The Hebrew pattern is equally confusing:
tiqre'iy - This is the form we have here in verse 18. As we've noted before, words' meanings are made up of a three-consonant stem. In this case, q-r-y is the stem for "to call."
The 2nd person feminine future form of the verb, called the "imperfect," is made by adding a ti- on the front and a -y on the end. tiqre'iy. This is a match for verse 18.
The common command form of the verb, called the "imperative," in the 2nd person feminine, adds only -y on the end. qir'iy. Not a match for our verse. That would seem to settle it.
However, there's another form of the verb, called the "jussive." It works the opposite of the English, "you will," in that it offers a gentle command, or a strong wish. Maybe more like saying, "Please call me 'my husband.'" For normal verbs, the jussive looks exactly the same as the imperfect. tiqre'iy. We can only tell the difference by the surrounding context.
So which is it here? Imperfect or jussive? On the one hand, either could work here. God could as easily be commanding Israel to call him "my man" as he could be noting that, sometime in the future, Israel will call him "my man." In order to figure it out, we need to look at the verses around it. Throughout them all, God is telling us what will happen in the future. In most of them, God is saying "I will do this." In the surrounding verses, we don't have any other sayings about what "you" or even "she" will do. The comparison is, therefore, not exact. But it seems to me to be much more likely that God is using a future verb rather than a command.
That said, the point isn't exactly proven thereby. It could be a command in the jussive, albeit one given with gentleness. We can't be 100% sure.
This raises some issues in our reading of the Bible. First, we're forced to notice, yet again, that the Hebrew and English languages don't quite map to one another. Here, there were similar problems with the grammar of the passage. But the problems were still different enough to require some specific choices on the part of the translator. Is this a command or a future indicative verb? What's the difference if we choose one over the other? There are significant differences between the following few choices for verse 18, all of which are faithful, in some way, to the Hebrew original:
And on that day, you will certainly call me "my man."One can't help but wonder how much is lost in the process of translation. It also brings to light the enormous responsibility of the translator's work. In our church, we use primarily the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible, though ELCA Lutherans are secondarily "authorized" to use the New International Version in our worship and study if we so choose. The NRSV and NIV translators' choices have a direct impact on the way we read and understand our Bible, and the way we use it and hear its message in our worship. Is it any wonder, then, that we come to some different theological conclusions than our Roman Catholic sisters and brothers who use the New American Bible, or our evangelical brothers and sisters who cling to the King James? This is to say nothing of the huge differences that the church experienced in the Great Schism in 1054, between the eastern church which read its Bible in Greek, and the western church which read in Latin?
And on that day, it will be that you will call me "my man."
And on that day, call me "my man."
And on that day, please call me "my man."
And what, exactly, should we do, then, if we want to be faithful to God and the message he proclaims through our scriptures? There is no way that the whole community of the faithful is going to come to learn ancient Hebrew, Aramaic, and koine Greek just to make sense of our scriptures. Pastors in our tradition are required to learn Hebrew and Greek in order to complete their seminary education, and I suspect most of us promptly forget what we've learned when the language course comes to an end. My Hebrew is still pretty good, as I've worked hard to keep it fresh these past years, and even I still had to look up the difference between the imperative, jussive, and cohortative forms of the verb in order to write this lesson. If I didn't catch the discrepancy when I was translating, what are most of the faithful to do to make up for these problems?
Unlike most lessons, I'm going to give my answer to these questions. Don't let that stifle you, though. Use your creative, rational mind, and come up with some thoughts of your own, and post them in the comments!
I've not been great at keeping up with this, and even as I repeat my promise to attend more closely, I know I'm not likely to be able to do so. That is especially true this time around, as I'm headed off for some meetings and a long vacation. I'll be back in Massachusetts on December 7. If I have the opportunity to do so, I'll set up a post or two to appear automatically while I'm gone. If not, see you in December!
One possible solution to the translation problem is to read several translations side-by-side. This is something our professors in seminary had us do. Some of us--all the M.Div. students--were required to learn Greek and Hebrew. But non-pastor track students in the M.A. program did not have to do so. Instead, they were asked to use three different translations of any passage we studied. This supposes that if you get three of them, at least one of the translators' choices are likely to differ from the others. Using very different translations--Say, the NRSV, the King James, the Jerusalem Bible, and the Message--should reveal some surprising contrasts, while also emphasizing the larger narrative behind the translations.
ReplyDeleteAnd this is the second thought. There IS a larger narrative behind the translations. It's good to dig deep and be nit-picky about even the individual translation of a single word. But mainline Christians like us don't read single words or verses in isolation. We understand that the Bible tells a greater narrative that spans across whole books. Even in those places where the specific details matter, as in a verse like Exodus 20:12c, "You shall not steal," we still read it in the context of the whole narrative arc of salvation. Even Luther read this verse not just in the negative, but also added, "help [your neighbor] improve and protect his property and business." This was clearly taking it out of the context of Exodus 20, as the Hebrew command has nothing to do with helping your neighbor. But in the whole story of God's relationship with his people, adding this makes sense. It is right in line with the context of ALL of scripture. In view of the larger narrative, whether this verb in Hosea is a jussive or an imperfect doesn't really make a difference.
The third thing that I think is important is this: We as Christians believe that through the work of the Holy Spirit, God inspired the scriptures that we call the Bible. When we say that, we tend to have in mind the way they were originally written. But scholars today have shown that the writing process was a lot more complicated than most of us can imagine. Most parts of our Bible were passed down orally from generation to generation, written down by a scribe or three, edited and compiled and written and rewritten, added to, deleted from, collected, ratified by councils, commented on by generations of medieval theologians, translated into myriad languages, and picked apart by scholars and readers alike. Why, exactly, should we favor the actual writing-down step with inspiration? Shouldn't we expect that the Holy Spirit is present and providing for every part of the process? Why should the Spirit not be actively inspiring the women and men who translate the Bible today? Perhaps it is possible to say with conviction that THIS Bible--that is, whatever English-language version that we personally prefer, is in fact just as much the inspired word of God as is the primary surviving Hebrew text.
We've been examining the uncertainties and inconsistencies in the construction of Hosea in an effort to reveal the meaning of the text. When did the idea originate that the Bible text was infallible (e.g., to be taken literally) and what was the reason for this understanding? Perhaps the formation of a strong, central church body had something to do with it.
ReplyDeletePart of the journey through Hosea requires recapturing lost history. We have the technology to preserve our cultural context for future generations. Is this necessary? Or is it our lot in life that every generation must struggle to interpret Scripture for their own time (indeed, daily)?
I can't say this with full conviction, but the way I understand it, the "strong, central church body" is actually the exact opposite of the doctrinal development of biblical infallibility.
DeleteLet me explain: Imagine you're part of the strong, central church body of the middle ages. Literacy is limited, of course, but so are the interpretative possibilities for scripture. The "Teaching Office of the Church" helps to define how we understand the Bible. It doesn't have to be perfect or infallible; instead, Mother Church is able to help us explain scripture's mis-steps. That's what priests are for. They read and interpret scripture for us. Or at least those ones who are both literate and educated. (From our perspective, it boggles the mind to imagine a priest who is illiterate and uneducated. How would he preach a sermon? How would he read the Gospel lesson aloud during worship if he doesn't know Latin? Somehow, though, they made this work.)
Then Luther comes along, and smashes the Teaching Office of the Church to bits. He proclaims a doctrine of sola scriptura (among other things), saying that scripture alone is the authority for our faith. Not the church's interpretation of scripture, but scripture itself.
Now, to be fair to Luther, he believed in clergy education--and in lay Christian education as well. In order to interpret the scriptures correctly, he believed we had to engage in lifelong learning. But at the same time, he also is on record as saying that anyone can (and should!) read and understand the scriptures. Their meaning is plain. That's why he translated them, after all.
Push that idea to its extreme, and we get biblical infallibility. If reading the scriptures without an "perfect" intermediary is possible, than that "perfection" can necessarily be passed on to the scriptures themselves. After all, if the Bible is our one norm for our belief, and we discover it isn't perfect... well, how do we know that what we believe and do isn't wrong? Which is why those adherents of biblical infallibility are so vehement in their defense of the idea. Let that break down, and the whole religion falls to pieces. It's the one nail holding everything together.
Which, incidentally, is why the mainline Lutheran faith is troubling to some, but holds up so well to scrutiny. The only perfect agent in our faith is God. Not the Bible, not the Lutheran Confessions, not our pastors (well, except for me of course), not our social statements, not our hierarchy, just God. And God is also gracious to a fault. Suppose we do get it all wrong. Suppose our faulty religion is full of faulty doctrines based upon a faulty interpretation of a faulty scripture. It turns out God will forgive all that, because his grace and love surpasses any of those too-human faults.