The Origins of Chess

Chess is widely believed to have developed as the game “Chaturanga,” a Sanskrit word meaning “four arms.” Appearing around the sixth century, Chaturanga was a means of teaching strategy to Indian nobility. The game appears to have been played with figural pieces representing the four major branches of a complete army--the foot soldiers (pawns), the cavalry (knights), chariots (rooks--I will explain this in a minute) and of course, elephants (bishops--I’ll explain this soon as well).

Reproductions of Persian chess pieces ca. 1000.

 

With time the game was brought along trade routes to China and Persia. In Persia it came to be called “Shatranj.” It was again seen as a game for nobility and elites. In Persia Shatranj pieces were abstract in style because of prohibitions in Islam against depicting living beings. Through trade with Europe shatranj made its way across northern Africa and was brought into Europe through the Iberian peninsula and across Europe, including
Britain and Scandinavia. The date for its arrival in Europe is believed to be around 700-800 AD, and it probably reached Scandinavia and Britain around 1100 AD. Chess, as it was now called, caught on quickly and replaced other board games such as various forms of tafl, a strategy game common in northern Europe.

Reproductions of the Lewis chessmen.

For centuries Europeans retained the abstract Persian style of pieces, but figural pieces gradually became more common. The most notable example is the Lewis chessmen, discovered around 1831 on the remote Isle of Lewis in the Hebrides in Scotland. These pieces, representing foot soldiers, knights, bishops, queens and kings, have been reproduced countless times.

The original designation for chess pieces was different than today. Pawn, knight, and king were the same as today. The rook was originally a chariot, and the word “rook” (“rukh” in Persian) is a reminder of that. The rook, originally a square piece with a wedge cut out of the top became a castle. The elephant became the bishop because there were no elephants in Europe and elephants had ceased to be used in warfare, along with chariots. The Persian piece somewhat resembled a bishop’s mitre, so they became bishops.

The Charlemagne set. The kings are over five inches tall!

The queen is the most notable transformation. In the Indian and Persian versions the piece next to the king was the vizier or general. It did not become the queen until the game had been in Europe several centuries. It remained the weakest piece on the board until the late 1400’s when the bishop and queen took on their present-day moves.

The troops advance and face off.

Before the Lewis chessmen, which were made around 1150 in Norway, there was the Charlemagne chess set. This set, the remainders of which are in a museum in Paris, date from around 1050. Carved from single pieces of elephant ivory, these massive pieces comprise a chess set intended for royalty or high nobility. The workmanship is superior and the effect is unmistakable.

Several years ago I decided to reproduce this set making the reproduction pieces full size. Ivory is no longer available, nor should it be, and I wouldn’t be able to afford it if it were, so I decided to form the pieces using Sculpey, a polymer clay that is baked to harden it. Several evenings a week for a month or so I worked on these pieces, forming them as best as I could.

If I don’t mind saying so myself, the result was worth the effort. I’ve gotten many compliments on this set at SCA events. I have led classes in medieval chess at a number of events, and I try to reserve the huge Charlemagne set for younger children, if there are any in the class. It has been a delight to see 8 or 9 year old kids playing chess with pieces that are almost too big for them to pick up with one hand. It’s quite a thrill for them.

To sit and reflect on the Charlemagne set is an interesting experience. It brings the game to life, but is also reminds me of the brutal nature of war

Medieval fantasies of security and sovereignty

As I look at one of my medieval chess sets (this one is based on a 14th century German set) I am reminded of the symbolic meaning of chess in the middle ages. In modern chess we are separated  by centuries from the reality behind the pieces--castles, knights, bishops, queens and kings, footsoldiers (pawns), they are just elements from myths to us. For someone living in the Middle Ages, however, it was a reflection of society. Castles represented security, property, power. Knights defended their masters. Bishops served the church but were also beholden to secular lords. Kings and queens demanded loyalty yet they often lacked the absolute power we think they had. Pawns, of course, were at the bottom of the heap and did the dirty work of war and paid the highest price.

The myth we have is that medieval society was stable with such a stratified social order in place. It was anything but stable, though. Certainly there were periods of stability in particular corners of Christendom but never was medieval Europe completely stable. War was constant, economic stresses could suddenly loom large and cause great instability, and disease could cause massive disruption.  Borders of kingdoms, duchies and baronies moved back and forth depending who was in the king’s favor or who had won a recent battle with a neighboring realm.

In medieval chess image was everything. It was a game of strategy but it also reflected the ideals of the medieval mind. Just as every human society does, they longed for stability and security, always an elusive quality in human existence. I can imagine that the nobility who used chess sets such as this imagined themselves as the masters of the universe, commanding the loyalty of millions, but in reality they were always struggling for control of what they thought was theirs.

Napkin Rings and Nostalgia

I grew up in Meriden, Connecticut, once the home of International Silver Company, known around the world for quality silverware of all sorts. International was divided up and sold in the early 1970’s and Meriden has never recovered from the loss of its largest private employer. I browse in antique shops occasionally and sometimes see items that were made in Meriden. Part of my family founded Meriden Britannia Company, one of the companies that formed International Silver in the 1890’s, and I often see Meriden Britannia items, and pick them up for my collection if they are affordable.

Meriden was in its heyday at that time. Just about everything was made there, from player pianos to silver teapots, bench vises, bronze art deco plaques, fancy desk lamps and curtain rods. When I look at my odd collection of Meriden items I think about what the city must have been like. There were people from a number of different countries, recruited from their parts of Europe because of their particular skills. Their descendants still live in Meriden.

Many feel that Meriden’s past was the best that it will ever be. A lot of people have moved away, including me, never to return. But for the people who still live there it is their home, and they have all the hope in the world that Meriden will become a good place to live again.

My purpose here is not just to tell you about my home town. It is to think about the past in relation to the present and future. It is always tempting to look at the past of any aspect of our lives, our families, church and community and wish that things would be like they were in the past. Nostalgia is an addictive drug when indulged in too frequently. I have often thought that the way to make things more like the past is to move into the future. In the case of my hometown, it’s unlikely that anyone will be making silver napkin rings such as the example from Meriden Britannia that I’m looking at right now. But, the institutions that served the population of Meriden, the clubs, schools, churches and neighborhood groups of various sorts can be recast to fit the realities of today. We can’t wish the past to come back no matter how fervently we wish for it. What we can do is look at the present, realistically look at the resources we have available and apply those resources to wherever we feel God is calling us to do so. We are surrounded by opportunities to serve God by serving our neighbors. God calls us to work at discerning our mission wherever we are, celebrating the past but purposely looking to the future, knowing that God will be there already.

It's all in the eyes

The icon of the week is my copy of an Ethiopian triptych. A triptych is a three-part painting, sometimes hinged, sometimes not. This image dates from around the seventeenth century, although Ethiopian paintings can sometimes be hard to date.

I was drawn to this image because I like Ethiopian religious art. This icon has an almost cartoonish quality to it, which is not to downplay its significance or its impact

The eyes are the most noticeable feature of these figures, especially the eyes of Mary in the center panel. This is typical of Ethiopian art. In much of African art, Christian or otherwise, the head is the most prominent feature, often depicted out of proportion to the body of the person. It may be that the head and face are emphasized since the face is the most distinct feature of a person. Perhaps the eyes, the most expressive part of the face, are made larger for the same reason.

Our eyes can speak very clearly, often more clearly than our words. Through our eyes we can express sadness, joy, confusion, pain, delight, and a whole range of emotions. The famous quote, “The eye is the window to the soul” is attributed to Shakespeare and many other authors, but it doesn’t matter who said it. It’s true. We communicate so much through out eyes. They don’t lie.

Perhaps these figures have large eyes in order to communicate. They express the greatness of the truth that they witness, that they experience.
. In the left wing, the resurrected Christ at the top stands with his hands upraised, surrounded by saints or apostles. A military saint, possibly St. Demetrius, is on a horse at the lower left corner. In the right wing, the crucifixion is depicted at the top, again with saints or apostles below. At the bottom another military saint, possibly St. George, is mounted on a horse with a spear.

What If God Was One of Us?

The icon of the week beginning tomorrow is Jesus' baptism by John the Baptist. This event appears in all four gospels but each account is different. Only Mark and Matthew say that John actually baptizes Jesus. Luke and John indicate he was baptized by only indirectly hint at who did it.

The word "baptize" comes from the Greek word baptidzo, meaning to immerse. Dyeing cloth, for instance, was baptizing or immersing it in the dye.

I like to think that Jesus' baptism not only marks the beginning of Jesus' ministry but it also makes a statement. Jesus immersed himself in our existence, with all its messiness and trouble.

A number of years ago a singer that I'm not familiar with, Joan Osborne, recorded a song entitled "What If God Was One Of Us." I won't reprint all the lyrics, but this text asks the basic question--what IF God was one of us?

What if God was one of us?
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to make Its way home

God was indeed one of us, made real in the Incarnation, signified by Jesus' baptism.

Icon of the Week: St. John Climacus

This week’s icon is an early twelfth century depiction of St. John Climacus’ “Ladder of Divine Ascent.” The original, shown here, is in the Holy Monastery of St. Catherine at Mt. Sinai.

The Monastery of St. Catharine is a treasure house by any standard. Because it is in a remote setting in the Sinai peninsula it has avoided the ravages of war. It has been continuously occupied since the fourth century. Within its walls is one of the largest collections of icons in the world, numbering around four thousand. They date from the mid-fifth to the eighteenth century. Among them is the oldest icon of Jesus, and a number of others that survived the periods of iconoclasm in the eighth and ninth centuries when the Byzantine emperor Leo III ordered all icons in the empire destroyed. The icons of Mt. Sinai survived because the monastery was in a Moslem region. The monastery is also known for its world class collection of ancient biblical and religious manuscripts. Their collection is second only to the collection in the Vatican.

The theme of wilderness draws me to this icon along with the dramatic imagery of monks trying to climb the ladder toward a higher spiritual life while demons try to drag them down into destruction. For St. John Climacus the cares and temptations of the world would threaten to distract us from our journey up this ladder where Christ awaits us at the top. At the lower right corner a group of monks cheer on those who are climbing the ladder. I don’t know if they are waiting their turn or if they have already arrived. At the upper left corner a choir of angels looks on.

This image of angels and saints encouraging us on reminds me of the concept of the Church Triumphant, that part of the church which has already passed on. I take great comfort that the saints of the past pray for us and encourage us on as we climb that ladder.

Icon of the Week: St. Jerome

I’m behind on posting pictures of the icon of the week. Last week it was Fra Angelico’s “Penitent St. Jerome, painted in the early 15th century. The picture here is of the original which is now in the Princeton University Art Museum.

Jerome was born in what is now Bosnia in 347 AD. He was drawn to the study of the classics and went to Rome as a young man to further his studies. While he was in Rome he was a typical college student, partying and the like. He went on an extended tour of the Middle East, studying in Alexandria, Antioch, Constantinople, and then back to Rome. He eventually became convinced that his lifestyle was in conflict with his faith and spent some time in the wilderness in repentance. This period in his life became a favorite subject for artists in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Jerome is depicted in a wilderness scene in prayer, reading, or  beating his chest with a stone, as Fra Angelico depicts him here.

An image of Jerome that became popular in the later Middle Ages and the Renaissance is St. Jerome in his study. Jerome was the consummate scholar, and in these paintings he is shown as a Renaissance scholar, often wearing the red robe and hat of a cardinal. For Jerome this is anachronistic since the office of cardinal did not exist in the Roman Catholic Church during his lifetime. He is often portrayed with a lion, as tradition has it that he pulled a thorn from a lion’s paw. Sometimes the lion is shown sleeping on his study floor!

Eventually Jerome settled in as a hermit in Bethlehem, traditionally occupying a cell underneath the Church of the Nativity. When I was in the Holy Land four years ago I had the chance to see the cell from the outside, but since it is now a chapel a mass was in progress and I didn’t want to interrupt it.

Jerome is held in the highest regard for his literary output, most notably the  Latin Vulgate, the translation of the entire Bible in Latin. He probably didn’t do it all from scratch. Many scholars think that he had Latin translations of sections to begin with and he revised those sections and translated the rest. The Vulgate was the standard translation of the Bible for more than a thousand years.

I am drawn to this image of Jerome mostly because of the image of wilderness. The theme of wilderness is very prominent in the Scriptures and in Christian thought in general. The wilderness is a place for reflection and prayer. Lent is a good time to consider Jerome as a guide in the wilderness.