Once upon a time I was a high school student, who chose as her foreign language the fine and elegant French. Because these courses are all about being practical and conversational, I focused on learning numbers, names of random household objects, days of the week, and names of countries. These are the intriguing parts of language, probably the least relevant to the distinctions among the tongues. Days of the week, months of the year, and names of places are some of the most fascinating studies in history and myth, and the migrating peoples. Here in the United States, we call the “Fatherland,” that great military empire of the 19th and 20th centuries, boasting Kaisers and Fuhrers, Germany. The Germans themselves call their empire Deutschland. And upon learning French, I discovered that the passionately peaceful peasants (except during anarchic revolutions) named Germany, Allemagne.
Usually my little brain is creatively making associations and speculations about where words came from, but here I was stuck. Names and titles are interesting things, because they are only rarely required to have a relationship to definitions. For example, in studying the etymologies of country names, I came across several (20th century inventions, mostly) whose names meant “land of the free.” Others seem arbitrary – or even derogatory, bestowed on the people by hostile neighbors.
Join me, then, as we briefly navigate the history of the world as told by the naming of nations. Let’s begin our tour with Germany.
German is first attested in writings of Julias Caesar, probably the name of an individual tribe. Speculation on the roots of the word range from a Celtic word for “to shout” or the Germanic gar, meaning “spear.” Part of the problem is that Germany is an empire, a collection of tribes, so that there is wide selection of names that accurately apply to large swaths of the German countryside. English (which has had its own fair share of invading languages and kings) formerly used the French (Allemagne, “land of all the men” i.e. “our many tribes” used to denote foreigners – compare to the words alien and else.) and the German (Deutschland – “land of the people”) to refer to the country. I cannot find out when we started calling the land Germany almost universally, but neither can I discover when the Deutschland came into use, or Allemagne. Since they all come from ancient tribal names, none is more correct than the other – except that we might want to give precedence to what people choose to call themselves.
Dutch, whose name is obviously of the same root as Deutschland, is first recorded in official correspondence from Charlemagne’s reign, when it referred to Germans in general. It means “belonging to the people” from the root þeod “people, race, nation,” actually sharing a root with another word for Germans, Teutonic (Proto-Indo-European *teuta– “people” or in Old Prussian, tauto “country”).
Interestingly enough, the Polish word for Germany is Nemetsy/Niemcy which means “land of the mute.” Mute is the way some people described others who couldn’t speak the common language. It’s rather ethnocentric, but goes to illustrate what I was saying about getting a name from a neighbor. (It has been suggested that the word barbarian, baby, babble, and infant all come from that same general idea: they’re talking, but we can’t understand them. And this whole language problem is indivisible from that Biblical account of Babel. Imagine a decade or so after the tower project was interrupted by the confusion of languages. One forcibly-separated tribe runs into another with a speech frustratingly meaningless to the first, and they both look at each other and recite a place name, Babel. That’s the word for it. History explains; this is why. How often do you get why’s in these strange questions of etymology?)
Welsh is another name for a country, granted by its Saxon (another occasional word for Germany or Germans) neighbors. It was used long ago to mean “Celtic” or simply “foreign.” G’s and W’s are interchangeable due to accents and evolution of languages, so Welsh is actually quite close to Gael and Gaul. The Welsh have their own name for themselves – or at least they did back when people cared about languages and less about this up and coming global society. Cymru is that little country on the British Isles, meaning “compatriots.” Cambria and Cumberland are derived from this name. The Welsh were kinder to the Germanic invaders, and generally referred to them by their own name, Saxon (adapted to sound Gaelic). Or this might have been a bitter term of respect, since the tribe seems to have been named for swords, Saxon having the same root (most likely) as saw. Saxon is a word that shows up almost everywhere, including in those English counties Essex, Sussex, and the Gaelic term for a foreign ruler, Sassenach.
Another pretty word referring to the Gaels is Brythons. Great Britain and British are the common forms of this name today. There is a dialect called Breton (which is really beautiful if you ever get to hear it spoken or sung). Before Christ, Greek records describe the peoples with the term Prittanoi, “tattooed people.” It only came into official use as a name for England when King James I (who was definitely the Scottish King, and got the British crown after Elizabeth was done with it by reason of being a distant cousin of that childless queen – and if you think how we got names of countries is complicated, take a look at the ancestry of the famous King James!) called his country that at his coronation. It was made official 100 years later when Scotland (more properly British by racial descent) was joined to England.
Scotland’s name is so old that we aren’t sure what it means. The English called the inhabitants of Ireland Scottas, and that was an idea they picked up from the Romans (Latin). Speculation born purely out of the similar sound says that the term may have come from an Irish insult, “a term of scorn,” scuit. But I have no idea what that word means. In Gaelic Scotland is Alba, from the Indo-European for “white,” supposedly referring to the white chalk around Dover or some association with mountains (similarity to Alps). In Latin Scotland was also called Caledonia, which is “good waters” in Greek. (Apparently the Greeks and Romans hung out a little more than the Greeks and the Persians, despite each being successive empires of the known world.)
I’ve mentioned the Irish a couple times. Their etymology is pretty simple. It comes from Erin, a word referring to fertility of land, and animals and people. Whether the goddess Eire got her name from this word or vice versa, she was the goddess of fertility in the pagan mythology of the Gaels.
Another country whose name is most likely from a god is Egypt, which supposedly means “temple of the soul of Ptah” (this is Egyptian, and was their name for the city of Memphis), although some say it comes from the Greek, “land below the Aegean sea” which in its Latin form is Aegyptus. In the Bible the country is named for its founder, Mizraim, who was one of the sons of Ham, the son of Noah. In Hebrew the word has meaning, “straits or narrow places,” referring to the distribution of civilization along the Nile. Other Arabic definitions of this word mean “city” or “to settle or found.” In Coptic, Egypt is Kême “black land” describing the mud after summer floods contrasted with the “red land” of the desert. (You gotta hear this. Desert is from the Ancient Egyptian, dsrt. They should know.)
Ethiopia is a word originally Greek, aithein “to burn” and ops “face.” It was talking about the skin color of the inhabitants. (However, some sources attribute the name to another descendant of Noah, Ityopp’is, who is supposedly a son of Cush – I don’t know which one from Gen. 10:7 is meant. But in the Bible, Cush is the name for Ethiopia). A few hundred years ago, Ethiopia was Abyssinia, derived from the Arabic, meaning “mixed.” There was actually a mixture of ethnic groups inhabiting that country.
Other biblical places and their name origins are:
Jordan, named for the river, “descend” of Hebrew and Canaanite origin.
Iran means “land of the Aryans” or “land of the free.” Arya comes from the Proto-Indo-European with a definition of “noble, free.” In the Bible it is called Persia, which has the same root as paradise, “garden.”
Iraq means “between the rivers.” In the Bible it was Babylon “gate of the gods” in usage, but derived from Babel.
Palestine is the Roman name for Israel, literally “land of the Philistines,” and intended as a jibe at the Jews. Philistine itself is from a Semitic root meaning “invader.” The Philistines were Phoenician high-tech seafarers who settled on the coast and oppressed Israel living inland.
Spain actually gets its name from the Phoenicians as well, since they had quite the colony and port in Spain. The Phoenicians called it “isle of hyraxes,” mistaking the abundant hares for the African hyraxes. The word has changed very little since then. It began as Î-šəpānîm, was modified to Hispania for Latin, and comes to us today via the French Spagne as Spain.
France is named for a weapon, and actually for a Germanic tribe (who else – named for a weapon?), the Franks. A frankon was a spear. Frank became associated with freedom when they ruled over the Gauls. By contrast, then, to the Gauls, who were essentially slaves, the Franks were free. Interesting, however, that the people owning and earning the name are not at all the majority of the people traditionally associated with the country of France. Neither, for that matter, is France typically associated with freedom or weapons.
Italy means “son of a bull god.” And this one you just can’t skip. Vatican City comes from a word meaning “to prophesy,” but in a completely pagan way. The city is built on an old street that used to host fortune tellers and sooth-sayers (obviously before the Christianization of Rome).
Finally, two more interesting names. One is Siam, which got its name from Myanmar/Burma, its neighbor. Siam means “land of Gold.” Siam was changed to Thailand in the first half of the 20th century. Pakistan is the other interesting name. Like the demographics of the country itself, the name is a compilation, an acronym made up by Choudhary Rahmat Ali in 1934 well before the region became a country in 1956. It stands for Punjab, Afghania, Kashmir, Sindh, and Balochistan.”
You may have noticed that Pakistan has occasional identity crises, and suffers from severe division. The USA is in a similar situation, but we have heretofore handled our cultural differences considerably better than Pakistan (our primary blemish being the Civil War over 100 years ago).
“Out of the many, one” is a hard thing to achieve. In honor of the attempt, I close with the much more widely known etymology of the United States of America. United and States being self-evident, America is the feminine form of Amerigo, the name of a conceited cartographer who made made his name so prominent on his maps that the people, knowing no better, assumed the new world was named Amerigo. And so it is.
Thank you to the following resources, from which I got almost all of this information:
http://www.teachersparadise.com/ency/en/wikipedia/l/li/list_of_country_name_etymologies.html
http://www.etymonline.com/index.php
http://www.wikipedia.com/
http://www.dictionary.com
http://www.encyclopedia.com
http://www.interestingunusualfacts.com/2008/09/unusualfactsinterestingcountryplaces.html
God’s Word for Windows
To God be all glory,
Lisa of Longbourn
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Hands on Head
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Simon says? Exercises? Arrests? Hide and go seek? Illegal hands to the face?
My hands have spent a lot of time on my head lately. Life is too big for me sometimes. Like this week. At my church I’ve been teaching a women’s Sunday morning Bible study on Ephesians. Have you ever looked at a hill from a distance and thought you could get to the top in an hour or two, only to discover when you get closer that the hill is a mountain with no scalable paths? And for a breathless, unmeasurable time, you think you’ll never make it; you wonder why you tried. At the last possible moment, wings come in, sweeping you up like the eagles to hobbits on Mount Doom. God’s grace comes beneath your weakness, and through no fault of your own, you’re at the top, taking down your hands from your face to enjoy the view.
I watched a movie the other night. It wasn’t a really good movie. The cinematography was unique, and the acting was superb. Anthony Hopkins, playing a familiarly dramatic role, was suppressing his emotions, and trying to hide them. He kept holding his face in front of his eyes as if shielding them from a light, when really he was shielding tears from sight. Even when there aren’t people to see me, I keep putting my hand over my eyes. Actually, at twenty-three, it’s hard to cry anymore, so the gesture is an act of the will to indicate emotion I can’t express any other way. But the emotions, even at my age, must be expressed.
A friend and I are starting a small group for high school girls, and quite frankly, I don’t know where to start in connecting with them. Emma describes Robert Martin to her friend Harriet (in the Gwyneth Paltrow adaptation) as a man as much above her notice as below it. Is evangelism and discipleship like that? Either people know they need discipleship and God’s grace because they’re that mature or because they’re that empty? And I’m looking at some of these girls seeing so much need, but they’re not quite broken enough yet to value it, and I don’t know how to start a conversation or to whet an appetite for a close relationship with God. I guess it’s all up to Him.
Psalm 32 contains God’s promise to guide me with His eyes. So maybe putting my palms over my eyes is a way of getting me to follow Him, recognizing my own lack of wisdom. Too bad God has to force me into faith.
Then recently every time I try to get on the internet (check my library due dates, blog, check messages, look up movie times) I have to refresh a hundred times, and it still doesn’t work. I’m so inefficient, and end up doing a fraction of the things I’d intended with a day. That’s a cause of frustrated grasping of my head.
Maybe excitement could explain the frequent movement, too. This week quite unexpectedly I made my first sale on my business website: www.LadyofLongbourn.com Another exciting find was a website about Hebrew alphabets and words that argues for a Hebrew – or Edenic (long story) – etymology for most words worldwide. True or not my mind has been spinning with possibilities, and I’m finding it incredibly easy to learn new Hebrew words. But then I always have.
On Monday I got a bargain at the thrift store, and spent less than $3 on a brand new CD of classic hymns sung by the amazing St. Olaf’s Choir. St. Olaf is a Lutheran Bible College whose incredible music department was featured on TV this Christmas season. My brother and I stayed up irrationally (but not atypically) late watching it one night. The beauty – the gift of it so touched me that I put my hands to my head.
Dad and I went to the Colorado Republican caucus on Tuesday, which was an experience in disorganization and disbelief you wouldn’t, uh, believe! Do you know the actual rules stated that ties in our precinct should be decided by a coin toss? No one had any idea what they were doing, and since I couldn’t help us out, I put my hands on my head.
Sunday I sat on the floor in my sanctuary, which was an exciting change. You’ve no idea how many times I wanted to sit on the floor instead of formal, uncomfortable, modern chairs. Mary of Bethany sat at Jesus’ feet, and that is quite my preference. I probably won’t do it all the time; I fought against feeling self-conscious. But it was neat to experience freedom in that way.
The Superbowl… Ok, to stop all scorn in its tracks, I babysat for a neighborhood outreach party put on by a church plant in Denver, and then hung out with everyone for the last quarter, so it isn’t like I was idolizing football or anything. The Superbowl was a nail-biter, quite exciting. I couldn’t believe some of the plays I witnessed. Nice escape, interesting throw, and impossible catch for essential first down. Yep. I even know what I’m talking about. Hands over my eyes.
Monday was a rambling day, much like this post. How beautiful to spend unhurried time at the library, wandering around, thinking, scurrying back and forth from the movie shelves to the computers (which work!) there, as an idea of another movie to watch came to mind… And then on Wednesday I got to go to tea with a new friend. Tea, yes. I had mint chai, which is just as good as the other varieties I’ve had. With enough sugar almost any tea tastes good, I think. I just needed to get tea done the British way, with milk, too.
I’ve been doing much praying for a special person, name to be announced sometime after I learn it myself. My expectations for him are so high that it’s only right I support him now, already, in prayer. But then I miss him. And I cover my face shutting out the vastness of the world that separates him from me – but, of course, all in God’s capable and good hands. Um. That was code. It all means that I wonder where my husband is, and when he’ll come, and want him to be here sooner than later, but I have no idea who or where He is. But God knows, and I trust God.
This week I spoke with a few friends about honesty, and how we wish the world would let us say the truth, say what’s on our hearts without code or offense. At least with them I’ll practice it. I hope they will with me. No mask here. Which reminds me – I’ve watched several movies with masks or masquerades in them recently. Lots of movies.
But movies always make me think. A movie I want to see as of today is Penelope, due to limited release on February 29. The fantasy, fairy-tale-ish story has a message of honesty, of taking the hands from the face and being yourself for all the world to see and know – even risking the hurt.
YLCF was a special blessing this evening, since the most recent post specifically addressed the topic of waiting for one’s handsome prince, and what to do while you wait. I know those things. I certainly rebel on occasion. The reminder was important to get me refocused, to seek the most excellent and most fulfilling.
I’m craving tea: my mom’s blackberry, which I never like. The clock, at almost midnight after a long day, declines my craving. In fact I even have to stop my ramble through writing. This post is the way I used to write emails to my friends: late at night, a summary of a dozen thoughts and events that come together to form a sort of three-strand theme. If my brother were writing, this would be a strongly metaphorical poem (trying to make sense of which would bring my hands once again to my head). My other brother would tell a wonderful allegory. I’m trying to get the latter to guest blog here sometime. He has a great story about orange juice…
Ramble away in the comments. Feel free to put the unconcise, irrelevant, unfinished thoughts you can’t submit as an English paper, or publish on your blog, or tell your friends when they ask how you are doing. Good night.
To God be all glory,
Lisa of Longbourn
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