In an article published in Ziarul Lumina (5 November 2014) entitled1 (The Foot of Academic Theology and the Thorn of the Greek Language), entitled ‘The Foot of Academic Theology and the Thorn of the Greek Language’, I drew attention to the insufficient knowledge of the Greek language on the part of those who refer to it when explaining certain elements of Romanian ecclesiastical language. Among the errors I highlighted at the time by way of example was the mistaken explanation of the word ‘prooroc’ in relation to the Greek verb pro-oraō (‘to foresee what is to come’). We shall explain here in detail what the etymological error consists of and how the coexistence of the two forms ‘proroc’ – ‘prooroc’, ‘to proroci’ – ‘to prooroci’, etc.
From the outset, we shall state, not without firmness, that it is inappropriate to assert that only one of the two forms is correct, given that they have coexisted for a long time in ecclesiastical literature (including musical works) and in iconography, whilst non-ecclesiastical literature abounds with examples of both. It is as if someone were to claim that the form of address ‘Blagosloviți!’ (particularly in monastic circles) is incorrect in comparison with ‘Binecuvântați’; or that only one of the forms ‘Betleem’, ‘Vitleem’ or ‘Vifleem’ is correct; or that it is correct to say ‘our bread unto being’, and not ‘our daily bread’ (or vice versa); or that the stress in the proper name derived from the Greek stephanos (= ‘crown’) falls either on the final syllable (‘Ștefán’) or on the penultimate syllable (‘Ștéfan’)2 In all these cases, it is clear that we are dealing with variants. Whether some are more appropriate than others in certain stylistic registers is another matter. But to suggest that some are correct or incorrect in relation to their counterpart is a red herring and, consequently, should be avoided. That being the case, it is unacceptable for anyone to ask, in relation to these and similar issues, the question ‘Which is correct? This or that?’ Instead, those whose role it is to provide answers should refrain – particularly in the absence of thorough prior research – from giving categorical answers regarding the ‘correctness’ of a form. Rather, we can speak of ‘which is (more) appropriate’ instead of ‘which is (more) correct’, accompanying our choice with explanations, but without firmly ruling out the alternative.
What we can, however, state with complete certainty is that, until around the first half of the nineteenth century, the form with three ‘o’s’ (or with two consecutive ‘o’s’), ‘prooroc’, does not appear to have existed. It is likely that this was when a phenomenon of contamination occurred between the older ‘proroc’, of Slavic origin—as we shall show below—and a word of genuine Greek origin, now archaic, namely ‘prooratic’ (with the variant ‘prooratec’), derived from the Greek prooratikos (‘one who has the ability to foresee the future’), the latter, unlike the Romanian ‘pro(o)roc’, being a true derivative of the aforementioned verb, pro-oraō. The result of this linguistic borrowing was, of course, the form ‘prooroc’, which became so widespread that it came to be used even in high literary circles. Alongside Negruzzi, Bălcescu, Heliade-Rădulescu and Hașdeu, who use the form with three ‘o’s in their prose, V. Alecsandri actually requires this trisyllabic form in order to maintain his chosen iambic rhythm: ‘If only the high pro-o-roc / […] / Would grant me a day of good fortune […]’. It would be, at the very least, an oversight, if not an impiety, for anyone to seek to exclude the trisyllabic form ‘prooroc’ from literary Romanian.
We do not believe that this contamination would have been possible without the contribution of a false etymology, this time within scholarly circles, which associated the word ‘proroc’ with the verb pro-oraō—an etymology that has even found its way into some theological texts. Perhaps this was also because too much emphasis was placed on the prophet’s prophetic function, as we shall explain below. In reality, the word ‘proroc’ is a loanword from Church Slavonic, where ‘prorok’ is a linguistic calque of the Greek ‘prophitis’. The same word, prophitis—conventionally pronounced prophetes in the Erasmian tradition—reached the Romanian language, via Latin and Neo-Latin, as a neologism in the form ‘profet’ (and its derivatives ‘profeție’, ‘a profeți’, etc.). In the Greek word prophitis, we can distinguish, on the one hand, the preposition-adverb pro, which has both a temporal meaning (‘before’, ‘from before’) and a locative meaning (‘in front of’, ‘before’), and, on the other hand, the root phi (phe), which meant ‘to say’ (the verb is phemi), the same root found, for example, in the Latin fa-bula. The Slavonic language adapted, using its own lexical means, the structure of the Greek compound word, since the Greek phi corresponds to the Slavonic root rok/rek (‘to say’), which we find in words such as reklo (‘spoken’, ‘word’) or rekovati (‘to speak’). The main function of the biblical prophet is not, as we are tempted to believe, that of ‘foretelling’ the future – although, by God’s grace, a prophet might also possess this ability – but, as the Greek word prophitis clearly indicates, and as the contexts in which the Old Testament prophets operated demonstrate, to ‘speak before’ the people, revealing to them God’s will.
Thus, it is by no means difficult to realise that the disyllabic form, ‘proroc’, is the original one, over which the trisyllabic form, ‘prooroc’, through a double false etymology: one popular (through contamination with ‘prooratic’) and, above all, one of a scholarly nature. Since the latter came to be regarded as authentic, having been promoted even in academic theology—a period which also coincided with the transition from writing Romanian in the Cyrillic alphabet to the Latin alphabet— we find it predominantly used in church frescoes and, more generally, in iconography, from the nineteenth century onwards, including in its abbreviated form (‘St Proor.’). Furthermore, editions of the Holy Scriptures, liturgical books, calendars and so on are replete with the use of the trisyllabic form throughout the 20th century. Recently, however, we have observed a slight trend towards phasing out the form ‘prooroc’ and promoting the disyllabic form, ‘proroc’, both in calendars and in the official church press.
Alongside this subtle trend towards a return to the etymologically ‘correct’ form, there is also an increasingly widespread use in church circles of the synonym ‘profet’. I have shown above that this word is a neologism, having entered the language not directly from Greek but via Latin and Neo-Latin, more precisely in the nineteenth century. It is true that the word had previously been borrowed into Romanian, directly from Modern Greek, in the form ‘profit’ (and thus with the Modern Greek pronunciation), but it did not have a long life, did not take root in the Romanian language—not even in literary Romanian—and, above all, did not carry the meaning of ‘prophet’ in ecclesiastical language. It appears sporadically with the meaning of ‘a (religious) person endowed with the gift of foretelling the future, a messenger of the (pagan) deity’. In the nineteenth century, the word ‘prophet’ was often used in the sense it has retained to this day, accompanying the proper name ‘Mohamed’ / ‘Mahomet’ / ‘Maomet’. ‘The Prophet’, used without a proper name, is reserved for the messenger of Allah, the founder of the Muslim faith. However, under the influence of Neo-Latin languages in theological circles, with the introduction of university-style educational structures and textbooks, alongside the promotion of printed editions of the Bible distributed with the support of the British and Foreign Bible Society 3, the word ‘profet’ has become increasingly prevalent, carrying the meaning of ‘Old Testament prophet’. We emphasise that this usage is confined exclusively to academic theological discourse, for in ecclesiastical language proper, as we have noted, the older term ‘proroc’ alternates with the more recent form ‘prooroc’. And this state of affairs has persisted to this day: liturgical books and Holy Scripture use ‘proroc’ or ‘prooroc’, whilst in academic circles, alongside these two, the foreign loanword ‘profet’ has also found its place. It is, of course, a departure from traditional ecclesiastical language and a stylistic incongruity, but the reality is that a significant proportion of scholarly or didactic writings in theological literature, and even books with patristic content (translations from the Holy Fathers of the Church) and, more recently, the church press, as well as sermons and teachings delivered by hierarchs and priests, use phrases such as ‘the Holy Prophet Elijah’, ‘the Prophet Malachi’, etc. I have not yet come across, in Orthodox circles, the word ‘prophet’ being used for Saint John the Baptist, with one notable exception4 (The Gospel of the Prophet). Nor is the word ‘prophetess’ used in place of ‘pro(o)rociță’, except, again, with one equally notable exception: ‘Saint Anna the Prophetess [Ἡ Προφήτιδα Ἄννα], daughter of Phanuel [Φανουήλ], who welcomed the Lord in the Temple’5. What is certain is that, alongside other trends towards (re)Latinisation in ecclesiastical language, the word ‘profet’ and its derivatives are increasingly finding their way into ecclesiastical writing and discourse, alongside ‘proroc’.
We cannot predict the fate, within ecclesiastical language, of a word such as ‘profet’, but we can state with reasonable certainty that the form ‘proroc’ will coexist with ‘prooroc’ for a long time to come. On the one hand, it is impossible to erase the church frescoes, with which the faithful come into visual contact far more frequently than with ecclesiastical literature in the broadest sense; and on the other hand, to the ears of the faithful and of the choir singers who predominantly use the standardised Anastasimatar, the Fourth Katavasia of the Canon of the Annunciation sounds far more familiar in its trisyllabic form: ‘The unheeded and divine counsel of Thy Incarnation from on high, that of the Virgin, the Prophet Habakkuk, having pondered it, cried out: Glory to Thy power, O Lord!’
Of course, a publishing house, an editorial team or a psalm-singing group may set out to promote the restored form of the word of Slavonic origin, but we must be aware that, since the alternative, trisyllabic form has become so deeply ingrained in the language that even prominent writers use it, it would be unfair for the latter—even though it appeared in the language as an incorrect form, based on a mistaken etymology—to be regarded as erroneous. On the contrary, we could safely assert that this coexistence in liturgical language of two equally literary variants—6—is further proof of the conventional nature of language in relation to the reality it denotes, without encompassing it.
- 1
An early version of this article, in brief, appeared in Ziarul Lumina on 11 April 2021, in the ‘Highlights and Ideas’ section.
- 2
It is well known that, at least in the Muntenian dialect, we say ‘First Martyr and Archdeacon Ștefán’, with the stress on the final syllable, but no speaker of the Muntenian dialect would say ‘Saint Ștefán the Great’, but rather, without realising the stress (which originates from the Maramureș dialect and is therefore influenced by Hungarian), we say ‘Ștéfan the Great and Holy’. If anyone were to try to adapt the Voivode’s name to the generally accepted Muntenian and/or Moldavian pronunciation (‘Ștefán’), they would immediately come up against the rhythm of Eminescu’s verse: ‘Ștéfane, Your Highness / You must not stay at Putna any longer [...]” (Mihai Eminescu, Doina) or that of the Bard of Mircești: “Ștéfan, Ștéfan, great Lord / He has no equal in the world” (Vasile Alecsandri, The Songs of Ștefan Vodă). We may, perhaps, have another opportunity to highlight the variations in ecclesiastical onomastics.
- 3
The word ‘profet’, meaning ‘prophet’ in the Old Testament, appears, for example, in the Holy Scriptures (sic!) of the Old Testament, translated and published by the British and Foreign Bible Society; the first volume, comprising the five books of Moses, Joshua, Judges and Ruth, Iași, 1865, Adolf Bermann Press. Previously, in Heliade-Rădulescu’s Biblia Sacra (1858), the word appears, with the same meaning, in the form ‘prophet’, but Heliade-Rădulescu’s hyper-Latinised spelling is a well-known constant. The title page, for instance, reads as follows: Biblia Sacra comprising the Old and New Testaments, translated from the Greek according to the Septuagint by I. Heliade R., Paris, at the Press of Preve and Co., 1858. It is worth noting that the word ‘prophet’ does not appear either in Samuil Micu’s Bible (1795) or in the Blaj Vulgate (1760–1761), despite their confessional proximity to Rome.
- 4
The Synaxarion for 24 February 2019, as published by the Trinitas TV editorial team: “We know from the New Testament accounts how Saint John the Baptist was beheaded by Herod in fulfilment of an unlawful promise.” (https://www.trinitas.tv/intaia-si-a-doua-aflare-a-capului-sfantului-proroc-ioan-botezatorul-24-februarie/, accessed on 10 August 2021).
- 5
In the Sinaxa Sfinților of 3 February 2021, signed by Rev. Dr Dorin Octavian Picioruș: https://www.teologiepentruazi.ro/2021/02/03/, accessed on 10 August 2021. Also of interest is the subtitle of the online platform ‘Theology for Today’: ‘An Orthodox platform for a true postmodernity’.
- 6
The same cannot be said of the word ‘prophet’, because, for the time being, although it appears here and there in ecclesiastical language (in its academic form and in discourse with academic characteristics or aspirations), its presence in ecclesiastical literature is far from established, especially as, when used indiscriminately, it can lead to linguistic blunders such as those noted above: ‘Saint John the Prophet the Baptist’ or ‘Saint Anne the Prophetess’.