Friday, April 15, 2011

Playing the Master’s Song on a Broken Violin


A little while ago I got involved in a pretty interesting discussion. It was about the validity and nature of the Bible; in itself a straight-forward and, frankly, boring topic. But somewhere between the bored yawns and the frustrated palm on my head I realized something extraordinarily beautiful. 

All languages of the world are fundamentally flawed. Yes, language is the perfect symbol of human iniquity and brokenness. No one language can express every facet of every thing, whether in regard to grammar or vocabulary. Language in itself cannot hold ideas; it can merely point to them. For instance the English newspaper and the German Zeitung each point to and describe the same thing, but they do not ‘mean’ it. No human language can contain the fullness of our surroundings, not to mention the abstract thought ot the human mind. Besides; while Scandinavian languages might have several hundred words for snow, most Saharans will only know a couple types of frost. Go to Fiji or Samoa, and they probably use less than a handful due to the altitudes of snow in the Pacific. Language is at the mercy of its users, and unused or unusable words will automatically fall away. This means a language is normally well adapted to its usual environment but useless in another. 

This brings us to a major problem with language; translation. If you were to translate a Swedish text about snow conditions into Arabic or Fijian you would face great difficulty. (Thankfully, Arabs and Fijians seldom find themselves in need of literature on snow, but let us ignore this incongruity for the sake of an example.) Arabic and Fijian, though they are both well-functional languagues, do not have enough snow related terms to convey the message - at least not without using many extra words to explain it. To further complicate things; if the book mentions the traditional Swedish «spark» (a kicksled that looks something like a double kick scooter with a chair and blades) the translator will have to find a way to explain what it is. However if the original writer has referenced a well-known story about two lovers out with a «spark», but not retold it, the translator has to be even more creative: Does he retell the story, departing from the original? Does he leave it out, or simply hope readers will know it or not care? Or maybe he makes plenty of lengthy footnotes, or maybe he releases a study guide along with the book. The Bible has the same problem. Some books in the Bible talk about love, but are written in a language with different names for every variety of ‘love’ and ‘friendship’. Some parts of the Bible are so full of stories most modern readers cannot understand (without a Master’s degree in Jewish culture, history and literature, as well as a Bachelor’s degree in Greek and Roman philosophy) that no translator could ever be expected to translate it ‘adequately’ and ‘properly’. While the text might still say the same thing as much as linguistics allow, the original meaning would be lost. This is why no translation will ever be perfect, or even ‘good enough’; and even less so the Bible.

Then again, translation is not the only factor displaying the iniquity of language. Who can say they would not use different words if they had access to a larger, more precise vocabulary? Who is to say an author or translator would not have use different words were he able to? Furthermore, who can be sure that St Paul himself, or even Christ, would not have said things that depart from our translations had he spoken English? I dare say that no original manuscript can hold the thoughts and ideas the writer wanted to express. It may contain a certain makeshift representation of them, but never the ideas themselves, and never completely or adequately.

Some times I wonder if language is not a symbol of something greater; of something that was once a brilliant and glorious structure but is now shattered. The Bible certainly seems to say so. In Genesis 11, the story is told. The people of the earth decided to join forces to build a huge city and tower. They wanted to make it so tall it went right into heaven, so it could bring them fame and put their brilliance on display. But the Lord saw that what he had given man; a single unfiying language, was being used in order to rebel against himself. We decided to glorify the recipient instead of thanking the giver, and our selfish goals became more important than our Creator.

The Bible makes it clear that God loves language. In fact, it says God spoke the universe into life. John 1:1 sheds further light to this fact. It says that «In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.» John compares God’s word, teachings, expression - the logos - to the incarnate Christ. The word, Christ, was present at creation; the word, Christ, was what and who created the world and how it was created. The word - like Christ - holds the light to illuminate the darkness and the power to destroy evil, but it is never accepted or understood by evil.

This makes it even more impressive that through this mess of words and meaning, God himself reaches down. God reveals himself and his plan for us in plain English - he shows us a glimpse of eternity, with imperfect means and broken tools. He asks for a personal relationship with each of us, and actively steps into our world to gain it. God uses imperfection to get our attention. It is like the master violinist who found himself with a broken violin, but still stunned his audience. He is willing to sacrifice, he is willing to lay down his life. The word of God itself is communicated in and to a world in pieces. It is not a matter of man climbing to a higher level; it is a matter of God pulling man up. It is not a matter of seeking out the high priest; it is a matter of seeking out the commoner: the merchant, the farmer, the student, the nurse. The healthy do not need a doctor, the sick do. The Bible is not written only in a heavenly and perfect language no man can understand, it is written in very earthly and very human languages. It is not only in Latin and Shakespearean English; it is in the pidgins and the creoles, in slang and txtese. God takes our broken language, just like he takes our torn-apart nature and our partial humanity, and uses it to craft his word.

Allow me to give a practical example of this. In most of Europe, Christ was seen as a distant figure throughout the Middle Ages. In many places, He was prayed to less than the saints, who were seen as congenial, personal and approachable. Hoevever, in 1534 the first German Bible was printed. The results were inevitable. Up until that point, all Bibles had been in Latin. As people of all social levels could understand the Bible, people not only found the Bible was more relevant than they previously thought but they were saved. Europeans everywhere was taught to read the Bible, so they could live by it. And soon, all of Europe was transformed: The Bible had been written in the tongue of the commoner, and the church had become truly catholic.

It is evident that a unification between God and man is needed. All of nature, everything we know, has undergone a terrible split and yearns for reconciliation. In order to do this, God steps down into our reality. The reconciliation effort that has gone on since the very fall itself culminated in the cross. This reconciliation is not yet perfect or complete, but will be fulfilled in the Kingdom of God. All of nature will be made right. Everything we know will escape the trenches of brokenness and sin. The tears will be wiped from our eyes and the wolf and the lamb will graze together. There will be no death and there will be no predators. There will be no disunity and no imperfection. Nothing will be fragmented or incomplete; everything will be good and without flaw.

All human languages are fundamentally shattered. A result of sin and pride, they are also strong displays of man’s iniquity. Still, God chooses to use them to convey his word; like a symphony played with broken instruments. All of history shows us the power that in God’s word, and the blazing fire that is lit when people can read it in their own language. Still, the world yearns for restoration and reconciliation. Christ died on the cross, so that God and man could be brought together and nature find a way to its state of completeness. And as if that was not enough, God - the same God who created the very universe just by speaking - uses our own feeble languages to tell us about it. Despite all of man’s sin, brokenness and pain, God gives us a chance to know him. And he uses the very symbol of human failure to do it.

3 comments:

  1. Aaaah... Kjersti, this is wonderful. I wish I could say something constructive but I think you basically said it all, and so very eloquently. :) Love the connections you drew here. Brilliant stuff.

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  2. Dette var ein overraskande og imponerande blogg. Fine refleksjonar.

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  3. Thanks Oksana! As long as you're withholding constructivity, all is good ;)

    Tusen takk for det, Hallvard! Dette er mest et halvveis hemmeligholdt oppsamlingssted for ting som interesserer meg, med en veldig sporadisk og ujevn oppdateringsrytme. Regner med å skrive mer her etter årets eksamensperiode.

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