Christ Church

Found in translation

Lost in translation has become an all too familiar trope at once simplistic and naive. It contributes to the idea of translation as betrayal, literally a traducing of the text, the idea that what is expressed in one language simply cannot be expressed in another. This implies a kind of intellectual despair which runs counter to the ideals and principles of education. That there are difficulties and questions about translation is one thing; but that translation is impossible is an entirely different matter. And so perhaps, just perhaps, there is also the idea of things being found in translation.

Cultural literacy is a feature of Chapel, it seems to me, along with the effort to provide at least a limited kind of biblical literacy. In a School where there are more than two dozen different nationalities and a multitude of languages, cultures, and religious and non-religious identities, whatever that means, translation is not only a pressing concern on a day-to-day basis but is assumed as being in principle possible, indeed necessary. Translation is about more than language; it is also about the intersection of ideas in the cross-overs of culture. In short, translation is an essential quality of education. It requires a capacity to engage with one another respectfully and with a willingness to learn from one another. In this sense, translation counters the disquieting tendencies towards cultural arrogance or national superiority, to the tunnel-visions of narcissism, solipsism, or even racism.

The lesson from Ecclesiasticus read this week is partly about the question and problem of translation. One of the books of the Apocrypha, books written in the period between the setting down of the Hebrew Scriptures and the emergence of the Christian Scriptures, the New Testament, it belongs to a category of writing known as ‘wisdom literature’. It is the only apocryphal text whose author we know. Ecclesiasticus is the Latin term literally meaning ‘church book’ for what in Hebrew and Greek is The Wisdom of Jesus, The Son of Sirach, frequently abbreviated to Sirach. The work is in praise of sophia, wisdom, which already reflects something of the confluence of Greek and Hellenistic philosophy and Jewish thought; itself a kind of translation, we might say. Written in Hebrew in the early second century BC, it was translated into Greek some fifty years later by the grandson of the author as indicated in the Prologue which he added.

There we see explicitly the question of translation with respect to language. “For what was originally expressed in Hebrew does not have exactly the same sense when translated into another language.” But Sirach’s grandson also notes the desire on the part of his grandfather to communicate the wisdom of the Jewish world to others as part of an universal and ethical desire to live wisely. Thus there is a kind of congruence of cultures, a translation of ideas and principles through the love of learning that in turn governs our living.

The Prologue calls for a generosity of spirit towards the effort of translation. Recognising the problem of translation does not negate the attempt and the necessity of translation. It helps us to see translation more positively. This, too, is seen in the Preface to one of the most remarkable works of translation in English, the King James Version of the Bible. Largely drawing upon the earlier translation of William Tyndale, the 1611 project, undertaken by a series of committees, produced one of the three great monuments to English that has influenced the shape of the English language more than any other work. The other two great contributors to the emergence of early modern English are Cranmer’s Book(s) of Common Prayer and the works of Shakespeare. Miles Smith in the Preface to the KJV speaks almost enthusiastically about translation as that which “openeth the windows, to let in the light; that breaketh the shell, that we may eat the kernel; that putteth aside the curtain, that we may look into the most Holy place; that removeth the cover of the well, that we may come to the water.” A wonderful collocation of biblical images.

The difficulties of translation are transcended by the significance of the endeavour. “We do not deny, nay, we affirm and avow, that the very meanest translation of the Bible in English, set forth by men of our profession … containeth the word of God, nay, is the Word of God.” This is one of the strongest possible affirmations of the importance of translation. The ideas expressed in one language can be conveyed into other languages, even if they don’t “have exactly the same sense” as the original. For the Greeks who saw all non-Greek speakers as ‘barbarians’; for the Hebrews who bequeathed the label of ‘Philistines’ to all who are uncultured, this is an important spiritual and intellectual development, an important check on all forms of cultural arrogance and ignorance.

Ideas are not simply the property of any one language or culture however much there is the struggle and the challenge to find the right words to capture the fullest possible meaning in the transition from one language and from one culture to another. The point is that not all translation traduces or betrays the original; there is a kind of confidence in logos, both reason and word, we might say, that transcends the barriers of culture and language inherent in the idea of translation. There is the Word behind the words. Ideas matter. Words matter. Getting the words right is the task of the translator.

It requires a respect and an understanding of the characteristics of different languages, an openness to the wisdom in other cultures and languages. Such is the constant challenge and struggle in Chapel: opening the windows of minds and hearts to let in the light of wisdom in the endeavour to live wisely. As Tyndale suggests, “Read God’s Word diligently and with a good heart and it shall teach thee all things.” Something of the truth and dignity of our humanity is found in translation.

(Rev’d) David Curry
Chaplain, English & ToK teacher
Chair of the Department of Religion and Philosophy