A searchable, downloadable PDF of the original article appears below. Todd Lee is a member of St. Giles’ Church in Prince George, B.C.
“Expo?”
Confused by Montreal’s winding streets and smarting from having taken two wrong turns already, I shouted the question appealingly to a police officer directing traffic at a busy intersection.
“Trois rues à bas, tournez à gauche!” the officer shouted back with a wave and a grin. Horns blasted behind our family bus — no problem in translating what they meant!
“What did he say?” I asked in frustration as I let in the clutch and moved on with the flood of vehicles.
“Three streets, then turn,” my son called up from the back of the bus.
“Turn which way?” There were streets leading off in all directions.
“Right … maybe or was it left?”
High school textbook French was proving less than adequate in French Canada.
We turned right — and soon found ourselves committed to crossing a bridge over the wide St. Lawrence River. Our error in translation caused us to drive miles out of our way and to lose a precious hour of sightseeing time.
One need only watch the television news or be observant during the course of any normal day to reach a conclusion that people are having trouble with translation. Whether it is concerned with civil rights, labour disputes, environmental issues, war or peace rallies, tax protests, abortion or antiabortion conflicts, we as a community of people are doing far less than we are able in translating God’s love into the things that we do or say when we are at crossroads with our fellow travellers on Planet Earth.
Perhaps the greatest need for the coming of Christ into a world that considered itself religious was this very fact. Somewhere between the point where human beings encountered God and experienced his love and mercy, and the place where they dealt with their neighbour, something vital was lost. A great part of Christ’s ministry on earth was devoted to a patient endeavour to re-introduce this vital element. He did it by the way he lived, by the things he did, by the things he taught. By these he held up a divine yardstick against which the world might measure its motives and deeds. Consider these examples:
There was a man named Zacchaeus, a tax-collector. He was, like most of his profession, a deceitful man who extorted large sums of money from the Hebrew people to fatten his own income. He was also searching for the truth. What did the religious community do to help him find it? They hated him thoroughly, they spat upon him when it was safe to do so, and when they could they gave him a wide berth. He was a pariah, a parasite, a consorter with the enemy, and they had no time for him. Hatred met hatred and in the meeting both were driven to hate more. And Zacchaeus remained at odds with his neighbours and separated from God.
Then into that twisted and warped life there came one known as Jesus of Nazareth. The townfolk would not let Zacchaeus near him, but Zacchaeus was seeking the truth and Christ was seeking Zacchaeus. They met — and Christ spoke to him probably the first kind words he had heard in years, offered to be his luncheon companion, melted that cold heart, and won him back to God. Zacchaeus then became a translator, rightly interpreting what love required of one who has wronged his fellowman.
Christ was teaching one day and was well into a deep and searching message when a party of women and children arrived on the scene. No doubt they had come a long way and were eager and excited at seeing him of whom they had heard such wonderful things. They pressed forward with their little children, yearning to have him bless them. But the disciples stood in their way, angrily pushing them back, shooing the children off and scolding them for daring to disturb so great a man. After all, women and children were property, chattels of a patriarchal society, not worthy to take up the time of a Messiah!
The disciples learned something about translation that day; words of love are hollow if they are not associated with acts of love. Christ called the women back, took their little ones into his arms and blessed them, sent them away filled with joy and wonder instead of hurt and anger.
How shall we treat the one who has done wrong, the one who has sinned in the eyes of people? Can love be translated even here? John remembered this incident: Christ was talking to the people one day when a crowd came down the street. As they drew closer it could be seen that they were harshly pushing and dragging a frightened woman. They came to a halt in front of Jesus and their spokesman filled in the details. This woman was found in the act of adultery. According to the law she should be stoned to death. There was little doubt that they had made up their minds as to her fate, but for the purpose of taunting Jesus, they asked his opinion.
We can imagine the cruel, self-righteous satisfaction gleaming from the faces of these Pharisees as they waited for Christ’s answer. But Christ turned the tables. No doubt the fact that it takes two to commit adultery and only one was here was not lost on his perceptive mind.
When he spoke he put them on the spot. The judges became the judged. “He that is without sin among you — let him first cast a stone!” One by one the woman’s accusers slunk away until none was left. The woman remained, probably in fear, waiting for the condemnation she had come to expect from men. But it did not come. Christ saw the shame and repentance within her heart, knew that love could repair the damage there. “Go, and sin no more,” he directed kindly. Was this the Mary of Magdalene who followed him faithfully from then on, even to an empty tomb?
Christ was resting one day when some of his disciples came running up breathless with anger and excitement. “Master!” they cried out, “… while we were in the village yonder we heard a man teaching the people and daring to use your name as his authority! Shall we make this imposter be silent? Shall we tell the people that we are the only ones who have the truth about God and his way?” But Christ, unperturbed, replied, “Leave him alone — is the message of God’s love any less marvellous because someone else tells it in his own words?”
Christ himself told this story: There was a man who had two sons. They were his pride and joy and all of his life was directed towards their training with the hope that they would grow up to continue the work which he had begun. Then, to his great disappointment, his youngest and dearest son came to him and demanded his share of what would ultimately be his inheritance. Although filled with sadness, the old man granted his son’s request and let the boy go his way. Soon the young man discovered that money goes very rapidly. He found out about good friends and fair-weather friends. He was broke and had no unemployment benefits coming. Finally, in desperation, he agreed to look after another man’s pigs, and was given the barest minimum for survival. At last he decided to go back and apply for the job of janitor in his father’s warehouse.
How would we finish this story? Not as Christ did, I would guess. The old man had been longing for his son’s return. He rushed out to greet him even before the boy had reached the driveway, brought him into the house rejoicing, and restored him to his former place. The story ends there, but the suggestion is left that such a translation of love brought out the best that was in that young man.
Most of us are not theologians. We may never preach a sermon or lead in public worship. But all of us can be translators. In the classroom, on the university campus, behind a desk or at a factory bench; on the city street or the village sidewalk, where cross the crowded ways of life, we can show how the love of God can transform even the common things of life and pull down the barriers between individuals and peoples.
And if we have difficulty in understanding how it should be done, we need only return to the Master Translator for a refresher course in practising the presence of God!