Common English Bible: A Brief Assessment

31 10 2010

I received in the mail a few days ago a complimentary copy of the Common English Bible (CEB) of the New Testament. You can access the website of this translation here:  CEB.  I am always appreciative of complimentary copies of books (since so many are being published and my budget is limited).  I have only had a brief chance to look at this translation, but I decided to examine the usage of the Greek term anthropos as found in the Gospel Mark.  The translators used a variety of words to translate both the singular and plural.  The breakdown is as follows: you (1x), earthly (1x), human beings (3x), someone (3x), humans (4x), people (6x), person (7x), man (10x), and human (18x).

The most frequent usage is when human (18x) is used to render the typical translation “the Son of God” (ho huios tou theou) as “the Human One.”  The translators are consistent in this usage.  It is not clear when and why the plural of anthropos is translated as people, humans or human beings.  One criterion translators used was clarity.  Yet humans and human beings sound awkward versus people. Which is better English and clearer?

“I assure you that human beings will be forgiven for everything . . . (3:28a).” [CEB]

“I assure you that people will be forgiven for everything . . . (3:28a).”

“You ignore God’s commandment while holding on to rules created by humans . . . (8:8).” [CEB]

“You ignore God’s commandment while holding on to rules created by people . . . (8:8).”

I am not certain what is gained by using humans and human beings instead of people.

If the CEB is attempting to be sensitive to masculine language, it actually includes “man” in some places where it is not found in the Greek text.  For example, in Mark 14:69, the woman servant sees Peter and says, “This man is one of them (CEB).”  Anthropos is not used in the verse, and the verse could easily be translated as “This person is one of them” or “This one is one of them.”  Perhaps the CEB translators are attempting to provide parallelism with 14:71 when Peter claims, “I don’t know this man (anthropon) you’re talking about” (CEB).

One of the clever translations of anthropos is found in 11:32.  Jesus has put a riddle to the chief priest, scribes and elders about the origin of John the Baptist’s authority.  The CEB translates the internal debate among the groups about John’s authority as “But we can’t say, ‘It’s of earthly origin.’”  Many translations use “from men/man.” Some use “of human origin” or “merely human.” The “earthly” is a nice parallel with verse 31 that speaks of John’s authority as being from heaven or heavenly.  In the parallels to this narrative in Matthew 21:25 and Luke 20:6, however, the translators use “humans” and “human origins” respectively.  Especially since Matthew and Mark have almost verbatim Greek here, why not keep the parallelism with the use of earthly?

These are just a few observations on the use of anthropos.  I have quickly scanned a few other areas.  For example, I am not certain I like all the contractions used throughout the translation.  For today’s folks, however, it is what they hear in everyday conversation.  I do not like the translation of the Beatitudes as “Happy are . . . .” This translation misses the cultural and social meaning behind and within the text-segment.  Plus, it sounds trite.

It is always good to see and hear a new translation, and I am sure the CEB will find some receptive readers.  We may, however, be reaching a saturation point of “new” translations.  What does one more English translation add?  Of course we could do away with all translations of the New Testament if everyone would learn Greek.  But I’m not holding my breath.


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Categories : Bibles, Biblical Studies, Books, New Testament

Being Quotable

16 05 2010

I have been reading a book by Herbert Anderson and Edward Foley called Mighty Stories, Dangerous Rituals:  Weaving Together the Human and the Divine.  In one section they write:  “Mythic narratives comfort us and assure us that everything is going to be all right; parables challenge and dispute the reconciliation that our myths have created” (p. 15).

I have always admired writers such as Mark Twain who could toss off piquant/pithy quotes as easily as the ashes off his cigar.  I find creating memorable and original quotes difficult; however, based upon Anderson and Foley’s perspective, I think I have a pretty good one below.

“If myths help us sleep at night, parables keep us awake.”

David M. May


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Categories : Books, Quotes

Taxes: Ancient and Modern

15 04 2010

Since today is April 15, Tax Day, I thought it might be appropriate to blog about taxes, especially in relationship to the ancient world.  Taxes, of course, are not modern phenomena.  The extraction of funds from the general public for use by the state (or elites) has a long history.  One specific tax related to the ancient Mediterranean world and the first century was the Fiscus Judaicus.  For an excellent overview of this tax and its implication in the first century, see the recent dissertation from Rijksuniversiteit Groningen by Marius Heemstra, How Rome’s Administration of the Fiscus Judaicus Accelerated the Parting of the Ways Between Judaism and Christianity:  Rereading 1 Peter, Revelation, The Letter to the Hebrews and the Gospel of John in Their Roman And Jewish Contexts (2009).  This dissertation has a fascinating thesis and is quite well done.  (We presented papers in the same section of the Society of Biblical Literature Annual Meeting last year in New Orleans).

The Fiscus Judaicus was the tax levied by Vespasian after the Judean War and the destruction of the Temple (Josephus, Jewish War, 7.218). This tax in essence replaced the Temple tax.  The money collected for this tax, ironically, helped reconstruct the temple of Jupiter in Rome which had been destroyed in the civil war of AD 69.  One can only image the chagrin of the Judeans who were force to pay this tax.  One of the differences between the Temple tax and the Fiscus Judaicus is that the Temple tax was only required of Judean men while the Fiscus Judaicus taxed men, women, children, and even Judean slaves.

This Temple tax consisted of a half shekel (or the equivalent, two Roman denarii or two Attic drachmas).  The Fiscus Judaicus tax, while based on the Temple tax, varied over the years.

This tax continued into the time period of Emperor Nerva at which point it was abolished (AD 96).  This event was of such importance it was commemorated on a coin minted in Rome.  See below.

The inscription on the reverse is FISCI IVDAICI CALVMNIA SVBLATA which translates as “the removal of the wrongful accusation of the Fiscus Judaicus.”  Note the date palm tree; a typical symbol used for Judea.


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Categories : Ancient Numismatics, Biblical Studies, Books, New Testament, Resources, Uncategorized

What Ereaders Cannot Capture

21 12 2009

I believe in utilizing the latest technology (a Nook ereader is on its way, and I will be blogging about its usage for pedagogy); however, how can an ereader capture the feeling evoked by the personalized inscription below.

This inscription is from W. Hersey Davis to H. E. Dana in a book, Greek Papyri of the First Century (1933), written for A. T. Robertson on the occasion of his seventieth birthday.  Here is an inked chain of Baptist tradition, and it is all contained in one slim volume.  As I hold this book in my hands, I don’t see how a Kindle, Sony or Nook can ever preserve digitally whatever it is that this book provokes in my bibliophile spirit.

Here is a great picture of A. T. Robertson.  Everyone’s office should be so tidy.


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Categories : Biblical Studies, Books, Uncategorized

In Remembrance: Library Checkout Cards

20 06 2009

I had a fondness for the checkout cards found carefully enveloped at the back of most library books.  They have been dead for awhile, killed by efficiency and technology.

Ubiquitous Bar Code

Ubiquitous Bar Code

The checkout card was simple and symbolic.  To sign the card with my signature was, of course, on the most basic level a way for the library to have accountability; I had taken the book.  However, signing one’s name to any document creates a relationship and a commitment.  By signing my name to a library book, I committed myself to some type of relationship with this author and material.   Scanning a bar code does not have the same connection.   Signing the checkout card could mean an intimate relationship–late nights, rereading passages, and anticipation.  At other times, the commit was more platonic, and it could even border on benign neglect.   However, the signature on that thin blue line and the rubber stamped date beside it was an inked contract with this book.  scan0003

I was reminded of this physical connection with books when I recently checked out a book which still had a checkout card at the back.  As patrons checked out unbar coded books, the old cards were removed and new electronic tags were placed on the books.  I always glance at the names of those who had read a book in the past.   The thing about signing your name to a library card was that it was permanent; it could be there for decades.   In looking down though the names on this card, since the book was in a seminary library where I teach, I recognized many of the later names.   I was always glad to see names on checkout cards, because it meant students were reading.  It is a lonely and sad book that had no names on its dance card.  scan0002

One of  the names on this particular card was a former student who had since passed away.  I thought about him holding this book, turning pages and listening to its words.   It was a sense of connection through a mutually shared object.  For most of the objects we handle each day, we have no idea of their past, but for library books  you could look at the checkout card and see a host of readers with whom you were now joined.

I miss library checkout cards.


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Categories : Books, Library


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