������

Living in the diaspora presents a unique challenge of competing desires — assimilation versus the longing to remain connected to one’s homeland.

This is certainly the case when it comes to second and third-generation Egyptians growing up in the West, who experience somewhat of an identity crisis growing up. This crisis can be attributed to the stark contrast between the Egyptian values harboured by one’s family (typically conservative, family-oriented, community-based) vs. the so-called Western values espoused by society (liberal and fiercely individualistic).

For Coptic Egyptians specifically, the Coptic Orthodox Church presents one possible method of connecting with one’s heritage in the diaspora.

Some attend the services out of genuine religious conviction, whilst others attend to ‘play church,’ surrounding themselves with people who have had similar life experiences to their own in an effort to remain in touch with their Egyptian roots. 

As a child, I recall moving to Australia and going through the motions of attending Sunday school services and learning the basics of the Coptic language as part of a wider religious curriculum.

The importance of the Coptic language was lost on me for a great deal of my youth as I was focused primarily on seamlessly integrating into Australian society.

However, as I grew older, so did my desire to connect with my Coptic Egyptian heritage. Like many Egyptians living in the diaspora, I developed an obsession with ancient Egypt.

Our visits to Egypt became more than a familial chore, but an opportunity to visit the various artefacts and landmarks in Egypt and bask in the glory of my ancestors.

This obsession grew when an older, more knowledgeable gentleman at church who, hearing my name for the first time, gently sat me down and explained to me the meaning of its Coptic origins Senote (also written as Shenoute) — “son of God”.

This conversation changed the way I viewed the Coptic language. Instead of disregarding it as a dying liturgical language whose words I mumble mindlessly at Sunday services, I recognised it as a unique way of connecting with my Egyptian ancestry and Coptic heritage, a connection I had unknowingly been fostering through my name. 

Perhaps now is an appropriate time to define some terms before I move on. The term “Coptic” itself simply means “Egyptian.” During the Arab conquest of Egypt in the 7th century CE, the Arabs referred to the local Egyptian population as qibt (plural: aqbat), an Arabisation of the Greek word for the indigenous people of Egypt Aigýptios.

Over time, the term came to describe the Egyptians who adhered to the Christian faith, and since most Egyptian Christians nowadays adhere to the Coptic Orthodox Church, the term “Coptic” can often be used synonymously with members of the Coptic Orthodox Church.

However, it's important to note that there are sizable communities of the Coptic Catholic Church, the Eastern Orthodox Church as well as the Evangelical Church. For the purpose of this article, anytime I use the words ‘Copt’ or ‘Coptic’ to refer to a group of people, assume I am referring to Egyptian Christians. 

Returning to the topic of the Coptic language, it has a fascinating history as the final stage of the ancient Egyptian language. It was spoken in Egypt from the 3rd century CE until it was gradually superseded by Arabic as the language of government, commerce and day-to-day activity.

The Coptic language is still in use today in a limited liturgical scope within the Coptic Orthodox Church and the Coptic Catholic Church. The Coptic language uses the standard Greek alphabet with the addition of several letters from Demotic Egyptian to express sounds not present in the Greek language.

The Greek letters used for the Coptic language alienate the Coptic dialects from other Egyptian languages, such as Old Egyptian, Middle Egyptian as well and Late Egyptian, languages that were written in hieroglyphic, demotic and hieratic scripts.

Due to the use of Greek letters and Greek loan words in the Coptic language, many erroneously assume that the Coptic language is related to Greek.

Make no mistake, the Coptic language is an Egyptian language, and the extent to which Coptic is similar to other Egyptian languages was proven by Jean-Francois Champollion’s deciphering of the Rosetta Stone. 

Prior to Champollion’s discovery, Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics were completely unintelligible. The inscriptions on the walls of the various temples and monuments in Egypt were all shrouded in mystery.

However, the discovery of the Rosetta Stone opened up an opportunity for scientists and linguists to unlock the meaning of these inscriptions. The Rosetta Stone bears a decree from an Egyptian Pharaoh named Ptolemy V Epiphanes, a decree which was written in Greek, Demotic Egyptian as well as Egyptian Hieroglyphics.

The trilingual nature of the Stone’s decree set off a race to the decipherment of the Demotic and Hieroglyphic texts by Europe’s brightest minds. Champollion was well acquainted with the Coptic language and went to great lengths to improve his knowledge of the language, practising regularly with Fr. Yohanna Cheftichi, a Coptic priest based in Paris. 

It’s this deep knowledge of the Coptic language that allowed Champollion to decipher the Rosetta Stone. Champollion’s knowledge of the Coptic language allowed him to translate the name of Ramses II by guessing that the hieroglyphic symbol of a circle with a dot in it was the sun, which means ‘Ra’ in Coptic, and that the other symbol in his name was the Coptic phrase ‘mise’, which means to give birth.

Champollion then had a name to work with: ‘Rameses’ — born of Ra. Since the name Ramses had been known to historians for centuries, Champollion knew he was on the right track. 

For a great deal of people, the Coptic language is of little significance beyond liturgical ramblings on a Sunday morning.

However, the Coptic language boasts significant importance, evident in Champollion’s ability to decipher the Ancient Egyptian language through his knowledge of Coptic. The importance of the Coptic language transcends religion — it’s a key piece of the puzzle that is Egyptian history. 

The Coptic language, being this missing link between present-day Egyptian populations and ancient Egyptian populations, has the potential to be a major force in connecting Copts in the diaspora to their roots.

Growing up in a multicultural environment in Australia, I’ve had the opportunity to meet and make many friends from other diaspora communities. One of those friends, Mardeen, is a proud member of the Chaldean diaspora in Australia.

The term "Chaldean" is often used to refer to the Neo-Aramaic languages spoken by Assyrian-Chaldean communities, particularly those who identify with the Chaldean Catholic Church. These communities are mainly found in present-day Iraq, Syria, Iran, and Turkey, as well as in diaspora communities in other parts of the world; in Australia, there are more than 20,000 Chaldean people.

I have always been fascinated by the Chaldean and Assyrian communities in Australia, their steadfastness in maintaining a unique cultural identity and of course, their continued use of the Chaldean language as their primary language. When I asked Mardeen about why she thinks the Chaldean diaspora is so strong and continues to hold fast to their ancestral language, she first cited the use of the Chaldean language in church services.

She explained that Chaldean children must be at least 10 to receive the sacrament of Eucharist, and must undertake six months of extensive preparation to undertake the eucharist, a preparatory period which includes learning the entire liturgy in the Chaldean language. “Even if they don’t speak fluent Chaldean, the language is still a part of their faith journey,” she added. 

It’s clear that the ever presence of the Chaldean language in the services of the Chaldean Catholic Church has allowed the language to survive into the 21st century.

However, the Coptic church also places a heavy emphasis on the use of Coptic in a liturgical setting (albeit to a lesser extent), and there are currently no native speakers of the Coptic language.

Surely, I thought, there was another reason that the Chaldean community continues to maintain their linguistic autonomy, both in their ancestral homeland as well as in the diaspora. Mardeen then explained that another reason Chaldean and Assyrian communities in the Diaspora retain their language so well is because of their continued use of the Chaldean language in family life.

She went on to explain that the community appreciates and values celebrations and sharing joy with each other, and that these celebrations often feature traditional Chaldean songs and dances.

At home, most Chaldean families don’t communicate in English, the official language in Australia or Arabic, the most common language throughout the ancestral Chaldean homeland. At home, they speak Chaldean.

With this response in mind, I wondered whether the unrelenting use of the Chaldean language allowed the Chaldean people to develop a strong sense of community, or if it was the strong community values fostered by the Chaldean people that facilitated their continued use of the Chaldean language.

Perhaps these factors contribute to a positive feedback loop that ultimately results in a well-connected Chaldean community, highly proficient in the Chaldean language.

It’s clear however, that the continued survival of the Chaldean language was not solely attributed to the use of the language in church services and that, by extension, the Coptic language cannot survive solely through the services of the Coptic Orthodox Church. To ensure the survival of Coptic culture, we must ensure the survival (and revival) of the Coptic language beyond religion. 

At the end of my six months of sabbatical gallivanting around the world, I spent a month in Egypt mainly with family. At the time, my interest in learning the Coptic language and the topic of Coptic revival was at an all-time high, and I had begun to learn Coptic during my downtime in Egypt. However, when I questioned members of my family about whether or not they would be interested in learning the Coptic language too, they were surprised.

To them, the Coptic language was a relic of a bygone era, like the pyramids or the Karnak Temple. Some mentioned that it would be nice to have a greater awareness of the language, but the vast majority of the people I spoke to failed to see any utility in learning the Coptic language to a higher standard.

With uncontrollable currency inflation, a dire economic situation and daily power outages, perhaps the revival of an ancient language is not a priority for most people. The Copts in Egypt may be excused for their apathy towards a further revival of the Coptic language.

However, the revival of any dead language relies greatly on the motivation of non-native speakers to adopt this new language. Thus, the general apathy towards the Coptic language presents a major barrier to the revival of the language. The only language to have been successfully revived in recent history is Hebrew.

The formation of the 'state of Israel' and its settlement by Jewish people from various linguistic backgrounds (Arabic, Russian, German, etc.) necessitated the adoption of a lingua franca for communication. As a result, the Jewish people who worked to learn the Hebrew language as a second language had a very good reason to do so.

In the case of the Coptic language, Egyptians already all speak the same language — Arabic. The revival of the Coptic language doesn’t bear the same practical urgency that the revival of the Hebrew language held. If the revival of the Coptic language is initiated, we must accept that Coptic will not be revived to the same extent as Hebrew. The revival holds a cultural purpose as opposed to a nationalist purpose. 

The Coptic language has the potential to be something that connects Copts in the diaspora to their origins. By that same token, it’s the Copts in the diaspora who are most capable of contributing to the revival of the Coptic language.

The identity crisis of the diaspora drives second and third-generation Copts on frequent expeditions of self-discovery, whether it's through a meticulous study of the history of ancient Egypt, or through pilgrimages to the various monasteries and places of worship in the country. These expeditions of self-discovery, if correctly directed, can contribute to greater awareness and use of the Coptic language.

I have heard stories of parents who are so committed to the issue of Coptic revival that they insist that only Coptic is spoken at home. Whilst this level of dedication is admirable, efforts to revive the Coptic language do not need to be this extensive and tiresome, at least at the beginning.

In an effort to revitalise Breton, a Celtic language spoken in north-western France, popular comics such as Asterix, and The Adventures of Tintin were translated from French to Breton. Similar efforts could be implemented with regard to the dissemination of non-religious material in the Coptic language to allow those learning Coptic to whet their appetite and access a wider range of the Coptic language. 

The diaspora experience necessitates a medium to connect people to their origin. The Coptic language should not be seen merely as an extension of the Coptic Orthodox Church but as its own powerful force, capable of uniting the various diaspora communities around the world through a shared cultural and linguistic identity.