Across the front cover of my book What’s in a Version? I placed the slogan that forms the title of this post. You might think it’s a strange thing to put on the cover of a book. I’ve used it in class as well. I’ve received more criticism for that one line than for anything else in the book.
I’m in the process of revising the book (though it’s still available), but that one line is something that will not change. Yes, it’s a one-liner, and thus subject to a variety of interpretations. No, I don’t believe that anything that might masquerade as a translation actually is a translation. But there are very few things that I would say masquerade as translations, and there are many people who want to prescribe the Bible you should read.
There are some facts regarding reading a piece of ancient literature. First, I didn’t live in the first century, when the New Testament was being written. I’m at least at one remove, because no matter how much I study Greek, I will never truly understand it in the same context and world as Paul did. Second, if you’re reading in translation, you’re not reading the original. This leads to my third point: Something is always lost in translation.
But that means that something is always present in translation as well. The question is just what you’re looking for. For example, I prefer the more formal style of the Revised English Bible. I even like its Anglicisms. I spent much of my teens in a former British colony (Guyana), and I was born in Canada. Those things are comfortable for me and they give me a familiar feel.
Should I therefore recommend that everyone read the REB? Hardly! For others, features that make it work for me may be a hindrance to understanding. Then there’s the question of just what it is that I want to understand, or more importantly that you want to understand.
What seems to escape so many people who prescribe what a translation must and must not do is that it matters not what is there if the reader doesn’t understand. Admonitions to “get a dictionary” are both pointless, and in my opinion, arrogant. This kind of talk suggests to people that if they would just put in enough work, they’d be able to understand–well–what the talker believes they should want to understand. Maybe I’d prefer the clarity of the CEV of Jeremiah 22:29 to a translation that conveys the epizeuxis. It’s possible that I couldn’t care less about an epizeuxis. In point of fact, I care about the epizeuxis largely so that I can convey it’s meaning in another fashion. At the same time, I do not regard my particular aim as normative. If you want to convey the epizeuxis, by all means do so. It’s not better or worse, it just is what it is.
This lack of concern for the readers–though I’m sure it’s advocates think they are advocates for the spiritual and intellectual well-being of their hearers or readers–is what I like to call the problem of the one-ended telephone cord.
So I frequently frustrate inquirers who want me to recommend a Bible version. I always ask what they want to do with it, and to a great extent I want to know who they are before I will even attempt an answer, and then I’m going to leave it quite open-ended–what do you want? what do you read?
Oh, and credit where credit is due. I was finally tipped to the point of writing this by a post from Kurk at Aristotle’s Feminist Subject, which is well worth reading. I’d also like to reference my Bible Translation Selection Tool, which tries to list Bibles in priority order according to preferences expressed by the user. I’ve been told both that this is much too complicated and also that it can’t be personalized enough, but thus far I haven’t had time to fix either problem, nor do I know that I could fix them both at once.
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