Languages fascinate me because they reveal how people think, and what is important to them. The Inuit, for instance, have many words for snow because it is a major part of their lives, and subtle differences in frozen water tell them a lot about current conditions. Learning both Greek and Hebrew was a real eye-opener for me. Not only did I have more direct access to the Bible, but I finally began to understand the differences between the two cultures. Biblical Hebrew is structurally simple with a limited vocabulary that is very earthy and concrete, the language of herders and farmers. Greek is far more complex and subtle, befitting a people who lived and breathed philosophy. Latin is complex, too, but more legalistic and less philosophical.
In my second year of Hebrew studies, the instructor had us translate a chapter of Genesis a week. So when I first looked through the Septuagint, the second-century B.C. Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible, it was all wrong. How could Genesis ever be authentic in Greek? Sadly, I put the book back on the shelf. The Septuagint is a valuable source for understanding subtleties of interpretation that can’t be revealed in Hebrew, but I’m just not interested in being that scholarly. If I’m going to pull my hair out translating, I’d rather lose it for the original language.
This past week I translated Luke 1:39-55 from Greek, a passage that includes the song of Mary called the Magnificat. And it was all wrong. It needs to be in Latin, at least, if not Elizabethan English. Mary probably spoke Aramaic, but that would be worse. Here we have a problem that has nothing to do with the original language, but rather familiarity. I should have figured that “My soul doth magnify” would only work with Magnificat anima mea, something I have sung numerous times. The Greek translates to “My self/inmost life enlarges/praises.” Try to set that to music, J.S. Bach!
So language not only reveals how we think; it limits it as well. The Roman church never could figure out why the Greeks were all worked up over whether the Son was homoousios or homoiousios to the Father. Isn’t “of one being” (consubstantialem) good enough? Does it matter that I hear the Magnificat in Latin? No, as long as I don’t get so wrapped up in languages that I miss the heart of it, the world turned upside down. When Mary sings, the arrogant are scattered, rulers are thrown down, the rich are sent packing empty-handed – and the humble are lifted up and the hungry are filled. God’s name is holy, and God’s mercy goes on forever. Fortunately for us humans, that’s the same no matter what language we speak.
Advent 4, Year C: Micah 5:2-5a; Canticle 15 (the Magnificat); Hebrews 10:5-10; Luke 1:39-55.
Monday, December 14, 2009
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1 comment:
As a beginning student of Hebrew and a person completely ignorant of Greek, I find your comparison of the two languages very interesting. So far (again, in the very early stages), Hebrew reminds me a bit of the Anglo-Saxon roots of English -- most of the basic vocabulary is short, simple words, many of them monosyllables (before you start adding prefixes, suffixes and the like), unlike English's borrowings from Norman French (and behind that, Latin), which are often polysyllabic synonyms for equally good and much earthier Anglo-Saxon terms.
My conception of "the fullness of time" (Gal. 4:4) includes the fact that God became incarnate in such a time and place that a mingling of Hebrew and Greco-Roman culture would be inevitable. Christianity is neither one nor the other.
I think of the Magnificat in traditional Prayerbook English. But, as you say, the underlying heart of it transcends all languages. As do the Torah, and the Gospels, and above all the Word made flesh, who transcends everything in heaven and earth.
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