End Times teacher Jonathan Cahn speaks with PneumaReview.com about his life and ministry and his newly released book, The Oracle: The Jubilean Mysteries Unveiled.

PneumaReview.com: Please tell us about your story. Where do you come from? What has your spiritual journey looked like? What has God called you to be doing in this season of life? 

Jonathan Cahn: I’m Jewish, was raised in the synagogue. I became an atheist at the age of 8, when I was 12, I started seeking the truth. I picked up a book on biblical end-time prophecy and it changed by worldview. But I only received the Lord and began following him at the age of 20 after I was hit by a locomotive train.

He’s called me to teach the word of God, proclaim His prophetic word to our generation, write books, lead a congregation, lead an outreach ministry of compassion to the world, and more.

PneumaReview.com:  You have been teaching and writing about End Times for many years. Please tell us why you came to see the importance of this topic and your own growth in understanding what God has planned.

Jonathan Cahn: It was end-time prophecy that led me to the Lord. And as we live in the end-times we must be aware of it, the signs, the urgency, and the calling. As for growth, I can only say that revelations were given me concerning America and the world that I wrote down in the books – The Harbinger and The Paradigm.

PneumaReview.com: Preaching about Last Days always seems to draw a crowd, but what can church leaders do today to speak on this topic in ways that lift up God’s truth and not tickle ears?

PneumaReview.com: Why did you choose to write The Oracle as a dialog? Could you explain who is having this conversation and why?

Jonathan Cahn: The Oracle is overwhelmingly non-fiction overflowing with connections, mysteries, revelations, facts, and reality. As with The Harbinger, the story (in this case of a man called ‘the Oracle’ on a mountaintop, who reveals the mysteries of God) through seven doors of revelation – is only the delivery system. It makes it easier to receive and takes the reader on an adventure.

The Palace narrates “a series of first-hand prophetic visions” involving the redemption of a street orphan whose curiosity about a fabled palace and its King drives him to set out on a journey of discovery. The boy encounters the king, who unexpectedly shows great interest in the boy over several visits until the king invites him into the palace and even into adoption as a son.

The boy trains for warfare for his king. In the process of training and actual mission, the allegory astutely explores a wide range of human motives of both those in service of the king and those who oppose it. The strength of the book mirrors the insights of the C.S. Lewis allegories as well as Pilgrim’s Progress, but offers a sense of intimacy, communication, and miraculous power with “the King” that, due to their traditional theological limitations, these famous classics lack. The Palace offers a sophisticated and nuanced appreciation for the spiritual obstacles, strengths and weaknesses of the young, commissioned warrior as he encounters the unique problems of an array of social groups. In this, the narrative becomes an effective “how to” manual for the normative New Testament disciple.

Jonathan Seiver

This allegory was a joy to read and apply its lessons. Reading this to each other would be a great intimacy builder for Christian families as well as an uplifting discipleship training exercise for any group.

Reviewed by Jon Ruthven

Employing a narrative-theological approach to understand the Gospels, Pennington uses lively prose but maintains a rigorous scholarship governed by a great respect for Scripture. Pennington writes in the same historical and theological hues of Martin Hengel and Richard Bauckham, following the latter’s argument for apostolic eye-witness testimony closely. Eminently practical, Pennington writes so that “readers will be invited into the joy of studying the Gospels more deeply and more often” (258) and to lead readers to respond to the Gospel’s message of faith in Jesus Christ.

Pennington reconnects the church and the academy, erasing the disjuncture between Scripture and the people. Preaching and teaching the Gospels is not some addendum tacked onto Pennington’s hermeneutical project: “I take guidance and courage here from the model of Augustine, whose one-thousand-year best-selling textbook on hermeneutics has for its final climactic section, a lengthy discussion of how to preach” (219). For Pennington, the Gospels are Holy Scripture: a meal to be eaten and not an FDA report on the organic components of a foodstuff. Contra form-criticism, we should not be concerned with the Sitz im Leben [German, “sit in life,” life-setting] of a text but its Sitz im unserem Leben, that is, “our life-setting” (156).

The book breaks up into three sections: “Clearing the Ground, Digging Deep, and Laying a Good Foundation” (chaps. 1–8), “Building the House through Wise Reading” (chaps. 9–10), and “Living in the Gospels House” (chaps. 11–1). Pennington first traces the development of the word “gospel,” which initially referred to the kerygma [Greek proclamation], but then the notion of written document was added to it. Pennington roots the gospel message in the Old Testament, especially Isaiah 40–66, which points Gospels study in the right direction. Chaps. 1–2 do a good job of defining the Gospels and forging the relationship between genre and hermeneutics. Gospels are broadly subsumed under the Greek category of bioi [Greek “lives,” biographies] (22). Pennington follows Richard Burridge, who has established the Gospels as Graeco-Roman bioi. Yet bios is a flexible genre and will inevitably share characteristics with “moral philosophy, encomia … and historical works” (23).

Jonathan Pennington

Going beyond Burridge, Pennington opts for “bios plus” (25). He follows Loveday Alexander, who points out that the Old Testament is “much more deeply prone to ‘bio-structuring’ than is classical Greek” (26). Alexander says that it is the biblical tradition that provides the Gospel narratives their “rich ideological intertextuality with the biblical themes of covenant, kingdom, prophecy, and promise—all features hard to parallel in Greek biography” (26). Pennington then borrows from Adela Yarbro Collins, who also critiques Burridge but adds the categories of apocalyptic and eschatology to Gospel bioi (26). Pennington agrees with Collins’ labeling Mark an “eschatological historical monograph” (27). But he emphatically notes that the Gospels are even more. They do not—as Greek bioi—merely tell of a dead figure with emulation in mind but proclaim the resurrected Jesus who is present for the readers. “This is good news, not just a biography!” (31).

Jonathan Malesic, Secret Faith in the Public Square: An Argument for the Concealment of Christian Identity (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2009), 248 pages, ISBN 9781587432262.

From outward appearance the author, an assistant professor of Theology at King’s College in Pennsylvania, argues for non-public involvement in public affairs with nothing said of the participants’ Christian faith. His expressed concern is that Christian identity be protected from being exploited as a means for political gain. Malesic, in his introduction, writes that “too often in American public life, the light is used to illumine the Christians themselves, bringing glory to the wrong person”(p. 19). The light, in this sentence, refers to “Christian identity.” By concealing one’s own identity, it is easier to bring the identity of Jesus to bear in public life.

In developing his theme, Malesic first explains that what he does not want to do is to create a privacy of Christian life in opposition to anything public. “Most often ‘public’ is set in opposition to ‘privacy’” (p. 21). It is a false dichotomy. His proposal is to define what individual Christians should do “when non-Christian publics, especially the overarching and competitive public spheres of government, work, and the market pose danger to the integrity of the Christian public” (p.23).

The author’s basic premise is based upon Matthew 6:1,6 where Jesus enjoins those listening to him “Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them …” The full quotation is printed on the page facing the table of contents. Malesic sets forth his argument in two parts. The first part sets forth both the biblical and the theological rationale for secrecy of identity in the public square. He not only cites Jesus but also the liturgical secrecy set forth by Cyril of Jerusalem in the late fourth century when the life of the church and the life of the empire appeared to be fusing. After discussing the position of Cyril, he moves on to discuss in two succeeding chapters later the contribution of Soren Kierkegaard’s Works of Love which appeared in the mid-nineteenth century. In chapters five and six Malesic devotes attention to Dietrich Bonhoeffer and his famous work, The Cost of Discipleship. Melasic’s explanation of Bonhoeffer’s view of discipleship is that “Christians confess their Christian identity in secret and conceal that identity in public” (p. 123). The distinctively Christian form of public life is that of “being for others.” While Christians’ works of love should bear visible fruits, the Christian identity of the one who lives for others need not be intentionally made known.

Part two of Secret Faith in the Public Square which comprises chapters seven through nine takes the arguments from Scripture, Cyril, Kierkegaard and Bonhoeffer and takes the idea of concealment of Christian identity as it may work out in contemporary America. Malesic does not rely exclusively on the three men just mentioned. He also relies upon models set forth by Avery Cardinal Dulles, S.J. The church grew and had influence upon its pagan environment by offering an alternative more attractive: “Seeing the mutual love and support of the Christians and the high moral standards they observed, the pagans sought entrance into the Church.”[1] In this recognition, Malesic’s position is not one of withdrawal from the public square but a quiet lifestyle as opposed to a vocal or visible involvement. He also differs from Stanley Hauerwas, who is close to Malesic in sentiment but who challenges Christians “to stand as a visible social and political alternative to the violent ways of the world, bearing witness to the gospel in works of love and mercy” (p. 28). The key word is “visible” as opposed to “secret.” Yet in reading Secret Faith in the Public Square, it appears that what Malesic is advocating is not a secretive Christianity but a Christianity working “behind the scenes” rather “out front” advertising itself.

While most discussion of Bible translations take place around the traditional “free vs. literal” debate, modern, non-Biblical translation theory has become suspicious of such easy dichotomies (e.g. Pym 1997: 39).  Many translation scholars now tend to examine translations based on the purpose for which they were written.¹ This article will examine skopos theory, one of the most well-known purpose-based translation theories, in more depth and will discuss the potential objections to using it to examine and analyse Bible translations.  This theory has been chosen as it is the only purpose-based translation theory so far to have been applied to Bible translation.  I will argue for this theory to become the prevailing theory for examining entire Bible translations while the use of the more traditional terminology would then be restricted to the description of small-scale translation decisions, if used at all.

Skopos theory explained

In skopos theory, translation is seen as “an intentional, interpersonal, partly verbal intercultural interaction based on a source text” (Nord [1997] 2007: 18). To fully examine this theory, we must first examine the core notion of translation as an ‘intentional’ activity.

Nord admits that viewing translation as “intentional” or “purposeful” seems to be self-evident (ibid p. 1).  After all, the very act of doing anything implies intent or purpose (Sire 1988: 103, 227 [note 21]).  However, to view translation specifically as an “intentional” activity means that the translation itself must be judged according to how well it fulfilled its purpose (Schäffner 1997: 2).  This is the basis that forms the skopos rule, which is as follows:

[To] translate/interpret/speak/write in a way that enables your text/translation to function in the situation in which it is used and with the people who want to use it and precisely the way they want it to function. (Nord [1997] 2007: 29, translating Vermeer 1989: 20)

How this rule operates can be demonstrated from professional practice.  A translator working on a CV that is to be submitted to an employer in a target culture² will deliberately translate in such a way that the CV will function in that culture.  This may involve seeking target culture equivalents for qualifications mentioned, converting job titles into recognisable target language titles or even changing the grammatical class of words.  In my own work, one of the most frequent changes made to such documents is to change nouns into verbs given the preference in English-language CVs for action verbs (as shown in Yate [1993] 2003: 59-61).

Judging the success of a translation on how well it fulfilled the “intention” for which it was written means that its relation to the source text will necessarily become a secondary concern.  The translation strategy chosen and therefore the relation between the two texts will be determined by the intention of the translation (Nord [1997] 2007: 32).  In CVs, this would lead the translator to weigh up strategies for handling the use of target culture equivalents of qualifications – e.g. adding them next to the source culture term, using footnotes or replacing the source term completely.  In Bible translation this might mean weighing up strategies for handling source language terms for which there is no real target culture equivalent (see Fee and Stuart [1993] 2002: 37, 38 for examples).

This view tends to reduce the tendency for any particular translation strategy to be seen as an “ideal.”  While there may be some occasions and intentions that call for the strategy Fee and Strauss (2007: 28) call “formal equivalence;” others will call for “functional equivalence.”  Rather than choosing one of these two, or indeed any other option, for purely theological or linguistic reasons, the translator will make his or her choice based on which is more likely to serve the purpose of the text (Nord 2002: 33; 2003: 34).  This view forms an alternative to the more traditional theories, which have caused so much debate in the past.  In fact, many skopos theorists see it is a real opportunity to solve the debates over “free vs. faithful translation, dynamic vs. formal equivalence, good interpreters vs. slavish translators, and so on” (Nord [1997] 2007: 29).

This challenges the traditional supremacy of the source text as the sole basis on which translations must be assessed.  While, Hans Vermeer, one of the originators of skopos theory, stated that there must be a relationship between the source and target text (Nord [1997] 2007: 32); he also claimed to have “dethroned” the source text as an unchangeable and unchanging basis of comparison (ibid p. 37).  Some theorists feel that this could easily lead to any and all translation purposes being seen as acceptable, even if they are incompatible with the apparent purpose of the source text (ibid p. 124; Pym 1997: 91).  Following this principle, there would be nothing inherently wrong with changing universities mentioned on a CV to UK equivalents (“Oxford” for “Sorbonne,” for example) or changing all references to places in the Bible to equivalents in modern-day USA, as one Bible translator is reported to have done (Fee and Strauss 2007: 33).

In both cases, such changes, while possibly being defensible as “equivalents” on a purely cultural level, are very likely to mislead the reader.  If, for instance, the writer of a CV attended “Sorbonne” but the translator uses “Oxford,” the client could be accused of lying if the prospective employer decides to verify their claim.  Similarly, no matter how familiar US cities are to US Bible readers, the fact is that Jesus was born in Bethlehem, not Boston.  Skopos theory therefore lacked logical and ethical limits to what could be seen as acceptable translation practice (Pym 1997: 91).

Translation choices continue to be a major issue for the church. While preparing this review, news showed that the choices made in a further update to the NIV has led to a prominent denomination expressing disappointment with two large Christian publishers. As a professional translator, I obviously care about the choices translators make. However, as a believer, I care much more for my brothers and sisters in Christ.

There is no doubt that the translation issue covered in the article covered by this review is an important one: what should Bible translators do with concepts and phrases that might cause offence? What if a cultural or linguistic understanding of a Biblical phrase could prevent a barrier to someone receiving Christ? How far should translators go in their work to present the Word of God in a language people understand?

The specific example in this article is by no means an easy one. For many Muslims, the phrase “Son of God” paints the picture of God having physical sexual relations with Mary, an idea which is an anathema both to them and, I would imagine, to the vast majority of Evangelical Christians. We all understand that the Biblical writers are here intending to paint a picture of Jesus conception by the Holy Spirit and His intimacy with the Father.

The phrase “Son of God” therefore, is clearly a critical Biblical concept. It means far more than a purely linguistic analysis of the words would suggest and plays an important role in Biblical theology. Few could deny that knowledge of Christ and His purpose is not complete without a deep understanding of what is going on whenever this phrase is mentioned. It remains to be seen whether the proposed replacement “the Beloved Son who comes (or originates) from God” could ever fully stand in its place.

On the other hand, the results of making this change have been astounding. In a single network of house churches that have used a translation that has adopted this phrase, hundreds of Muslims have accepted Christ as their saviour. If Jesus is right that you recognise Christians by their love for each other (John 13: 35), do particular phrases in Bible translations really matter? Surely, perfect love and not perfect theology is the mark of the true Church.

The arguments could easily rage in either direction and as a reviewer, I find myself pulled both ways. This is not a topic that offers an easy route to neutrality. Whatever stance one takes, important and Biblically sound arguments exist in contradiction.

Perhaps this is actually the issue: we take sides more easily than we give love. This kind of behaviour is not new, Paul had to rebuke the Corinthian church for taking sides behind one preacher or another (1 Cor 1: 12-21). There may well have been real and perhaps even important theological differences between Paul, Apollos and Peter but Paul is keen to remind the church that our common faith in Christ is greater than our differences.

We might make a similar point about the tendency to back one Bible translation strategy over another. As I have written elsewhere (The Pneuma Review, vol. 12 no. 3., Summer 2009, pp. 24-43), there are real problems and issues with every strategy. Something goes wrong no matter how we translate the Word: this why almost all pastors and theologians warn against only using a single translation for study. We need the wisdom of multiple counsel.

Jonathan Phillips, Holy Warriors: A Modern History of the Crusades (London: The Bodley Head, Random House, 2009), 424 pages, ISBN 9780224079372.

Philip Jenkins. The Lost History of Christianity: The Thousand Year Golden Age of the Church in the Middle East, Africa and Asia—and How It Died (New York: HarperOne, 2008), 315 pages, ISBN 9780061472800.

If you would read back-to-back, as I did recently, the two books reviewed here, one by a historian of the Crusades and another by a Church historian on the Eastern Church, you will surely broaden your knowledge of world history and gain a surprising perspective on both ecumenism and the prospects of peace with religious extremism.

Both of these books are a good overview of the battlefield called “jihad” by Muslims and “Crusade” by Christians and contain insights into the mistakes made as well as ways people have been successful in working together, though the mistakes far outweigh what went right. Jonathan Phillips is the expert on Crusades history and European medieval secular and religious politics, while Philip Jenkins addresses religious matters in-depth.

If we might borrow from Socrates’ saying, “The unexamined life is not worth living,” we ought to grasp that no movement in the history of humanity was either simple or pure. Phillips does a good job of sustaining the point that both the call to Crusade by popes and the response from the nobles and people was a mixture of sincerely held religious beliefs and the desire for success, power and wealth. Moderns like to say that the Crusades show what is wrong with religion and the Church, but leave out (probably from ignorance) that the Crusades began with a request from Christians in the Middle East, not a European desire for a blood frenzy. However, what Pope Urban II in 1095 decided to do with the appeal from Emperor Alexius of Constantinople and each and every occasion for “taking the cross’ until the reconquest of Granada in 1492 was a mixture of piety and pride resulting in the waste of human lives as well as multiple failures in the goals they hoped to achieve. For example, what the Emperor had in mind was a special forces team of perhaps 300 knights but what happened was one of history’s first carefully orchestrated international public relations campaigns, resulting in an army of tens of thousands of princes and peasants on a long march to Jerusalem. The misdeeds and missteps along the way are well known, but Phillips’ research is highly informative and I learned a great deal. As he points out, it is amazing that those in the First Crusade were successful at all, yet they were the most successful of all.

For church leaders, preachers and even ordinary Christians, choosing a Bible translation can be a difficult task. This is made even more difficult for those who study translation in order to make an informed decision. It is unfortunate that discussions of Bible translations tend to be centred on personal opinions (for example Taylor 2007) or discussions over the techniques used to overcome small-scale linguistic problems (for example Fee and Stuart 2002, Neff 2002 and Hill 2006) rather than on objective facts.  However, to be in a position where they can make a truly informed choice, pastors and leaders would need to have some sort of reliable guide as to what they can expect in the translation as a whole. Based on recent translation research and my own professional experience as a translator, this article will suggest an approach based on the intended purpose of each Bible translation. It will show that it is this approach, and not the traditional approaches that spark the “free vs. literal” debate, that has the potential to help church leaders and preachers to make informed, objective decisions on the translation or translations they choose to use.

The Traditional Approaches and their Weaknesses

Historically, most Bible translation scholars have described their work in relation to two main translation schools. Fee and Stuart, in their book, How to Read the Bible for all Its Worth (SU, 2002), arrange nine translations of various dates along a line with “Literal” at one end and “Free” at the other (Fee and Stuart 2002: 36)¹. For them, “literal” translation is “the attempt to translate by keeping as close as possible to the exact words and phrasing of the original language, yet still make sense in the receptor language” (ibid, p. 35). Translators working using the “free” approach, on the other hand, would agree with Dr. Mark L. Strauss (2004: xx) who says that “translation is first and foremost about meaning, not form.” The goal of free translation is to get as close as possible to the ideas and meaning of the original and to express these in a manner more closely resembling modern-day speech. The following sample of possible translations of a simple question in French illustrates the differences between these two approaches.

French: Comment vous appelez-vous?
English 1: How yourself calls you?
English 2: What do you call yourself?
English 3: What is your name?

In this example, English 1 represents the version most likely to be generated if someone with knowledge of French grammar were to look each word up in a dictionary and translate the sentence accordingly. English 2 represents the version most likely to be generated by a translator using the “literal” approach—as few changes as possible have been made to the grammar of the sentence while still making sense in English. The verb “to call” has also been retained as the literal, dictionary translation of the verb “appeler.”

English 3 represents the “free” translation approach. In this case, more attention has been paid to the normal expectations and phrasings of English than to the grammar of the original. None of the words in English 3 can be found in any form in the original but this version has the advantage of being the version that most native English speakers would be familiar with.

In this simple example we can see that literal translation has the advantage of giving us an insight into the grammar of the original and the meanings of the individual words used. However, the disadvantage of this approach is that it is likely to generate translations that contain phrasings that are unfamiliar and do not reflect normal English use (Fee and Stuart 2002: 35; Strauss 2004: xix; Fee and Strauss 2007: 34). Free translation, on the other hand, has the advantage of offering translations that read more naturally. The disadvantage of this approach is that it makes it more difficult for readers to gain access to the patterns used in the original language (Van Leeuwen 2001: 30, Strauss 2004: xix, Fee and Strauss 2007: 57).

An example of the problems with either approach in Bible translation is found in how four different translations have handled 1 Kings 2:10. In this example, the first two translations can be roughly seen as traditional, literal translations with the second two representing the free approach to translation to differing degrees.

NKJV: So David rested with his fathers…
ESV: Then David slept with his fathers…
NLT: Then David died and was buried with his ancestors.
TM: Then David joined his ancestors.

It is clear from comparing these four translations that we have a phrase that can be loosely translated into English as “David died.” The NKJV and ESV, in order to translate literally, have tried to keep as much of the original Hebrew phrasing as possible. While their choice of phrasing may be clear enough for those who are used to reading the Word, they have turned a phrase that would have been natural and easy to understand to the original readers into a phrase that is foreign and, in the case of the ESV especially, can easily be interpreted in a sense that is completely different to that intended by the original author. In the two free translations, on the other hand, the phrase either had to be extended to include both elements of the Hebrew image, as in the NLT, or recreated to express these elements and keep the same meaning as the original, in the case of The Message. This verse, therefore, clearly illustrates the advantages and disadvantages of both approaches.