Pistis Sophia 33.2 · 33.2

I sank in the slime of the abyss

ⲁⲓ̈ⲧⲱⲗⲥ̅ ⲏ̀ ⲁⲓ̈ⲱⲙⲥ̅ ⲉⲧⲗⲟⲓ̈ϩⲉ ⲙ̅ⲡⲛⲟⲩⲛ ⲁⲩⲱ ⲛⲉ ⲙⲛ̅ϣϭⲟⲙ ⲡⲉ· ⲁⲓ̈ⲉⲓ̅ ⲉⲛⲉϫⲏⲕ ⲛ̅ⲑⲁⲗⲁⲥⲥⲁ· ⲟⲩϩⲁⲧⲏⲩ ⲧⲉ ⲛ̅ⲧⲁⲥⲟⲙⲉⲥⲧ̅· ⲁⲓ̈ϩⲓⲥⲉ ⲉⲓ̈ϫⲓ ϣⲕⲁⲕ ⲉⲃⲟⲗ· ⲧⲁϣⲟⲩⲱⲃⲉ ⲧⲉ ⲉⲛⲧⲁⲥϩⲱⲗ· ⲁⲛⲁⲃⲁⲗ ⲱϫⲛ̅ ⲉⲓ̈ⲕⲱ ⲛ̅ϩⲧⲏⲓ̈ ⲉⲡⲛⲟⲩⲧⲉ· ⲁⲩⲁϣⲁⲓ̈ ⲉϩⲟⲩⲉ ⲛ̅ϥⲱ ⲛ̅ⲧⲁⲁⲡⲉ ⲛ̅ϭⲓⲛⲉⲧⲙⲟⲥⲧⲉ ⲙ̅ⲙⲟⲓ̈ ⲉⲡϫⲓⲛϫⲏ· ⲁⲩϭⲙ̅ϭⲟⲙ ⲛ̅ϭⲓⲛⲁϫⲁϫⲉ· ⲛⲉⲧⲇⲓⲱⲕⲉ ⲙ̅ⲙⲟⲓ̈ ϩⲛ̅ⲟⲩϫⲓⲛϭⲟⲛⲥ̅· ⲛⲉⲧⲉⲙ̅ⲡⲓⲧⲟⲣⲡⲟⲩ· ⲁⲩϣⲁⲧⲧ̅ ⲙ̅ⲙⲟⲟⲩ· ⲡⲛⲟⲩⲧⲉ ⲛ̅ⲧⲟⲕ ⲉⲛⲧⲁⲕⲉⲓⲙⲉ ⲉⲧⲁⲙ̅ⲛ̅ⲧ̅ⲁⲑⲏⲧ· ⲁⲩⲱ ⲛⲁⲛⲟⲃⲉ ⲙ̅ⲡⲟⲩϩⲱⲡ ⲉⲣⲟⲕ· ⲙ̅ⲡⲣ̅ⲧⲣⲉⲩϫⲓϣⲓⲡⲉ ⲉⲧⲃⲏⲏⲧ ⲛ̅ϭⲓⲛⲉⲧϩⲩⲡⲟⲙⲓⲛⲉ ⲉⲣⲟⲕ ⲡϫⲟⲉⲓⲥ·

I sank — or, I was submerged — in the slime of the abyss, and there was no power. I went into the depths of the sea; a tempest submerged me. I toiled, crying out; my throat has failed; my eyes gave out while I set my heart on God. Those who hate me without cause have multiplied beyond the hairs of my head; my enemies grew strong, those who pursue me with violence; what I did not seize, they exacted of me. God, you are the one who knew my folly, and my sins were not hidden from you. Let not those who wait on you be put to shame because of me, O Lord —

Word by word

ⲁⲓ̈ⲧⲱⲗⲥ̅aitōlsI sankⲏ̀ēorⲁⲓ̈ⲱⲙⲥ̅aiōmsI was submergedⲉⲧⲗⲟⲓ̈ϩⲉetloihein the slimeⲙ̅ⲡⲛⲟⲩⲛmpnounof the abyssⲁⲩⲱauōandⲛⲉneand thereⲙⲛ̅ϣϭⲟⲙmnshchomwas no powerⲡⲉpeheaven, sky·ⲁⲓ̈ⲉⲓ̅aieiI wentⲉⲛⲉϫⲏⲕenejēkinto the depthsⲛ̅ⲑⲁⲗⲁⲥⲥⲁnthalassaof the sea·ⲟⲩϩⲁⲧⲏⲩouhatēua tempestⲧⲉteit isⲛ̅ⲧⲁⲥⲟⲙⲉⲥⲧ̅ntasomestthat submerged me·ⲁⲓ̈ϩⲓⲥⲉaihiseI toiledⲉⲓ̈ϫⲓeijiraisingϣⲕⲁⲕshkaka cryⲉⲃⲟⲗebolout·ⲧⲁϣⲟⲩⲱⲃⲉtashouōbemy throatⲧⲉteit isⲉⲛⲧⲁⲥϩⲱⲗentashōlthat has failed·ⲁⲛⲁⲃⲁⲗanabalmy eyesⲱϫⲛ̅ōjngave outⲉⲓ̈ⲕⲱeikōwhile I setⲛ̅ϩⲧⲏⲓ̈nhtēimy heartⲉⲡⲛⲟⲩⲧⲉepnouteon God·ⲁⲩⲁϣⲁⲓ̈auashaithey multipliedⲉϩⲟⲩⲉehouemore thanⲛ̅ϥⲱnfōthe hairsⲛ̅ⲧⲁⲁⲡⲉntaapeof my headⲛ̅ϭⲓⲛⲉⲧⲙⲟⲥⲧⲉnchinetmostethose who hateⲙ̅ⲙⲟⲓ̈mmoimeⲉⲡϫⲓⲛϫⲏepjinjēwithout cause·ⲁⲩϭⲙ̅ϭⲟⲙauchmchomthey grew strongⲛ̅ϭⲓⲛⲁϫⲁϫⲉnchinajajemy enemies·ⲛⲉⲧⲇⲓⲱⲕⲉnetdiōkethose who pursueⲙ̅ⲙⲟⲓ̈mmoimeϩⲛ̅ⲟⲩϫⲓⲛϭⲟⲛⲥ̅hnoujinchonswith violence·ⲛⲉⲧⲉⲙ̅ⲡⲓⲧⲟⲣⲡⲟⲩnetempitorpouwhat I did not seize·ⲁⲩϣⲁⲧⲧ̅aushattthey exactedⲙ̅ⲙⲟⲟⲩmmoouof me·ⲡⲛⲟⲩⲧⲉpnouteGodⲛ̅ⲧⲟⲕntokyouⲉⲛⲧⲁⲕⲉⲓⲙⲉentakeimeare the one who knewⲉⲧⲁⲙ̅ⲛ̅ⲧ̅ⲁⲑⲏⲧetamntathētmy folly·ⲁⲩⲱauōandⲛⲁⲛⲟⲃⲉnanobeand my sinsⲙ̅ⲡⲟⲩϩⲱⲡmpouhōpwere not hiddenⲉⲣⲟⲕerokfrom you·ⲙ̅ⲡⲣ̅ⲧⲣⲉⲩϫⲓϣⲓⲡⲉmprtreujishipelet them not be put to shameⲉⲧⲃⲏⲏⲧetbēētbecause of meⲛ̅ϭⲓⲛⲉⲧϩⲩⲡⲟⲙⲓⲛⲉnchinethupominethose who waitⲉⲣⲟⲕerokon youⲡϫⲟⲉⲓⲥpjoeisO Lord·

The setting

Mary recites the psalm itself — the sixty-eighth of the Coptic Psalter, the sixty-ninth of English Bibles — and for the first time the reader hears the original under Sophia’s variation: I sank in the slime of the abyss, and there was no footing; I went down into the depths of the sea; a tempest drowned me. I wore myself out crying; my throat failed; my eyes gave out from watching for God. Those who hate me without cause outnumber the hairs of my head; my enemies grew strong; what I did not steal, they exacted from me. God, you know my folly; my sins are not hidden from you. Let not those who wait for you be shamed on my account.

A note on this passage

Now the reader finally hears the theme under the variation — the psalm itself, in the Coptic of the Egyptian church, quoted AFTER Sophia’s remake of it. The book has run the concert backwards on purpose: first the repentance, then its scripture, so that every phrase of David lands as recognition. And one word in the psalm’s first line carries more history than the rest of the chapter combined. "I sank in the slime of the ABYSS" — the Coptic is noun, and it is not a borrowing from Greek but the oldest theological word in the book: Egyptian Nun, the dark primeval waters that existed before creation, out of which the first god raised the first ground. Three thousand years of Egyptian cosmology survive inside this one noun — so when the Psalter’s Hebrew "deep" was translated for Egyptian readers, it fell, precisely, into the Nun. A Hebrew psalm, counted in Greek, quoted in Egyptian, inside a Gnostic gospel: the slime of the abyss is the one place all four religions meet.

The forensic verses read like Sophia’s case file, which is exactly what Mary will make of them. "What I did not seize, they exacted of me" — Sophia’s complaint to the letter: the light she never took from the emanations was taken from her, with interest. "Those who hate me without cause outnumber the hairs of my head" — her e-p-jinjē, now with the psalm’s arithmetic of malice. Even the psalm’s confession, "you knew my folly", supplies what her own prayer politely withheld: she pleaded innocence of heart, and the psalm, speaking for her, admits the mnt-at-hēt — the heartlessness, the failure of sense — that innocence and folly were the same act. The last quoted line turns outward: let not those who wait for you be shamed on my account — the fallen aeon worrying, like the drowning psalmist, about the bystanders’ faith.

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