HAVE SPOKEN frequently on this blog about people who hold unshakable (false) beliefs regarding “which translations are allowed” at Mass. You can explain matters to them until you’re blue in the face, but it makes no difference: they’re intransigent. From time to time, we find intransigence when it comes to the art of liturgical translation. Certain people hold beliefs—for example regarding “literal” translation—and will never give them up. On the other hand, I understand the source of their intransigence. It’s traceable to an old adage: Once stung, twice shy.
Let’s Be Specific • The term “dynamic equivalence” became a dirty word in the 1990s. That’s because the 1960s ICEL translators—in a shameful, sneaky, sinful way—introduced theological and ideological changes to the Holy Mass under the guise of “dynamic equivalence.” The 1970s ICEL translation was deservedly mocked across the globe; it was a total sham. For example, look what they did with the Offertory prayer for the 2nd Sunday of Advent:
* PDF Download • COMPARISON CHART (ICEL 1970s Translation)
Perhaps the preëminent cheerleader for the 1970s ICEL translation is Paul Inwood, who publicly admitted the 1970s translation was meant to “conceal” (his word) the true meaning of the prayers:
7th-century theology, spirituality, and culture are very far from where most of the Church is now. The 1973 translation concealed this fact from us. If we had known what the prayers really said, we would not have wanted to pray them any longer. Now we are faced with that question 40 years later, and it is not any easier.
Bryan Cones (a kindred spirit of Mr. Inwood) writing for a progressive Catholic magazine agrees:
What these naked translations really reveal is how imperial and pagan these prayers really are […] To me it seems not only that we shouldn’t be using these translations, we shouldn’t be using most of these prayers at all anymore. They simply reflect an approach to God—a distant, imperial God to whom we must beg for mercy—and an understanding of the church—sinful, unworthy, unredeemed—that I think we have left behind.
According to Father Peter Stravinskas, the 1970s ICEL eliminated every single instance of the word “soul.” The current LECTIONARY seems to have imitated their idiocy, producing what is (in my humble opinion) a true abomination for the 22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time’s Gospel:
What profit would there be for one to gain the whole world and forfeit one’s life? Or what can one give in exchange for one’s life?
Dynamic Equivalence:
In spite of the reprehensible actions of the 1970s ICEL, “dynamic equivalence” isn’t a dirty word. As Father Valentine Young used to say: “We translate ideas not words.” Monsignor Knox, a famous polyglot theologian who translated the entire Bible (at the request of the Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster), reminds us that only a very foolish person would translate Il y avait dans cet homme je ne sais quoi de suffisance as: “There was in this man I know not what of self-sufficiency.” In reality, it means something like: “There was a touch of complacency about him.”
I suppose a “literal” translation of the Spanish ¿Cuántos años tiene? would be: “How many years have you?” But that’s total gibberish; it actually means: “How old are you?” Monsignor Ronald Knox—unlike many of his critics—was fluent in numerous foreign languages. As a young boy, he won prize after prize at the top schools in England for his knowledge of Latin and Greek. But he also knew Hebrew, and in several articles patiently explained the many “HEBRAISMS” (i.e. idiomatic phrases) found throughout the Bible. ARCHBISHOP FULTON J. SHEEN considered Knox’s Bible translation to be the finest ever created.
As part of the (understandable) reaction to “dynamic equivalence,” certain people became hysterical over dumb things. For instance, a certain cadre went nuts over “We believe” instead of “I believe” in the NICENE CREED—even though “We believe” goes back thousands of years, as one of the Gregorian Chant incipits reminds us. Others went berserk over calling the priest’s book a “SACRAMENTARY”—although that’s actually a more accurate term than “MISSAL.” Monsignor Francis P. Schmitt wasn’t far off the mark when he wrote in 1977:
Hard-line rightist groups like Una Voce tend to mistake inept language and questionable taste for heresy, and their pamphleteers are forever talking about the beauty of Gregorian chant, by which, it turns out, they mean MASS VIII: a piece neither traditional nor all that beautiful.”
Rorate Cæli:
The ENTRANCE CHANT for the 4th Sunday of Advent is the famous Roráte Cæli Désuper. But according to Monsignor Knox, the Hebrew text does not match Saint Jerome’s translation:
* PDF Download • The Prophecy of Isaias (Chapter 45)
—Excerpt from the Bible translation by Monsignor Knox.
Naturally, all the traditional hand-missals follow Saint Jerome:
According to Monsignor Knox,1 the Hebrew text doesn’t say: “the Just One”—it says justice. The Hebrew text doesn’t say: “the Savior”—it says salvation. In a marvelous 1949 tome called “Trials of a Translator,” Knox made reference to this:
Of course, there are occasions where the Latin differs deliberately from our present Hebrew text, as when Saint Jerome insists on making the skies rain down a Just Man, instead of justice; in such a passage as “I know that my Reedemer liveth” you have no course open but to desert the Hebrew. There are occasions, too, where the Latin is almost certainly a mistaken attempt to render the Hebrew we have got, and you must put things right by elaborate footnotes.
So what does this mean? Well, it’s always possible that Saint Jerome was looking at Hebrew manuscripts Knox didn’t have access to. On the other hand, many Old Testament statements apply to JESUS CHRIST yet have a “double meaning.” Such instances are mysterious; they’re not always clear-cut. For instance, certain passages of the Psalter refer to something happening in David’s life but also refer to Our Redeemer. Saint Matthew (1:23) says: “Behold a virgin shall be with child, and bring forth a son.” Saint Matthew correctly applies that verse to Mary and Jesus—but others think it (additionally) may have referred to something contemporaneous with the prophet Isaiah.
Conclusion • When it comes to Sacred Scripture, the Church teaches that the original is what is considered inspired—not any translations which came later. It goes without saying that much more could be said about “the art of liturgical translation.” In many ways, this is a brand new thing because for 1,500 years the only liturgical language—broadly speaking—was Latin. How literal should a liturgical language be? How much emphasis ought to be placed on beauty? Currently 1.3 billion people speak English; do all of them have the same “sense” or “aesthetics” or “view” of beautiful language? Should we treat congregations as if they’re dumb animals and reduce language to the “lowest common denominator?” Shouldn’t we do what great literature, great hymns, and even nursery rhymes have always done? Shouldn’t we use elegant and lofty language, realizing that looking up a word in the dictionary isn’t the end of the world? And don’t even get me started on the damage which has been done to sacred music by constantly switching translations and pretending to hold copyright over phrases which have been in the public domain for centuries.
I pray that we are given beautiful and holy translations. May it be so.
1 Monsignor Knox wrote in 1949: “I should be very far indeed from claiming that the Vulgate gives you, everywhere, an accurate interpretation of its original. But you must have a standard text; and the Vulgate Latin is so imbedded in our liturgy and in all our ecclesiastical language that a serious departure from it causes infinite confusion. Meanwhile, the discrepancies between the Vulgate and the (long since abandoned) textus receptus are not really as disconcerting as my critics pretend. Where they are slight, they mostly get ironed out in the process of translation; where they are grave, the passage is usually of such difficulty that a footnote would have been demanded in any case. More than once, I have taken refuge in an ambiguous phrase, to by-pass the difficulty.”
