Persian, Pashto, and Urdu.

When I’m studying a language, I like having background information about the history of the language and how it evolved.  One of my frustrations with Greek is that I haven’t been able to learn that information!   In this book in particular, I would have liked more maps clarifying exactly where different scripts emerged and different inscriptions found.  Other than that, this book was a helpful, hour-long read, and for the adventurous there are several suggestions for further reading in the back.  I would recommend it to any student of classical or Qur’anic Arabic.

 

On Language Learning: Dabbling in the shallows vs. Diving into the deeps.

In Mary Doria Russell’s theological sci-fi novel The Sparrow, one of the main characters, Jesuit linguist Fr. Emilio Sandos, speaks about a dozen languages fluently.  Artificial intelligence researchers spend months with him trying to figure out how he learns languages so easily: what are his methods? With me as with him, every new language learned brings more thoughts on how to learn languages and more experiences with different types of pedagogy.

This summer, I have been continuing two languages I already have a solid grounding in (Greek and Hebrew) while continuing to comprehend three more that I am still shaky in (Old English, Latin, and Qur’anic Arabic).  For the latter three, my learning has been an exercise in extreme contrasts.

Summer love.

Summer love.

I have been doing Latin for a year now.  However, I have primarily been dabbling in it, reading easy texts (e.g. Vulgate) while relying on Perseus way too much.  I decided this summer to get my act together and work through Wheelock’s, which would give me the solid foundation I needed to actually get the language.  It’s tedious, I love Wheelock’s: its aphoristic exercises, its side notes, its bad jokes, its crystal-clear (so far!) explanations of how the Latin language works.  I feel that I am really getting the skeleton of this language.  My goal is to jump into intermediate Latin this fall.

By contrast, Old English and Arabic have been far more playful.  The Arabic course has been taught with Munther Younes’ The Routledge Introduction to Qur’anic Arabic, which begins with whole surahs and lists vocabulary for students to learn for each one.  The grammar is given in small increments throughout the book.  For me it’s been maddening because I want to grasp the structures of the language, structures I already understand from Hebrew.  (Wheeler Thackston’s Introduction to Quranic and Classical Arabic has been staring at me from the shelf for a few weeks now!)  Likewise, Old English has been a very inductive exercise for me, with a similar level of crazy-making.

A part of me says that I am wasting my time dawdling around in languages without getting the grammar down systematically.  But I suspect that without that year of playing with Latin, I would not be enjoying Wheelock’s as much.  When I learned Hebrew, I did not dive directly into the difficulties of Page Kelley’s Biblical Hebrew: An Introductory Grammar, but first learned highly simplified grammar through Prayerbook Hebrew: The Easy Way.  Getting a panoptic feel for how the language worked made the tough grammar easier to swallow.  With Greek, I dived directly in, and first-year Greek was painful in part because I never got any time to wade at the shallow end before diving twenty feet in.

The conclusion to all of this?  When I start Sanskrit this fall, I will ask the professor if he can explicate some brief prayers or short texts to us before we start the grammar.  For me, it’s useful to have an anchor in how the language works, to play around with a language, before diving straight into the grammar.

How I discovered the beauty of the Qur’an, Part Three: Jumping into Arabic.

Often in my Islam class, my professor would toss out an Arabic term and quiz students.  Several in the class were students of Arabic.  (It’s very popular with ROTC and political science students.)  One of the great joys in the class was recognizing Arabic words simply by their Hebrew cognates.

Take dhikr, a term referring to the devotional practices of Sufis.  It literally means “remembrance” and is cognate with the Hebrew root zākar of the same meaning.  Another is kitab (“book”), as in `Ahl al-Kitāb (“People of the Book”), a term in Islamic thought referring to Jews and Christians.  This is cognate with the Hebrew verb kātab, “to write,” as in Ketubim (“Writings”), the Jewish term for the part of the Tanakh containing poetic books, wisdom literature, Daniel, Ezra-Nehemiah, and Chronicles.

I would be taking Arabic already, but as a devotee of linguae antiquitatum, I am not interested in modern standard Arabic.  So last week, when I ran into my university’s Arabic professor, I asked him if he was teaching a course in classical Arabic.  And lo, he will soon be running a course for Muslims who can sound out Arabic but not parse and decipher it.  I have a month to learn the Arabic alphabet.

So it is highly likely that I will be the only non-Muslim student in the class.  I learned biblical Hebrew the same way: not from a university, but from a rabbi.  I won’t have any surahs on the tip of my tongue, but I will have a much better knowledge of Semitic languages from my understanding of the intricacies of Hebrew verbs.  Most of all, I enjoy being a religious guest.

How I discovered the beauty of the Qur’an, Part Two: The Beauty of Orality.

In my previous post I wrote about my frustration with stilted Qur’an translations and my discovery of Michael Sells’ more idiomatic translation of the early Meccan surahs.  Once I began to glimpse part of the Qur’an’s beauty, I could take it on faith that there is more.  But I would have to revise my aesthetic expectations to see that beauty.

As an avid fan of the Hebrew Bible and Robert Alter’s work on its narrative, I had a hard time understanding the way the Qur’an is structured.  When we read Qur’anic versions of biblical stories, we would have to flip around, flitting from surah to surah, reading one verse here and one verse there.  Why couldn’t the Qur’an be arranged to make more sense?  Why not put all the verses on Abraham in one place?

Sells yet again explains:

For Muslims, the Qur’an is first experienced in Arabic … In Qur’an schools, children memorize verses, then entire Suras…. As the students learn these Suras, they are not simply learning something by rote, but rather interiorizing the inner rhythms, sound patterns, and textual dynamics – taking it to heart in the deepest manner. (11)

Muslims refer to the Arabian desert culture Islam arose from as the Jahiliyah, a term denoting ignorance.  The Jahiliyah had a rich tradition of oral poetry.  The Qur’an is no different in this regard.  It is meant to be an oral text – hence the Islamic tradition of memorizing the entire Qur’an, a practice that is likely as old as the compiled Qur’an itself.  Devout Muslims don’t need to flip around the Qur’an to read its narrative of Abraham because they have those verses ready to call to mind.

Of course, memorizing the Qur’an means memorizing the Qur’an in Arabic.  Muslims consider the Qur’anic text and its language, its content and its form, to be inseparable.  Muhammad’s Arabic society, as Sells describes it, “had developed one of the most finely honed and scrutinizing tastes in the history of expressive speech” (7). The sounds of the Quran are simultaneously the most important and most untranslatable part.  I began to see this even more when I listened to videos of cantors giving voice to what is for them the word of God.

Previously I mentioned that having a poetic translation of part of the Qur’an helped me see its beauty.  Just as Robert Alter helped me see concretely exactly why the Hebrew Bible is aesthetically pleasing, so Sells helped me see why the Qur’an is such effective poetry.  Understanding its orality, as expressed in memorization and highly developed performance techniques, has given me an even greater peek at this monumental collection of poetic revelation.  In my next post I will write about the beginning of my adventure with Arabic.

How I discovered the beauty of the Qur’an, Part One.

When I first read the Qur’an in ‘Islam 101,’ I had been excited.  Muslim friends had told me it was the most beautiful poetry on earth.  But at first, I only found it tedious and repetitive.  In this and the next blog post I will explore my struggles in understanding this sacred text.

My professor, who is not a Muslim, favored the Muhammad Yusuf Ali translation, a go-to translation for many English-speaking Muslims.  I did not.  I liked his extensive tafsir, but I could not get into his translation.  It reads like the King James Bible, but without the veneer of being the “King’s English.”  To me, it sounds stilted, Victorian, too full of nays and thees and thous.  Take his translation of Surah 102:

The mutual rivalry for piling up (the good things of this world) diverts you (from the more serious things),

Until ye visit the graves.

But nay, ye shall soon know (the reality).

Again, ye soon shall know!

Nay, were ye to know with certainty of mind, (Ye would beware!)

Ye shall certainly see Hellfire!

Again, ye shall see it with certainty of sight!

Then, shall ye be questioned that Day about the joy (ye indulged in!)

The “ye” language is bad enough.  But I really have a hard time with the words in parentheses.  I understand he does it to preserve the integrity of the original, to show that he has added words, but it only adds to the awkwardness of his translation.

approaching_the_quranFrustrated, I despaired at finding beauty in the poetry of the Qur’an.  But given that some of my most intelligent friends believe this is the revelation of God, I wanted to continue trying to find that beauty.  Then I came across Michael Sells’ Approaching the Qur’an: The Early Revelations.  Sells, a non-Muslim scholar of Islam and comparative mysticism, translates and comments on the early Meccan surahs.  More than later revelations concerned with the problems of civilization-building, the earliest revelations focus on the intimate mercy of Allah and provide consolation for Muhammad as he struggled with self-doubt and persecution.  Islamic belief holds that the Qur’an is ultimately untranslatable, but Sells enabled me to glimpse some of the majesty of the original in English.  Take his translation of the surah above:

Acquisitiveness turns you away

Until you reach the graves

Oh then you will know

Surely then you will know

Surely you will know with a knowledge certain

You will see a blazing fire

Then you will see it with an eye certain

At that time then

You will be asked about true well-being

I like the added punch of the last line, its “true” dripping with sarcasm.  I also like the repetition in the middle of the surah.

Sells consistently avoids punctuation.  This conveys the fragmentariness (and often vagueness) of the original Arabic, but it makes the Qur’an sound like e.e. cummings.  That last problem aside, reading Sells’ translation of the early surahs was my first step in understanding the beauty of the Qur’an.  Though I cannot comment on its accuracy, I do think he renders it in good English.  Check out my next post on the orality of the Qur’an and how that helped me see its beauty.