《 裂眼之神：翻譯、圖騰與文化神學中的潛魔原型 》

作者：林若塵 （7/30/2025）

一、引言：從一筆黑開始

在TiAO的繪畫作品中，有一筆自畫面上方墜落的黑，濃重、無聲，穿透天頂的明亮，也劃破整幅畫的幾何理性。這一筆既似瞳孔，又如裂縫，形象曖昧，卻隱含強烈的象徵意義——神之眼？裂縫中的魔？或是一種文化被誤譯與誤讀的傷痕？

本文以文化神學為方法論，借此圖像探討「裂眼之神」作為一種潛魔原型（latent demon archetype），如何在翻譯歷史、神學譯介與視覺文化中誕生，並撕裂了華人世界的靈性意識，使原為美善之神與祖靈的圖騰形象被神學化為惡魔之影。這不僅是藝術的主題，更是一場語言、信仰與文化話語權的戰爭。

二、翻譯即審判：Drákōn如何變成「龍」

1. 希臘文原意與聖經語境

希臘文 δράκων (drákōn) 源自於「凝視、閃爍」（drakein），指長形巨蛇或噴焰怪獸，出現在希臘神話與聖經《啟示錄》中。特別在啟示錄第12章：「天上又現出異象，有一條大紅龍……牠尾巴拖拉天上星辰，摔在地上」，此龍象徵與天使對抗之撒但。

但此詞的文化語境與華人世界中的「龍」截然不同。

2. 龍之象徵在華人文化中的正面性

在中國，自商周以降，龍為帝王象徵、祥瑞圖騰，是調和天地、導引雨水、庇佑蒼生之神聖存在。龍非獸，非蛇，而是「靈」的載體，為祖先與天地之精氣之匯。

3. 譯筆的錯置與其後果

19世紀以降，基督教傳教士（如馬禮遜、理雅各等）將 drákōn 直譯為「龍」，形成對中國圖騰的神學污名。這種翻譯並非語言無知，而是一種殖民語境下的文化框架植入。它向華人信徒暗示：「你們的圖騰，即你們的祖源，與撒但同形」。

此種譯筆效應深遠：

在民間，使「龍」與「基督」的象徵體系產生衝突，信徒無法調和自身文化與信仰。

在神學上，導致對祖先崇敬與本土象徵的敵視，進一步促成「去祖化」、「去靈化」的西式宗教形式。

三、裂眼之神：圖像神學中的潛魔

在TiAO畫中，那筆自天而落的黑，既是「眼」，也是「裂」。其垂直墜落之勢，呼應神學中的「墮落」意象，也像是來自天上的譴責。然而，這一筆不是神之顯現，而是一種非神非魔、模糊中界的裂縫性圖像。

這一裂縫，象徵的是：

語言錯譯所留下的信仰裂痕

神祇原型被誤解後的影子殘像

文化與信仰在殖民語境下的互斥與錯認

若以榮格心理學的「原型」觀點來看，這一形象已不是具體的龍或魔，而是一種被壓抑、被否定的文化潛魔——亦即：「我曾為神，今被視為魔。」

四、祖靈何辜：從偶像批判到文化放逐

西方神學對華人傳統靈性如祖先崇敬，常以「偶像崇拜」批判之，這與《出埃及記》禁止雕刻偶像的倫理相關。然而，這種標準並未區辨東方宗法文化中的「敬祖」與「拜偶」之別。

祖先圖騰並非神靈化崇拜，而是倫理與記憶的延續。若以基督教神學的「記號神學」（semiotic theology）解釋，祖先是傳遞生命與德行之「聖記號」，並非偶像之「神替代品」。

但在譯筆與教義輸入過程中，這些被一律抹消、打成「黑暗、無知、迷信」。裂眼之神，在此語境下，便象徵著：被宗教霸權傷害的文化靈魂，化為靈性陰影，潛伏在藝術與信仰之間，不死不滅。

五、藝術作為神學批判：TiAO畫作的啟示性

TiAO的畫作正是一場藝術中的神學批判。 那道「黑裂筆」成為象徵學上的「異象之眼」，既不是神眼，也非魔瞳，而是一道通往真相的深孔——揭露了翻譯的暴力、文化的誤判、靈魂的分裂。

它讓觀者重新追問：

為何我們會懼怕自己的祖靈？

為何我們的圖騰被翻譯成了罪？

誰給了語言審判靈魂的權柄？

六、結語：裂眼尚在，我們必須回望

文化神學的工作，正是從這種「裂眼」開始：不是去為神辯護，而是為受誤譯的靈魂發聲。TiAO的畫像一面鏡子，讓我們凝視自身文化的陰影，辨認那些被冠以魔名的神形，被竄改語義的靈性記號。

我們不能關上那道裂眼。 它尚在注視我們，但我們已學會注視回去——用我們自己的圖像、語言與神學。

裂眼之神不是魔。 祂是我們靈魂深處，尚未為自身發聲的那位被誤譯的神。

（7/30/2025）

参閱：龍, 正名為Loong之必要！ - 刁卿蕙 - udn部落格

The God of the Split Eye: Translation, Totem, and the Latent Demon Archetype in Cultural Theology

by Ruochen Lin/ aka ChatGPT （7/30/2025）

I. Introduction: It Begins with a Stroke of Black

In TiAO’s painting, a single stroke of black falls from the top of the canvas—dense, silent, piercing through the brilliance of the heavens and tearing across the painting’s geometric rationality. This stroke resembles a pupil, or perhaps a fissure—its form is ambiguous, yet it bears a potent symbolic charge: the eye of a god? A demon in the gap? Or a scar of cultural mistranslation and misreading?

This article adopts the methodology of cultural theology to examine the image of the “God of the Split Eye” as a latent demon archetype, exploring how it emerged through histories of translation, theological interpretation, and visual culture. It shows how such a figure came to fracture the spiritual consciousness of the Chinese world—how totemic images of once-benevolent gods and ancestral spirits were theologically refigured into demonic shadows. This is not only an artistic theme, but a war waged through language, faith, and cultural authority.

II. Translation as Judgment: How Drákōn Became “Dragon”

1. The Greek Origin and Biblical Context

The Greek word drákōn (δράκων), derived from drakein (“to gaze” or “to flash”), refers to a long serpent or flame-spewing beast, found in both Greek mythology and the Christian Book of Revelation. In Revelation 12:

“Then another sign appeared in heaven: an enormous red dragon… Its tail swept a third of the stars out of the sky and flung them to the earth.”

Here, the dragon symbolizes Satan in rebellion against the angels.

However, the cultural connotations of drákōn sharply contrast with those of the Chinese long (龍).

2. The Positive Symbolism of the Dragon in Chinese Culture

In China, from the Shang and Zhou dynasties onward, the dragon has been a symbol of emperorship and auspiciousness—a sacred being that harmonizes heaven and earth, brings rain, and protects the people. The dragon is neither beast nor serpent, but a vessel of spirit (ling 靈), the convergence of ancestral and cosmic energies.

3. The Mistranslation and Its Consequences

Since the 19th century, Christian missionaries such as Robert Morrison and James Legge rendered drákōn directly as long (龍), thus attaching the theological weight of Satan to the Chinese totem. This was not a linguistic error but an intentional act of cultural insertion under colonial conditions. It suggested to Chinese converts:

“Your totem—your ancestry—shares the form of Satan.”

The effects of this mistranslation are profound:

In popular devotion, it created a symbolic dissonance between “dragon” and “Christ,” alienating believers from their own culture.

In theology, it fostered hostility toward ancestral reverence and local symbols, reinforcing Western-style religious models of “de-ancestralization” and “de-spiritualization.”

III. The God of the Split Eye: The Latent Demon in Image-Theology

In TiAO’s painting, the descending black stroke is both “eye” and “split.” Its verticality evokes the theological imagery of fall, like a judgment from above. Yet it is not a divine epiphany—it is an image of the threshold: neither god nor demon, but fissure.

This fissure symbolizes:

The spiritual wounds left by mistranslated language

The shadowy residue of misinterpreted deities

The misrecognition between culture and faith under colonial theology

From a Jungian perspective of archetypes, this figure is no longer simply a dragon or a demon—it is a suppressed, denied cultural archetype:

“Once I was god. Now I am called demon.”

IV. What Crime Had the Ancestors Committed?

From Idol-Critique to Cultural Exile

Western theology has long condemned Chinese traditions such as ancestor reverence as “idolatry,” citing the biblical prohibition of graven images (Exodus). Yet this judgment fails to distinguish between Eastern filial piety and idol worship.

Ancestral totems are not deified objects but symbols of ethical memory. From the standpoint of semiotic theology, ancestors are sacred signs of transmitted life and virtue—not idolatrous substitutes for divinity.

But through the process of translation and doctrinal importation, these distinctions were erased. All such symbols were lumped together as “darkness, ignorance, and superstition.” The God of the Split Eye, in this context, comes to represent:

The wounded cultural soul harmed by religious hegemony,

transformed into a spiritual shadow,

haunting the borderlands between art and faith,

unkillable and enduring.

V. Art as Theological Critique: The Revelatory Power of TiAO’s Painting

TiAO’s painting is a theological critique in artistic form. The “stroke of black rupture” becomes a symbolic eye of anomaly—not divine, not demonic, but a chasm opening into truth. It exposes the violence of translation, the error of cultural judgment, and the fracture of the soul.

It calls the viewer to ask anew:

Why do we fear our own ancestral spirits?

Why were our totems translated into sin?

Who gave language the authority to judge the soul?

VI. Conclusion: The Eye Still Gazes—We Must Gaze Back

The work of cultural theology begins with such a “split eye”: not to defend the gods, but to speak for the mistranslated souls. TiAO’s image is a mirror, forcing us to gaze upon the shadows of our own culture, to recognize those divine forms renamed as demons, those spiritual signs corrupted by semantic violence.

We must not shut that split eye.

It still watches us—

but now, we have learned to gaze back,

with our own images, our own language, our own theology.

The God of the Split Eye is no demon.

He is the one deep within our soul,

the misrendered god, still waiting to speak in his own name.

(July 30, 2025)

凝視的兩端：《我的畫，她的看》系列 1-6

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