Translation Theory
By T. David Gordon, 1985.
While not everyone who drives an automobile needs to understand the theory behind the internal combustion engine, someone does need to know this theory. I may be able to drive my Pontiac without any knowledge of internal combustion engines, until the Pontiac breaks down. Then, I must find someone (presumably a mechanic) who does in fact know enough theory to get the Pontiac running again.
The same is true of translation theory. It is not necessary for everyone to know translation theory, nor is it even necessary for pastors and teachers to know everything about translation theory. It is necessary for pastors and teachers in the American church at the end of the twentieth century to know something about translation theory, for two reasons. First, it will affect the way we interpret the Bible for our people. If we are completely unaware of translation theory, we may unwittingly mislead our brothers and sisters in our interpretation. Second, there are so many English translations available, that no contemporary pastor will be able to escape the inevitable questions about which translations are superior.
It is not my intention to provide anything like an exhaustive approach to either translation theory or semantic theory (relax, I'll define this word later). Rather, I intend to discuss briefly the more important observations, which may be useful to the pastoral ministry.
1. Communication has three parties.
Translation theory shares a number of concerns with what is commonly called communication theory. Perhaps the most important observation which the communication theorists have produced for translators is the recognition that every act of communication has three dimensions: Speaker (or author), Message, and Audience. The more we can know about the original author, the actual message produced by that author, and the original audience, the better acquainted we will be with that particular act of communication. An awareness of this tri-partite character of communication can be very useful for interpreters. Assuming that an act of communication is right now taking place, as you read what I wrote, there are three dimensions to this particular act of communication: myself, and what I am intending to communicate; the actual words which are on this page; and what you understand me to be saying. When the three dimensions converge, the communication has been efficient.
If we know, perhaps from another source, what an individual author's circumstances are, this may help us understand the actual message produced. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "Letters from Prison" are better understood by someone who knows the circumstances under which they were written rather than by someone who is oblivious to mid-20th century American history. If we know information about the author's audience, this may also help us to understand the message itself. John Kennedy's famous, "Ich bin ein Berliner" speech is better understood if one understands the apprehensions which many West German citizens had about American foreign policy during the early 1960s (and, knowing the audience was German may help explain why he did not speak this sentence in English!).
Recognizing that in addition to the message itself, there are the two other components of author and audience, the interpreter attempts to uncover as much information as possible about the author and audience. This is why biblical scholars spend so much time attempting to locate the circumstances of a given epistle; they are trying to discover information about author and audience, which will help complete the understanding of the particular act of communication represented by the message.
At this point, an important warning needs to be expressed. For students of literature whose original audience and author are not present (i.e., dead), we only have direct access to one of the three parties in the communicative process: the message itself. Whereas we would be profited by having direct access to author and audience ("Paul, what in the world did you mean about baptizing for the dead?"; or, "How did it hit you Galatians when Paul said he wished his troublers would castrate themselves?"), it would be incorrect to suggest that we must have such access for any understanding to take place. Frequently one encounters the extravagant statement to the effect that "one cannot understand a biblical book unless one understands the author's (or audience's) circumstances." The problem with such statements is that they imply that we can have no understanding without access to information which simply does not always exist. We haven't any idea who wrote the epistle to the Hebrews, or why, other than what may be indicated in the letter itself. Does this mean that we can't understand it in any sense? I think not. We just have to recognize that information, which would assist the act of interpretation, is, in this case, missing.
Related to this warning is a second. For Protestants, scripture itself is authoritative. Our reconstructions, often highly conjectural of the historical circumstances under which a given biblical work was written and read, are not authoritative, by my understanding of Protestant theology. Those reconstructions may assist our understanding of the biblical text, but they are not, in and of themselves, of any religious authority.
Finally, we might add that the essential error of many exegetical theories is their exclusion of one or more of these three parties from consideration. While many important debates are continuing to influence interpretive theory, our evaluation of these debates would do well to retain a role for each of the three above-mentioned dimensions.
2. Formal and Dynamic Equivalence
One of the ongoing debates about translations revolves around the question of whether, and in what degree, the translation should reflect the syntax, or form, of the original language. All translators agree that the translation should reflect faithfully the message of the original, but all are not agreed on whether the translation should adhere closely to the grammatical forms of the original language.
Translations can be located on a spectrum, which would have, at one extreme, rigid adherence to the form of the original language (formal equivalence), and at the other extreme, complete disregard for the form (not the message) of the original language (dynamic equivalence). An interlinear would come the closest to the first extreme, followed by the NASB. At the other extreme would be the NEB and TEV. In between would be the RSV and NIV, with the RSV leaning more toward a formal equivalence, and the NIV leaning more toward a dynamic equivalence.
It is probably fair to say that most contemporary linguists favor the dynamic equivalence approach in theory, though they might be disappointed in the various attempts at producing one. The reason for preferring to reproduce the thought of the original without attempting to conform to its form is that all languages have their own syntax. While the syntax of one language may be similar to the syntax of other languages, it is also dissimilar as well. Thus, if we attempt to adhere to the formal syntax of another language, we reproduce forms which are abnormal or confusing, if not downright distracting in the target language.
For example, Greek tends to have very long sentences, whose various clauses are arranged in a logically hierarchical fashion. That is, there will be a number of dependent clauses connected to an independent clause. This type of sentence structure, perfectly normal in Greek, is called hypotactic (clauses are arranged logically under one another). English, by contrast, is not so comfortable with long sentences, and does not provide any easy way of indicating which clauses are dependent upon others. Our sentence structure is called paratactic (clauses are arranged logically alongside of one another). If we attempt to reproduce, in English, sentences of the same length as the Greek original, our audience will not be able to follow our translation. Ephesians 1:3-14, for instance, is one sentence in Greek, with well-defined subordinate clauses. If we attempt to reproduce a sentence of this length in English, the result will be so awkward that few, if any, English readers would be able to follow it. Consequently, translators must break the longer Greek sentences into shorter English sentences.
For the pastor and teacher, it is important to be able to recognize the hypotactic structure of the original language, because it is frequently of theological and ethical significance. For instance, there is only one imperative (independent clause) in the Great Commission -- "make disciples." All the other verbs are dependent. The other clauses help to describe what the commandment means. Most English translations, however, obscure this matter by translating the Great Commission as though it were a string of equivalent imperatives. What's worse, they tend to treat one of the dependent clauses as though it were the major (independent) clause ("Go"). So the teacher or pastor needs to be able to understand what is going on in the structure of the original language, without necessarily trying to reproduce it in an English translation.
There are other differences between the two languages. Greek typically uses passive verbs; English prefers active verbs. Greek typically makes nouns out of verbs (making "redemption" as common as "redeem''). Speakers of English are not as comfortable with these abstractions; we are happier with verbs. A dynamic equivalence translation will commonly reproduce the meaning of the Greek in a more natural manner in English. In 2 Thess 2:13, for instance, pistei aletheias, is translated "belief in the truth" (formal equivalence) by the RSV, but "the truth that you believe" (dynamic equivalence) by the NEB. The latter, while not any more accurate than the former, is a little more natural, and thus more easily understood.
A classic example of the difference between English and Greek syntax is evidenced by the difference in their respective employment of the participle. First, the Greek participle is much more common than the English. But the Greek participle is also used differently than the English participle. Greek commonly employs the participle in an attributive fashion, as a verbal adjective. This is very rare in English. James Taylor does sing about the "The Walking Man," but this is rare outside of artistic expression. We would normally produce a relative clause, "the man who walks." Because of the differences in the way the two languages use their respective participles, we simply cannot translate a Greek participle with an English participle in many cases, without being obscure or ambiguous. Dikaiothentes in Romans 5:1 should not be translated, "having been justified" (NASB: formal equivalence), but, "since we are justified" (RSV: dynamic equivalence).
There are problems, however, with dynamic equivalence translations. Since the translator is "freer" from the grammatical forms of the original language he is more likely to exceed the bounds of an accurate translation, in an effort to speak naturally in the native language. That is, the dynamic equivalence translations are capable of being more natural and more precise than are formal equivalence translations, but they are also more capable of being precisely wrong. For instance, in Romans 8:3, Paul uses the phrase: dia tes sarkos. A formal equivalent translation, the RSV, renders this "by the flesh," which is faithful to the original but somewhat ambiguous in English. The NIV renders this much more precisely, by the phrase, "by the sinful nature." Unfortunately, the NIV is precisely wrong here, because Paul is not talking about a lower nature, or a sinful nature at all. In fact, he is not speaking anthropologically, but redemptive-historically. In this particular case, I believe we would be better off with the ambiguous "flesh," and have to ask what, 'flesh' means for Paul, than to have the more precise but utterly un-Pauline "sinful nature."
Another problem associated with dynamic equivalence translations is related to their use as study Bibles. Since a given word may have a number of meanings, it is frequently impossible, and more frequently confusing, to attempt to translate a given Greek word with the same English word in every case. Consequently, the dynamic equivalence translation can give a more specific rendering in English, being unbound by an attempt to reproduce the same Greek word in the same English manner. This produces better understanding, frequently, of individual sentences or clauses. However, it does not permit the English reader to know when the same Greek word lay behind two different English words. Since the only way to know what a word means is by first examining its full range of uses, there is no way for the English reader to know what words are behind the English words found.
For instance, when Paul says he could not address the Corinthians as pneumatikoi, but rather as sarkinoi (1 Cor 3), he employs the adjectival forms of what we normally translate "Spirit" and "flesh." And, in Romans 8 (as well as elsewhere), it is clear that life in the Spirit is redeemed life; whereas life in the flesh is unredeemed life. If the adjectives in 1 Cor are translated "spiritual," and "fleshly," the reader can see the correspondence to other Pauline passages, and understand that Paul is saying, in effect, "I could not address you as redeemed people, but as unredeemed people." But the NIV construes sarx as "sinful nature" in Rom 8, and sarkinos as "worldly" in 1 Cor 3, with the result that the reader of this translation is not aware that in the original the same root form was employed. The conclusion of this is that the dynamic equivalence translation, when done well, renders in more precise and more vivid English particular expressions. However, it makes it more difficult to compare individual passages with parallel passages elsewhere.
In any given congregation, a variety of translations will be present. The teachers in the church must have the competence to discern which one represents the original most accurately in English in any circumstance. In my judgment, none of the contemporary translations is manifestly superior to the others. Each is a blend of strengths and weaknesses, due to the difficulty of the task.
From the pulpit, of course, some versions can be excluded rather easily. Paraphrases, while useful to illustrate a point, should never be used as the basic sermon text, because they reflect so thoroughly the opinions of the paraphraser. Also, children's Bibles, such as the Good News, and, to a lesser degree, the NIV should not be used as the basis of a sermon directed toward the entire congregation. The NASB should not be used, simply because its English is atrocious. Its rigid adherence to the formal equivalence principle, while making it highly useful in the study, renders it completely inappropriate in a setting where communication is important.
The NIV should not be used from the pulpit, in my judgment, because it is a sectarian translation. It is a self-confessedly "evangelical" translation, which excluded non-evangelicals from the translation process. It is therefore ecclesiastically unacceptable (it excludes from the outset people who don't call themselves "evangelical," just as the Kingdom Translation excludes people who don't call themselves Jehovah's Witnesses). In fact, even for study purposes, one will have to be cautious about the evangelical bias reflected in this translation, whereby the weaknesses, as well as the strengths, of evangelicalism have not been offset by a more "inclusive" committee.
Specifically, the NIV shows many signs of being individualistic, experientialist, and revivalistic (I am speaking about the NIV New Testament; I haven't evaluated the NIV Old Testament thoroughly yet). At the same time, the NIV ought to be in the minister's study because it is a good illustration of the demands of a dynamic equivalence translation, and it is also very successful at many points. The RSV, reflecting the breadth of the church, a high style of English, and a reasonably accurate representation of the original text, is perhaps the preferred text for pulpit use.
3. Translation is a theological task
It has become increasingly clear that translation cannot really be performed in a theological vacuum. When a variety of linguistic options present themselves, theological factors can influence the decision to choose one option over the other. In fact, such factors should influence the translation. The resolution of the translation question about how to translate telos in Romans 10:4 is resolved in large part by resolving larger questions about Paul's theology; how he understands the relation between the older testament and the Christ event, etc. Since theology is to be determined by the Bible, and since translating the Bible is determined, at least in part, by theological considerations, it is easy to see that there is something of a circle here. Fortunately, it is not a vicious cycle, because if one is willing to entertain sympathetically a variety of options, one can grow in the confidence with which one evaluates a given translation. One must never pretend, however, that translation is a step of "pre-exegesis" or "pre-interpretation." The first step of interpretation is translation. This step will influence all other steps, so it must be approached with the entire arsenal of theological tools.
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