The debate about the language in which we learn and express our faith is often misleading, I think, because amid all the talk of accessibility and historical accuracy, the most important word -- poetry -- is rarely brought into the discussion.
We easily associate music with worship, thinking we mean the power of melodies and rhythms sung by choirs and congregations. But the original music of the great faiths is in the words of the holy books and of the prayers. And that is vital, because, as most of us understand, you don't really "explain" music, you feel it, and the experience of great music is transcendent. It is also memorable -- indeed, unforgettable. So, too, with great poetry. These qualities are not always lost in translation, but when the new language is merely literal and utilitarian it becomes a barrier to the sense of exaltation that many worshippers are seeking.
The most striking example of poetry rendered prosaic is the Qur'an. Muslims are taught it must be read and recited in the original, and with good reason. Consider the very first Surah. One of the best translations begins "In the name of Allah, Most Gracious, Most Merciful, / Praise be to Allah, the Cherisher and Sustainer of the World; / Most Gracious, Most Merciful, / Master of the Day of Judgment." Yet in the Arabic, those lines not only have a strong meter, they rhyme. (I have always suspected that part of the great problem the West has understanding Islam is related to the banality and artificiality of the language in most attempted translations.)
When it comes to Pope Benedict XVI opening the way for a return to the Tridentine Mass, I defer to others on the theological implications. For most of us the sound of spoken Latin may be so alien that the poetry in it is difficult to hear. Yet it's not hard to imagine that Roman Catholics who grew up with the melodic "In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti" will find it more moving than "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." Even to my ear, "Ave Maria" is a more powerful phrase than "Hail Mary."
So, too, for those of us who grew up with the King James Bible and the more traditional Book of Common Prayer. The 23rd Psalm, as translated into English during the age of Shakespeare and informed by the same poetic sensibilities, is simply more moving than the same psalm in any of many more modern versions. Words like "maketh" and "leadeth" and "restoreth" are anachronistic, to be sure, but they create a much stronger rhythm than their modern counterparts. Listening to such language, my cup runneth over, it does not overflow.
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