From ancient times the meaning of translation has been a problem.
One of
the most vigorous debates of the late fourth century was concerned with the
question as to how to translate Origen's treatise On First Principles from
Greek into Latin.
Both sides agreed that a word-for-word translation was
useless;
one had to translate meanings, not fragments.
The question of meaning
then had to be faced.
In several respects Origen's doctrine differed from
that regarded as orthodox by his translators.
Should one lay more emphasis
on Origen's intention to be orthodox,
and then modify his statements in the
direction of later orthodoxy?
This was the procedure employed by Rufinus.
Or should one translate just about what he said,
pointing out that at various
points his views were heretical?
Jerome took this course and accused Rufinus
of falsification.
It is obvious that the same kind of problem arises when one translates the
New Testament.
To be sure, no one expects the New Testament writers to use
the terminology of later orthodox theology.
But one does expect that they
will not absolutely disagree with one another,
or with the main thrust of
the Old Testament,
since they regarded it as inspired and prophetic.
If one
is translating their meaning rather than their exact words,
one inevitably
enters the realm of theology; one cannot remain strictly philological -
if
such a situation is really conceivable.
The question of translation is extremely important in dealing with the New Testament because
At first glance,
it might appear simple enough to make a translation.
Assuming that we "know
Greek" or, in other words, have studied its grammar, syntax and vocabulary
to such an extent that we do not get lost when confronted with a simple
Greek sentence, we may suppose that we can proceed directly to the New
Testament - perhaps to the Gospel of John - and then, making
use of the rules we have learned and the dictionary we have acquired, "render"
it into English.
Sometimes, to be sure, such is almost the case.
"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God."
If we refrain from asking questions about the meaning of BEGINNING, WORD and GOD,
we may be able to believe
that we have an adequate translation.
But there is still the difficult word AND.
What
function does it perform in the sentence?
And have we translated correctly
when we place the three clauses in a straightforward sequence like the one
just given?
Or should the verse read thus? -
"In the beginning was the Word,
and the Word was with God,
and the Word was God."
Apart from these questions, there is of course the problem of the meanings
of the words.
How do we determine what the words mean?
Do we look them up
in a simple pocket lexicon, which may tell us that "logos" means
only "word"?
Do we go on to a larger dictionary, which will inform us that "logos" has
a wide range of meanings?
And, if we go on, how do we tell which meaning or meanings was or were intended
by the author or understood by his readers, early or late?
It seems fairly likely that what the author intended can best be understood,
by looking at the immediate context of the passage we are translating.
If
we look at the context of this verse in John,
we find that the subject of
discussion seems to change from Word through Life to Light,
and that nothing
more is directly stated about the Word
until we reach the sentence which
says
that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory.
But a WORD which BECAME FLESH is
not the kind of word which is known in ordinary English usage.
How, then,
are we to translate LOGOS?
Should we run the risk
of ambiguity by simply calling it Word (with a capital letter, since "the
Word of God") -
or should we venture into the equally risky area
of paraphrase?
Now the sentence with which John begins his gospel is relatively simple
when compared with some of the "hard to understand" (II Pet. 3:16) passages
in the Pauline epistles.
And in all such instances we are likely to fall
into two traps, one on either side of whatever the true path may be.
This is to say that absolutely rigid rules for translating, as for interpreting
(in Greek, HERMENEIA included both meanings), cannot be laid down.
In
every case we are dealing with a living author who used grammar and syntax
as a means, not as an end in itself.
Like Humpty Dumpty in Alice in Wonderland, he
was the master of his words -
though admittedly there may have been occasions
on which the words mastered him
and he did not clearly or fully express what
was in his mind.
The point at which to begin, however, is with the grammar
and the syntax.
For all New Testament writers (see Chapter IV) the sentence
and its structure is more immediately comprehensible than are the meanings
of words.
But the meanings of words are obviously of supreme importance.
First we
must determine what effect we wish our translation to give in relation to
the meaning of a word.
Is it to represent
Before we can go any farther we must recognize the ambiguities present in each of these cases.
It might appear that the possibility of translating does not really exist;
and to some extent such is the case.
There can never be an absolutely final
translation of the New Testament, for
We should say something about what we do know about the Greek of the New
Testament.
Obviously it is not classical.
What is it?
Around the seventeenth
century there were those who believed that it was a special language created
by the Holy Spirit,
but - especially in the late nineteenth century - this
view lost favour when a great many letters, business documents and other
writings were discovered, preserved in papyrus in the dry climate of the
Egyptian desert.
The language of these papyri was much the same as that found
in the New Testament.
Scholars therefore turned to them to find out the meaning
of words, grammar and syntax in the Hellenistic period, and in the light
of this knowledge to interpret the New Testament.
On the other hand, it has
proved impossible to pass directly from the papyri to New Testament exegesis,
for two reasons.
Thus far we have been discussing chiefly the problems presented by the materials
being translated;
but there are also difficulties in our own language and
our use of it.
The English language has undergone almost constant change since the year
1611, to go back no farther.
Words have lost their original, or earlier,
meanings and overtones and have acquired other overtones and meanings.
Conspicuous
examples of such changes can be found by reading Shakespeare, the King James
Version, and the Book of Common Prayer - in spite of the fact that alterations
have been made in the last two.
In a prayer-book collect God is still asked
to "prevent" us, when we are really asking him to lead;
the so-called "comfortable
words" are really meant to be encouraging or strengthening.
The English
of today is also different, generally speaking, in style.
King James's translators
were trained in a rhetoric rather alien to our own more pedestrian turns
of phrase.
Where they often favoured long words with Latin derivations we
tend to prefer shorter Anglo-Saxon terms.
These differences in vocabulary
and style account for many of the variations between the older English versions
and the more modern ones.
Sometimes it is suggested that these older translations, hallowed by usage,
are the most satisfactory because their archaic language conveys overtones
of the antiquity which is actually a feature of the Bible.
Augustine has
advanced such an argument against Jerome's novel translation of the Old
Testament,
and by modern opponents of such translations as the Revised Standard
Version.
There is, of course, something to it.
The New Testament writers
themselves did not hesitate to make free use of the Septuagint version of
the Old Testament,
written in a Greek at times very strange and, in their
time, a century or so old.
In addition, at least some of the New Testament
writings were intended for liturgical use,
and liturgical language emphasizes
the continuity of Christianity by preserving archaic expressions --
which
are sometimes, though not often, incomprehensible to later generations.
Some
of the New Testament writings, then, are archaizing in flavour and a purely
"modern" translation does not translate.
On the other hand, the narrative
portions of Acts and most of the Pauline epistles were written in a style
which was not archaizing, and if they are translated archaistically the translation
does not convey the authors' intentions.
This defence of modernizing, however,
cannot be pressed too far, for translations have at least two purposes:
It is possible that a more modern translation may provide
more adequate instruction while failing to achieve the goal desired in
devotional contemplation or liturgy.
At the same time, no "modern" or "fresh"
translation is likely to remain either modern or fresh,
and no archaizing
translation can be allowed to remain too far in the past.
Translation is
a continuing task with a goal never finally attainable.
Then does the New Testament mean whatever anyone may suppose it to mean?
Such a conclusion is not valid because, in spite of the severe limits we
have tried to place upon "knowledge falsely so-called",
it is still possible to determine something about grammar, syntax, and
the meanings of words in the context provided by the authors of the New
Testament books.
This is to say that there is a relative objectivity in the translation
of the New Testament;
but there is not, and never will be, a translation
that conveys the exact meaning, or range of meanings, found in every passage.
In addition, the presence of ambiguity in the New Testament documents themselves
must be recognized.
There are quite a few passages in which several translations,
often with rather different meanings, are possible.
(This fact is made clear
especially in the footnotes to the New English Bible.)
The possibility of
ambiguity arises under various kinds of circumstances.
First comes the ambiguity
that is to be found in English
but not in the original Greek.
This situation
need not be discussed;
it is due to the inadequacy of translation,
not to
anything in the original text.
More important is the ambiguity that actually
may exist in Greek.
Here the original author may have expressed himself unclearly
because of inadequacies either in thought or in expression.
The cause of
the inadequacy is important.
Is it due to the author himself or to the subject
matter?
If it is due to the author, the translator need do no more than reproduce
the inadequacy.
If it is due to the subject matter, which may transcend the
author's powers of thought or expression,
the translator needs to choose
words that can convey this impression.
Writers who deal with the work of
God in history cannot always write with the preciseness of an Aristotle discussing
categories or the habits of animals.
In translating unclear sentences in
which the authors' reach exceeds their grasp because of the "heavenly" nature
of the subject,
we must try to let the ambiguity indicate the authors' intentions.
We must also avoid maintaining the notion that there is any one clearly
definable key to all the mysteries of the Bible.
Martin Luther once wrote
these words about the Psalms:
"God be thanked,
when I understood the subject matter
and knew that "God's righteousness"
meant "righteousness through which he justifies us
through righteousness freely given in Jesus Christ",
then I understood the grammar.
Only then did I find the Psalter to my taste."
Certainly justification through grace is a central concern
of the New Testament and, to some measure, of the Old.
But it is not the
only concern,
and we must not place New Testament words and thoughts on a
Procrustean bed -
even Luther's.
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