The New York Times has a new article up on “The All-Purpose Pronoun“, in which legions of Twitter users are bemoaning the lack of a good non-gendered pronoun to refer to everybody and anybody. This, of course, is familiar ground for those dezions familiar with the debate on gender language in the Bible.

The middle of the article contains some interesting historical info on the introduction of “he” as a universal pronoun and what was used before it:

If any single person is responsible for this male-centric usage, it’s Anne Fisher, an 18th-century British schoolmistress and the first woman to write an English grammar book, according to the sociohistorical linguist Ingrid Tieken-Boon van Ostade. Fisher’s popular guide, “A New Grammar” (1745), ran to more than 30 editions, making it one of the most successful grammars of its time. More important, it’s believed to be the first to say that the pronoun he should apply to both sexes.

The idea that he, him and his should go both ways caught on and was widely adopted. But how, you might ask, did people refer to an anybody before then? This will surprise a few purists, but for centuries the universal pronoun was they. Writers as far back as Chaucer used it for singular and plural, masculine and feminine. Nobody seemed to mind that they, them and their were officially plural. As Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary of English Usage explains, writers were comfortable using they with an indefinite pronoun like everybody because it suggested a sexless plural.

So there you go – the TNIV has history on its side. And perhaps if the tweeting masses catch on, history will repeat itself:

In fact, so many people now use they in the old singular way that dictionaries and usage guides are taking a critical look at the prohibition against it. R. W. Burchfield, editor of The New Fowler’s Modern English Usage, has written that it’s only a matter of time before this practice becomes standard English: “The process now seems irreversible.”

[...] Its fate is now in the hands of the jury, the people who speak the language.

To this point, I have not been able to determine the exact NEB translators for 1 Timothy, where this phrase occurs. For what it’s worth, the New Testament translation team [source] consisted of:

• Professor C. H. Dodd (Convener)
• Dr. G. S. Duncan
• Dr. W. F. Howard
• Professor G. D. Kilpatrick
• Professor T. W. Manson
• Professor C. F. D. Moule
• J. A. T. Robinson
• G. M. Styler
• Professor R. V. G. Tasker

They were assisted by a Literary Committee:

• Professor Sir Roger Mynors
• Professor Basil Willey
• Sir Arthur Norrington
• Anne Ridler
• Canon Adam Fox
• Dr. John Carey

Whether all of these worked on each NT book or, as is more likely, each was a primary translator for individual books, I cannot say. Perhaps someone with a Cambridge Bible Commentary on 1 Timothy would be able to see if the translators are identified in the full text; the commentary itself elides this phrase.

I have, however, had more success in sourcing the phrase. As best as I can determine, it was coined by Joseph Conrad in his novel Under Western Eyes (1911), which is viewed as “a response to the themes explored” in Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, which Conrad reputedly detested.

[Under Western Eyes] is full of cynicism and conflict about the historical failures of revolutionary movements and ideals. Conrad remarks in this book, as well as others, on the irrationality of life, and the unfairness with which suffering is inflicted upon the innocent and poor and the careless disregard for fellow life with whom we share existence.

The phrase in question comes at almost the very beginning of the text, where the anonymous English narrator introduces himself and his Russian protagonist:

To begin with I wish to disclaim the possession of those high gifts of imagination and expression which would have enabled my pen to create for the reader the personality of the man who called himself, after the Russian custom, Cyril son of Isidor—Kirylo Sidorovitch—Razumov.

If I have ever had these gifts in any sort of living form they have been smothered out of existence a long time ago under a wilderness of words. Words, as is well known, are the great foes of reality. I have been for many years a teacher of languages. It is an occupation which at length becomes fatal to whatever share of imagination, observation, and insight an ordinary person may be heir to. To a teacher of languages there comes a time when the world is but a place of many words and man appears a mere talking animal not much more wonderful than a parrot.

As has been explored in previous posts, the phrase “a wilderness of words” in the NEB/REB is used to translate the Greek mataiologia, which can be more literally translated as “empty words”, “meaningless talk” (NRSV) or “fruitless discussion” (NASB). This certainly fits with Conrad’s notion that words are “the great foes of reality” and fatal to “imagination and expression“, eventually more fitting of a parrot and the “empty talkers” of Paul’s day than of a human being.

The NEB translation team began work on the New Testament in 1946, some 35 years after Conrad’s novel was published, allowing for a generation or two of readers to become familiar with it. A 1989 article in Time magazine on the REB notes that “when the New English Bible was compiled, it was fashionable among some scholars to depart from the preserved texts of the Old Testament in favor of readings based on nonbiblical writings.”

In addition to departing from the standard Masoretic text, the NEB also departed from “the preserved texts” of the king of translations, the KJV. The NEB translators deliberately intended to use contemporary idioms in order to reach those for whom the standard KJV text was inaccessible. For the translators to thus appeal to contemporary literary idioms or phrases is not beyond the pale of imagination and fits well within their stated objectives.

* * * * *

If I may, I conclude with two related items of trivia:

The phrase “a wilderness of words” has been used as the title of a critical work exploring “the problematical sense of an ending in Conrad’s tales and novellas.” Author Ted Billy “demonstrates that Conrad’s endings, instead of reinforcing the meaning of the narrative or lending finality, actually provide a contrasting perspective that clashes with the narrative’s general drift. Hence, Conrad’s artistic endgames celebrate indeterminancy and uncertainty — both in life and in the fictions we create to give our lives meaning.”

Finally, I must note an English word that has been used in reference to Conrad’s views on the function of language: “logomachy”, meaning “a dispute over or about words”. Note the similarity between logomachy and mataiologia? The Greek roots are different (machē, “battle” vs. mataios, “devoid of force, truth, success, result”), but the similarity cannot be denied, especially when taking Ambrose Bierce’s definition of logomachy in The Devil’s Dictionary:

A war in which the weapons are words and the wounds punctures in the swim-bladder of self-esteem — a kind of contest in which, the vanquished being unconscious of defeat, the victor is denied the reward of success.

Devoid of success indeed!

* * * * *

This week’s passage was 1 Peter 4.1-6, but I just want to focus on the first two verses, especially 4.1b. First in the NIV, then the TNIV that I was reading along with, followed by the NLT and HCSB, which I also use quite frequently:

1 Peter 4:1-2

At first glance, it seems evident that to avoid the NIV’s masculine “he/his” in 4:1b, the TNIV editors simply updated the text with “those/their” and changed the verb accordingly. This is all well and good, unless your pastor chooses to dwell on the “he/his” as a typographical example of Christ. That is, because we have the example of Christ, who suffered in his physical body in order to conquer sin, we should not shy away from suffering for the will of God, but bear it along in our hope and faith of his salvation. Christ is the one who is done with sin, not us — we can only be done with sin through Christ, not of our own physical suffering.

Note that the HCSB even more explicitly takes the approach that my pastor did – by marking off the phrase in question with parenthetical dashes and capitalizing “One”, it is made clear that they consider this passage to be solely referring to Christ and not ourselves.

So what happens when you read this in the TNIV? The passage become more inclusive – not only from a gender perspective, but also placing our suffering alongside that of Christ. He suffered and we suffer. He finished with sin, we (will) finish with sin. Our suffering is shared in his suffering (cf. 4.13).

The NLT adds an explicit “for Christ” to this passage–effectively denying the HCSB’s interpretation and placing the emphasis back on the reader, though the NLT Study Bible *does* admit the possibility of the Christ-focused interpretation in the study notes.

Note the change in voice in the NLT as well, as v.4:1b-2 pick up the second person “you” and modify the text accordingly. It seems to me that, if a Christ-centric interpretation was preferred, the TNIV could have hewed somewhere between the NIV and NLT:

Therefore, since Christ suffered in his body, arm yourselves also with the same attitude, because he who has suffered in his body is done with sin. As a result, you need not live the rest of your earthly lives for evil human desires, but rather for the will of God.

In this manner, it is clear what is “you” and what is “he”. Whether it is correct or not, I couldn’t say.

Of the texts considered, I happen to think that the HCSB is the clearest text here from a plain reading approach. However, the question in my mind begins to coalesce around the point of whether the NIV and more specifically the HCSB have chosen their wording in order to avoid a whiff of suggestion that it is the effect of our physical work and/or an aesthetic of suffering that is victory over sin.

To be more blunt, is this a Protestant interpretation that seeks to keep the source of salvation centered on Christ rather than on our own effort? And is this interpretation accurate for these few verses?

Note:

* * * * *

I’ve mentioned several times on this blog that my church is standardized on the NIV for its pastoral and pew Bible translation. As a conservative evangelical Baptist church, this shouldn’t raise any eyebrows, except perhaps for the fact that we don’t use the ESV. However, I’ve never used the NIV myself, preferring the NASB in my youth and an eclectic mix of translations for the past few years. Instead, I usually bring a TNIV or HCSB to church with me – I’ve found that more often than not those two translations are close enough to the NIV that “readalong distractions” are minimal.

There were a few discrepancies today (April 26), however, that held my attention a little longer – mostly because they were directly related to the point that the pastor was making. So I wanted to take a closer look – first at the NIV “original”, then at the TNIV that I was reading along with, plus the HCSB for comparison sake.

For the past six months or so, we’ve been studying 1 Peter, verse by verse – today was 1 Peter 3:17-22, plus a few verses out of Romans.

1 Peter 3:18

Is the preliminary point that Christ died or that Christ suffered? And where did the universalism go in the TNIV?

Romans 1:17

This verse is consistent with the criticism that N.T. Wright levels against the NIV – that the “righteousness” is positioned as something given to us, rather than something inherent to Him, as in the TNIV and HCSB.

Romans 3:25

The TNIV reads the clearest (to me) here, but I do like how the HCSB retains “righteousness” instead of switching to “justice” and manages to include a “passover” reference in this passage. My issue with the NIV and HCSB is that it is unclear who is placing faith in Christ’s blood – us or God.

Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength. (Deuteronomy 6:5)

Specifically:

• Compare “all your heart” — e.g. your mind and intellect — to the selfish “lust of the eyes”;
• Compare “all your soul” — e.g. your entire emotional and spiritual being — to the “pride” of possessions, wealth, lifestyle and achievement;
• Compare “all your strength” — e.g. your physical being — with “the lust of the flesh” and its appetite for physical pleasure.

Jeremiah 20:7

Read the translation notes from the NET Bible to possibly shed some light on the differences.

The TNIV of course is a revision of the venerable NIV. As such, many areas remain the same as the older translation – one textual decision that has been criticized by many over the years is the translation of the Gk. sarx as “sinful nature”. Now, I hasten to add that as part of its mediating approach, the T/NIV does not use “sinful nature” as a universal translation for sarx. Other renderings, such as “sinful humanity” and “human flesh”, make it clear that the translation team understood the term to have different nuances in different settings and as used by different authors.

To the best of my understanding, the issue with “sinful nature” is that we read it as something innately bad about our natural selves (body, soul, mind) rather than a corruption of a “good” creation made in the image of God. Nevermind then that Jesus Christ took on the flesh and became human. If our flesh is inherently sinful, than Jesus Christ could not be but sinful if he was 100% human.

I don’t have a good answer with respect to when and how sin entered our bodies, but I do know that I prefer the language used by God himself in Genesis 8.21:

Never again will I curse the ground because of human beings, even though every inclination of the human heart is evil from childhood. (TNIV, emphasis mine)

Here we see that the human heart is inclined toward evil in every matter and that we slide down that slippery slope more easily than not, even at the youngest age. But it also keeps open the possibility of a human heart, directed and led by the Spirit, that might resist such natural temptation and consequent corruption. This was the case of Jesus, yes?

With this mind, how might a sarx passage such as this from Romans 8 be rendered?

The New Jerusalem Bible is the only published translation I’ve seen that gets close to this rendering:

vv.3-4: What the Law could not do because of the weakness of human nature, God did, sending his own Son in the same human nature as any sinner to be a sacrifice for sin, and condemning sin in that human nature. This was so that the Law’s requirements might be fully satisfied in us as we direct our lives not by our natural inclinations but by the Spirit.

NLT’07 for everyday reading and study; HCSB or TNIV for my “church” Bible (we are a NIV church and I’ve found those two translations work really well for reading along with the NIV). And (too) many others for comparison’s sake.

The point of this post is not that answer. However, to get to the point, I will need to retread some related background. Long-time readers of this blog will remember that I used the NASB almost exclusively for 20 years and long subscribed to the “literal is best” mindset. After a little experimentation, I kicked off this blog with the purpose of finding a current translation that satisfied my sensibilities for modern English and that could be used in a variety of settings, including devotional reading, personal studies and at church. The four translations that I considered alongside the NASB — the NLTse, TNIV, HCSB and REB — have all rotated through my hands at various points since then (and still do).

Looking back at my time with the NASB, it was a very simple experience – the Bible was the Bible and my “quiet still waters” were not muddied by translation debates. I find myself longing for that type of experience again and am continually challenging myself on whether comparing and interacting with different translations is a selfish “wisdom of this world” desire.

If I were convicted about the appropriateness of functional translation before my blogging “sabbatical”, I am even more so now — convinced that to enter into a living, breathing dialog with God’s Word, the Bible needs to be not just read, but lived in language that allows the narratives of our day-to-day lives to enter and mingle with the details of God’s story. Everyday stories aren’t told in the stilted language of scribes or theologians, but of fishermen, carpenters, tentmakers, shepherds, web designers, youth leaders, parents and children. There will always be trained theologians like Paul who write with difficult words for a specialized audience, but, for me, to be in a lover’s relationship with the gospel means I must enjoy and reflect everyday intimacy with the Word, not the lechery of enjoying the text for the purpose of my own enjoyment.

For some, this intimacy comes from understanding and exploring the Greek and Hebrew texts; for others, what they believe to be a literal representation of those texts in English. As for me, I am finding intimacy in contentment, in knowing that even though the translation I use (whatever it may be) may not convey every shade of possible meaning of an original text, the meaning that is there is sufficient to kindle an everlasting flame and keep it well oiled.

In a similar discussion about the BBB’s question, blogger Tim McCormick pondered whether it is good to use different Bibles, then commented that:

Sometimes the key might just be accepting a translation, knowing its positive and negative features, and just sticking with it. I think I just lose out in building a relationship with the Sacred Text when I am always switching translations.

After so much time spent pondering and comparing translations, I am coming to agree with Tim. This concept of consistent relational reading has been in the forefront of my thoughts lately as I’m reading Eugene Peterson’s book Eat This Word. We get very insulated when we sit surrounded by multiple translations and compare this phrase or contrast that verse. It’s much like saying “what can I get from the Bible today?”, when the real question is “what can I give from the Bible today?” In Eat This Word, Peterson writes:

We do not read the Bible in order to find out how to get God into our lives, get him to participate in our lives. That’s getting it backward.

And then later:

If I am not participating in the reality — the God reality, the creation/salvation/holiness reality — revealed in the Bible, [....] I am probably not going to be much interested in reading about it – at least not for long.

That is, our interest in reading the Bible is driven by our active participation in the reality of the Bible, in God’s Kingdom. When we cease to participate in God’s work, we cease to be interested in understanding God’s Word. It becomes a circle, with our participation leading to greater understanding of God’s word, which informs our participation.

I pursue the way of Your commands, for You broaden my understanding. (Psalm 119:32, HCSB)

In this way, faith leads to work leads to wisdom and back again. As such, I wonder if the actual question might be:

What are you doing in the Kingdom of God that is driving your choice of Bible translations?

Yet in most Bible translations, at least those leaning in the median and formal categories, there is an extreme reluctance to use contractions. They are evidently considered too informal for literary language and translation teams will go to various lengths to avoid them, including switching from passive to active voice and/or rearranging the phrase.

The simple example of Romans 12:2 will suffice as illustration:

The directness of replacing “be” with “do” in the TNIV (and HCSB and ESV) may be easier on modern ears than the KJV’s passive phrasing, but which is grammatically correct in the Greek? I wonder if a gentler modernization would be “Do not be conformed to this world…” (cf. ISV), but of course that sounds somewhat clunky unless we use the contraction, “Don’t be conformed to this world…” But then we’re back to the contraction issue.

And of course, never mind the rhetorical cadence that has been discarded from the KJV, e.g. “be not conformed”//”be ye transformed”. To keep that effect, you’d need to also use active voice in the secondary part of the phrase:

Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but transform your life by renewing your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is-his good, pleasing and perfect will.”

But whoops! That sounds like it might assign too active a role to ourselves in our transformation, so we need to keep the passive voice so that we remain the object of transformation, not the transformer.

Next, switching language to avoid the passive ‘not” leads to the result that the balance of the passage is thrown off. In the KJV, the “be not conformed” is an introduction to the meat of the passage, which is be transformed in order to know the will of God. (I’m reminded of the HCSB’s translation of John 3:16, “For God loved the world in this way: he gave…”)

In modern translations, we instead end up with a “if/then” logical arrangement: if you don’t conform, but are transformed, then you will know the will of God. The change in logical balance and use of an active command “Do not” shifts the emphasis of the argument from the positive being transformed to the negative not conforming.

Finally, with all of the above in mind, here’s an attempt at modernizing the effect of the KJV, while avoiding the “unnatural” negative:

Don’t be conformed to the practices of this world. Instead, be transformed by the renewing of your mind so that you might know the good and acceptable and perfect will of God.

HT: the Preface of the God’s Word translation.

We are all (overly) familiar with the phrase “open the eyes of my heart” from contemporary praise and worship music. In this verse, the phrase from the HCSB FE is found in translations ranging from the NASB to the NIV. The underlying Greek is: ophthalmos hymōn dianoia. Literally, “the eyes of your understanding” (cf. KJV) or “the eyes of your mind” (cf. Jerusalem Bible). So the new HCSB is perhaps moving in a more literal direction rather than more idiomatic, with “perception” as their optimally equivalent translation of ophthalmos (“the eyes of the mind”).

In some ways, this makes the entire verse a little more consistent, drawing together “perception”, “mind”, “enlightened” and “know” all as descriptions of a rational reader. The metaphorical “eyes” and “heart” are put aside, losing the emotional reference in English, as well as the image of “inward eyes” (REB) that are “flooded with light” (NLT), allowing the person to see the hope and share of their eternal inheritance.

So… is “the hope of his calling” to be seen in our hearts or known in our minds? Where does hope reside in English?