3. Translating Words
Words are rather slippery things. A word can mean one thing in one context and something entirely different in another. Consider the word “clip.” In the sentence, “clip the coupon to the newspaper,” it means to fasten something; but in the sentence, “clip the coupon from the newspaper,” it means to remove it. A candle can “put out” (= generate) light; but you can also “put out” a candle (= extinguish it). To “dust” can mean to remove something (“dust the furniture”) or to add something (“dust the crops”). “With” can mean alongside (“England fought with France against Germany”) or against (“England fought with France”).1
One particular linguaphile (a “lover of language”) summarizes just how “crazy” English can be:
Let’s face it: English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant or ham in hamburger, neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins were not invented in England or french fries in France. Sweetmeats are candies, while sweetbreads, which aren’t sweet, are meat.
We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square, and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig. And why is it that writers write, but fingers don’t fing, grocers don’t groce, and hammers don’t ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn’t the plural of booth beeth? One goose, two geese. So, one moose, two meese?
If teachers taught, why didn’t preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell? Park on driveways and drive on parkways? How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites?
When a house burns up, it burns down. You fill in a form by filling it out and an alarm clock goes off by going on. When the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible. And why is it that when I wind up my watch, I start it, but when I wind up this essay, I end it?2
Words don’t always mean what you might expect. And the meaning of words is determined by their context. In a famous passage from chapter 6 of Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass, Alice accuses Humpty Dumpty of using the word “glory” in an inappropriate way, and Humpty Dumpty responds:
“There’s glory for you!”
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘glory,’ ” Alice said.
Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. “Of course you don’t — till I tell you. I meant ‘there’s a nice knock-down argument for you!’ ”
“But ‘glory’ doesn’t mean ‘a nice knock-down argument,’ ” Alice objected.
“When I use a word,” Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone, “it means just what I choose it to mean — neither more nor less.”
“The question is,” said Alice, “whether you can make words mean so many different things.”
“The question is,” said Humpty Dumpty, “which is to be master — that’s all.”
Alice is, of course, right. You cannot make words mean whatever you want. Communication would completely break down. Yet there is some truth in what Humpty Dumpty says. Speakers and writers give words their meaning by how they use them. And word meanings can change over time. Evidence of this is the fact that the eleventh edition of Webster’s dictionary published in 2003 added 10,000 new words and definitions —and that is since 1998! This slippery and changing nature of words creates a special challenge for Bible translators.
Lexical Semantics: Words and Their Meanings
The basic building blocks of any language are its words. To understand translation we must understand how words work. Linguists use the term lexeme to refer to a word understood as a unit of vocabulary. A lexeme is the form of the word you would look up in a dictionary. For example, “make” is one lexeme, but it takes various forms in different contexts (make, makes, made, making, etc.). The study of word meanings is known as lexical semantics. Here are some principles of lexical semantics that are essential for accurate Bible translation.
(1) Words (lexemes) can have many different meanings. Most words in any language don’t have one “literal” or all-encompassing meaning. They have what is called a semantic range — a range of potential senses. The reason for this is that languages have a limited number of words to express an almost infinite number of ideas. Many words must do double, triple, quadruple (or more) duty. Consider the English word “key.” Probably the first meaning most readers think of is “an unlocking tool.” But consider some of the other senses of the word:
So what is the “literal meaning” of “key”? The answer is all of these (and many more). Or, more accurately, none of these. “Key,” like most words, does not have a literal meaning. It has a semantic range — a range of potential senses. The same is true of words in every language.
Since “unlocking tool” is the first meaning many people consider, we might call this the lexeme’s primary sense. The primary sense is the most common meaning of a word as it is used by a particular group or in a particular body of literature. But a primary sense is not a literal meaning. And the primary sense can change depending on the context. For a group of musicians the primary sense of “key” might be “musical pitch.” But for a basketball player it would probably be “the area between the base line and the foul line.”
Consider this concept now with respect to the Greek lexeme logos. Some might mistakenly say logos “literally” means “word.” But consider the many ways this lexeme is translated (in italics) — even in a “literal” version like the NASU:
“except for the reason of unchastity” (Matt. 5:32)
“ But let your statement be, ‘Yes, yes’ ” (Matt. 5:37)
“Whoever speaks a word against the Son of Man” (Matt. 12:32)
“a king who wished to settle accounts” (Matt. 18:23)
“I will also ask you one thing” (Matt. 21:24)
“this story was widely spread” (Matt. 28:15)
“spread the news around” (Mark 1:45)
“He was stating the matter plainly” (Mark 8:32)
“I will ask you one question” (Mark 11:29)
“His message was with authority” (Luke 4:32)
“This report concerning Him went out” (Luke 7:17)
“Give an accounting of your management” (Luke 16:2)
“Therefore this saying went out among the brethren” (John 21:23)
“The first account I composed, Theophilus” (Acts 1:1)
“he was the chief speaker” (lit. “the one who leads with words”; Acts 14:12)
“have a complaint against any man” (Acts 19:38)
“had given them much exhortation” (Acts 20:2)
So what is the literal meaning of logos? Word? Reason? Statement? Account? Thing? Story? News? Matter? Question? Message? Complaint? Exhortation? And all these meanings of logos are found in a formal equivalent version! A functional equivalent version would provide even more choices. The point is that logos does not have a literal meaning. It has a semantic range of meanings.
Consider an example from the Old Testament. The Hebrew verb yo,mer is translated in the ESV with at least eleven different words in the book of Genesis alone: “said,” “spoke,” “told,” “answered,” “commanded,” “added,” “directed,” “named,” “thought,” “asked,” and “replied.” In many other cases the word is left untranslated and replaced with quotation marks (to indicate that something was said).
The application of this principle of multiple meanings to Bible translation should be obvious: Translators cannot translate words “literally”;they must translate them according to their meaning in context.
(2) This brings us to a second fundamental principle of lexical semantics: Context determines which meaning is intended. The meaning of “key” in each of the examples above was determined not by its literal meaning but by the context in which it appeared. “He sang off key” confirms that the reference is to musical pitch. “He shot the ball from inside the key” would alert the hearer to a basketball context.
A speaker or writer chooses the lexeme that best communicates a particular sense in that context. Consider another biblical example. The Greek lexeme charis has a semantic range that includes “grace,” “favor,” “credit,” “goodwill,” “gift,” “thanks,” “kindness,” and so on. Note how charis is translated (in italics) in the following sentences in the NIV:
“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith.” (Eph. 2:8)
“Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God.” (Luke 1:30)
“If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you?” (Luke 6:32)
“Would he thank the servant because he did what he was told to do?” (Luke 17:9)
“He gave Joseph wisdom and enabled him to gain the goodwill of Pharaoh.” (Acts 7:10)
“They urgently pleaded with us for the privilege of sharing.” (2 Cor.8:4)
First-year Greek students are often told that charis means “grace,” and grace is usually defined as “undeserved favor” (see Eph. 2:8). But this is only part of the story. Charis can also mean “deserved favor.” Notice in the example above that Joseph earned the favor (charis) of Pharaoh. Charis does not have a literal meaning; it has a semantic range — and the context determines which sense the author intended.
Of course the same is true for the English word “grace.” Although the theological concept of grace may mean “undeserved favor,” the word can mean many things. You can “say grace” (= a prayer of thanksgiving) before meals. A person can dance with “grace” (= elegance) or act towards others “with grace” (= in a dignified manner).
The fact that most words do not have a literal meaning is important for translators to recognize. It would be inappropriate to insist on using one English word for each word in the source language. Consider our example “key.” Translating into Spanish requires a different word for each sense:
There is no one-to-one correspondence between English and Spanish, or between English and Hebrew or Greek. Bible translators must therefore be in a constant mode of interpretation, sensitive to which meaning senses of a word are being used. Remember our principle from chapter two: All translation is interpretation. The translator must first determine the meaning of the Hebrew or Greek term in its context. Then he or she must find an English word, phrase, or clause that reproduces that meaning as accurately and clearly as possible. It is not enough to say that logos means “word.” In many contexts it does not. A more technical way to say this is that the semantic range of the Greek lexeme logos only partially overlaps with the semantic range of the English lexeme “word.” Translating “literally” (i.e., one-to-one) is unreliable.
(3) A third important principle is that all lexical choices are approximations of meaning. When I say “in this context charis means ‘grace,’ ” I am rendering a judgment about the closest English equivalent in a particular context. Charis may carry nuances in this sentence that “grace” does not, and vice versa. Furthermore, there may be two or more English words that function as well in this context — say, “grace” and “favor.” Or one word may capture one nuance of charis slightly better, while the other captures another nuance. The selection of words often entails a measure of imprecision and ambiguity.
This principle is, again, important for translators. There is not always a “right” translation for a particular Hebrew or Greek word or phrase. While some renderings are certainly better than others, and translators must constantly seek the best option, two or more synonyms might work equally well in a particular case. As always, the goal of translation is not to duplicate the form of the original but to reproduce its meaning.
(4) This relates to a fourth principle of lexical semantics: Words may be synonymous, or nearly synonymous, in some contexts but not in others. There is seldom if ever exact synonymy between words, either within a language or across languages. Consider the words “house” and “home.” I could say “he builds homes” or “he builds houses” and mean the same thing. The words are synonymous in this context. But if I said, “She turned that house into a home,” I would mean two different things. “House” still means the building itself, but “home” now means “a place of love and security.”
In some contexts, the Greek lexemes sarx and 
mean essentially the same thing, the physical body. In Ephesians 5:29 (NIV), Paul says that “no one ever hated his own body [sarx], but he feeds and cares for it.” This is essentially the same as the primary sense of , as in Matthew 10:28: “Do not be afraid of those who kill the body [].” In many other contexts, sarx carries the negative sense “sin nature” or “fallen humanity,” which does not have. Their semantic ranges overlap in some contexts but not in others. The same thing happens across languages. The sense of the English lexeme “grace” may overlap in some contexts but not in others with the Greek lexeme charis. The principle again is that translation is not a mechanical replacement of words. It is a careful and measured assessment of their meaning in context.
(5) A fifth important principle of lexical semantics is that the meaning of words changes over time. In the English language, this is most easily demonstrated with the King James Version. First published in 1611, the KJV is the most enduring English translation of all time. Yet the KJV is outdated both in terms of its Greek text (see chap. 8) and its archaic language.
One of the authors was sitting in a chapel service several years ago when the speaker read from James 5 in the KJV. The reader came to verse 11 and read, “The Lord is very pitiful.” The author looked up startled, but nobody in the service seemed to notice this apparently heretical statement! (perhaps a sad indictment on the lack of attention given to the public reading of the Word). Of course in 1611, when the KJV was published, “pitiful” meant “full of pity” or “compassionate.” The TNIV translates the phrase, “the Lord is full of compassion.”
There are many examples of archaic language in the KJV. James 2:3 speaks of a man entering the church assembly wearing “gay” clothing. While to the original translators this meant fancy or expensive, the primary sense of “homosexual” today makes this rendering inappropriate. Most translations use “fine clothes” (TNIV) or something similar. Some KJV words are simply obscure: wotteth, staves, discomfited, hind, holpen, knop, mar, etc. Others are misleading, such as “pitiful” or “gay.” To communicate most accurately and clearly, translators should use contemporary rather than archaic English, and translations should be revised periodically to reflect language changes. In light of this reality, we will discuss language changes related to gender in chapter 7.
Of course there is a flip side to this principle. Translators should also avoid language that is too contemporary or slangy. The “hip” language used in translations like Black Bible Chronicles or The Word on the Street quickly becomes outdated. Within a few years it sounds silly rather than contemporary. Translators should also avoid language that is peculiar to a particular sociolinguistic group. The NEB was rightly criticized for being too donnish, that is, reflecting the language idiosyncrasies of British university professors.
Collocations
The differences in word meanings between languages is especially evident when we consider collocational relationships. These are meanings achieved through a word’s relationship with another word (its collocate). For example, what can you “make” in English? You can make pancakes, make trouble, make sergeant, make sense, make a shirt, make friends, make a plane (= catch), make a deal, make a difference, make a vow, make love, make a law, make someone leave, and make Paris in one day (= reach Paris in a day). This illustrates the principle that words can have many different meanings. But it also shows that a word’s meaning is determined by its collocational relationship with other words.
This is significant for translation since these relationships change —often radically — between languages. For example, in Spanish the most common word for “take” is tomar. Yet you do not “take a walk” in Spanish, you “give a walk” (dar un paseo). Spanish uses a different collocation to express the same meaning. In English you “take care,” but in Spanish you “have care” (tener cuidado). In English you “take a trip,” but in Spanish you “make a trip” (hacer un viaje). In English, a drug “takes effect,” but in Spanish it “supplies effect” (surtir efecto).
The point is that it is impossible to translate “make,” “take,” “have,” “give,” “keep,” or hundreds of other collocates literally into Spanish, since Spanish collocations are considerably different from English ones. You first must interpret the meaning of the collocation in the source language and then find a phrase or idiom that matches it in the receptor language. All translation is interpretation.
One of the authors once asked a missionary linguist working in Irian Jaya if his tribal language had many idioms. His response was, “The idioms aren’t too bad, but the collocations are a nightmare!” The point was that deceptively simple statements about going, taking, keeping, making, and so on did not match up to their English counterparts and so could not be translated literally.
The same is true for the biblical languages. For example, we teach beginning Greek students that the Greek verb for “make” or “do” is 
. Yet does not provide an adequate translation for most of the collocates mentioned above. In Greek you do not make trouble, make a difference, make a vow, make love, or make a deal. The converse is also true. There are many collocates with that make (!) little sense in English. Below is a sampling of contexts in which appears with various collocates. We have translated it “literally” in the middle column and then given an English translation on the right. These are taken from the ESV to show that even a translation that claims to be “essentially literal” or “word-for-word” cannot translate collocations literally. This is a small sampling of just one lexeme.
So what does “literally” mean? Make? Do? Bring forth? Practice? Give? Perform? Commit? Keep? Appoint? Hold? Form? Satisfy? Accomplish? Show? Treat? Take? Execute? Indulge? Even translators of formal equivalent versions must acknowledge that can mean any of these things (and many more), depending on its context and collocations.
This brings us back to the fundamental point made in chapter 2: meaning must always take precedence over form. The literal translator recognizes that often does not mean “make,” but still argues that, as much as possible, the same English word should be used for each word in Hebrew and Greek. But there is no justification for this. If the goal of translation is meaning, then the correct question is not, “Is ‘make’ an adequate translation?” but rather “What English word, phrase, or idiom best captures the sense of the collocation?”
Formal equivalent versions tend to seek one-to-one correspondence, and if the translation works — even awkwardly — then that translation is retained. The problem is that this results in unnatural English. For example, the Hebrew verb nathan usually means “give.” Yet the word appears in many collocations that are impossible to translate literally into English. Other collocations translate only awkwardly. Consider the following examples, where nathan is translated as “give” in a formal equivalent version (here the NKJV).
Although the NKJV’s translations above are comprehensible, they are neither clear nor natural. This is because the collocation was translated literally instead of according to its most natural English equivalent.
Wordplays and Verbal Allusions
While it is important to translate words according to their meaning in context, there are times when the form of a word carries certain aspects of meaning. This is especially so with wordplays and verbal allusions. Many wordplays are difficult, if not impossible, to reproduce in English since they are based on the spelling or sound of Hebrew and Greek words.
For example, in Isaiah 5:7 the prophet says that the Lord “looked for justice, but saw bloodshed; for righteousness, but heard cries of distress” (TNIV). In the original text this is a play on words, since the words for “justice” and “bloodshed” (mishpat; mispach) have similar sounds in Hebrew, as do the words for “righteousness” and “distress” (tzedaqa; 
. Translators are hard-pressed to reproduce this kind of wordplay, since it is based on the coincidental similarity of Hebrew words. They would have to find English words that both sound alike and have the correct meaning. Another missing wordplay in the English text is in Genesis 2:7, where “the LORD God formed a man from the dust of the ground.” The Hebrew words for “man” 
and “ground” 
are similar. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to find English parallels.
One of the few cases where a Hebrew wordplay works well in English is in Genesis 2:23. The Hebrew text says that Eve would be called ,
(“woman”) because she was taken out of ,
(“man”). Just as the word , 
is a derivative of ,, so the word “woman” is a derivative of “man.” Of course, while this (coincidentally) works in English, it would not work in many other languages. Even the Septuagint (the Greek Old Testament) misses the wordplay, since the Greek words for man 
and woman 
used in Genesis 2:23 do not sound alike.
Verbal echoes and allusions are also difficult to reproduce in translation. Some words that are verbally similar in Greek or Hebrew may not be in English. For example, Greek uses the same root for the noun “faith” (pistis) and the verb “believe” 
something English readers cannot see. Similarly, the Greek words commonly translated “righteousness” 
and “justification” 
are related to the same root form in Greek (they are “cognates”), but their English translations are not.
Another kind of verbal allusion occurs when a later use of a word recalls an earlier one, linking the passages in some way. In 1 Corin thians 3:10 Paul identifies himself as a “wise [sophos] master builder” (NASU, NKJV), who has laid the foundation for the Corinthian church. Many versions recognize that “wise” is not a normal English adjective to describe a builder and so translate sophos more idiomatically as “skilled” (ESV, HCSB, NRSV) or “expert” (NLT, NIV, CEV, GNT). While these accurately represent the meaning of sophos in context, they lose an important verbal allusion. In 1 Corin thi ans 1 – 4, Paul has repeatedly used the adjective sophos (“wise”) and the noun sophia (“wisdom”) to contrast the true wisdom of God with the false wisdom of the world. A “wise” builder is therefore one who builds on God’s wisdom, which is found in a crucified Messiah. While the NIV used “expert,” the TNIV recognized the verbal allusion by using “wise.” Retaining the allusion was deemed theologically important and so worth the slightly less idiomatic English.
A similar situation appears in the parable of the rich fool (Luke 12:13 – 21), where formal equivalent versions pick up a wordplay with the Greek term 
. In verses 19 – 20 the rich man speaks, and God responds:
“And I will say to my soul [
can mean many different things, and functional equivalent versions render it with various expressions: “life,” “soul,” “person,” “self,” “mind,” etc. The TNIV translates “I’ll say to myself” in verse 19, and “your life will be demanded from you” in verse 20. Both of these are accurate translations in context, but they miss the verbal play with . In this case idiomatic English was viewed as more important than a minor play on words. As always, translators must make difficult decisions concerning which aspects of meaning are most important to retain in translation.
Trying to reproduce an author’s vocabulary and style can create this same kind of tension for the translator. Mark is fond of the Greek adverb euthys (forty-two times) and uses it to give his Gospel a fast-paced, action-oriented style. Euthys can mean many different things, and meaning-based versions like the TNIV translate it with various expressions: “just as” (1:10), “at once” (1:12, 43), “without delay” (1:20), “when” (1:21), “just then” (1:23), “quickly” (1:28), “as soon as” (1:29), “immediately” (1:42; 2:8). Sometimes the word simply indicates a transition to the next scene and so is left untranslated (1:30). The NASU, by contrast, consistently renders euthys as “immediately” (forty times). While this often misses the meaning of the word in context, it mimics Mark’s style and so enables the reader to pick up some of the flavor of his fast-paced narrative. Something is lost, but something else is gained.
These examples reveal some of the dilemmas translators face. Because languages are different, it is not always possible to translate words according to their closest English equivalent and retain verbal allusions and wordplays. Translators must constantly make difficult choices and seek appropriate balance, judging which structural features should be retained and which may be sacrificed. Unfortunately, something may be lost in the translation. This is another good reason to use more than one version and to choose translations from across the translation spectrum. Formal equivalent versions sometimes sacrifice readability and equivalent meaning-in-context to retain verbal allusions. Functional equivalent versions capture the meaning better, but may lose nuances associated with the formal structure of the language.
Technical Theological Terms
Another difficult issue related to translating words is what to do with technical theological terms. Advocates of formal equivalence argue that traditional renderings like “justification,” “sanctification,” and “propitiation” should be retained since they are rich in theological meaning. Advocates of functional equivalence often assert that these terms are incomprehensible to average readers and so clearer English should be utilized. The NIV and TNIV retain “justifies/ justification” for 
dikaisis (Rom. 4:25; 5:16, 18), while the NLT, GNT, and NCV speak of being “made right with God” (CEV: “made acceptable to God”). The NIV, TNIV, NET, NLT, GW, and others utilize “holiness” or “made holy” for the traditional “sanctification” (hagiasmos; Rom. 6:19, 22; cf. 1 Cor. 1:30; 1 Thess. 4:3, 4, 7; 2 Thess. 2:13; Heb. 12:14). Other functional equivalent versions speak of “living for God” (NCV) or “belonging completely to him” (CEV).
Cautions are in order for both formal and functional versions. Functional equivalent versions must be careful not to distort the meaning of the original by leaving out important nuances of meaning. Formal equivalent versions must recognize that if readers do not understand the meaning of the text, then the translation has failed.
Consider the many difficulties surrounding the translation of the Greek term 
in Romans 3:25:
“whom God put forward as an expiation” (RSV)
“whom God put forward as a propitiation” (ESV)
“whom God displayed publicly as a propitiation” (NASB, NASU)
“God presented him [Christ] as a sacrifice of atonement” (NIV, TNIV)
“God sent him to die in our place to take away our sins” (NCV)
“For God presented Jesus as the sacrifice for sin” (NLT, rev. ed., 2004)
“For God sent Jesus to take the punishment for our sins and to satisfy God’s anger against us” (NLT, 1st ed., 1996)
The Greek cognates (Rom. 3:25; cf. Heb. 9:5), hilas-mos (1 John 2:2; 4:10), and hilaskomai (Heb. 2:17) come from the language of the Old Testament sacrificial system. Often in the Greek Old Testament (the Septuagint) and in Hebrews 9:5, refers to the “mercy seat” or the “atonement cover” of the ark of the covenant. This was the place where sacrificial blood was sprinkled on the Day of Atonement (Lev. 16:14). The NET Bible thinks this is the meaning here and translates Romans 3:25, “God publicly displayed him at his death as the mercy seat.” Most scholars, however, think that word is being used figuratively, meaning the place of atonement or the sacrifice itself.
There has been a historical debate over whether these hilas-terms should be translated “expiation” or “propitiation.” The former carries the general sense of satisfaction for sins through an atoning sacrifice, while the latter includes both meaning senses, a sacrifice of atonement and the appeasement of God’s wrath. The 1952 RSV was criticized for changing the KJV’s “propitiation” to “expiation,” presumably leaving out the dimension of the appeasement of God’s wrath. Other formal equivalent versions have sought to “correct” this by returning to the KJV’s “propitiation” (NASB, NASU, ESV, NKJV).
But is this an appropriate solution? Very few readers — even Christian readers — have any idea what “expiation” or “propitiation” means! Of course they could consult a dictionary; but a standard computer dictionary does not include the noun “propitiation” and defines the verb only as “to appease or conciliate somebody or something” (Microsoft Encarta Dictionary). A standard desk dictionary — the 1,500 page Webster’s II — gives only the definition “to appease.” This means even the most literate readers would miss the sense of “a sacrifice to pay for sins,” unless they consulted either a larger dictionary or a Bible commentary. One has to question whether “propitiation” is an adequate English translation if readers cannot even determine its meaning by looking it up in a dictionary!
The NIV and TNIV (cf. NRSV) try to be more intelligible by using “sacrifice of atonement.” This is better, but many readers will still not understand what “atonement” is. The NCV (“to die in our place to take away our sins”) and the revised (2004) NLT (“as the sacrifice for sin”) are certainly clearer. The first edition of the NLT (1996) is the most explanatory, describing both punishment for sins and appeasement of wrath.
The long and short of all this is that there is no perfect solution, and translators will continue to grapple with bridging the gap between the biblical world and our own. The best solution, however, is probably not to use obscure Latin-based terms (like “propitiation”), which are meaningless to most readers and which, in any case, have no etymological connection to the Greek terms being used (in this case, the hilas-roots).
Another difficult question concerning technical language — touched on briefly earlier (p. 50) — is how to render the Greek term sarx. Formal equivalent versions have traditionally translated the word “flesh.” While this works for those who have grown up hearing and reading Bible language, it does not represent standard English. The English word “flesh” is commonly used of (1) soft body tissue, (2) the meat of animals, (3) the pulpy part of a fruit or vegetable, and (4) in special idioms like “flesh and blood.” The Greek word sarx has a much wider range of senses, including “body tissue,” “physical body,” “living being,” “human being,” “human nature,” “natural descent,” “earthly life,” “human realm of existence,” “sexual impulse,” “sinful human nature,” as well as other nuances.
The situation is complicated by the specialized use of the term in Paul. Sarx serves for Paul as a technical term for the eschatological concept of the old age of existence characterized by sin and death that is now superseded by the new age of salvation inaugurated by Christ. To be “in the flesh” is to live in the old realm; to be “in Christ” is to live in the new.
There is no single English word that captures well this complex concept, whether “flesh” (KJV, NKJV, RSV, NRSV, ESV), “sinful nature” (NIV, TNIV), “old nature” (NLT), “sinful selves” (NCV), “corrupt nature” (GW), or “human nature” (GNT). All solutions have their unique problems. Those versions that refer to a “nature” (sinful/old/corrupt/ human) may miss the eschatological connotations of the term and wrongly introduce the idea of two natures. Those that use the traditional “flesh” may be susceptible to an inappropriate Platonic or Gnostic dichotomy between mind/spirit and matter. Because the English lexeme “flesh” has — through centuries of use — become for Christian readers a technical term with most of the same connotations as Greek sarx, translations produced for Christian readers may choose to retain this term. Other versions with a broader audience will want to find alternatives.
As you come to the end of this chapter, you may wonder whether any translation can get it absolutely right. The answer is both no and yes, depending on whether one keeps the word “absolutely.” If we were to change that to “essentially right,” then the answer is a positive yes. Our concern throughout has been to illustrate the inherent difficulties of translation from one language to another, but we want to conclude by encouraging you regarding the accuracy and reliability of your English Bible. The examples shown in this chapter confirm again the basic principles set out in chapter 2: that meaning must take precedence over form, and that insisting on a “literal” translation of words is neither desirable nor possible. At the same time, versions from across the translation spectrum can provide different nuances of form and function and so are useful tools for students of God’s Word.
For Further Reading
Cotterell, P., and M. Turner. Linguistics and Biblical Interpretation. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1989.
Nida, Eugene A., and J. P. Louw. Lexical Semantics of the Greek New Testament. Atlanta: Scholars, 1992.
Silva, M. Biblical Words and Their Meanings: An Introduction to Lexical Semantics. Rev. ed. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1995.