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Culture History Theocratic

xīshēng

xīshēng (xī·shēng {sacrifice (n or v) | sacrificial} · {[(as with a)] domestic animal} → [sacrifice] 牺牲 犧牲) ← Tap/click to show/hide the “flashcard”

As the war Ukraine rages on, time marches on, and this year’s Memorial season is now upon us. As of this writing, the home page of jw.org now features a page inviting people to this year’s Memorial. Appearing in the title of the Mandarin version of that page is this week’s MEotW, “xīshēng (xī·shēng {sacrifice (n or v) | sacrificial} · {[(as with a)] domestic animal} → [sacrifice] 牺牲 犧牲)”, which effectively means “sacrifice”.

Note that while the “shēng ({domestic animal}; {sacrificial animal}; livestock 牲)” part of “xīshēng (xī·shēng {sacrifice (n or v) | sacrificial} · {[(as with a)] domestic animal} → [sacrifice] 牺牲 犧牲)” sounds like the word for “life”, and while Jesus did indeed give his life for us, in this case the “shēng ({domestic animal}; {sacrificial animal}; livestock 牲)” used literally means “domestic animal”. When applied to Jesus’ sacrifice, we can take the “shēng ({domestic animal}; {sacrificial animal}; livestock 牲)” part of “xīshēng (xī·shēng {sacrifice (n or v) | sacrificial} · {[(as with a)] domestic animal} → [sacrifice] 牺牲 犧牲)” to effectively mean “(as with a) domestic animal”. It’s understandable that this particular morpheme is used in “xīshēng (xī·shēng {sacrifice (n or v) | sacrificial} · {[(as with a)] domestic animal} → [sacrifice] 牺牲 犧牲)”, since domestic animals were commonly used in sacrifices in ancient China, as they were in ancient Israel.

(It’s interesting to note, though, that an Internet search for “ancient China sacrifices” will turn up many references to human sacrifices in ancient China, as there were in ancient Canaan—let us be careful not to think more highly of worldly Chinese history and culture than they actually deserve!)

Referring to the Memorial in Mandarin

By comparing the English and Mandarin versions of the page on jw.org as of this writing inviting people to the Memorial, we can see that the organization is now translating “Memorial of Jesus’ Death” into Mandarin as “Yēsū (Jesus’ 耶稣 耶穌) Xīshēng (Xī·shēng {Sacrifice (n)} · {(as with a) Domestic Animal} → [Sacrifice] 牺牲 犧牲) Jìniàn Jùhuì ((Jì·niàn Remembering · {Thinking Of} → [Commemorating] 记/纪念 記/紀念) (Jùhuì Meeting 聚会 聚會) [Memorial])”. This is in contrast to the past rendering “Yēsū (Jesus’ 耶稣 耶穌) Shòunàn (Shòu·nàn {Being Subjected to → [Suffering of]} · Calamity 受难 受難)Jìniàn (Jì·niàn Remembering · {Thinking of} → [Commemorating] 记/纪念 記/紀念) Jùhuì (Meeting 聚会 聚會)” (km 2/2011) that the excellent resource Referenced Theo. Expressions (RTE) tells us about. (It also tells us about the current rendering, memtioned above.) For the Memorial, it does seem more relevant to emphasize Jesus’ sacrifice (“xīshēng (xī·shēng sacrifice (n)} · {(as with a) domestic animal} → [sacrifice] 牺牲 犧牲)”) itself, as opposed to the suffering (“shòunàn (shòu·nàn {being subjected to → [suffering of]} · calamity 受难 受難)”) that he had to endure in the process of offering it.

Categories
Culture Current Events Language Learning

nànmín

nànmín (nàn·mín calamity; disaster; adversity; distress · {person of a certain occupation} → [refugee] 难民 難民) ← Tap/click to show/hide the “flashcard”

On February 24, 2022, Russia sent significant military forces into Ukraine, resulting in the largest scale open warfare in Europe since World War II. Knowing certain Mandarin expressions will help us in the Mandarin field as we hear about and talk about Ukraine in the time ahead.

As of this writing, the article “Refugee Crisis​—Millions Flee Ukraine” is being featured on jw.org. In the Mandarin version of that article, the English word “refugee” is translated as “nànmín (nàn·mín calamity; disaster; adversity; distress · {person of a certain occupation} → [refugee] 难民 難民)”, this week’s MEotW.

While it may seem odd to say in the Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) Plus information that a refugee has an “occupation”, note that an occupation can be defined, not just as a job or profession, but also as “any activity that occupies a person’s attention”. Unfortunately, being a refugee certainly “occupies a person’s attention”.

(By the way, in the Mandarin version of the above-mentioned article, “refugee crisis” is translated as “nànmín (nàn·mín calamity · {persons of a certain occupation} → [refugees] 难民 難民) cháo (tide → [(social) upsurge] 潮)”. “Cháo (tide [→ [(social) upsurge; current; trend]] 潮)” literally means “tide”, which is an easily understood metaphor, similar to how in English we may speak of a “wave” of refugees.)

A Shifty Character

One may notice that the first Chinese character used to write “nànmín (nàn·mín calamity; disaster; adversity; distress · {person of a certain occupation} → [refugee] 难民 難民)”, “难/難”, is also the Chinese character used to write “nán ({[is] difficult}; {[is] hard} | difficultly | {make difficult/difficulties})”, a common word that basically means “difficult”. One then can hardly fail to notice that whereas with “nànmín (nàn·mín calamity; disaster; adversity; distress · {person of a certain occupation} → [refugee] 难民 難民)”, “难/難” is pronounced with a fourth tone, with “nán ({[is] difficult}; {[is] hard} | difficultly | {make difficult/difficulties})” it is pronounced with a second tone. But, aren’t characters supposed to be the grand clarifiers of meaning in a Mandarin language awash in homophones (words that sound the same, but that have different meanings)?

Yes, it has become customary to rely (too much) on characters that are seen to disambiguate or clarify pronunciations that are heard, but the truth is that characters themselves can also be ambiguous on their own, since, as our example above shows, characters can have multiple pronunciations and meanings.

What is the real ultimate clarifier of meaning in Mandarin, even when it has been allowed to develop as many homophones as it has? The ultimate clarifier is context, not characters! For example, when we see that “难/難” is followed by “民”, that context tells us that here, “难/難” is pronounced as “nàn”, with its associated meaning, not as “nán”, with its different associated meaning. On its own, without context, the character “难/難” is ambiguous.

For more information on why it’s problematic to rely on characters to disambiguate homophones in Mandarin, see the subheading “But There Are So Many Words That Sound the Same!” in the article “Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) Was Plan A”.

“Context is God”

Regarding context, the MEotW post on “yǔjìng (yǔ·jìng language · {(set of) boundaries → [(bounded) place; area] → [condition; situation; circumstances]} → [context] 语境 語境)” had this to say:

Context and Mandarin Writing Systems

Research into the importance of context turned up a couple of interesting sayings from the business world:

Content is king.
—Bill Gates

Content is king, but context is God.
—Gary Vaynerchuk

Mandarin field language-learners may hear the assertion from Chinese culture traditionalists that it is necessary to use Chinese characters to clarify the ambiguity that results from Mandarin having so many homophones, words that sound the same but that have different meanings. The insinuation, or even the outright accusation, is that the upstart Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) system is thus unusable as a writing system for Mandarin, that the Chinese characters writing system is still the rightful king. Besides, there is so much existing content written in Chinese characters, and content is king!

However, a little consideration of the yǔjìng (yǔ·jìng language · {(set of) boundaries → [(bounded) place] → [situation]} → [context] 语境 語境), the language situation or context, shows up the fallacy of this assertion. The Chinese characters writing system exists along with Mandarin speech, and if Chinese characters are truly required to clearly communicate meaning in Mandarin, then that would mean that Mandarin speech on its own, without the help of visible characters, is unusable as a means of communication. That, however, is obviously not true—people who are proficient in spoken Mandarin communicate clearly with each other all the time, undoubtedly pretty much as clearly as proficient English speakers communicate with each other.

The key reason why proficient Mandarin speakers can communicate clearly with each other despite all of the homophones in Mandarin is not that they are constantly referring to Chinese characters, although people do occasionally do that in the current characters-saturated cultural climate. No, the key reason why Mandarin-speakers routinely communicate clearly with each other is because they use sufficient context to clarify any potentially ambiguous homophones. And, since Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) is a simple and direct representation of Mandarin speech, anything that is understandable when spoken in Mandarin is understandable when written in Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音).—1 Corinthians 14:8–11.

So, while Chinese characters-based content may be so predominant in the Chinese world that it’s king there, context is God, relatively and metaphorically speaking, and Mandarin speech and Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) rightly rely on context, not on Chinese characters, just like we rightly rely on God, not on merely human kings.

Categories
Culture Current Events

rùqīn

rùqīn (rù·qīn enter; {go into} · invade; {intrude into} → [invade; intrude into] 入侵) ← Tap/click to show/hide the “flashcard”

On February 24, 2022, Russia sent significant military forces into Ukraine, resulting in the largest scale open warfare in Europe since World War II. Knowing certain Mandarin expressions will help us in the Mandarin field as we hear about and talk about Ukraine in the time ahead.

The article “Russia Invades Ukraine” has been featured on jw.org since not long after the crisis began, and the Mandarin translation of that article’s title is “Éluósī (Russia 俄罗斯 俄羅斯) Rùqīn (Rù·qīn Enters · Invades → [Invades] 入侵) Wūkèlán (Ukraine 乌克兰 烏克蘭) 🔗”. So, we can see that this week’s MEotW, “rùqīn (rù·qīn enter; {go into} · invade; {intrude into} → [invade; intrude into] 入侵)”, corresponds with the English word “invades”.

To Be Resultative…

Another way to say “invade” in Mandarin is “qīnrù (qīn·rù invade; {intrude into} · {enter | [go] into} → [invade; intrude into] 侵入)”, which has the same morphemes as “rùqīn (rù·qīn enter; {go into} · invade; {intrude into} → [invade; intrude into] 入侵)”, but in reversed order. There may be a difference between these two words, since the ABC Chinese-English Dictionary refers to “rùqīn (rù·qīn enter; {go into} · invade; {intrude into} → [invade; intrude into] 入侵)” as a verb, while it refers to “qīnrù (qīn·rù invade; {intrude into} · {enter | [go] into} → [invade; intrude into] 侵入)” as a resultative verb, in which “ (enter; {go into}; join 入)” is taken to mean “into”, as opposed to the verb “enter”.

Or Not to Be Resultative?

On the other hand, the dictionaries I have checked re “ (enter; {go into}; join 入)” itself, including the ABC Chinese-English Dictionary, emphasize its meaning as being the verb “enter”, and not so much as being the preposition “into” (although I think it can be used that way). If we indeed take both their morphemes to be verbs, then it would seem that the case of “rùqīn (rù·qīn enter; {go into} · invade; {intrude into} → [invade; intrude into] 入侵)”/“qīnrù (qīn·rù invade; {intrude into} · {enter | [go] into} → [invade; intrude into] 侵入)” is similar to the case of “fǎlǜ (law 法律)”/“lǜfǎ (law 律法)”.

Regarding “fǎlǜ (law 法律)”/“lǜfǎ (law 律法)”, the MEotW post for “fǎlǜ (law 法律)” had this to say:

But, Why?

If “lǜfǎ (law 律法)” and “fǎlǜ (law 法律)” both mean basically the same thing, why did the world’s Mandarin-speaking population bother to switch the order of “ (law; statute; rule; regulation 律)” and “ (law | method; way; mode | standard; model | {magic arts} | {follow; model after} 法)” in popular usage? Who knows? Appendix A2 of the Mandarin NWT Bible, probably wisely, does not get into the why of it, just mentioning that “fǎlǜ (law 法律)” is now the more common usage. Even if it turns out that there was a reason, it may not be what most would consider a good reason. Sometimes people are just weird, and, speaking as a Chinese person myself, that includes Chinese people—just look at some of the arbitrary ways in which Chinese characters have been designed, that have turned trying to figure out the pronunciations and meanings of unfamiliar Chinese characters into a guessing game.

Speaking of what’s commonplace or popular and why, I am reminded of this quote from William Goldman, who wrote the screenplay for The Princess Bride as well as the screenplays for several other successful, well-known movies:

Nobody knows anything…Not one person in the entire motion picture field knows for a certainty what’s going to work. Every time out it’s a guess

Speaking of The Princess Bride, that movie is a treasure trove of quotable quotes, including this one that serves as a precautionary admonition to us Mandarin language-learners:

You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.