Stauros Wiki Stauros (σταυρός) is a Greek word for a stake or an implement of capital punishment. The Greek New Testament uses the word stauros for the instrument of Jesus' crucifixion, and it is generally translated pillar, tree in Christian contexts. This article covers the use of the word for other contexts. Palisade Etymology The word stauros comes from the verb ἵστημι (histēmi: "straighten up", "stand"), which in turn comes from the Proto-Indo-European root *steh2-u- "pole",[1] related to the root *steh2- "to stand, to set" In Antiquity In ancient Greek stauros meant either an "upright pale or stake", a "cross, as the instrument of crucifixion", or a "pale for impaling a corpse". In older Greek texts, stauros means "pole" and in Homer's works is always used in the plural number, never in the singular.[4] Instances are attested in which these pales or stakes were split and set to serve as a palisade pig sty by Eumaeus in the Odyssey or as piles for the foundation of a lake dwelling on the Prasiad Lake recounted by Herodotus. From stauros was derived the verb σταυρόω, stauróō, 'I fence with pales' or 'I crucify'; this verb was used by Polybius to describe execution of prisoners by the general Hannibal at the siege of Tunis; Hannibal is then himself executed on the same stauros.[7] Also from stauros was the verb for impalement: anastaurizo (Ancient Greek: ἀνασταυρίζω, romanized: anastaurízō, lit. 'I impale').[8] The fifth century BC writer Ctesias, in a fragment preserved by Photios I of Constantinople in his Bibliotheca, describes the impalement of Inaros II by Megabyzus in these terms.[9][10][8] Thucydides, also in the fifth century, likewise described the execution of Inaros in this way.[11][12] The practice was called anastaurosis (Ancient Greek: ἀνασταύρωσις, romanized: anastaúrōsis, lit. 'crucifixion' or 'impalement').[13][14] As described by Herodotus in the fifth century BC and by Xenophon of Ephesus in the second century AD, anastaurosis referred to impalement.[13] Herodotus described the execution of Polycrates of Samos by the satrap of Lydia, Oroetus, as anastaurosis.[13][15] According to the authoritative A Greek–English Lexicon, the verbs for "impale" and "crucify" (Ancient Greek: ἀνασταυρόω, romanized: anastauroó, lit. 'I affix to a cross' or 'I crucify', or: ἀνασκολοπίζω, anaskolopizō, 'fix on a pole or stake' or 'impale') are ambiguous.[16][17] Plato refers to the punishment, in his dialogue Gorgias, using anastauroó.[16][18] Plutarch, at the beginning of the second century AD, described the execution on three stakes of the eunuch Masabates as anastaurosis in his Life of Artaxerxes.[3][19][20] Usually, Plutarch referred to stauroi in the context of pointed poles standing upright.[21] Image by Justus Lipsius of one of the two meanings that he attributed to the term crux simplex. From the Hellenistic period, Anastaurosis was the Greek word for the Roman capital punishment crucifixion (Latin: damnatio in crucem, lit. 'sentencing to the crux').[13] Polybius reports the crucifixion of a Carthaginian general by his own soldiers using the verb ἀνασταυρόω, while Plutarch, using the same verb, describes Hannibal as having thus executed his local guides in his Life of Fabius Maximus, though it is unclear what kind of "suspension punishment" was involved.[16][22][23] In the first century BC Diodorus Siculus describes the mythical queen Semiramis as threatened with 'crucifixion' (Ancient Greek: σταυρῷ προσηλώσειν, romanized: staurō prosēlōsein, lit. 'to nail up on a stauros').[3][24] Diodorus elsewhere referred to a bare bronze pole as a stauros and no further details are provided about the stauros involved in the threat to Semiramis.[21] Lucian of Samosata instead uses the verb anaskolopizo to describe the crucifixion of Jesus.[25][17][26] Elsewhere, in a text of questionable attribution, Lucian likens the shape of crucifixions to that of the letter T in the final words of The Consonants at Law - Sigma vs. Tau, in the Court of the Seven Vowels; the word σταυρός is not mentioned.[25][27][3] Justus Lipsius: De cruce, p. 47 Image by Justus Lipsius of the crucifixion of Jesus Interpretation Nineteenth-century Anglican theologian E. W. Bullinger's Companion Bible glossed stauros as "an upright pale or stake", interpreting crucifixion as "hung upon a stake ... stauros was not two pieces of wood at any angle".[28] In 1877 Bullinger wrote:[29] The σταυρός (stauros) was simply an upright pale or stake to which Romans nailed those who were thus said to be crucified, σταυρόω, merely means to drive stakes. It never means two pieces of wood joining at any angle. Even the Latin word crux means a mere stake. The initial letter Χ, (chi) of Χριστός, (Christ) was anciently used for His name, until it was displaced by the T, the initial letter of the pagan god Tammuz, about the end of cent. iv. — A Critical Lexicon and Concordance to The English and Greek New Testament, 1877 Nineteenth-century Free Church of Scotland theologian Patrick Fairbairn's Imperial Bible Dictionary defined stauros thus:[30] The Greek word for cross σταυρός properly signified a stake, an upright pole, or piece of paling, on which anything might be hung, or which might be used in impaling a piece of ground. But a modification was introduced as the dominion and usages of Rome extended themselves through Greek-speaking countries. Even amongst the Romans the crux (from which our cross is derived) appears to have been originally an upright pole, and this always remained the more prominent part. But from the time that it began to be used as an instrument of punishment, a transverse piece of wood was commonly added: not, however, always even then. For it would seem that there were more kinds of death than one by the cross; this being sometimes accomplished by transfixing the criminal with a pole, which was run through his back and spine, and came out at his mouth (adactum per medium hominem, qui per os emergat, stipitem. Seneca, Ep. xiv.). In another place (Consul. ad Marciam, xx.) Seneca mentions three different forms: "I see", says he, "three crosses, not indeed of one sort, but fashioned in different ways; one sort suspending by the head persons bent toward the earth, others transfixing them through their secret parts, others extending their arms on a patibulum." There can be no doubt, however, that the latter sort was the more common, and that about the period of the gospel age crucifixion was usually accomplished by suspending the criminal on a cross piece of wood. But this does not of itself determine the precise form of the cross ... — Patrick Fairbairn, Imperial Bible Dictionary, 1866 Henry Dana Ward, a Millerite Adventist, claimed that the Epistle of Barnabas, which may have been written in the first century and was certainly earlier than 135,[31][32] said that the object on which Jesus died was cross-shaped, but claimed that the author of the Epistle invented this concept.[33] He likewise defined a stauros as a plain stake. Stauros means "an upright pale," a strong stake, such as farmers drive into the ground to make their fences or palisades — no more, no less. ... Zulon and stauros are alike the single stick, the pale, or the stake, neither more nor less, on which Jesus was impaled, or crucified. ... Neither stauros nor zulon ever mean two sticks joining each other at an angle, either in the New Testament or in any other book. — Henry Dana Ward, History of the Cross: The Pagan Origin, and Idolatrous Adoption and Worship of the Image, 1871 A similar view was put forward by John Denham Parsons in 1896.[34] The stauros used as an instrument of execution was (1) a small pointed pole or stake used for thrusting through the body, so as to pin the latter to the earth, or otherwise render death inevitable; (2) a similar pole or stake fixed in the ground point upwards, upon which the condemned one was forced down till incapable of escaping; (3) a much longer and stouter pole or stake fixed point upwards, upon which the victim, with his hands tied behind him, was lodged in such a way that the point should enter his breast and the weight of the body cause every movement to hasten the end; and (4) a stout unpointed pole or stake set upright in the earth, from which the victim was suspended by a rope round his wrists, which were first tied behind him so that the position might become an agonising one; or to which the doomed one was bound, or, as in the case of Jesus, nailed. That this last named kind of stauros, which was admittedly that to which Jesus was affixed, had in every case a cross-bar attached, is untrue; that it had in most cases, is unlikely; that it had in the case of Jesus, is unproven. Even as late as the Middle Ages, the word stauros seems to have primarily signified a straight piece of wood without a cross-bar. For the famous Greek lexicographer, Suidas, expressly states, "Stauroi; ortha xula perpegota," and both Eustathius and Hesychius affirm that it meant a straight stake or pole. The side light thrown upon the question by Lucian is also worth noting. This writer, referring to Jesus, alludes to "That sophist of theirs who was fastened to a skolops"; which word signified a single piece of wood, and not two pieces joined together. — John Denham Parsons, The Non-Christian Cross, 1896 In the 20th century, William Edwy Vine also reasoned that the stauros as an item for execution was different to the Christian cross. Vine's Expository Dictionary's definition states that stauros: denotes, primarily, "an upright pale or stake." On such malefactors were nailed for execution. Both the noun and the verb stauroo, "to fasten to a stake or pale," are originally to be distinguished from the ecclesiastical form of a two beamed "cross." The shape of the latter had its origin in ancient Chaldea, and was used as the symbol of the god Tammuz (being in the shape of the mystic Tau, the initial of his name) in that country and in adjacent lands, including Egypt. By the middle of the 3rd cent. A.D. the churches had either departed from, or had travestied, certain doctrines of the Christian faith. In order to increase the prestige of the apostate ecclesiastical system pagans were received into the churches apart from regeneration by faith, and were permitted largely to retain their pagan signs and symbols. Hence the Tau or T, in its most frequent form, with the cross-piece lowered, was adopted to stand for the "cross" of Christ. — William Edwy Vine, An Expository Dictionary of New Testament Words, 1940 In the 21st century, David W. Chapman counters that:[35] ... the "fundamental" references to an upright pole in σταυρός [...] does not rightly imply that such terminology in antiquity, when applied to crucifixion, invariably applied to a single upright beam. This is a common word study fallacy in some populist literature. In fact, such terminology often referred in antiquity to cross-shaped crucifixion devices. — David W. Chapman, Ancient Jewish and Christian Perceptions of Crucifixion, 2008 Chapman stresses the comparison with Prometheus chained to the Caucasus Mountains made by the second century AD writer Lucian.[36] Chapman identifies that Lucian uses the verbs άνασκολοπίζω, άνασταυρόω, and σταυρόω interchangeably, and argues that by the time of the Roman expansion into Asia Minor, the shape of the stauros used by the Romans for executions was more complex than a simple stake, and that cross-shaped crucifixions may have been the norm in the Roman era.[36] Presbyterian theologian John Granger Cook interprets writers living when executions by stauros were being carried out as indicating that from the first century AD there is evidence that the execution stauros was normally made of more than one piece of wood and resembled cross-shaped objects such as the letter T.[37] Anglican theologian David Tombs suggests the stauros referred to the upright part of a two-beam cross, with patibulum as the cross-piece.[38] Similar statements are made by Jack Finegan,[39] Robin M. Jensen,[40] Craig Evans,[41] Linda Hogan and Dylan Lee Lehrke.[42]
It certainly is. I could add even more controversy by adding that Christmas and Easter celebrations have their origins from pagan festivals. Present day christians love to boast about the bible as "Gods word", it's pure unfounded propaganda, the Russians would be proud of how they've created such a fine job.
Christians love to think that Satan is the root of all worldly problems, never thinking or admitting that they are part of spreading bullshit, the guilt, unworthiness, condemnation and final salvation via their guru.
Humans love symbolism. The church and christianity is full of it. The photo above is also symbolic. It references an interesting article..... Inside The $100 Million Russian Church Meant To Honor Putin, Stalin And War The Resurrection of Christ church in Kubinka, Russia. Creative Commons photo. https://religionunplugged.com/news/...n-church-honoring-stalin-and-war-to-open-soon (REVIEW) I rarely discuss contemporary ecclesiastical art. I am, after all, a Byzantinist, and find it much more interesting to think about Constantinople’s Hagia Sophia than contemporary architecture, which thus far hasn’t provided us with any stunning revelations. But one can’t avoid noticing the development of the Resurrection of Christ church complex in Kubinka, Russia, conceived as the Armed Forces’ main church and planned to open on the 75th anniversary of the Victory in the Second World War on May 9. If I were to sum up my impressions of this project, I’d call it grandiose, symbolic, and a church about the triumph of deified power rather than about God. Yes, evidently the church’s founders intended to create something that would capture the imagination. And I have to acknowledge that to a great extent they have succeeded. The church is the third highest in Russia, after [Moscow’s] Church of Christ the Savior and St. Isaac’s Cathedral in Petersburg. The enormous territory of 11,000 square meters, incorporating the so-called “Patriot Park.” The colossal internal space, able to hold around 6,000 people – practically a whole division in one go. Moreover, they say this is the most expensive ecclesiastical building project in Russia’s contemporary history: an encyclopedic article on Wikipedia talks about three billion [rubles] collected in donations, and much more than this amount from state funds (about $100 million USD). Clearly, grandiosity costs. Inside the sanctuary of the Resurrection of Christ church. Creative Commons photo. The church’s symbolism is also striking, beginning with the fact that a huge number of diverse and occasionally convoluted meanings are invested in it. In particular, the enormous cupola’s diameter measures 19 meters 45 centimeters, which symbolically references the victorious year of 1945. Other numerically symbolic themes are built into the church, such as the height of one of the small domes corresponding with the number of days of the “Great Patriotic War.” How an Orthodox Christian – or just someone popping in to have a look – might discern this secret symbolism if it is not explained by a guide, or if they do not read some special commentary, is entirely unclear. For me, this sort of secret numerical symbolism evokes far more pronounced historical associations with masonic symbolism than with the Byzantine, Orthodox tradition. Iron steps molded from the melted down, captured weapons of a vanquished enemy are another detail that evokes amazement. This is strongly reminiscent of pagan practice – something from the cult of Mars, god of war. Byzantium had a different tradition: the relics of the saints were laid in the walls, the vaults, in the dome of a church, so that the very body of the church itself became a reliquary and an organic part of sacred space. The church is a military green with towers that resemble missiles. Creative Commons photo. The very face of the church is also given a militarized appearance, underlined by the unusual choice of color – reminiscent of the color of armaments – for a Russian church. The church’s columns call to mind enormous shells or combat missiles. Only in what direction are these missiles to be fired? Into heaven? And overall, how appropriate is it for a church – even a church for the Armed Forces – to resemble a weapon of war? Yet another question without an answer. The internal space has been ordered in interesting fashion too – I see here a conscious step away from Byzantium in the direction of an idiosyncratic modernism. This can be seen, for example, in the technique which fuses concrete and glass. This may be considered not just a stylistic but a technological innovation. What has been promoted in the place of Byzantium? A strange eclectic, a mixing of different architectural styles and traditions, like a child’s construction set from which individual elements are picked out and combined. I won’t comment on the artistic quality of the mosaic panels, two of which have been the subject of hot debate on social media, since I am more disturbed by their overall meaning. For many Orthodox people it grates that an image of Stalin appeared on one of the panels depicting a victory parade on Red Square. The designers insist that they had nothing more in mind than historicity. But here another question arises in connection with historicism: in the given triumphant context this is about glorification – about the glorification in a church of a tyrant and mass murderer responsible for the deaths of millions of innocent people, including some 85,000 Orthodox clergy wiped out in the years of the Great Terror on orders which are still preserved in the archives. No one is suggesting that we eradicate the commander-in-chief from history but glorifying him in any form is simply unjustifiable. Interestingly, this was understood even in Ancient Rome, in which the “oblivion of memory” law prohibited any public depiction of criminal emperors, while historians wrote about their actions – including military victories – in detail. On April 30, the Russian media reported that Patriarch Kirill, the head of the Russian Orthodox Church, banned the church from featuring the images of Stalin and Putin, with Putin’s input. Russian President Vladimir Putin and former Premier of the Soviet Union Joseph Stalin are honored on mosaics originally meant to feature on the church’s walls. Creative Commons photo. It matters not that the mosaic panels are located in the narthex – this is nevertheless ecclesiastical space, and they – including the “Annexation of Crimea” amongst others – pointedly diverge from Byzantine stylistic traditions and, accordingly, from the medieval Russian understandings of the image. We see a turn towards well-known models of last century’s socialist realism art. And the first thing that comes to mind on looking at these triumphal scenes is the mosaics of the Moscow metro, those most popular and famous models of Stalinist “grand style.” Thus, from the point of view of style, we have an unexpected return to Soviet art, to the artistic models of socialist realism. It is curious that the designers chose that style, specifically, to depict the jubilation of the people. That portraits of the country’s leaders make an appearance is also absolutely in the spirit of that style. The president’s principled announcement is important here – he has said that he considers the appearance of his portrait in the center of this row to be untimely. And one can only agree with that. My main objection is that the end result of all this is not an Orthodox church. It is a church which speaks not of God, but of the triumph of sacralized power, and– since Stalin’s authority was far from Christian– of power that does not in the least need to be Christian. From the point of view of both social psychology and cultural studies, this is a very interesting phenomenon. Where is the real, main theme of Orthodoxy and the Christian faith? With the repentant “Lord, have mercy” and the vital, resounding, “Trampling down death by death” of the Easter troparion, evoking an image of suffering and death as the indispensable condition of triumph? It has been shorn away entirely. In the Christian iconographic tradition this dramatic combination and simultaneous presence of tragedy and triumph has always played a very important role. We all know the tragedy that transforms into triumph by living through Passion Week, which ends with the Bright Resurrection of Christ. This Christian content, in my opinion, has vital significance in the celebration of Victory Day too, in a context where the majority of Soviet soldiers were unbelievers. The war is the greatest tragedy in the history of Russia, wiping out tens of millions of lives, not a pageant in the “may be repeated” genre but a lamentation for victims in a historic victory of Good over Evil. In the military church the Christian meanings of Victory take second place – the idea of triumph and the unity of power and people dominate. One may debate such an approach, but what has this to do with Orthodoxy? This is about a different system of values. Yes, these values may be given a sort of Orthodox veneer, they may be styled as if in the spirit of Orthodoxy, adding a few common Christian symbols, but they can’t be made Orthodox by doing so. And people entering this church will not be praying to the suffering God, but to victorious power, a sort of ‘heavenly generalissimo’. And from the perspective of social psychology it is interesting that many people are quite comfortable with this sort of understanding of Christianity, with the love of God soothingly transformed into the veneration of power. It seems to me that the church we’re talking about aspires to become a monument of the era and a bright reflection of contemporary Russian religious consciousness, as the most vivid manifestation of the deepest spiritual crisis but nowhere near a manifestation of triumph. And there is something paradoxical in this. I think this ambiguity and incongruity has been felt by many Orthodox people and this is precisely why the military church has evoked such an explosive reaction, and occasionally also deep antagonism, despite the unprecedented promotion of the project via state mass media. And it seems to me, too, that this will live on as a memorial of sorts to the era. But in my opinion, the proposed path is — undoubtedly — a ruinous dead end and should certainly not become an example for imitation. This article has been updated to reflect that the head of the Russian Orthodox Church Patriarch Kirill demanded that the images of Stalin and Putin be removed from the church. Alexei Lidov is an art historian and specialist in Byzantine iconography, Christian sacred images and theory of art. He’s the founder and director of the Research Centre for Eastern Christian Culture in Moscow (since 1991), the head of the Department at the Institute for World Culture of Lomonosov Moscow State University, and a Full Member of the Russian Academy of Arts as well as a Member and Fellow of St. Catherine’s College at Oxford University.
On ET I've been accused in the religous section of being Satan. There is one clear message I have for christians: THINK!!! And think for yourself. That is also my message for traders. Think and think for yourself.
But knowing christians (I have a track record).... Christians will say "Thinking for yourself and not going by faith is Satanic".
I'm not religious but I have to say that spirituality has probably been a huge aid to the development of human society. So I'm very happy that most people have religious beliefs. But my own belief is that there are no such things as gods. Best to avoid trying to persuade religious people of this in case the whole world goes atheist - there's a serious risk of anarchy in that case.
I can only speak of christianity as I have no Mulim or Budhist experience (ok, just a little on Budhism) but rearing children in Christian beliefs is probably better than nothing. I wish there was a spiritual church which wasn't dogmatic, not focused on only their Jewish ancestory, not cultist and focused on heaven, hell, punishment, guilt, or this 'out there thing' called God looking down on humans from upstairs. But humans fuck everything up anyhow, so it's never gonna happen.