"The Way I See It"

Starbucks post number two; although this one is vastly different from my defense of Starbucks tastiness. I'm a few months late on this post, and I'm obviously oblivious to what I carry in my own hand, but it's still worth blogging about in my opinion. I'm talking about the much controverted quote campaign advanced by Starbucks on the sides of their carry-out cups. There is no end of commentary on the internet about "The Way I See It" (http://www.starbucks.com/retail/thewayiseeit_default.asp). The point of the campaign, according to Starbucks, is to encourage good old fashioned coffee house conversation with disputable quotes. The most disputed citation was from a homosexual perspective that has incited more than a few conservative rants (though likely few losses in sales given caffeine addiction and consumerism). You can read it in a million places, but here is the quote:

"My only regret about being gay is that I repressed it for so long. I surrendered my youth to the people I feared when I could have been out there loving someone. Don't make that mistake yourself. Life's too damn short." --Armistead Maupin, author

This is in fact the quote that pushed Baylor U over the edge. They withdrew Starbucks cups from campus sales, or so goes the story. Now I wonder, are we seriously upset that Starbucks is not pushing our agenda? Or jealous because they are pushing the "homosexual agenda" rather than ours? The former is beyond absurdity as an expectation, and the latter misses point, as demonstrated by the latest of developments in the story (I'll get there in a minute). Of course, if Baylor and all the other reactionaries are actually reacting to postmodernism rather than homophobia, that would be a much more conscionable thing. I am fascinated by corporate-power pluralism rather than reactive at this point, but Baylor is free to have it's philosophical preferences. My point being: the decision is, I venture, not based on so keen a deduction. Nonetheless, the campaign is precisely radical pluralism standing at the heart of our culture (yes, caffeine addiction and consumerism stand at the heart of our culture!).

Back to the latest development in the story. The most legitimate critique of the whole operation that I have read is that it has not been pluralistic enough. Those words were not used of course, but what else does a "balanced perspective" entail? There have not been enough right-wingers quoted, and they're definitely keeping count. On the up-and-coming cup, however, The Purpose Driven Life's Rick Warren (http://www.christiantoday.com/news/society/
rick.warren.to.be.quoted.by.starbucks/553.htm) will be immortalized beneath recycled cardboard hand protectors in a Starbucks near you. His quote:

"You were made by God and for God, and until you understand that, life will never make sense"

And so I call the pluralism radical. The campaign is not leftist propaganda (although conceivably Starbucks is just covering it's bum) nor is any one "agenda" to be seen. Any way to see it is a possible way to see it, even the Christian Way. That is a major step toward a real discussion, because the pluralism that discriminates against our voice is not plural enough, I say. "The Way I See It" is meant to create a conversation. As a Christian, what I want is not that others be silenced because their agenda is inferior to my own, but that I be allowed in the conversation as well. That's the way I see it anyway.

Translation Philosophy

It is an interesting thing to know more than one language. I am a student of Spanish, Biblical Greek, and most recently Biblical Hebrew. As far as Spanish goes, it has to this point been about communicating verbally. I am only beginning to be known as a Spanish speaker in such a was as to attract work in translation. Biblical languages are a different creature, however. For most people studying biblical languages serves to facilitate reading technical commentaries or doing word studies. It is a well-known shock-and-awe technique to talk about "the Greek" from the pulpit. My point is that very few people are interested in mastering the language(s) for the purpose of producing a Bible translation. Nonetheless, there is always a dose of translation philosophy mixed into our classes. One of my long-time classmates commented to me that he has never been in a biblical language class where the professor didn't at some point make a comment about the impossibility of accomodating people who say, "Just give me a literal translation." Translation just doesn't work that way.

There are, however, more and less literal translations. The typical spectrum runs: "literal"---dynamic equivalent---paraphrase. Beyond those unfortunate people who really believe Peter used the KJV, there are all kinds of translation preferences for all kinds of reasons. What I find intriguing are those preferences that are very strongly expressed. In my church tradition there are biblicist moorings that demand literal translation. That is, the words of the bible, umediated, are themselves "sound doctrine." So the result of a less literal translation is likely to be less sound doctrine. On a slightly more sophisticated level, it can be said that the less literal a translation is, the more mediated it is by the translator; the translator's theology is bound to creep into even the most literal translations, but the "danger" is greater with, say, a paraphrase. On the other side, issues of readability are very important. The impact of a translation like the Message (for those who are no predisposed to reject it) is very great, and this has everything do to with the use of language that is more familiar and poetic than the restrictions of literal translation will ever allow for. Moreover, the meaning of the literal words is often better communicated in words other than those the literal rendering can provide (this is what the professors are always getting at). This is so even when something might be understanable literally translated, but better understood as, say, a dynamic equivalent.

So my own preference is for all of them. I read from a four translation parallel (KJV, NIV, LB, NRSV) for my private devotions, though mostly focusing on the NRSV (on the literal side). I carry and preach from the NIV. Technically I should say I carry and preach from the NVI, since it is actually the Spanish NIV equivalent to which I refer. An interesting dynamic is added in the hispanic church context in which I minister. The standard translation used among Spanish speakers is the Reina Valera, which is an even older translation than the KJV. Equally, the Spanish is antiquated and difficult for native speakers to read. Adding to this is the hard reality that many of the hispanics in my church context are not highly educated to begin with. It is therefore madness, in my esimation, to continue using the RV. But it was the only option for so long that it is difficult to get out of the box. Anyway, reading level is another factor concerning the legitimacy or illigitimacy of a translation as I see it. Here is an interesting site that presents the reading levels of many translations:
http://www.ibs.org/bibles/translations/
(I wonder, though, how accurate it is to say that something like the KJV is even a 12th grade reading level, when the problem is antiquated language rather than literacy. There are just some words in Elizabethan English that no modern should know.) As the reading levels listed indicate, my point is not that less literal translation solves this problem. My point is that readability, on various levels, is a very important consideration (I'm tempted here to get sidetracked onto a discussion of icons, etc. in the context of illiteracy from which they arose, but I'll refrain). On the whole it seems to me that less literal translations do a better job of addressing the issue. Given the nature of the Bible and Bible study, a person is trying hard enough to understand the story and take in the theology. There is every reason to try to facilitate that process rather than create more obstacles.

That last sentence brings me back to the starting point of this post. How much of the theology is lost in translation? How much more in less literal translation? It seems to me that there is macro-theology to be found in any loose translation--the overall story, the main ideas, the gist. But the micro-theology with which we are often very preoccupied is only discernable through consideration of the particulars. An oft-noted fact strikes me as significant: The gospel of John is considered the easiest (simplest, least technical) Koine Greek in the New Testament. It is also regularly cited as the most theologically profound. That is certainly a matter of opinion, but I tent to agree. There is no necessary conflict between simple language and the communication of the deep things of God, which is part of the question at hand. With tranlsation, however, the question is made more complex, and we are left wondering if, regarless of the simplicity of the original language, the meaning is communicated in translation--be it literal or not.

This macro- and micro- theology intrigues me as a possible way of thinking about some answers. As a theology student much of my time is spent reading and listening to Bible scholars point out theological deficiencies on all sides. In my world much of what the Bible meant/means is bound up with careful, detailed study of texts in the original languages. I have come to conclusions since beginning this journey that, when realized, took my breath away. Things of such importance are set clear in the course of this kind of study that it makes me thankful to God for those who are gifted to teach and fearful to think what it would be like without them. Furthermore, theological disputes within Christianity are inevitably engaged on a micro level. There are a numer of correlaries to this.
One, it is precisely on the macro level that unity is made feasible. We agree in general; we disagree in particular. Take salvation for example. There are many theories of atonement, "plans of salvation" to be found in Christendom. We do not all agree on the particular how's or when's or why's of salvation. We do not agree on what we must do, in what order, with what ritual, and so on, or whether we must do anything at all, so we go to particular passages, verses, and words to make our cases. What we do agree on is that we need to be saved, that God wants to save us, and that the story of Jesus the Christ has everything to do with our salvation, all of which is available in the most paraphrastic translation.
Two, I observe the preference for less literal translations to be often rooted in a desire to avoid the division micro-theology has so often caused in the past. We don't want to argue over the particulars, we want to hear the theology of the gist. We don't want cumbersome details, we want the main idea. The main idea is obvious, which means a lower risk of conflict.
Three, if it is assumed that disagreement is inevitable and that conversation about disgreement is good, to live only on the level of macro-theology is an impairment. The vast majority of Christians do not seem to live by having their minds settled on particular points of micro-theology. Our faith by-and-large stands upon the overarching themes and messages of Scripture (Who could doubt that there is significant disagreement there as well?) We learn to trust in the God who saves despite the dissonance regarding how exaclty he does so in Christ. We seek to live transformed lives while unsure just what part of the transformation is ours and what part his. These are the foundations, and we must and will always return here for the strengthening of our faith. But Anselm's formulation has been so enduring because our faith will always seek understanding. We want to add richness and texture to the story, so we seek to know the how's and why's and when's. Some of Prostestant (and on some level all) Christianity's values dictate that we will will always return to Scripture for those answers. Given that use of the Bible (I'll save whether or not it's a proper use for another post), the micro-theology lost in loose translation becomes a loss indeed. And an attempt to extrpolate answers from a translation that just gives the gist is a good way to draw unfounded conclusions, be they true or not.

Thus, I affirm again the place for all kinds of translations. My qualification to that affirmation is that each has its use and each has its weakness. Sometimes we may miss the trees for the forest and sometimes we may miss the forest for the trees. I think is it impossible to say that the main ideas are more vital than the particular ones, or vice versa. Throughout a person's life it seems that one or the other might need more emphasis, depending on the situation. So I consider it a blessing from God to have the great variety of translations, the life's work of so many faithuful men and women, to shed light on our journey to know and be known.

Second Cup

It's Saturday morning, and I'm savoring my second cup of coffee. I hate the morning, but I love the brew. Actually, it's not the morning that I hate--it's the feeling I have when I wake up. My wife is a morning person. She pops out of bed and becomes fully awake in a matter of seconds. I'm like one of those hold t.v. sets that had to warm up before the picture began to fade in. It takes me about three hours, a very hot shower, and a second cup of coffee to get going at full steam. Very frustrating, that, since most of the world is trucking by the early hours of the morning. I suppose my theory should mean I will wake up, given the requisites, regardless of the time I start. The fact is, however, that I'm set back considerably until about 10:00, at which point the sun tricks my body into thinking its not morning anymore. Since I usually get up around 7:00, my theory still holds, but there are some obvious variables.

Back to the coffee. I'm a second degree coffee snob. There are many things in life that I do not require to be name brand. Certain foods, like spaghetti o's and macaroni and cheese, have an obvious taste factor involved. And for a lot of other things, "you get what you pay for" does seem to be true. But I guess I'm a cheap-o at heart, because I am very willing to go generic. Yet, with coffee it's something more. Not only will I not consider generic, I buy Starbucks. Let me add here that Megan and I are newly married and both paying for graduate school. Starbucks is really just a bad financial decision. I can't help it though; it's my vice. I think anyone with a taste bud left in their mouth will admit the taste difference between Starbucks and Folgers. An interesting observation along those lines, made by a friend of mine after we bought gas-station coffee on a road trip (regrettably): "The generation before us doesn't care how coffee tastes, as long as its cheap. We don't care how much it costs as long as it tastes good." I thought it was right on the mark, and my case is a perfect example. There is more, though. I refuse to buy ground beans. I have a coffee grinder that sings its tune on a regular basis, freshly unlocking the roasted goodness of the whole bean. It's a beautiful thing.

I am, nonetheless, only a second degree snob. I make the distinction thinking of some friends who manage turn their nose up at Starbucks! The preference is for some esoteric mark of locally roasted coffee. Or for something exotic if that happens along. I'm not saying there isn't better coffee out there. My point is--come on!--Starbucks tastes good. I'm not a connoisseur, but I've drank a lot of coffee, in country, from some places in Latin America that have a claim on good coffee. I've not made it to Europe, and I hear Italian expresso is the best, but at all odds, Starbucks tastes good. Let's not hate on it just because they had the good sense to hire someone with marketing skills in addition to making good java. It's just a little like those people who have that bizarre need to know where the "the best" restaurants are. Even if there is nowhere good in town, they'll take you to one they've been in once because they enjoy the self-perception of knowing, talking the whole way there about how good it is. One is left with the impression that they have actually convinced themselves the food tastes first rate.

Anyway, I'm really only making distinctions within snobbishness, and at the end of the day, I'm a coffee snob too. There is probably a "Folgers tastes good" blog out there somewhere. At last I'll say, in order to identify with all the common folk =) , that if I'm struggling to make it through class, I'll drink the mud they burn up at school, and that hardly even qualifies as coffee. In fact, I think it's God's way of punishing me for being caffeine dependent. [Picture from www.starbucks.com]

Some Old Newsletters

I went to an event last weekend called the World Missions Workshop. Not only that, they even let me participate in a couple of the classes. Ha! It was hosted at my alma mater--funny, I never thought I'd use the phrase 'my alma mater'--so it's not that just anyone thought I'd be a good pick for teaching missions related stuff. I guess they think highly enough of their own degree to trust me with the task. Anyway, I was really glad to have the opportunity, and since one of the classes was on missions in Peru I got a chance to do some research I needed to do anyway.

I ended up trying to get a handle on the history Church of Christ missions in Peru, and since my school's little library has a room devoted to CofC missionary newsletters from aeons past, I was able to sit down and learn a bit of relevant information. The short of it is that reading those newsletters turned out to be a profound experience. If you've ever read a newsletter from any given missionary, you know it is not all that impressive an experience. At least I've never read one that just really got my blood pumping. What I did in this instance, though, was somewhat different than reading the month's international mail. Now, our history isn't all that rich, meaning we just haven't had all that many people in the country for all that long. But there have been some key families there, and one in particular. As I read their newsletters, then, in chronological order, it was something like reading the book of Acts for the first time. No, I don't actually remember what that was like, but I can imagine. All I mean to say that is that it was a moving spiritual experience. What I read was a story of the lives of people, just ordinary people, who had made an extraordinary commitment to live their lives out in sacrifice for the Kingdom. Though often summary in form, the scraps of information in those letters let me piece together a view of the successes, failures, disasters, unexpected blessings, sicknesses, longings, joys, comings, and going of the missionaries in this one country. Reading the whole story at once I could see the dance of these missionaries' faithfulness and God's faithfulness. It was a wonderful thing to do accidentally.

Then the unexpected happened (again). I received word that the wife of that key family was going to be at the WMW. It occurred to me that even with me teaching the class she was more than likely going to come, given her obvious interest in the country. I realized immediately that I was going to have an emotional time of it, talking about this history that had so moved me while looking into the beautiful aged face of a woman who had been there all those years. The day before my class I asked Mrs. Kramar if the team could take her to lunch. Obviously it would do us good to know her and hear what wisdom she might have to offer. Not knowing exactly what I was getting into inviting an elderly former missionary to lunch, I was delighted to find that she is one of the rare people whose keenness of mind can still manage in later years to capture the attention of young Americans who have a despicably low appreciation for age. I, perhaps more than anyone else because of my newsletter reading, was totally drawn into the conversation. I hung on every word.

Lunch conversation did not prove an adequate inoculation, however, and as I began my class the next day I introduced Mrs. Kramar. I still feel some frustration that there was no way to convey to the class the significance of her presence. The workshop was teeming with missionaries, and it was not great honor (sadly) simply to note that she had gone before us in the work. The words certainly did not get my point across, but perhaps the silence in the room when I couldn't continue talking for the knot in my throat communicated something. Not enough, I'm sure, but maybe something. It wasn't long and I regained my composure, cleared my throat, and forestalled any threatening tears. Class went fine, blah, blah, and life goes on. What is left now is only to express how I cherish the chance to meet her. To me, the story is so rich, and I thank God for the chance to be a part of it. We will have our own comings and goings, and while no one is likely to weep over our newsletters in a musty library some day, many will weep over the story. To be even so small a part of it is good.