I can’t specifically say when I first heard a reading from Eccelsiastes, but I do remember it sounding strikingly miserable for the Bible. I guess I might have been around nine or ten. I was not really aware of either the obsolescent meaning of vanity as emptiness, nor of the odd semitic construction of the superlative that passed into English via the KJV. What I do know is that I associated the phrase with Private Frazer from Dad’s Army. In my mind “Vanity of vanities: all is vanity!” segued effortlessly into “We’re all doomed, Captain Mainwaring, doomed I tell you.” Irrespective of the fine details of exegesis, that tone seems to match the rhetorical tradition of quoting Qoheleth, and shows how one’s own reading is a multi-layered and many-influenced thing. Some phrases just don’t seem the same in newer translations, and discovering the Bible’s very own miserable bugger made the wording all the more valued.
The blogabout boxing match on 1 Corinthians 9:27 continues. To the blogs referenced in yesterday’s post, you can now add (at least) David Ker now lingering in Better Bibles, ElShaddai Edwards, and that most perspicacious and pugnacious pugilist John Hobbins.
I repeat yesterday’s defensive block first. Despite everything everyone else is saying, I always called my rendition a paraphrase, not a translation. Take that into account.
Interestingly, David and John seem to take opposite sides on one key point. David thinks that
The reason this word [ὑπωπιάζω] gets used in such different contexts is that the word is a dead metaphor, or “semantically bleached” (I’ve always wanted to use that phrase on a blog). And further proof of this is that Paul collocates it with “body” which would really be strange: “I hit myself on the face my body.”
By contrast, John clearly wishes to translate it as a live metaphor, by a corresponding metaphor, though he doesn’t like the one of my original paraphrase. After toying with his son’s “bust my butt” he settles for “break my body”. The problem is that the former is as AmE as my “ponce” was BrE1, and the latter, as far as I know, simply isn’t an English metaphor, nor does it seem to me vivid enough to become one.
Is it a live metaphor or a dead one? If we only had the use of it in Luke 18:5 we would, I think conclude that it was indeed pushing up the linguistic daisies, and nailed to the semantic perch. If we only had the use in 1 Cor 9:27, then I think, seeing it amidst all those other agonistic metaphors, we would think it was not so much pining for, but avidly looking forward to a frolic in the poetic fjords.2 Even if it had become a dead metaphor, we would have to think there was at least the possibility of its metaphorical roots being raised from the dead by Pauline punning. So if we think, as I do, that in context it is probably impossible completely to ignore the metaphor implicit in its etymology, we may still want to argue for a far less precise English equivalent, since there are some grounds for thinking the metaphor is imbued by contextual and etymological pun rather than customary contemporary usage.
In which case we have now been give a wide range of metaphors to choose from in posts and comments. Of them, the one made so far that strikes me as the most common idiom is a variant on Peter Kirk’s suggestion in a comment. He suggested “I bust my gut” but I would say “I bust a gut” is more idiomatic. If one wishes for a less colourful yet still colloquial alternative, I would suggest “I push myself hard”: it loses the sense of bruising or breaking, but maintains the sense of hard competition, and given the argument above ought certainly to be an acceptable alternative metaphor.
Translating a metaphor remains a knotty problem. While I think it well worth the effort of finding equivalent metaphors that work naturally in the target language, I think there are also occasions when the original metaphor is so striking, we may legitimately translate it term for term. The English language has been immeasurably enriched by the willingness of Tyndale and the KJV among others to do just that.
Notes- for those not in the know, Am(erican) E(nglish) and Br(itish) E(nglish) [↩]
- All references to Monty Python’s Dead Parrot Sketch [↩]
The conversation about 1 Corinthians 9:27 seems to be growing. See TC, Nathan (and again) and my previous post. Now the pugilistic Peter Kirk has stepped into the ring, and I need to exchange a few punches with him. He’s aided by John Hobbins, who doesn’t like my suggestion, but has only said so in a comment on Peter’s blog and not here. I’m sure this is against the Marquess of Queensbury’s blog rules.
First a defensive block: please note that I offered what I did explicitly calling it a paraphrase, so critique it on those grounds and not, strictly speaking, a translation.
Now on to the meat of it. One of Peter’s key points is about principle. It is possible, he suggests to take my English metaphors literally. It seems to me that if that is a valid objection we had all better stop using metaphors, since most can be taken literally by someone. Six days of creation, anyone? Son of God? Peter claims that no-one could possible take Paul’s “I bruise my body / give myself a black eye” literally. I suggest that those who have indulged in corporeal self-mortification have done just that.
Peter’s own “literal translation” of this verse is: “I give my body a black eye and lead it in slavery”. The problem I have with this is twofold, and both objections are exegetical.
The controlling metaphor which overarches the whole section is one of competitive participation in the games. If this is what people are prepared to put up with to win a paltry prize, how much more discipline should Christians put into winning the refulgent rewards of righteousness! I simply fail to see how giving ὑπωπιάζω its simplest meaning easily fits that overarching metaphor. It is possible that Paul’s language is confused. It is also possible that he draws on its extended semantic field, which my paraphrase suggests. We need not stray very far. Hard training, particularly in practice bouts, could easily lead to “accidental” black eyes on the part of the one in training. We could stray a lot further. The importunate widow of Luke 18:5 is hardly in the business of giving the unjust judge a black eye. Personally, I think the training metaphor keeps us nearer the core usage, but we need to recognise that the word is used in a wider range of metaphorical contexts, with less precise meaning.
My second objection is in considering the straightforward sense of these verses if they are taken as “”I give my body a black eye and lead it in slavery”. If this is the case, Paul is characterising the body as an enemy to be fought against, and conquered. Certainly this dualist view of the body has regularly appeared both in the interpretation of Paul and in the Christian tradition more widely. I am unconvinced that it is an accurate interpretation of Paul, whose view of the body, while not remotely hedonistic, is more positive than the Platonism of σῶμα σῆμα (the body is a tomb). Again, it is possible that Paul is inconsistent, but when two interpretations are equally possible, I prefer the one that is most consistent with what Paul says elsewhere.
And I think I’m winning on points.
Nathan is posting regularly on his learning of Greek. I’m sure that’s going to be helpful to all sorts of other people. Most recently he’s been getting down to it with the BAGD – the big boys’ lexicon. His particular examination raises some questions in my mind. The verses he is looking at are interesting in themselves.
24 Do you not know that in a race the runners all compete, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win it. 25 Athletes exercise self-control in all things; they do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable one. 26 So I do not run aimlessly, nor do I box as though beating the air; 27 but I punish my body and enslave it, so that after proclaiming to others I myself should not be disqualified. (1 Corinthians 9:24-27 NRSV)
24 Οὐκ οἴδατε ὅτι οἱ ἐν σταδίῳ τρέχοντες πάντες μὲν τρέχουσιν, εἷς δὲ λαμβάνει τὸ βραβεῖον; οὕτως τρέχετε ἵνα καταλάβητε. 25 πᾶς δὲ ὁ ἀγωνιζόμενος πάντα ἐγκρατεύεται, ἐκεῖνοι μὲν οὖν ἵνα φθαρτὸν στέφανον λάβωσιν, ἡμεῖς δὲ ἄφθαρτον. 26 ἐγὼ τοίνυν οὕτως τρέχω ὡς οὐκ ἀδήλως, οὕτως πυκτεύω ὡς οὐκ ἀέρα δέρων· 27 ἀλλὰ ὑπωπιάζω μου τὸ σῶμα καὶ δουλαγωγῶ, μή πως ἄλλοις κηρύξας αὐτὸς ἀδόκιμος γένωμαι.
The passage is replete with metaphors drawn from the experience of (especially) the Isthmian games which Paul may have experienced first hand.1 The use to which he puts them is loose enough to invite caution. He is clearly not intending to suggest that only one person can achieve salvation. The passage as a whole suggests that his emphasis is on training rather than competing, and the key idea controlling the later metaphors is that “athletes exercise self-control”. The exercises described in vv26-27 are, it seems to me, best understood as part of the gymnasium training package. That is part of what makes the passage so interesting. Paul shows no sign of discomfort with the imagery of the gym, but seems at ease in the culture. (The other part of what makes it interesting, of course, is the immediacy of this kind of imagery for today’s fitness-obsessed society of largely unfit people.)
It is the training metaphor, therefore, that renders translations of verse 27 like RSV “I pommel my body” or NIV “I beat my body” and Nathan’s own “I black my eyes” so dubious. It’s indisputable that ὑπωπιάζω does mean “give someone a black eye” but the phrase makes little sense if it is taken literally. No-one in training injures themselves on purpose. Incidentally, this also means the verse gives no real support to the use of the flagellum or cilice. A literal meaning is often not a nuance of a colloquial meaning, but a distraction from it.
Without my trying to offer an exact translation, it seems to me that the heart of these closing verses is best captured by a paraphrase something like this:
Notes“I don’t jog around taking my eye off the ball, nor do I ponce about shadow-boxing. Instead I put my body through a punishing training schedule, so that I don’t become one of those who tell others what to do, but themselves collapse before the finishing line.”
- Murphy O’Connor St Paul’s Corinth (1983) p 16 [↩]
I confess that don’t understand this post at all, although I assume it’s a discussion about the wording of his church brochure. But in particular I don’t understand the point about the translation of “community of peoples”. As far as I can see, in the context in which this phrase is used at Genesis 48:4 (also Gen 28:3 and Gen 35:11) it is particularly related to Jacob’s calling, and has to mean something more like “an assembly of tribes” and is about the unity of Israel. I fail to see why “community” is a better translation of qahal than most of the other alternatives. The only translation that seems to me to be completely wrong is HCSB “I will make many nations come from you”. I have no idea whether the Hebrew can be made to mean that, but it seems highly inappropriate in the context.
John Hobbins has posted a really useful contribution to the ongoing blogversation about literary translation, with some specific examples, of a rather different genre and register from my own earlier example. I don’t know what he thinks of the literary qualities of the ISV translation he was praising earlier. I presume they are seeking a form of literary quality when they try, for example, to render Philippians 2:6-11 in verse. It is not, in my view, at all successful, however adventurous the attempt is.
In God’s own form existed he,
and shared with God equality,
deemed nothing needed grasping.
Instead, poured out in emptiness,
a servant’s form did he possess,
a mortal man becoming.
In human form he chose to be,
and lived in all humility,
death on a cross obeying.
Now lifted up by God to heaven,
a name above all others given,
this matchless name possessing.
And so, when Jesus’ name is called,
the knees of everyone should fall
wherever they’re residing.
Then every tongue in one accord,
will say that Jesus the Messiah is Lord,
while God the Father praising.
I will leave aside the interpretative issues raised by some of the translation choices and focus solely on the question of style.
One of the features that seems to me most important in John’s discussion is that of orality. I look forward to seeing if he produces the oral performance of this text that he’s working toward. While, to be sure, a number of contemporary translations claim to have liturgical use in mind, it is only one use among many. Yet it seems obvious that the texts we have were “written” out loud to be read aloud, and in many cases are redactions or translations of prior purely oral texts. It is not that we should write translations able to be read aloud, but write translations that must be read aloud, if we are to translate the literary forms of the original. Some of that should help reframe some of the discussion of “reading” ages.
It is precisely on that point, however, that I find the above quotation from Philippians lacking. Rhyming “existed he” with “equality” or “chose to be” with “humility” illustrates this. In English these are both weak rhymes further vitiated further by inviting an unfortunate rhythmic pacing. The device is one entwined in historic usage with light or comic verse, and profoundly inappropriate for the subject matter. Looking at other means of conveying the markers of poetry, such as stress rhythms, assonance and alliteration might have been by far the better option.
This fault in the poetic form should have been obvious as soon as the text was read aloud. It is only possible, in my judgement, to avoid the humourous connotations of the form by reading in in a way which disrupts the rhythm. The judgement of oral performance would have immediately revealed the weakness of the versifying style.
I do not intend to be unfair to the ISV here for what is in many ways a commendable idea. I also freely admit that it is much easier to raise questions of orality for verse than for prose for those of us with a modern Western literary education. But I suggest that all our translations would be significantly improved if people wrote for speech. Even the artificial and elevated phrasing of verse forms and literary prose alike was written for oral performance. It is not for nothing that the early church saw reading as a serious vocation, and created an office of Reader.
I know it’s rude to make fun of other people’s names, but now that first John Hobbins has praised the ISV translation for having the perspicacity to invite him to review it, and Lingamish has asked the vital question “Why does the so-called International Standard Version of the Bible not have any Internationals translating it?” my attention has been drawn to this hitherto unknown to me project.
Sadly for me, the first thing that struck me was the list of contributing scholars. Is there really a Bible translator called Mona Bias? (maybe that doesn’t sound as funny without an English accent!) I haven’t had as much pleasure from an appropriate name since I discovered The Graeco-Roman Contexts of Early Christian Literature was written by a bloke called Roman Garrison.
Thanks to Better Bibles for noticing this. The most recent development of the Jerusalem Bible seems to have been going on for some time. I don’t know how I’ve missed this. Yesterday I was somewhat more cynical over another new translation. Today, I have to say that this proposal for The Bible in its Traditions looks far more interesting, and worth a genuine welcome, and even a frisson of excitement. The project is working at the moment on finishing a taster.
From this work, we are now able to announce that the ‘demonstration volume’ showing concretely what the project is about, will consist of the following twelve sample texts, which span the whole Bible: Genesis 22; Leviticus 12; Joshua 1; Psalm 1; Song of Songs 1; Ben Sira 51; Matthew 13; Philippians 1; Philemon; James 5; 1 Peter 1; Revelation 12 – plus one or two others whose final versions we are awaiting.
Over the next 6 months, the Steering Committee will work on giving final touches to these texts and to writing the material that will introduce and accompany the volume.
It is hoped that this will appear – initially in French with Les Editions du Cerf – in about 18 months from now. We envisage versions in English and in Spanish at a later date.
What’s whetted my appetite about this project? Well, comments like these:
There will be a new page lay-out. The page will still present together the text and the notes, but will look more like a page of the Talmud or of medieval and early modern commentaries on Aristotle or St Thomas.
Our leading idea is to enable the reader to read the Biblical text along with the history of its reception. Behind this is our awareness of the importance of the role of the reader in determining the meaning of texts—a role that has been much emphasized in recent hermeneutical reflection and literary criticism.
The page itself is meant to show three things that are new to the Jerusalem Bible: First, the irreducibility of several versions of the same book (or of the same passage of a book); second, a greater awareness of the literary meaning of Biblical texts, besides their plain historical or doctrinal meaning; third, the new importance given to reception history in literary studies—this matches up with the rediscovery of patristic commentaries in exegesis. As in earlier forms of the Jerusalem Bible, the new edition will also situate the Biblical text in its ancient context or contexts.
I can only hope that the same – possibly even better – standards of English style will be used as in its predecessors. The final product still looks a long way off. But this looks as though it will be a genuinely new development in translation and publishing.
Michael Bird posts news of another English Bible translation. The immediate comments on his blog are like yeah, this is what we really really need, not! (And no, that’s not the sort of English it will be written in.) I must confess that this was also my initial reaction. However, I am encouraged by two things:
- The first is that this translation will include the Apocrypha. That sets it apart from many of those on the market.
- Secondly, is this comment “The theological influences and expertise for the new translation are drawn from ecumenical biblical scholarship (Protestant, Catholic, and Jewish).” Again that distinguishes it from many of the most recent.
Equally, I have a big question mark to place against it. The blurb also says:
A new translation must attend to evocative language that is more engaging emotionally than precise, systematic syntax.
I am pleased that they will look for evocative language, though unsure how well this will engage their aim of an 8th grade reading level (though I may misunderstand the US grade system). But I’m a bit worried about the idea that you can’t be evocative with precise syntax. This sounds like a very imprecise (and possibly diplomatic) way of referring to the tired dispute over dynamic and formal equivalence. It is however expressed with such a lack of clarity that it must in itself raise questions about the project.
Michel notes that he is translating 1 Esdras. I am sure the exegesis and understanding will be really top quality. I’m just hoping the translation will be English and not Strine.
Oh, and Michael, speaking of English — I was irresistibly amused by your comment in another (helpful and interesting post) that “the coming of Christ compliments rather than replaces the Torah”. I can’t immediately find an obvious compliment Jesus pays to Torah. “I say, what a lovely law you are.” No, I think you mean “complement”. A certain amount of precision in English seems to me a rather helpful attribute in a translator.
I want to go back to my earlier discussion of the translation of μυστήριον (secret, later mystery) in the New Testament. This was a response to Rich Rhodes’ stimulating post at Better Bibles. Continuing the conversation, he left a helpful comment on my response:
We come to use pseudo-Greek terms in English to refer to things that theologians have worked out over the last two millennia. The problem is that none of those understandings were present in any but a seminal form at the time the Scripture was written. (I’ll have to post on this sometime soon.)
Moreover, μυστήριον is a technical term in Roman era Greek culture, but it doesn’t refer to anything like valid Christian mysticism. (Things to be believed/lived rather than to be simply understood.)
Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not denying that such things are important by any means. It’s one of my main complaints about the evangelical church today is that is is too much about knowing and doing and too little about being. However, I still think that it is a mistake of the most serious kind to read our theology back into Scripture and use that to govern our translation. I have yet to read a translation that doesn’t somewhere do exactly that.
I’m not sure I find the matter quite so straightforward. A large part of me agrees with Rich: translation should work with the meaning of the original text in its original context. There is a nagging voice at the back of mind, however, that wants to raise some other questions about this.
It’s not just about the word μυστήριον obviously. There are many other fine candidates. Some have been controversial for centuries, largely because of theological controversies at the time, such as ἐκκλησία (assembly, church, congregation) or ἐπίσκοπος (overseer, supervisor, bishop). Others seem to be freshly raised: should βαπτίζω be “dip, immerse” or “baptise”?
This is not just a question of translation. Orthodox Christians reading the Greek text will be reading the later time-hallowed ecclesial meanings into these texts without any translation being involved. The text both helped create these meanings, and then is re-conceived with them present. It is the problem with a living text which is used in so many diverse ways within the ongoing life of the community that authored it, and one might also wish to say, theologically, under the guidance of the Spirit who inspired it. Some of the developments of textual criticism also point to the nature of the Scriptures as a living text, that is continuously reread and has, as it were, a biography behind it.
There are also various intra-canonical examples of which Matthew’s use of a translation of Isaiah 7:14 is just one of the more hotly debated. The LXX and NT authors did not follow Rich’s prescription for what makes a good translation. The church increasingly followed this scriptural example in its christological reading, especially of the psalms. It was above all Christology that popularised the reading “kiss the Son” in Psalm 2. Interestingly, the Church of England’s recent debates about the translation of the Psalter for use in worship covered this same debate. Did one pick a translation which, while harder to defend as a strict translation of the Hebrew, nonetheless picked up the rich echoes of that psalm’s uses in the developing spiritual tradition of the church?
I have no answers to these questions: I merely observe that they are there, and they are there because the Scriptures have belonged not solely to the generation of the more-or-less apostolic authors, but to every generation since. Perhaps reading with the church has some implications for translations that make more room for customary readings. I sense a further need of translation footnotes coming on.
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