Our recent post,
The NNIV, the WELS Translation Evaluation Committee, and the Perspicuity of the Scriptures, has attracted a number of very good comments. I am going to belabour the issue a bit more by focusing on the importance of translation ideology, using a set of
comments offered by Rev. Kurtzahn following that post. He raises a point worth exploring – which if left unexplored, has us up to our eyebrows in nothing but the technical translation details of each and every questionable phrase, debating not only what texts accurately represent what was actually written in the original, but how “it
can be understood” in whatever it is that we’re calling “modern English.”
Is translation ideology substantive? It seems some would prefer not to address this issue. Refusing to regard it as such, or even to discuss it, certainly keeps laymen out of the discussion, as it has us jumping straight into technical “examples.” The simple fact is, most laymen are more than capable of parsing the issues involved with
ideology, and are justified in not only judging whether a given ideology is, in principle, capable of producing a translation that they consider adequate, but in rejecting those ideologies which, in principle, do not.
As Mr. Peeler pointed out, Dynamic Equivalency (the translation ideology of the CBT) is related to post-Modernism in its understanding of
meaning in language as a
social construction (“grammar follows usage”) – an understanding which is a very recent innovation. According to it, social experience is the vehicle for, and social context the arbiter of, meaning. Language is merely a social experience by which meaning is conveyed, and it is the immediate social context which dictates both usage and meaning, not the structure of the language itself. As a result, post-Modernism teaches that meaning is always subjective and relative (resulting in a lack of clarity... terms and phrases of otherwise objective meaning become “slippery”). This is why post-Modernists will insist that there is no truth – not because there actually
is or
is not Truth, but because even if Truth does exist, it cannot be expressed since language is insufficient to convey it.
But what is “Dynamic Equivalency?”
To use a very widely used (and seriously discussed) example, the post-Modern adherent of Dynamic Equivalency will complain that the passage in Isaiah which reads “though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow,” cannot be understood by a person who has never seen snow. It has no meaning because it is not part of his
experience. As a result, instead of actually using the word “snow” to communicate “white-ness,” a
more effective translation for, say, a resident of the Caribbean may be “the sands of St. Thomas Beach.” But that wouldn’t communicate to someone outside the Caribbean, so another translation would be needed for those groups of people who have seen neither white snow nor white sand, but which is common to
their unique experience – fields of cotton, for instance, or even milk. These are all naturally occurring examples of the color white, and communicate the idea of “white-ness” just as effectively. It doesn’t matter that the word in the original is “snow.” This is Dynamic Equivalency, and the job of the translator under this ideology is to (a) interpret the meaning of the source language, and (b) choose his own words in the target language that communicate this same idea.
Only, notice in the case of “snow” used above, that the translator, while communicating “white-ness” through the use of alternative words, fails to communicate the idea of a “covering” which descends from above, and also fails to communicate the idea of “cleansing,” which is precisely what snow does for the landscape as it melts (and is also part of the meaning directly intended by Isaiah). Thus, under the ideology of Dynamic Equivalency, the translator, in choosing his “alternative phraseology,” is said to “pick and choose” from the source language what meaning he will include in his translation – not because he is forced by inadequacies in either source or target languages, but because he is ideologically (a) given license to do so in order that he may engage in the task of interpretation, and (b) constrained by his own ideas of what constitutes “meaning” within a given social or cultural construct and of what patterns of words can be legitimately used in association with that meaning.
This is in distinction to the translation ideology known as “Formal Equivalency,” which constrains the translator to criteria which are largely
external to “contemporary” usages (which are different from what is meant by “modern” usages, as we shall see) peculiar to given social constructs that shift from region to region and over short periods of time. Rather than a social construction (“grammar follows usage”), this ideology follows Classical and Modernistic ideas which see language as the basis of human reason and of the structures of society (“usage follows grammar”), and endeavors to reproduce in the target language a grammatical structure and vocabulary that is essentially parallel to what is found in the source. As a result, choices in grammatical construction and word choice are characterized by the
objective challenge of identifying grammatical structure in the source language and determining the best approximation in the target; likewise with the vocabulary chosen.
But what happens when structural differences in the target language result in an objectively inadequate “approximation” of the source? Most commonly, in the KJV for example, such problems are handled by adopting a
convention, to assist the reader in determining what was actually written in the source, as distinct from what the translator may add for the sake of clarity. For example, all of the italics in the KJV are words added by the translator to complete the grammar in English – they are italicized to alert the reader to this fact. The terms
ye, you, thee, thy, and
thou, which are all understood to mean “you,” were used to distinguish between plural and singular usages:
ye and
you were used to signal to the reader that
groups of people were being addressed, while
thee, thy, and
thou indicate that a single individual was being addressed. This was a
convention adopted for the sake for the translation, which did not follow common usage (anyone who is familiar with Shakespeare knows that these terms were not used strictly in this way). Likewise with the similar, though distinct terms
longsuffering and
patience (μακροθυμία and ὑπομονή, respectively), which are translated with the single word “patience” today – after all, we’re told, “they’re just synonyms.” But if they are merely synonyms, why did the KJV maintain the distinction? Simple. Do a word study and you’ll find out why. The Greek term ὑπομονή (translated “patience” in the KJV) is
never used as an attribute of God; μακροθυμία (nearly always translated as “longsuffering” in KJV)
is used as an attribute of God. The difference is that “patience” looks forward in time to an expected result – an idea which is ridiculous when applied to God; “longsuffering” bears with the burdened, without emphasis on time or expectation – an idea which not only
can be applied to God, but which is fulfilled in Christ, who bore our burdens for us. Maintaining this difference was a
convention adopted in the KJV to assist the reader in determining what was actually written in the original languages; it was
not dictated by common usage.
This raises a related point, one which is often heard with respect to the KJV, but which is applied in various ways to other older versions of the Bible, along with older literary works, as well: its language isn’t “modern” English, but is “olde” English. This type of reasoning betrays, in addition to exposing a basic knowledge deficiency, a post-Modern attitude toward older works of the English language: their language is not
our language.
Our language, they would say, is a recent evolution dictated by changing social constructs.
The fact is, the period of “Old English” (which is actually the “Anglo-Saxon” language – the language of the barbarian German inhabitants of Mediæval England, the Angles and Saxons) came to an end with the Norman Conquest in 1066. The most common example of “Old English” literature is
Beowulf – and if anyone has seen this in its original language, they can attest that, indeed, it
is a completely different language. The Norman Conquest then began the period of “Middle English” which lasted until the late 15th Century – the most significant literary works of this period being Wycliff’s translation of the Bible and Chaucer’s
Canterbury Tales. The period of “Modern English,” that is, the period of
our language, began at about the time of the Renaissance; and the first great work of “Modern English,” which still is the greatest and most significant work in
our language, is the King James Version of the Bible. Its recognized greatness has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that it is the Bible, but rests purely on its literary merits alone. As a result, and until recently, this work has been used for centuries to teach the English language.
Our language is
not a recent innovation; rather, ideas which insist that contemporary speech patterns (which are largely the result of declining literacy) constitute
our language are themselves recent innovations, resulting from the development of 20th Century Analytical Philosophy and its application to linguistics theory. This goes all the way back to Russell and Whitehead’s
Principia Mathematica (1910), which concluded via rigorous mathematical proof that mathematics is a branch of pure formal logic, and therefore does not carry meaning other than what the mathematician brings to and derives from it. Grammar is formal as well, thus linguists picked up on the work of Russell and Whitehead and began applying its conclusions to the study of language. Post-Modernism descends almost directly from these influences. By the 1920’s, the National Council of the Teachers of English (NCTE) was calling for teachers to refrain from teaching students how they
ought to use language to express themselves, and instead only teach the “facts” of language. By the 1950’s, the formal teaching of grammar was regarded as a waste of classroom time, since it was largely agreed that grammar was not necessary to derive meaning from language – meaning, they insist, is derived purely from the social context.
(For more on the decline of language from the perspective of a professional Classicist and grammarian, read Dr. David Mulroy’s
The War Against Grammar. Three good reviews of this work that I recommed are,
one by Dr. Jeremiah Reedy (Macalester College) and two by Andrew Kern (CiRCE Institute):
one here and
the second, here. There is, of course much more to the story of the decline of American education, and its well-documented
design, since the Industrial Revolution, to maintain a distinction between a well-educated “professional” and “leadership” class, and a minimally educated “working” class... but that is a separate topic.)
I was shocked when I first learned these things in the mid-1990’s, as I argued with an English grad-student who was chiding me for lamenting the decline of grammar instruction. She said, “Sure, it’s important for English speakers to know that there is such a thing as grammar, so we’ll provide a unit or two in high-school, but it is not necessary for effective communication to occur. We’ve known this since the 1950’s, and formal grammar instruction has been rapidly declining since then. On purpose!”
“But,” I countered, “How can the Christian possibly read his Bible and understand it without grammar!?” She was a Christian and appreciated the significance of this question. She just shrugged. “How can a student be prepared as a good citizen, without a knowledge of grammar?! You
must know grammar to read and understand the U.S. Constitution and Declaration of Independence!” She shrugged again. “This is utterly disenfranchising! How can students be prepared to function in a litigious society, where every transaction is considered a legal contract? How can a citizen hope to engage in entrepreneurial activity if he doesn’t know enough grammar to effectively engage in contracts!?” She shrugged again.
When Rev. Kurzahn complains that “In taking formerly unchurched people through Bible information classes for church membership, I find I have to stop to explain words the NIV uses, and the long sentences are difficult for some to grasp,” I reply, “It’s not the Bible that is the problem. It’s the people and their deficient education. The solution is not to follow them into the chasm of declining literacy by advocating increasingly simplistic Bible translations and thus drag the rest of English-speaking Christendom into that abyss with them, but to do what the Church has always done – you
must to the hard job of educating them. If their education and formal understanding of their own language is deficient, then that deficiency
must be remediated.”
We are not the first one’s to encounter the problem of ineffective literacy among the unchurched – or even among our own. The Early Church had to contend with the problem of illiterate catechumens, and solved that problem by establishing a network of catechetical schools which taught language and doctrine, and later, also trade and professional skills. By the time of Constantine (three hundred years following Christ’s Ascension) the pinnacle of the cultured elite in the Roman Empire was dominated by Christians – not only was Constantine compelled to elevate Christianity by ending the persecutions, by recognizing Sunday as the day of worship, by lifting the burden of taxation from the clergy (and many other concessions), it is evident from Christian literature of that time that authors presupposed a sophisticated and well-educated audience. So well-prepared were the early Christians in their ability with language, that St. Augstine said of Christian
women (who were educated alongside the men) that they were
known to be more capable in the acuity of their religious discussion than the Greek philosophers. Luther and Melanchthon had to contend with this problem, as well, and their solution was to develop a rigorous system of universal education and adjure the German Princes to implement it (as I mentioned in
commentary following my post, NNIV: The New Standard for WELS?).
The current “problem of language” is a problem foisted on us by a World which has eagerly embraced philosophies which militate against God and His Word. It is nothing other than a continuation of the openly antagonistic assault on the Church that has ensued since the time of the Enlightenment (which was chronicled in my as-yet-incomplete series on
Law & Gospel). The solution isn’t to give in to these philosophies, but to do the hard work of recognizing their danger, and then combating them by standing in the face of society with the declaration “No!” In this case, it means refocusing ourselves on the importance of a thorough and rigorous education. I say this in confidence, knowing that if any Christian church body in America can live up to this challenge, the WELS can. Our parochial school system is recognized as among the top in the nation. Let’s use it.
So I conclude, discussion regarding translation ideology
is substantive discussion, and we must be clear on what we insist, in principle, both is necessary and what must be rejected, before we even attempt to gaze into the technical minutiae of specific translation challenges.