I have never visited Africa, but a friend lived there for many years, teaching school children, and a story she told me twenty years ago thrums in memory.
One summer, Sister Anne Marie said, a team of biblical scholars and linguists came to her remote village. It was not their first visit. They were working with the tribe’s members to prepare a new translation of the gospels in the local language. Matthew, Mark and Luke were nearly finished, but the Gospel of John had proved daunting. Over and over, the experts tried to translate the first verse, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Each time they ran their translations by the village elders, the elders frowned or politely shook their heads, “No.” The translators were losing heart. More here...
One summer, Sister Anne Marie said, a team of biblical scholars and linguists came to her remote village. It was not their first visit. They were working with the tribe’s members to prepare a new translation of the gospels in the local language. Matthew, Mark and Luke were nearly finished, but the Gospel of John had proved daunting. Over and over, the experts tried to translate the first verse, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Each time they ran their translations by the village elders, the elders frowned or politely shook their heads, “No.” The translators were losing heart. More here...
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