Epiphanies and Miracles
Today I had an epiphany. The Spanish language was influenced by the Arabic language. Don't believe me? Hear me out.
After the fall of the Roman Empire, the remains of the Empire were divided up arbitrarily, falling into isolation; they had literally nothing to hold them together. While the Byzantine Empire persisted in the Eastern Mediterranean region, areas that we now consider to be independent regions and nations like France, Britain, Spain, and Italy were isolated. Though the Western Empire originally spoke Latin, the isolation led to a development of alternate language forms from the original Latin base. In Britain, the influence of the Germanic invasions of the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes led to a language that consisted of a healthy mix of both Latin and the Germanic tongues.
And in Spain? You guessed it: the Moors. The Moors, North African Muslims, invaded the Iberian Peninsula in 711. They were finally expelled in 1492. This led to an Islamic influence in Spanish culture for a period of nearly eight hundred years, which influenced the Spanish language. How do I know this? Simple. I was browsing jobs in Texas today, and kept seeing city names like "El Paso" and thinking, at the very basest level of my consciousness, "I wonder if that's an Arabic influence?" And then I realized it: it was Spanish. In Arabic, the definite article is "al"; in Spanish it's "el". Coincidence? Highly doubtful.
I also witnessed a small miracle this evening: our puppy came home for the first time tonight. "Jack" was born on Labor Day, and we brought him home for a couple of months; then he'll go back to the breeder for training in February or so, but until then, he's ours. Of course, I don't have the faintest idea how long I'll be here, but for the duration, I get to watch Jack grow and learn about the world outside the garage where he's so far spent his life. People say that every birth is a miracle; a litter of eight little black puppies may not be quite as impressive as the birth of a human baby, but miracles are kind of like the antithesis of sins. Why do I say that? Well, no sin is more heinous or dangerous than any other; they're all acts of rebellion, and they all separate us from God. Conversely, every miracle, no matter how small, is equally miraculous, and they all remind us of God's love for us, if we know to look.
Thus saith the Fly.
After the fall of the Roman Empire, the remains of the Empire were divided up arbitrarily, falling into isolation; they had literally nothing to hold them together. While the Byzantine Empire persisted in the Eastern Mediterranean region, areas that we now consider to be independent regions and nations like France, Britain, Spain, and Italy were isolated. Though the Western Empire originally spoke Latin, the isolation led to a development of alternate language forms from the original Latin base. In Britain, the influence of the Germanic invasions of the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes led to a language that consisted of a healthy mix of both Latin and the Germanic tongues.
And in Spain? You guessed it: the Moors. The Moors, North African Muslims, invaded the Iberian Peninsula in 711. They were finally expelled in 1492. This led to an Islamic influence in Spanish culture for a period of nearly eight hundred years, which influenced the Spanish language. How do I know this? Simple. I was browsing jobs in Texas today, and kept seeing city names like "El Paso" and thinking, at the very basest level of my consciousness, "I wonder if that's an Arabic influence?" And then I realized it: it was Spanish. In Arabic, the definite article is "al"; in Spanish it's "el". Coincidence? Highly doubtful.
I also witnessed a small miracle this evening: our puppy came home for the first time tonight. "Jack" was born on Labor Day, and we brought him home for a couple of months; then he'll go back to the breeder for training in February or so, but until then, he's ours. Of course, I don't have the faintest idea how long I'll be here, but for the duration, I get to watch Jack grow and learn about the world outside the garage where he's so far spent his life. People say that every birth is a miracle; a litter of eight little black puppies may not be quite as impressive as the birth of a human baby, but miracles are kind of like the antithesis of sins. Why do I say that? Well, no sin is more heinous or dangerous than any other; they're all acts of rebellion, and they all separate us from God. Conversely, every miracle, no matter how small, is equally miraculous, and they all remind us of God's love for us, if we know to look.
Thus saith the Fly.
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