The A-Z of Believing: W is for Words

Can religion get lost in translation? Ed Kessler, head of the Woolf Institute, presents the 23rd part in a series on belief and scepticism

Friday 18 January 2019 16:52 GMT
Comments
The various renderings of sacred texts can create their own nuances
The various renderings of sacred texts can create their own nuances (Shutterstock/agsandrew)

The word is the means by which we navigate our relationship with the world – Tony Judt

The vocabulary of religion is not straightforward. Even the word itself is uncertain. Is “religion” derived from Middle English, meaning “life under monastic vows”, or from the Latin religio (“reverence”) or religare (“to bind”)? I’m unsure – as are my academic colleagues.

What we do know is that by the fourth century, the concept of “religion” as developed by Christianity represented a practice that committed the believer to a set of rules and beliefs separate from lifestyle. One could argue that by this definition neither Judaism nor Islam are religions. Likewise, the OED’s definition of religion as “the belief in and worship of a superhuman controlling power, especially a personal God or gods” implies that Buddhism is not either.

The origin of words causes difficulty. The term Holocaust, for example, refers to the years 1933-45, during which 6 million Jews and 5 million others (including Roma, gay people, Jehovah’s Witnesses, communists and disabled people) were murdered. Etymologically, holocaust is a transliteration of the Greek, meaning “burnt offering”. Unsurprisingly, many people do not like to use a term that has sacrificial overtones, as if appeasing God. The word Shoah, which has connotations of destruction and rupture, is preferred in interfaith dialogue.

Ah, here we go again: “dialogue” when it includes a third party is sometimes referred to as a “trialogue”, but this presupposes, incorrectly, that “di-” in dialogue means “two”. In fact, the word dialogue, from Greek, means “through words” ie discussion without an indication of number.

This brings us onto the topic of translation. One of my favourite set questions for the Bible exam is: is all translation interpretation? The answer is “yes, no, and maybe”. It is virtually impossible to translate perfectly from Hebrew, or Greek, or Arabic into English (or into any other language) without losing some flavour of the original.

Yet, this has not prevented a translation being regarded as equally authoritative as, if not more than, the original. Who doesn’t love the King James Bible of 1611? And most people who read the Bible do so in translation.

The translation process is difficult partly because of the way language is structured. Some translations bring incidental changes. For example, in English the words “book”, “scribe”, “literature”, “library” and “to relate” (a story) have discrete etymologies. In Hebrew, the relationship between all these words is maintained because they derive from the single root, sfr, creating the possibility of a double entendre which is difficult, if not impossible, to translate from one language to another.

Sometimes, a translation may be extremely close to the sacred text but its rendering into a different language may result in its own nuances. For example the biblical command (Exodus 20:13), sometimes translated as “you shall not kill” is incorrectly (in terms of grammar) used as a basis for arguing for the merits of pacifism. The translation closest to the Hebrew is “you shall not commit murder”.

Another example of these difficulties is the cry of dereliction that the Gospels record Jesus recited in Aramaic on the cross: “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” The Hebrew text of a later verse (Psalm 22:16/17) reads: “Like lions [they maul] my hands and feet”. But the Septuagint has: “They have pierced my hands and feet”; the difference being caused by the smallest letter of the Hebrew alphabet, the yod, which if elongated by a tiny amount becomes a vav. In scriptural arguments between Jews and Christians, the elongation of this one letter has amounted to much more than a technicality. The phrase can be understood to represent either the despair of the Psalmist, or the redemptive voice of Jesus Christ.

Even the term for the Christian canon has an intricate history. The designation New Testament means “new covenant” (from the Hebrew berit). In the Old Testament, covenant is a sacred agreement, expressing the sovereign power of God, who promises to fulfil his word to his people Israel, who have only to be faithful and obey.

In the New Testament, the concept is reinterpreted through the experiences of the early Christian community and represents a new phase in the covenant story of Israel. A change in emphasis marked by the translation of berit into the Greek diatheke (“decree”), where it acquires the meaning of a definitive “last will and testament” on the part of God. The Vulgate used the word testamentum, which became the official designation of both parts of the Christian Bible and which we use today: the Old and the New Testament. If you find this complicated, let me tell you, it is.

So, I’ll end with one final example. Which term do you apply to a strip of land along the Mediterranean that became the birthplace of the Hebrew Bible? It lies at an extraordinary location, offering the only available land route between Asia and Africa. To the west is the Mediterranean Sea, to the east a mountainous, virtually impassable stony desert. Located between Mesopotamia to the north and Egypt to the south, whoever controlled that strip of land controlled the major land route for trade or military activity between the great empires that rose and fell. What is that land called? Israel? Palestine? Holy Land? Promised Land? Occupied Land?

As Mark Twain said, “you pays your money and you takes your choice!”

Next week: X is for Xenophobia

Listen to each episode of An A-Z of Believing: from Atheism to Zealotry on the Woolf Institute podcast site or wherever you get your podcasts

***

Written and presented by Dr Ed Kessler MBE, founder and director of the Cambridge-based Woolf Institute, this compelling guide to religious belief and scepticism is a must-read for believers and nonbelievers alike.

Founded in 1998 to explore the relationship between religion and society, the Woolf Institute uses research and education to foster understanding between people of all beliefs with the aim of reducing prejudice and intolerance.

Says Dr Kessler: “Latest surveys suggest that 85 per cent of the world’s population identify themselves as belonging to a specific religion, and in many parts of the world the most powerful actors in civil society are religious. Understanding religion and belief, the role they play and their impact on behaviour and decision-making is, therefore, vital.”

Dr Kessler – who was awarded an MBE for services to interfaith relations in 2011 – is an affiliated lecturer with the Faculty of Divinity at Cambridge University, a principal of the Cambridge Theological Federation and additionally teaches at the Cambridge Muslim College.

He says: “This A-Z of Believing aims to show how the encounter between religions has influenced and been influenced by the evolution of civilisation and culture, both for good and for ill. I hope that a better understanding of believing will lead people to realise that while each religion is separate, they are also profoundly connected.”

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in