Translating Idioms (guest essay by missionary John R. Himes)

With final preparations for my dissertation defense under way, I thought this would be the perfect time for another guest essay by my father, missionary John Himes (who is currently involved in a new translation of the Greek New Testament into Japanese). Actually, his essays are more popular than mine on my own blog, but if you think about it, somebody who has spent 30+ years on the mission field should be heard before some young whipper-snapper who has yet to finish school and get a life!  :)

What Shall We Do with Those Idioms?

By John R. Himes

I know it’s a poor pun, but my wife enjoys saying, “Are you calling me an idiot?” every time I get linguistic on her and use the word idiom. This essay will tackle how to translate idioms, but first we need to define what one is. This brings up an interesting problem. The usual definition of an “idiom” says that it has two or more words. But can an idiom have only one word?

Nida and Taber define it this way: “idiom: an expression consisting of several words and whose meaning cannot be derived from the meaning of the individual words, e.g. kick the bucket for die; also called exocentric expression” (Eugene Nida and Charles Taber, The Theory and Practice of Translation, 203). A dictionary of linguistics has: “A set expression in which two or more words are syntactically related, but with a meaning like that of a single lexical unit: e.g. ‘spill the beans’ in Someone has spilled the beans about the bank raid, or ‘put one’s foot in it’ in Her husband can never make a speech without putting his foot in it“ (P. H. Matthews, Oxford Concise Dictionary of Linguistics, 2nd ed., 183). 

Another definition doesn’t specify more than one word, but gets the definition wrong: “Idiom: (1) Any expression peculiar to a language, conveying a distinct meaning, not necessarily explicable by, occasionally even contrary to, the general accepted grammatical rules” (Dictionary of Linguistics, Mario Pei & Frank Gaynor, p. 95). What is wrong here is that an idiom must be defined in terms of semantics, not grammar (though we must admit their point in that occasionally an idiom will defy conventional grammar).

Oddly enough, even a book of idioms proclaims that an idiom must be two or more words. Harold C. Whitford (Handbook of American Idioms and Idiomatic Usage, 183) says in his preface that, "An idiom...consists of more than one word." However, in the book Whitford gives many one-word idioms, such as "arms" (weapons), "axe" (used when firing someone), "baloney," etc.

So now we need to clarify what an idiom is. First of all, note that idioms are culture specific, or "culture bound" as secular translation scholar Susan Bassnett puts it (Translation Studies, 3rd ed., 30). For example, consider some idioms from the Old West, such as "men with the bark on" (tough men) and "salty" (good in a fight), easily found in western novels like those of Louis L'Amour. This illustrates how an idiom comes into existence from some aspect of the culture. These idioms are not used in modern America except for a few places out West where the Old West culture lingers on.  

Secondly, note that an idiom is a word or words which may carry a very different meaning than the literal meaning.  So in the examples from Whitford, the idiom “arms” does not mean human appendages but weapons, “axe” does not mean an edged weapon or tool but the firing of a person from a job, and “baloney” does not mean a sandwich meat but is an expression of doubt. This characteristic is what makes idioms fascinating but often hard to translate. The translator is not able to begin from a word-for-word meaning, but must carefully determine the non-literal meaning of the idiom in the original text.

Koine Greek has many idioms, as is well documented in books by C. F. D. Moule and Stewart Custer. However, very few writers on Bible translation have dealt with how to translate idioms. The only mention of the problem I can find in my library is by Eugene Nida and Charles Taber, who write, “The adjustments are quite understandably of three types: (a) from idioms to nonidioms (sic), (b) from idioms to idioms, and (c) from nonidioms (sic) to idioms” (The Theory and Practice of Translation, 106. There is about one page on the problem in this text). However, this statement misses the possibility of translating an idiom as is, even in cases where the target language does not have the same idiom. In rare cases an idiom from the source language can make sense in the target language. Let’s consider that possibility first, since it may be the most ideal rendering, assuming a genuinely equivalent meaning in the target language idiom. 

In a culture with bilingual people, sometimes an idiom will migrate directly from one language to another. In such cases one may translate the idiom literally and have it make sense. For example, “in Canadian French the idiom ‘to talk through one’s hat’ has acquired the equivalent ‘parler a travers son chapeau’” (“A Methodology for Translation” by Jean-Paul Vinay and Jean Darbelnet, in The Translation Studies Reader, 2nd ed., ed. by Lawrence Venuti, p. 134). Since many in Canada are bilingual in French and English, this idiom migrated successfully with almost exactly the same meaning.

A Bible example of the migrating idiom is “kick against the ox-goads” (Acts 9:5, 26:14), which is an idiom meaning “resist leading,” understandable literally in English through Greek from Hebrew. The KJB translates it literally, as does the HCSB, NIV and ESV (all three of which render “kick against the goads”), and many other versions. (Note that only the TR has the phrase in 9:5, but all Greek texts have it in 26:14.) This is a case when an idiom can be translated literally and retain its meaning. The original idiom migrated from Hebrew to Greek, and then the Greek idiom was translated into English with no loss of or change in meaning.

There are other cases where the original idiom can be retained in a language with no loss of meaning. This is only true in cases when the idiom makes sense outside of its cultural milieu. One example of this is the idiom common in the teachings of Christ, o ecwn wta akouein akouetw, “The one with ears, let him hear.” Though it may seem strange to our English-tuned ears, it makes sense, since it puts extra emphasis on hearing, thus meaning to the non-Greek ear something like, “You had better listen, this is important!”

Another possibility is translating an idiom with a non-idiom. A Greek example of when this is necessary is in 1 Peter 2:24, where we have taiV amartiaiV apogenomenoi (“being dead to sins”). It’s very hard to make this idiom work literally in Japanese, and one may question its literal rendering in English. It just doesn’t make sense in an Asian language, and may even steer the reader completely away from the authorial intent! So in our new Japanese translation we had to choose a wording that made sense. So, we have translated this into Japanese as 罪と係わりを断った私たち (refusing connection with sin), an idiom into a non-idiom.  

Again, the HCSB translates an idiom with a non-idiom in 2 Cor. 2:17,  kaphleuonteV ton logon tou qeou (“dilute the Word of God”) with “market God’s message for profit.” This idiom refers to the practice of wine merchants illicitly adding water to their product to make more money. This rendering does carry the original meaning over into the target language, but perhaps it loses some of the flavor of the original idiom. A possible rendering that keeps the flavor of the original idiom is, “huckster the Word of God.”

A third possibility is translating an idiom with an equivalent idiom. This is another good solution, better perhaps than translating an idiom with a non-idiom, since there is a certain nuance, perhaps a feeling the reader has when he reads, in the very fact that an idiom is used. (We have seen how this happened with the Hebrew idiom, “kick against the goads,” was translated into Greek.) Once again semantic equivalency is still necessary. 

According to secular scholar Susan Bassnett, Hilaire Belloc gave this guideline for translating idioms in 1932: “The translator should render idiom by idiom ‘and idioms of their nature demand translation into another form from that of the original.' Belloc cites the case of the Greek exclamation 'by the dog!', which, if rendered literally, becomes merely comic in English" (Translation Studies. 3rd ed., 2002, p. 116). So, while Belloc believed the best way to translate an idiom is with another idiom, he realized that the original idiom often may not be carried into the target language, but requires an idiom equivalent in meaning.

Basnett gives another example from the Italian: “The translation of idioms takes us a stage further in considering the question of meaning and translation, for idioms, like puns, are culture bound. The Italian idiom menare il can per l’aia provides a good example of the kind of shift that takes place in the translation process. Translated literally, the sentence Giovanni sta menando il can per l’aia. becomes John is leading his dog around the threshing floor. The image conjured up by this sentence is somewhat startling and, unless the context referred quite specifically to such a location, the sentence would seem obscure and virtually meaningless. The English idiom that most closely corresponds to the Italian is to beat about the bush, also obscure unless used idiomatically, and hence the sentence correctly translated becomes John is beating around the bush” (Basnett, 30-31).

Finally, let’s consider translating from a non-idiom into an idiom. HCSV translates a Greek non-idiom (aporoumenoV de egw, the verb being aporew) with an idiom in Acts 25:20, “Since I was at a loss . . . .” One wonders why an idiom was chosen to translate a non-idiom here when a fairly literal translation (“I was in doubt”) would accurately convey the meaning. Then one looks at the lexicons and learns that “at a loss” is given as a meaning in almost all of them! (I checked BAGD, Abbot-Smith, the Fribergs’ Analytical Lexicon, Louw-Nida, etc.) So obviously it is not a mistake to render “at a loss” here. Indeed, it might be argued that “at a loss” is a good rendering with a vivid meaning. But we could then ask, is vividness the right strategy here, since the original is a formal letter from one ruler to another? It seems obvious that translating from a non-idiom to an idiom should be carefully considered based on the context before making a final decision.

So, as can be seen, the translation of an idiom is not an easy task. The meaning of the original idiom and its possible renderings should be carefully considered in every case. Hopefully this brief essay will be a help in that regard to translators and future translators.

Skopos theory in Bible translation, by John R. Himes

John R. Himes is a 30-year veteran missionary to Japan. He is currently working on a new Japanese translation of the Greek New Testament and at point taught Biblical Greek in Japanese to Japanese ministerial students.

Skopos Theory

By John R. Himes

Skopos (σκοπος) is the Greek word for “goal,” occurring in the New Testament only in Phil. 3:14 as “mark” in the KJV. The “skopos theory” of translation was formulated by translation studies scholar Hans Vermeer. In his words, “The word skopos, then, is a technical term for the aim or purpose of a translation” (The Translation Studies Reader, ed. by Lawrence Venuti, 2^nd Ed. New York: Routledge, 2004, p. 227). Again, Vermeer says, “The aim of any translational action, and the mode in which it is to be realized, are negotiated with the client who commissions the action. A precise specification of aim and mode is essential for the translator” (ibid). So to a skopos theorist, whether or not the translation achieves its goal is more important than its equivalence (formal, dynamic, optimal, etc.) to the original.

According to Giuseppe Palumbo, “The skopos…is the overriding factor governing either the choices and decisions made during the translation process or the criteria based on which a translation is assessed” (Key Terms in Translation Studies. New York: Continuum, 2009, p. 107). Edwin Gentzler puts it this way: “For most practical purposes, then, the Skopos is not located in either the source or the target text of culture; rather it is negotiated between the client and the translator, with reference to both the source text and receiving audience” (Contemporary Translation Theories, Clevedon: Multilingual Matters, Ltd., 2001, p. 73).

This is the secular theory of translation most likely to resonate with the professional translator, since Vermeer views him or her as the expert. The basic premise of the theory is that the translator should (and usually does) translate according to the purpose of his contract. In the case of a professional in the secular world, this often means that he will translate with the goals given him by the contract he signed, or the goals delineated by his boss, or those given him by his client if he is an independent translator.

In 2010 I was asked to correct an English translation of the information brochure put out by the local water treatment plant. The goal was to take my Japanese client’s work and put it into good, grammatical, smooth English. I wanted it to read like it had been written in English so that the reader was not distracted by what we call Japlish—a mixed up version of English influenced by Japanese syntax and loan words from English. I thus operated with a skopos, a definite goal that did not limit me to strictly literal renderings. Because of this, more than once I did a free rendering of the original text, something I almost never do in translating the Greek New Testament. In skopos theory the tools and methods of the translator depend on his goal. My goal in this case was a faithful yet readable translation of the brochure, so I worked accordingly. As Vermeer writes, “The skopos can also help to determine whether the source text needs to be ‘translated’, ‘paraphrased’ or completely ‘re-edited’” (ibid, p. 237).

This theory has not penetrated much yet into the world of Bible translation scholars. One of the most recent books on Bible translating, Translating the New Testament (ed. by Stanley Porter and Mark Boda, Eerdmans, 2009), does not even mention the theory or Vermeer, even though Porter has a whole chapter on modern theories, “Assessing Translation Theory: Beyond Literal and Dynamic Equivalence.” Surely Porter knows about this theory, since he mentions “the functionalist approach” (p. 128; different from Nida’s functional equivalence), which includes skopos theory. However, he apparently doesn’t see its relevance to Bible translation.

As far as I know Dr. Cristiane Nord, the leading advocate of the theory next to Vermeer himself, is the only scholar writing about skopos theory and Bible translation. I wrote Dr. Nord asking for her article, “Functions of Orality in the Translation of New Testament and Early Christian Texts: a skopos-theoretical perspective.” She graciously answered and sent me not only that article but another as well. She makes a good case with skopos theory for integrity in Bible translation. She writes:

“Translators have to decide beforehand what their translation is intended to mean to the addressed audience – in other words: what kind of communicative function(s) it is aiming at. Since in the case of biblical and apocryphal texts there is a large variety of possible skopoi, translators should be obliged (and given the opportunity, e.g., in a preface) to justify and defend their translational decisions. A team of translators and other experts who do not disclose their identity (like in GNG 1997) can create the false impression of having translated objectively and thus violate their obligation to loyalty with regard to the target readership.” (“Function and Loyalty in Bible Translation,” by Christiane Nord, p. 19; included in the book, Apropos of Ideology. Translation Studies on Ideology – Ideologies in Translation Studies.)

When skopos theory does penetrate the ivory (or maybe just brick) towers of the Bible translation scholars’ world, how will it influence Bible translators? First of all, it should make them consider their goals in a much deeper way. Are they aiming at a tool for evangelism first of all, or a faithful rendering of the original text? Secondly, they ought to be prayerfully thinking about the original Author of the Bible, and how that Author would have them translate. Their view of Biblical inspiration will then shape their methods and what tools they use. Integrity in relation to the original text is a key point. However it happens, the translator should grow simply by being aware of skopos theory.

 

Review of Biblical Translation in Chinese and Greek: Verbal Aspect in Theory and Practice, by Toshikazu S. Foley (part 2 of 2: critique)

Critique

Foley has written an academic masterpiece that nevertheless could use some improvement in certain areas. To begin with, on the positive side, Foley has established himself as a linguist of the first order. Not only does Foley have an excellent grasp of difficult concepts (including VAT à la Porter), he demonstrates clear proficiency in multiple languages even beyond English, Greek, and Chinese.

Secondly, the sheer amount of research that went into Foley’s book completely staggers the mind. Any author who can reference English, Chinese, Japanese, French, German and Russian sources, all within the space of two pages (70-71) is worthy of respect (and may have even set a record). In addition, when one considers the incredible number of primary and secondly sources that Foley examined, one must acknowledge that Foley possesses both a natural ability as a linguistic researcher and incredible diligence.

Thirdly, certain sections of the book stand alone in value even for those not interested in Foley’s thesis. Foley’s section on the history of Chinese Bible translation, for example, was both interesting and informative. Likewise his translations of John 18-19 and 1 Corinthians 15 would be worth their weight in gold even for those uninterested in verbal aspect theory.

Fourthly, Foley’s book remains, to this writer’s knowledge, the only book to actually apply modern VAT to Bible translation in any language other than English. Obviously a plethora of authors have written on VAT, but Foley’s contribution is that he has made VAT practical—not an easy task! Similarly, regardless of any misgivings about Foley’s adherence to Porter’s version of VAT, at least one has to admit that Foley is consistent in his methodology, especially in his distinguishing between Aktionsart and aspect (whether or not Foley is correct, of course, is a different matter altogether).

Finally, as to Foley’s thesis, at the very least one can declare that he has succeeded admirably in doing his part to bridge the gap between Biblical Greek and Chinese. Foley has without a doubt made a genuinely valuable contribution to the field of linguistics and Bible translation. Indeed, this is somewhat of an understatement; to say Foley has “made a contribution” is akin to simply saying that Payton Manning knows how to throw a football. Beyond merely “making a contribution,” Foley’s work is unprecedented and unparalleled.

Despite my admiration for Foley’s work, some concerns remain. Most importantly, Biblical Translation in Chinese and Greek has no author index, subject index, or glossary of terms (though it does have a Bible verse index and a bibliography). These absences are completely inexplicable for a technical work of this nature. The glossary of terms is especially needed because Biblical Translation in Chinese and Greek deals with multiple languages, and it was quite easy for this reader to forget what exactly a “four character set phrase” or a “ø morpheme” was. The subject and author index also remain a staple for books that will be utilized in research. By neglecting these three things, Foley has rendered his book very “user unfriendly” for the researcher.

Secondly, Foley’s book presupposes from the beginning that the reader has a grasp both of VAT and of Mandarin grammar and syntax (the ability to read Chinese characters would also help, but is not essential). Foley extensively covers aspect in Mandarin, but barely, if at all, discusses Mandarin sentence structure, verb forms, etc. Most readers, like this writer, may be left floundering. Foley is more concerned with laying out the history of Mandarin VAT than he is giving the reader the tools to actually understand it.

Similarly, while Foley does give an all-to-brief overview of Greek VAT on pages 58-63, he spends the rest of the chapter comparing and contrasting the various contributors to VAT rather than actually explaining how it works. His explanation on pages 58-63 does a good job of describing the difference between Aktionsart and aspect, but otherwise its usefulness and clarity is fairly limited. The reader without a preliminary knowledge of Porter’s works may still experience confusion regarding what exactly is meant by “binary oppositions,” for example. Furthermore, it is difficult to see where Foley’s discussion shifts from being “prescriptive” to “descriptive.” In other words, Foley spends too much time discussing various contributors and schools of thought and not enough time explaining his views on VAT and backing them up with clear illustrations from Koine Greek.

Thirdly, Foley assumes his particular version of VAT, but never adequately defends it. Both Daniel Wallace and C. C. Caragounis have mounted significant challenges to Porter’s VAT, and while Foley does cite these two authors, he never responds appropriately to their challenges. Foley’s presentation of VAT, then, leaves many unanswered questions. For instance, on page 192, Foley declares that the “traditional views [of the aorist and present imperatives] are no longer convincing” but makes absolutely no effort to demonstrate what is wrong with the “traditional” (i.e. the Aktionsart) approach. Instead, he simply declares that “the difference between these two tense-forms in the imperative mood is best explained by verbal aspect, which means that the present imperative is a more heavily marked form than the aorist imperative” (192). Yet one is forced to ask whether or not this concept even makes sense for imperatives. It is difficult to imagine the Apostle Paul or any other speaker or writer of Koine Greek stopping to think whether or not to “foreground” or “background” the very urgent and passionate command he is about to give his audience!

Indeed, at times the whole “frontground,” “foreground,” and “background’ paradigm seems rather strained. For instance, on page 336, Foley argues that

the aorist tense-form acts “as the backgrounding device at the discourse level

and occurs 45 times (40%) in the exposition. The present tense-form functions as the foregrounding device, and occurs 45 times (40%) in the exposition. Yet one is forced to ask, however, how the aorist can function at the background level when it is outnumbered by the present tense? Would not the aorist, by virtue of being outnumbered, thereby carry more weight in the discourse? In other words, if there is more “frontgrounding” material than there is “backgrounding” material in a discourse, in what way can the “backgrounding” material truly function as it is supposed to? (this is in contrast to a verb being the “default” or “generic” choice; a generic verb tense still remains a generic tense even if it is largely ignored; in contrast, I would think that a backgrounding tense, though, could only function in the background if it outnumbered the other tenses. Otherwise how could one possibly determine what functions as background and what functions as foreground?)  Also, on page 373, Foley’s argues that in 1 Cor. 15:50-57 the aorist is used to “lay down” certain “assumptions” while the present is used to “call attention to a number of significant details,” yet the difference between the “assumptions” and the “details” seem rather arbitrary. Why, for example, is “the defeat of death (v. 54)” necessarily considered an “assumption” while “thanksgiving to God’s grace (v. 57)” is one of the “significant details”?

         Furthermore, in his zeal for furthering Porter’s VAT, Foley is often too heavy handed in his critique of translations that do not measure up to his standard. He assumes the validity of his particular view of VAT and is fairly dogmatic about it. Thus, for example, in the middle of page 338, he states “such additions are inappropriate, since auxiliary verbs in Mandarin are reserved for the translation of the non-indicative moods in Greek,” and at the bottom of page 362 he declares, “[the particular Chinese expression] is not preferable because four-character set phrases are reserved for translating the stative aspect in Greek.” In both cases Foley would have been better off declaring “x is best [or “should be”] translated by y” rather than “x is translated by y,” and so forth.

         Foley on the Japanese Language

(Mostly irrelevant to the overall review)

         For the following section, I am indebted to my father, missionary John R. Himes, for his assistance (although any mistakes or faulty argumentation is the sole responsibility of this writer)

         While it seems almost unfair to critique Foley on something he barely discusses, nevertheless Foley’s interaction with Japanese verbal aspect demonstrates just how slippery and difficult the concept of aspect is and how easy it is to misrepresent the issue. Furthermore, this writer’s own background as a missionary kid in Japan (who grew up speaking Japanese) compels him to interact with Foley regarding his discussion of Japanese.

         On pages 67-71, Foley describes Carlota S. Smith’s views on verbal aspect. To help him illustrate Smith’s views, Foley uses his own illustration from the Japanese language (he clearly states on 68 n 42, “The example of Japanese is mine”). Foley states,

Smith argues that viewpoint types are realized in many languages by means

of verb inflection For example, the English perfective viewpoint is signaled

by the simple form of the main verb. In Japanese, it is signaled by attaching

the auxiliary verb ta た to the main verb . . . the imperfective viewpoint, on

the other hand, is signaled by the auxiliary be + ing in English and by

attaching the auxiliary verb te iru て いる to the main verb in Japanese.”

         In response to Foley, this writer is compelled to point out the following: first of all, neither ta nor te  can be called “auxiliary verbs” by any stretch of the imagination (though iru, by itself, can be considered auxiliary verb). Neither ta nor te could be called verbs in their own right, and both are more comparable to case endings in Greek (or the English -ing) than they are to an English auxiliary verb such as “be” (or to German auxiliary verbs such as “werden,” “sein,” etc.) The Japanese ta and te iru function to indicate tense, much like the Greek case endings. Thus the Japanese [kare wa] hashitta (はしった) means “he ran” (past tense) while [kare wa] hashitte iru (はしっている) means “he is running” (present continuous (As mentioned above, iru may be called an auxiliary verb, but te is not; also, kare = the masculine personal pronoun while wa = the auxiliary verb. The reader should also note that the te form [て] nevertheless has a wide variety of uses and is even called a “gerund” by Samuel E. Martin in his A Reference Grammar of Japanese [Hawaii: University of Hawaii Press, p 479]; yet the te form is never, to this writer’s knowledge, used as a verb on its own)

         Indeed, aspect does not seem to be a primary feature of the Japanese verb tenses, at least not in the way that it functions in Chinese. Hashitta, for example, would never be used of a present or future action, but hashiru could be either a generic present tense, an infinitive (kare wa hashiru koto ga suki = “he likes to run”; the infinitive, if it could be called that, actually needs an auxiliary noun [koto] here), or future (kare was hashiru = “he will run”). Hashite iru, however, could never be used of a past or future action (except in very rare literary exceptions, e.g. the historical present, just like in English).

         Thus Foley is incorrect when he pairs ta with te iru as the perfective and imperfective, respectively. If anything, ru (as in hashiru はしる) should be paired with te iru; the former is more generic (and, hence, perhaps could be viewed as “perfective”) while the latter might possibly be construed as imperfective (ru is not an auxiliary verb, but rather a case ending). Yet even so, this may be somewhat misleading. At the very least, Foley’s description of verbal aspect in Japanese is unsatisfactory. Unlike Chinese, the past and present (but not necessarily the future) tenses in Japanese are clearly marked with case endings.

         On page 250 n1, Foley notes that in chapters 6 and 7 he will be consulting a variety of Japanese Bibles when working on his Chinese translation. He consults six different versions due to the fact that “the Japanese writing system employs Chinese characters” (called kanji in Japanese) and because “the tradition of biblical translation in Japan has its roots in China.” Yet Foley’s admirable show of multi-lingual scholarship runs the risk of being misleading. While the semantic range of many kanji and kanji combinations are the same in Japanese and Mandarin, many are not. As my father told me in an e-mail, “A rule of thumb is that a fairly simple word (‘new,’ ‘fast’ and the like) will be very close in meaning, but a word with cultural overtones will change meaning as it crosses into Japan,” though he also notes that theological terms generally tend to be the same (but not always; e.g. the word for “Bible” itself). At the least, one can question whether or not Foley’s inclusion of Japanese versions really assists in his translation or whether or not it might potentially be confusing.

         Usefulness for Research

         Despite the fact that Bible Translation in Chinese and Greek is slightly user-unfriendly due to its lack of a subject and author index, Foley’s work still remains an essential work for students of Bible translation. The book remains invaluable both for those interested in Chinese Bible translation and the relationship of Greek verbal aspect to Chinese verbal aspect. Those interested in a history of Chinese Bible translation will benefit from chapter two, whole those desiring a survey of scholarship of either Greek or Chinese VAT will definitely want to read chapter three. However, those hoping for a simple introduction to VAT or for an effective defense of Porter’s and Foley’s VAT will be sorely disappointed.

         Conclusion

         Foley’s research and hard work render Biblical Translation in Chinese and Greek an absolutely essential source for those doing serious work in Bible translation. While not without some problems, Foley’s work nevertheless makes an invaluable contribution to linguistic scholarship and, if the subsequent books in this series approach the level of Foley’s work, Biblical academia will be truly blessed.