The Coptic language: Breathing life into the voice of ancient Egyptians

In the village of Nazlet Al-Fallahin in Egypt’s Minya governorate, students of varying ages sit side by side in a modest classroom tucked inside a small school run by the Virgin Mary Church. Here, beneath the crossbeams of the church compound, they are taught ancient Coptic hymns—a language of prayer and history—under the guidance of Gergis Ibrahim, a Coptic language instructor from the Anba Ruweis Clerical College in Cairo.

Ibrahim established the school in 2007 with a clear mission: to preserve and pass on the Coptic language to younger generations. In 2024, he expanded that mission with the founding of a second school in Taha Al-Amidah, part of the Samalout diocese, in collaboration with Father Lukas Nabil. Both schools form part of a broader, growing movement—made up of both individual and collective efforts—aimed at reviving the language of Egypt’s ancient Christian communities.

Inside the classroom, the results are visible. The students, whose ages span from five to university level, read Coptic fluently, write vocabulary on the board in the cursive script, and engage in simple conversations. Ibrahim insists on using the traditional Coptic script, remaining faithful to the original form of the language rather than modern adaptations. For him, this isn’t just about pedagogy—it’s about continuity, and the belief that the language of the ancients still has something to say to the present.

Origins and historical significance

Coptic is a fundamental component of Egypt’s linguistic landscape. It was the country’s native language from the third century BCE until Arabic gradually replaced it. Some link Coptic with Christianity, noting that both emerged during the same period, as argued by Anton Zekry in his book “Key to the Ancient Egyptian Language.”

Others assert that Coptic is one phase in the evolution of ancient Egyptian language. They cite Heidelberg 414 Papyrus, dating to the third century BCE, which lists Egyptian words in proto-Coptic script (Greek letters, but without the additional letters to represent Egyptian sounds not found in Greek) alongside their Greek equivalents. This is referenced in “How the Coptic Script Came About” by Joachim Friedrich Quack.

A third group rejects any lineage between Coptic and ancient Egyptian language, despite the existence of Černý’s “Coptic Etymological Dictionary,” which connects Coptic to ancient Egyptian through hieroglyphic and demotic scripts.

Coptic language began to decline with the Arab conquest of Egypt and the subsequent Arabization of the administration, government records, and correspondence. Its use dwindled until, by the 18th century, it had nearly vanished. According to Gergis Philotheos Awad in his book “The Coptic Language,” “All that remained in all of Egypt was a single priest and an elderly woman who spoke it.”

The 19th century, however, saw clear efforts to revive the language. Among them was Father Yuhanna al-Shafitshi who taught Coptic to Jean-François Champollion, helping him decipher the Rosetta Stone. Al-Shafitshi also authored a study on the Coptic roots of Egyptian place names.

Dead or endangered?

British scholar of linguistics David Crystal defines a dead language in his book “Language Death” as one that is no longer used and is not passed from parents to children. If a few people still use it, it is considered endangered.

By this definition, Ishaq El-Bagoushi, a member of the Historical Committee of the Coptic Orthodox Church’s Holy Synod, argues that Coptic is not dead. He points to Coptic-language epsalias (hymns for saints) written between the 16th and 18th centuries. “Most epsalias are rhymed poetry. Among their authors were someone named Nicodemus, who wrote over 50, Mettaos, and Pope Mark,” El-Bagoushi said.

He added that in the 19th century, Coptic writing matured, with dictionaries, grammar books, and literature appearing. Notable examples include letters in Coptic from Pope Kyrillos IV to residents of Al-Zinnia in Luxor. The villagers wrote back in the same language.

In the 20th and 21st centuries, numerous epsalia and doxology writers emerged, including the late Bishop Maximus of Qalubiya, Benha, and Quesna, who composed doxologies, epsalias, and letters. Yesa Abdel Masih and Father Matta El-Miskeen also corresponded in Coptic.

Recently, El-Bagoushi co-authored a biography of Father Misael Bahr in Arabic, alongside Bijoul Ansi Ishaq and Khalaf Shahata Milik. Dr. Gergis Ibrahim Youssef translated the work into Bohairic Coptic, and Mina Adel Mustaqim (later Father Sidaros Adel) revised the translation. It appeared in issue two of “The Coptic Rock” magazine in 2014. Anthony Alcock of Oxford University, impressed by the effort, translated the Coptic version into English, remarking that “the effort to revive [Coptic], among other things by producing original written material such as this, is ongoing and should be applauded.”

El-Bagoushi notes ongoing debates over Coptic pronunciation. One school follows the traditional pronunciation used in Zinnia and al-Dabiya villages. The other adopts the official style introduced by Erian Effendi Muftah in the 19th century. “I don’t see it as a fundamental conflict,” El-Bagoushi said. “Whether we say ‘Afnouti’ or ‘Abnoudi,’ both mean ‘God.’ In rural areas they say ‘Ajyos’ with a soft ‘g,’ while in modern pronunciation it’s ‘Agios’ with a hard, Cairene ‘g,’ but both share the same letters and meaning—holy. It’s a linguistic richness that doesn’t alter the meaning.”

Coptic also has a distinct script known as cursive Coptic, a decorative handwriting style used by 19th and early 20th-century writers. Some of these texts appeared in “Ain Shams” magazine in 1900. One of the best-known users of this script was Youssef Narouz.

Nationalist motivations

Gergis Ibrahim, who founded the Nazlet Al-Fallahin and Taha Al-Aameda schools, teaches Coptic with religious motives—to understand “what’s said in church.” These differ from the nationalistic motives that inspired George Sedhom's separate efforts to revive the Coptic language.

“I see it as my national language,” Sedhom told Al Manassa, adding that he taught his two children, Narmer and Tetisheri, Coptic from birth and still speaks it with them daily.

https://youtu.be/sdN1LGTa11I

“There are Muslims learning Coptic for national and cultural reasons, though their numbers are small,” Sedhom added, attributing the low retention rate among learners to the language’s difficulty and the lack of practical incentive.

Still, Martha Maurice insists on learning Coptic not for career advancement, but out of what she calls “love, passion, identity, and a hunger for a stolen culture.”

Kai Mohamed, a young Muslim man, says he is learning Coptic because “It’s the language of my ancestors.” Aseel Ahmed, a young Muslim woman, agrees: “Learning Coptic connects me to my Egyptian roots and helps me reclaim a heritage that’s being stolen from us every day.”

A path full of challenges

In practice, the number of fluent Coptic speakers is only in the dozens, according to those we interviewed, including speakers and teachers. Despite the efforts of churches, institutions, and individuals to spread the language, the path to reviving Coptic remains difficult. Gergis Ibrahim emphasizes the need for broader state involvement and greater community initiatives.

He believes that even if Coptic were included in school curricula like the proposed teaching of hieroglyphics, it would not be effective unless taught as a full language. “Learning the alphabet alone won’t make speakers. We need real language instruction, like with English or French, that allows us to use it naturally in daily life.”

Yet, the hope lives on. Gergis Ibrahim and his colleagues host an annual Coptic-speaking forum, deliver lectures in the language, and use it in writing, translation, and even literature.

Thus, from a small school in Minya, and from a hymn sung by a seven-year-old child, Coptic is attempting to reemerge into modern Egyptian life. As Ibrahim says, “When I started at the school in 2007, I had a single group of 15 students, the youngest in primary school. Now I have groups from kindergarten to university, and the school’s graduates are now teaching the next generation.”