Religious Reform as Translation
Codified texts are a staple of ritual. Whether written or oral – their words are finite, they have
clear-cut boundaries. There is a given formula, proven correct, and any deviation from it is
rife with uncertainty, if not an outright prohibition. Baking a cake while using a recipe from a
cookbook is, at its core, performing a ritual, following a codified text. The baker may not
conform to the given instructions – but he or she does so at the risk of a flawed dessert. This
is especially true of religious ritual. Religions have standardized specific creeds, have
regulated precise methods of prayer; the believer must adhere to these accepted texts or face
exclusion from the institutionalized faith. It is not surprising that in Judaism, the fixed written
Torah is treated far more ceremoniously than its open-ended counterpart, the oral code.
Religious ritual, however, is something of an oxymoron. It is difficult to imagine a
uniform procedure or text honestly reflecting the believer's personal relationship with the
Divine. One-size-fits-all ceremonies cannot always be conciliated to subjective faith. Many
rituals were established hundreds of years ago, and are hardly relevant in the modern era –
possibly because historical reality has changed, possibly because our definitions of right and
wrong have since advanced. Furthermore: are the accepted or communal forms of prayer
truly what the individual believer wishes to convey to God at certain times? There is
something of the absurd in requiring the believer who has recently suffered great personal
tragedy to sing paeans of joy, simply because that is what her faith mandates.
Defenders of orthodox religion are not unaware of the inherent tension between
personal faith and detached ritual. A common "solution" orthodox Judaism offers is the
detachment of the words uttered by the believer from their literal meanings: all members of
the synagogue must recite the same traditional prayer, yet one can – perhaps should – infuse
it with personal or contemporary meaning and intention. In this way, it is claimed,
subjectivity and relevance can be realized and maintained within the objective framework of
religion. If, for example, the believer encounters a benediction that appears unpalatably
derogatory towards women – the blessing must be stated verbatim, yet the believer can
privately interpret it in such a way, as to conform to a modern conscience.1 The original
1
See Efrat Gerber-Aran, (2013, February). 'For Not Making Me a Woman?,' in Kipa,
http://www.kipa.co.il/women/50862.html, accessed Wednesday, February 12, 2014, 1:30 AM.
1
significance of religious ritual is, therefore, surprisingly inconsequential. So long as the
believer has outwardly performed the codified practice – he may think whatever he likes.
Judaism's suspension of literal meaning seems somewhat illogical – and irreverent.
Purposely saying something but not meaning it is commonly referred to as "lying." This
irrationality is only heightened when we recall that at the other end of the conversation, sits
God. However, theoretical argument aside, Judaism's method of bridging the gap between the
objective and subjective religious experiences is not even the prevalent view. Recent events
have the Catholic Church and millions of English-speaking Roman Catholics around the
globe holding otherwise. Slightly over two years ago, a new English translation of the Roman
Missal was introduced as the authoritative English Mass – a modification that, as Sharon
Otterman reported at the time, generated diverse responses throughout the Catholic world.2
The Vatican promoted the translation as "more reverential and accurate,"3 while Reverend
Anthony Ruff, who worked on parts of the latest translation with the International
Commission on English in the Liturgy, accused the translation of being "not good English
that will help people pray."4 Both sides, however, agree that the precise wording of the Mass
is of importance to the believer. Ritual is not just a codified text. Different words evoke
different meanings – even when dealing with versions of the English Mass that stem from the
same Latin original. The outrage one New York parishioner expressed about the new
translation is telling: "'I am so tired of being told exactly what I have to say, exactly what I
have to pray.'"5 Undoubtedly, the former English translation of Mass also dictated a certain
formula. Still, he viewed only one as being forced upon him – presumably, because the other
was a text he could personally identify with. Ritual and meaning are intertwined, and cannot
be easily separated.
Not surprisingly, the significance of particular phraseology is not only evident to the
consumers of the new Mass, but also to its middlemen – the translators. Many, if not all,
translators affirm that no two words bear identical meanings, neither synonyms within a
single language, nor translations from one language to another. As longtime translator
2
Sharon Otterman, (2011, November). 'New Translation of Catholic Mass Makes its Debut,' in The New York
Times, http://www.nytimes.com/2011/11/28/nyregion/for-catholics-the-word-was-a-bit-differentamen.html?_r=0, accessed Tuesday, February 11, 2014, 3:30 PM.
3
Ibid.
4
Ibid.
5
Ibid.
2
Nicholas de Lange remarks, "in English there are often four or five or more ways of saying
the same thing. The ‘meaning’ is the same but the nuance may be very different."6 Each
synonym is graced by its own unique identity, often provided by characteristic elements of
style – such as connotation, length, or sound. De Lange may be stating the obvious: the very
idea of "true synonyms" appears, from first glance, utterly absurd. Why would two different
words mean precisely the same thing? It seems counterintuitive that a language develops
while retaining surplus words – just as any evolving process tends to dispose of unnecessary
components.
Logic is somewhat less helpful when it comes to translations. One may argue that
different languages are capable of expressing identical ideas: the argument against superfluity
no longer holds water, because every language is an organism of its own. De Lange
continues, however, by asserting that "it is simply impossible to copy words from one
language into another."7 His fellow translator, Gregory Rabassa, carries this sentiment to an
extreme. Rabassa delves into his contemplations on the craft of translation from the
assumption that "all objects, alive or otherwise, are thoroughly individual in spite of close
resemblances."8 Consequently, "a translation can never equal the original; it can approach it,
and its quality can only be judged as to accuracy by how close it gets."9
If no single word in any language can be flawlessly substituted by a word in another,
it follows that each language is distinctly unique – perhaps existentially so. Linguist Guy
Deutscher maintains that the language one speaks influences his or her experience and
understanding of the world.10 A language does not necessarily constrict its speakers to
specific thoughts and actions – to paraphrase Deutscher, the German word Schadenfruede has
no equivalent in English, yet Americans are perfectly able to delight in their next-doorneighbor's misfortune – although it does oblige its speakers to keep certain concepts in mind.
6
Nicholas de Lange, 'Reflections of a Translator,' The Sixteenth Annual Rabbi Louis Feinberg Memorial
Lecture in Judaic Studies, University of Cincinnati, March 18, 1993.
7
Ibid.
8
Gregory Rabassa, 'No Two Snowflakes are Alike: Translation as Metaphor,' in J. Biguenet & R. Schulte (eds.),
The Craft of Translation, (Chicago/London, 1989), pp. 1-12.
9
Ibid.
10
Guy Deutscher, (2010, August). 'Does Your Language Shape How You Think?,' in The New York Times
Magazine, http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/29/magazine/29language-t.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0, accessed
Wednesday, February 12, 2014, 1:00 AM.
3
For example, English speakers can gossip about their neighbor's hardships without having to
consciously consider whether the ill-fated resident of the adjacent apartment be male or
female, whereas German speakers must make a point of their neighbor's sex, and specify if
their Schadenfreude is directed towards their Nachbar or their Nachbarin.
According to Deutscher, linguistic obligations affect people's interactions with their
surroundings. Speakers of languages that assign gender to inanimate objects often color their
perceptions of chairs, books and jigsaw puzzles with matching stereotypical characteristics.
The word for "bridge" is masculine in Spanish and feminine in German: when asked, as part
of an experiment, to depict bridges, Spanish speakers tended to refer to "manly properties"
such as strength, while Germans opted for slenderness or elegance. Deutscher admits that it is
impossible to know whether these contrasting abstract concepts have actually left their marks
on bridge-design in Madrid or Berlin, but "it would be surprising if they didn't."11 At the very
least, spoken language inspires the development of certain "habits of mind."12 A number of
remote languages indicate direction exclusively using geographical coordinates – to their
speakers, the location of my office is not three doors to the left, but rather, three doors to the
south. Clearly, speakers of these languages must be aware of the cardinal directions in
relation to themselves at any given moment. This inner compass is referenced unconsciously
and effortlessly – a language-based "habit of mind."
Notwithstanding the prevalent view among researchers and educators through much
of the twentieth century, a number of studies performed in recent years have shown that
bilingualism makes one smarter. Albert Costa, a researcher at the University of Pompeu
Fabra in Spain, attributes bilinguals' cerebral advantages to their heightened ability to monitor
their surroundings. Depending on their immediate environment, bilinguals often revert from
one language to another: as a result, bilinguals are required to keep track of the changes
around them to a far higher degree than monolinguals.13 Deutscher's theory fully supports –
and enhances – Costa's claim. Not only must bilinguals keep two languages both in mind and
in constant motion at all time – they must also accomplish the impressive intellectual feat of
11
Ibid.
12
Ibid.
13
Yudhijit Bhattacharjee (2012, March). 'Why Bilinguals are Smarter,' in The New York Times,
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/03/18/opinion/sunday/the-benefits-of-bilingualism.html, accessed Wednesday,
February 12, 2014, 1:00 AM.
4
perpetually balancing two unique systems of thought, two distinct "habits of mind," two
divergent ways of life.
Let us make our way back to church, following in Deutscher's footsteps. It is possible,
that the emphatic responses to the newly translated English Mass have less to do with the
quality of its rewording than with the existential ramifications the altered text entails. The
languages we speak, the words we choose, affect the manner in which we conceive of reality,
the manner in which we live our lives. As Elena di Giovanni has shown, based on translations
of American Disney movies set in backgrounds exotic and unfamiliar to their target audience
– such as the Middle East or ancient Greece – into Italian, translations have become vital in
defining our cultural relationships.14 To some believers, then, a different form of Mass may
signify no less than a different form of faith – essentially, a form of coerced conversion,
immoral and invalid. The exact language of ritual prayers is of supreme importance to the
believer – and should not be tampered with lightly.
If so, faith is determined – at least in part – by the creators of the codified text in its
finalized form. The religion of English-speaking Catholics is formed, to some extent, by the
architects of the English Mass. By the translators.
The translator is no less an artist than the author of the original. Due to the
impossibility of a perfect adaptation from one language to the next, the converted text is
founded largely on the subjective wiles of the translator. No "key" to translation exists.
Rabassa goes so far as to describe authorship and translation as variations of the same action
– both are conscious "choices."15 Research conducted by Brenda Malkiel provides empirical
evidence to support Rabassa's opinion.16 Forty-five translation students in Israel were asked
to translate two English texts, belonging to two different genres, into Hebrew, and then write
a short essay outlining their approach to using cognates in translation (for instance, replacing
the English "visual" with the Hebrew "vizuali"). The experiment surveyed the influence of
various factors – genre, directionality, stated preference – on the use of Hebrew loanwords in
translation. Malkiel found that "the students participating in this study decided which words
should be translated using in cognate or noncognate form on a text-by-text basis, with no two
14
Elena di Giovanni, 'Cultural Otherness and Global Communication in Walt Disney Films at the Turn of the
Century,' The Translator 9:2 (2003), pp. 207-223.
15
Rabassa, Snowflakes (note 8).
16
Brenda Malkiel, 'Translation as a Decision Process: Evidence from Cognates,' Babel 55:3 (2009), pp. 228-
243.
5
students adopting the same set of decisions."17 No single element dictated the students'
method of translation – not even their own specified policy – except for "their own sense of
right and wrong, appropriateness and accuracy."18 In Malkiel's estimation, this outcome
reflects an accepted tenet of translation: translation is a matter of instinct, a process of
decision. As Rabassa put it, a question of choice.
Correspondingly, translators' perceptions of their own craft tend to vary. The purpose
and quality of translation is viewed differently by rival translators; as de Lange illustrates,
"some translators of older writing attempt to reconstruct the conditions of the original text,
even making use of antique English language, while others aim at a modern effect."19 The
same subjectivity inherent in translation causes Rabassa to confess to a basic lack of
confidence that hounds his work:
This matter of choice in translation always leaves the door open to that other
possibility. We cannot be sure of ourselves. Translation is a disturbing craft
because there is precious little certainty about what we are doing… The
translator can never be sure of himself, he must never be. He must always be
dissatisfied with what he does because ideally, platonically, there is a perfect
solution, but he will never find it. He can never enter into the author's being
and even if he could the difference in languages would preclude any exact
reproduction. So he must continue to approach, nearer and nearer, as near as
he can, but, like Tantalus, at some practical point he must say ne plus ultra and
sink back down as he considers his work done, if not finished (in all senses of
the word).20
De Lange and Rabassa's personal, professional reflections, backed by Malkiel's experimental
research, espouse the translator's essential and subjective role in the construction of the
finished text. In keeping with Deutscher's linguistic existentialism, the translator is even the
creator of ontological meaning and purpose. This is, undoubtedly, quite a lot to ask of the
translator. After all, she is only human.
Yet her humanity is crucial. The evident significance of the particular text bears
extensive implications. Should a religious ceremony be reformed if its literal meaning is
problematic or no longer relevant? Based on the reactions to the new English Mass, based on
Deutscher's thesis – the answer appears to be a resounding yes. Judaism should take note. The
model of the English Mass proves that religion has been reformed, that religion can be
17
Ibid.
18
Ibid.
19
De Lange, Reflections (note 6).
20
Rabassa, Snowflakes.
6
reformed – and that religion will continue to be reformed. And those authorized to do so are
none other than everyday believers, humans. Translators all.
References
Bhattacharjee, Yudhijit. 2012. The New York Times. March 17. Accessed February 14, 2014.
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/03/18/opinion/sunday/the-benefits-ofbilingualism.html.
de Lange, Nicholas. 1993. "Reflections of a Translator." The Sixteenth Annual Rabbi Louis
Feinberg Memorial Lecture in Judaic Studies. Cincinnati.
Deutscher, Guy. 2010. The New York Times Magazine. August 26. Accessed February 12,
2014. http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/29/magazine/29languaget.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0.
di Giovanni, Elena. 2003. "Cultural Otherness and Global Communication in Walt Disney
Films at the Turn of the Century." The Translator 207-223.
Gerber-Aran, Efrat. 2013. Kipa. February 7. Accessed February 12, 2014.
http://www.kipa.co.il/women/50862.html.
Malkiel, Brenda. 2009. "Translation as a Decision Process: Evidence from Cognates." Babel
228-243.
Otterman, Sharon. 2011. The New York Times. November 27. Accessed February 11, 2014.
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/11/28/nyregion/for-catholics-the-word-was-a-bitdifferent-amen.html.
Rabassa, Gregory. 1989. "No Two Snowflakes are Alike: Translation as Metaphor." In The
Craft of Translation, by J. Biguenet and R. Schulte, 1-12. Chicago/London: The
University of Chicago Press.
Abstract
Religious ritual is something of an oxymoron. It is difficult to imagine a uniform procedure
or text honestly reflecting the believer's personal relationship with the Divine. Aware of this
almost-inherent tension, orthodox religion often suggests a mental suspension of correlation
7
between subjective faith and detached ritual. Believers are occasionally invited to infuse
traditional prayer with individual meaning and intention. This paper considers the
correspondence of ritual and perception by examining the relationship between words and
their interpretations, as expressed by "specialists" in the field: translators. A study of
translators' personal recollections as well as empirical research conducted pertaining to
translation tendencies indicates the unique significance of words - as well as the translator's
essential role in the construction of finished texts. These impressions leave little doubt as to
translators' views on irrelevant religious ritual - and offer a singular conception of the
translator vis-a-vis religious reform.
8