Jesus S(L)aves

Jesus S(L)aves is a bad pun for a title to continue a series of posts. At the end, here, I'll link to the previous posts. But I'm trying to say a few things about how language and translation can foster slavery or can help to free slaves. I mean that both metaphorically and literally. (I mean no disrespect whatsoever to those who love Jesus. But "what's in a name," I'll ask here below.)

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cartoon caption: "'Slave Market. Buy One, Set One Free!' Apparently it's some sort of humanitarian special offer."

Sexism goes hand in hand with racism and race-based slavery. In the Jewish Bible and the Christian Bible, sexism and slavery hardly give way to egalitarianism or to abolitionism (until the bibles are read richly with various "second meanings" and not just The logical intention of some presumed singular author--such as God, who is male or neutered like the Wizard of Oz). And, in the United Kingdom and the USA, slavery (up through the 19th century) and sexism have been quite compatible (with Western-culture defenders of race separations and of female subjugations often arguing from the Bible). And in ancient Greece and ancient Rome (through the collapse of their empires), slavery and sexism are, together, the status quo.

Why? Well. Likely, it's the force of masculinist logic.

Aristotle not only gives his stamp of approval to slavery and to sexism (by owning people and by silencing women) but he also develops slavery and sexism out of his phallic logic of ethnocentrism, his purist logic. By logic, Aristotle perpetuates (1) misogyny and gynophobia; perpetuates (2) suspicion of rhetoric and hate of punning; and, of course, perpetuates (3) the denigration of the impure and lesser races as natural-born slaves out of his deep fear of darker-skinned peoples.

The fairly simple game of logic is this: define by the binary; classify by the hierarchy. The straight and rigid syllogistic process starts with the cold, objective, obvious "given" of nature, and moves, orderly through the sequenced premised statements, to the invariable conclusion. Aristotle, by logic, excludes the middle: there must be either the right answer, or what is NOT right (i.e., therefore "wrong"). Whatever is NOT the conclusion is ILLogical. Whatever is of "nature" (i.e. "physics") is supreme--the facts of nature always derive everything that must come "after nature" (i.e., "metaphysics"). Logic is all very thought through; it's very rationale; it can be taught in an undergraduate course in the UK and in the USA. I know, I took such a course. I learned logic under the very same professor who taught my father logic years before.

By his logic, Aristotle concludes:
that females are botched males, and that some humans are natural born slaves;
that logic itself is better hierarchically than poetry and rhetoric and parable and hyperbole and the super-natural and dialectic; and
that his elite Athenian Greek language is the central language for the world.

By logic, it is not extreme, then, for Aristotle's student Alexander the Great to conquer the world. (Aristotle's students are only males and only of the Greek race and only of the elite class). In fact, world domination by educated Greek men is logical. It is not extreme, by logic, to call for the major texts of the world to be brought to Alexandria to be translated into Greek.

cartoon caption: "Dog / Cat Dictionary. Not too difficult, says the one dog to the other, trying to find 1:1 correlations between pictured cat words : pictured dog words"

Translators today use Aristotle's logic, especially translators of the Bible who want its ostensibly-singular meaning to be pure.

So when someone like Mike Sangrey at the Better Bibles Blog concedes that the biblical texts are polysemous, he says something like this: "So, yes, the original pun adds significantly to the understanding of the text." But his logical conclusion is this: "it is better to understand the meaning of the text" or, in other words, "In any case, the fact of a pun in the original doesn’t mean we have to come up with a pun in English. The goal is to bring over the meaning from the original and into the English." What Sangrey means by "meaning" is that the text has one and only one (main) intention. And to translate is to map (in "dynamic equivalence") that singular meaning from Greek (or Hebrew) into English. In the event of a pun, which Aristotle also detests, Sangrey concludes that the goal of the translator is still singular. Hierarchically, the one and only certain meaning of the text (as the translator puts it in the "target" language) is "better" than reproducing a pun (in that "target" language). Before any of us protests "How fun is that?," we may want to recognize that Bible translation by Aristotle's logic is pretty serious business.

Ironically, human language and what we do with it is not like logic. For the ancient Greeks, human language practice is λόγος (or “logos”); in contrast, Aristotle names his observational procedure λογική (or “logic”). Logos is a pun with many meanings. Logic, in contrast, forces one reasonable meaning, the only meaning allowed.

Ironically, the texts of the authors of the Hebrew bible and the Greek-written bible is written in human language, not in logic. Ironically, as Willis Barnstone recognizes, "Much of the Old and most of the New Testament is disguised translation, and so the Bible passes uniformly as a sacred original."

Ironically, linguists who are bible translators resort to Aristotle's logic rather than to the kind of logos practices of the first translators of the bible. The first translators were the Jews who were forced to translate their scriptures from Hebrew into Greek by conqueror Alexander's lackey Egyptian king in Alexandria. The later translators were the Jews who used Greek to write the letters and prophecies and histories called the "new testament." These translators of the bible texts used logos principles in defiance of Aristotle's logic.

Ironically, linguists who use Aristotle's logic read the text univocally. Wayne Leman of the Better Bibles Blog has said, "I don't think that Paul wrote ambiguously. I am suggesting that we today do not always understand what Paul meant by what he wrote. (Lack of clarity is technically different from ambiguity.)" And Leman has said to me (I just can't find the quotation now) that he thinks it doesn't matter what translation methods were used by the first Jewish translators of the Hebrew scriptures. Dynamic equivalence the preferred logic today, assuming the original text has its meaning and the target the equivalent meaning.

(To be clear, neither Sangrey nor Leman is either sexist or pro-slavery! All I'm saying is they, like Aristotle, reduce logos to logic; and they reduce pun to one, and translation to "the equivalence" of the one meaning.)

Since Leman brings up Paul, I think it's fair to look at just how ambiguous Paul could be.

But first, let me say how different Jesus is from Aristotle. Jesus is the one his student John calls the "logos" (not the "logic"); and Jesus uses methods of ambiguous puns, dangerous extremes (hyperbole), of subjective comparisons (parable, or fable), of the supernatural (and not just nature and meta-nature), of graceful poetry (not always prose), of rhetoric (as in his preaching and teaching), and of dialectic (which sounds a lot like Socrates and Aspasia, a woman). Since I mention a woman, Jesus was womanly and treated females with the utmost respect (not just in contrast to the Jewish and Greek and Roman men around him). Jesus also confused the categories of "teacher" and "learner" and "friend," and "master" and "slave," and Paul says he actually became a slave. Before we look at Paul more, I should say that Barnstone thinks that the logical translation of the English "Jesus" is actually a Christian-racist move. To make him "Jesus" and not (ambiguously) "Joshua" (or "Yeshua"), and to make his mother "Mary" and not (ambiguously) "Mariam," is to rob them of their Jewish identities. The common Jewish names tended to have meaning(s). Saul, for instance, connotes the first failed king whose name means, roughly, "prayed for." But Paul, in Greek, also means something like "small," or little.

Paul, some say, makes a big deal out of this. Paul changes Jewish sects from the "Pharisees" (or Barnstone says from the "Prushim") to the learners of "Yeshua," and this seems a lot more lowly and less kingly, hence the name change from Saul to Paul.

Now a couple of other bibliobloggers have called one little text by Paul particularly radical. It was his subtle-antislavery text. Unfortunately, Christians in the UK and in the USA who read it translated logically and unambiguously also fail to read it in all it's fullness.

Here's how David Ker describes the text of punchy puns by Paul:

We talked a bit about Paul’s teaching on men, especially the idea of the pater-familias who ruled his house in New Testament times with a heavy hand. The little book of Philemon seems pretty dull to us today, but it must have been dynamite in Colossae. It would be hard to imagine a master taking back a runaway slave without punishment and even being asked to call him brother.

Here's how Ben Witherington III, getting into rhetoric a bit, describes Paul's text:

C. Beyond the Basics—Cultural Scripts and Ancient Persuasion The psychological dynamics of any given culture are not only unique and particular, they are often difficult to assess. For example, what is considered humorous in one culture may well seem offensive in another, and likewise what is considered persuasive in one culture may seem unconvincing in another. It’s not just a matter of trotting out ironclad rules of universal logic. The issue is culture specific. I say this now because a fair bit of the rhetoric of the NT, will seem manipulative to us in our post-modern situation. It will look like emotive arm twisting, as we shall see when we examine in some detail Paul’s tour de force argument in Philemon.

If the text is "dynamite" and is "not just a matter of trotting out ironclad rules of universal logic" but is exhibit A for a "fair bit of the rhetoric" and "emotive arm twisting," then the logical translation fails to show that. Paul is small. Philemon is the affectionate loving one who owns a slave. The runaway slave is Onesimus, who's name is a pun on "useful." "Useful" is a pun on what we have come to know as the word "Christ" or "Christian" or "little Christ." The belly ache for Paul is love for other people. And there's so much more to get here that logic does not get.

Paul's Greek is punny and liberating literally. Some time back, I tried to show some of that too, in literary English also. By logic in the USA, there's something different from the pun. By logic, there's slavery, even in the "translation" of the "new testament" and the "old testament." By logic, there's "separate but equal" between former slaves and their owners.

So what I'm trying to show now, through this series of posts, and lots of words, is how puns mirror good translation, and good translation mirrors feminist rhetorical discourse.

Puns, Translations, Females, Slaves, Bibles

This is a continuation of two earlier posts on puns, translations, females, slaves, and bibles.

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cartoon caption: "Gene, I've never met a female that wasn't a double crosser."

Cartoonist Dan Reynolds provides the art above here--and Suzanne Jill Levine, in that first post, got us thinking about translating puns with her translation of the impossible Italian pun traduttore, traditore [meaning “translator, traitor,”], which she puts in English as "wordplay, an identity in sound, a similarity in difference, [that] forces the translator to transloot, to be a traitor." In that second post, Levine gets us listening to Plato and Socrates; and Anne Carson has us overhearing Aristophanes and Aristotle; and Katharine Kittredge lets us eavesdrop more on these guys and on Jonathan Swift whose pun Gulliver's [gullible] Travels got the reader travelling through his novel wondering whether they are as prone to the jokes.

(Remember the Laputan women, who are "la puta," the whores much less reasonable than their men. And that one woman, the wife, from Swift's Juvenal's tale runs off with the slave. There is so much English, British, and Roman male punning here that we need a graduate course in literature to get at most of it. The pun becomes an inside joke, a test of cultural literacy, a snobbish means of inclusion into the gentleman's club. That's The Gentleman's Club, you know.)

But, in this post, I want to look at how puns function for women and for abolitionists in the bible.

Let's start with quotations from two scholars. In her book, Translation and Gender: Translating in the "era of Feminism", Luise Von Flotow-Evans talks about (1) how wordplay is valuable to women. And in her book, Gender in Translation: Cultural Identity and the Politics of Transmission, Sherry Simon shows (2) some of the ways feminist translators translate wordplay.

Von Flotow-Evans notes:

For 1970s feminist writers such as Mary Daly or France Théoret, women live in exile in patriarchal language; punning expresses their pain, but it is also a way to fight back. Translating puns, on the other hand, has proven to be a form of ‘pun-ishment’ in much feminist work.

Mary Daly’s book Gyn/Ecology (1978) is full of wordplay on aspects of American culture; she invents neologisms such as ‘the-rapist’, ‘bore-ocracy’ and the ‘Totaled woman’ to refer to more or less familiar ideas and then to undermine them with humour, irony, and anger. The implication is that therapists work for patriarchy, keeping women in check by the age-old method of sexual violence or the threat of it; the bureaucracy bores people into passivity and exists to maintain its boring self; the ‘Totaled woman’ is the finished product of fashion-magazine designs but is closer to being ‘totaled’ the way a car is after a crash. These and many other of Daly’s puns work remarkably well in English. In the German translation, however, they are the source of serious problems.

cartoon caption (male therapist to female client): "I'd like you to look at some inkblots. They're on my bedroom ceiling."

For one thing the cultural situations are different. Therapies of various kinds were not as widespread a social phenomenon in 1970s Germany as they were in the USA, and the issue of sexual and emotional abuse of women patients by their [male] psychotherapists had had no exposure at all. This issue has only begun to be addressed in Germany in the 1990s. More problematic, however, is the fact that the linguistic aspects of the puns just don’t work in German. In German ‘therapist’ is Therapeut and ‘rapist’ is Vergewaltiger. The same problem arises with the ‘Totaled woman’. The ‘total’ fashion look might translate as ganzheitlich weiblich or durchgestylt, while a car that is ‘totaled’ has suffered a Totalschaden. Again there is not immediate linguistic relationship that can be exploited. The same goes for Daly’s term ‘womb-tomb’ for ‘spacecraft’. The German translator is hard put to find something as succinct and homophonic. Her translation Metterschoβ-Grabstätte is a literal rendering. (21)

So, on the one hand, puns are punctuation of the discourse of women. On the other hand, translation is punishment--and I'm going to say, it is the "masculinist" translation methods of "dynamic equivalence" (or "literal equivalence") that is the punishment of women and their puns here. (Please let me come back to that notion of "equivalence" as "sexist" in a moment, and do note that the art I've placed within the quotation above is from cartoonist J. C. Duffy).

Simon explains how translator Deborah Jenson has managed to include wordplay in her English translation of Hélène Cixous' French wordplay. Simon notes:

According to Jenson, the reader [of works by Cixous] is responsible for discerning the several meanings which are suggested, but can also let them "lie dormant" (Jenson 1991:195). It is because Cixous' writing should be understood primarily as poetry that its "untranslatability" is to be respected. There can be no equivalence for words which gather connotative force as they advance through the text (ibid.: 195). Jenson herself uses endnotes rather than extensively (though reluctantly, as they "interrupt the musical flow of the test") to underline, in particular, the omnipresent Cixousian stylistic device of homophony. For instance, Jenson, in her translation "Coming to Writing," leaves the word languelait in the English text, but in a footnote explains that "languelait" is a phonetic spelling of anglais (English) which produces a pun combining langue (language) and lait (milk) (footnote 11). A play on demain (tomorrow) and deux mains (two hands) is rendered by [Jenson as] "twomorrow." A play on grammaire and grand-mère with reference to the big bad wolf is given as "gramma-r wolf"; the confusion of mère (mother) and mer (sea) are given as "sea-mother" (ibid.: 8, 22, 23). . . .
The idea of writing as a process of discovery which escapes the control of the author recurs often in the essays of Cixous. "Writing advances in the dark," she says. "One cannot know." "Écrire chemine dans le noir vers ces vérités. On ne sait pas. On va" (Cixous in Rossum-Guyon and Diaz-Docaretz 1990: 34-35). This weakening of the authority of the author creates an uncomfortable situation for the translator, whose position is structurally tied to that of a strong author. (100-01)

Note, however, that although the translator is uncomfortable, is in-pain, she may still create a new original (i.e., translated text) in-a-pun. To be clear, Simon is not suggesting that Jenson's feminist way of translating Cixous is the only (feminist) way to translate. Nonetheless, Simon shows that Jenson shows how wordplay in translation, with "no equivalence for words which gather connotative force as they advance through the [author's original] text" is possible, perhaps is the only possibility.

I want to go back to Levine's assertion: "Language is already always a betrayal, a translation of the object it intends, pretends to re-create. Mythology claims that Satan fell from grace because of his games with God’s sacred words. . . . The all-powerful word has a life of its own. . . . the wordsmith in God, . . . incarnated the Word" (14). I am not trying to suggest that Levine is saying that God is female, but that wordsmithing is feminine, perhaps feminist, and abolitionist.

Here's how Willis Barnstone puts that in his book, The Poetics of Translation: History, Theory, Practice (in his own word play with "Thirteen [i.e., unlucky] Quick Looks at Sacred Originals," of which I offer my top ten):

• All originals are sacred in the eyes of the translator.
• All translations are profane in the eyes of the world.
• But at times translators forget, suppress, or conceal the original, thereby making a profane transformation into a sacred original.
• Much of the Old and most of the New Testament is disguised translation, and so the Bible passes uniformly as a sacred original.
• Keep track of Ezra Pound's deceits and win an apple. . . .
  


cartoon caption: "Now hold it right there, Eve. I wear the plants in this family."


• Between the original [Hebrew scriptural] text and its translation is a familial tie of holy father to secular children. . . .
  
• Eve has given the world her gift of translation. A translator steals and gives.
• Eve is the mother of translation. She transformed forbidden fruit into knowledge, secret sperm into children, and the text of her story into us.
• Eve's word continues when her offspring read her meaning through their eyes.
• Eve doesn't mind a reader who steals what she has stolen. Fulfilled as mother of the world, she laughs when her children arrogantly make her invisible translation their own immaculate and holy creation. (81-82)
  

If there is something in divine language that is multidimensional, that is translational, that is punny, then there is something in every mortal's language that is divinely plural, humanly incarnate, born of a mother.

Here's the way J. William Whedbee, in his book, The Bible and the Comic Vision, puts the pun-pain-punishment relationship of men and women in the Bible:

A hallmark of biblical comedy is the surprising roles that women often play over against the male protagonists. Beginning with mother Eve, women especially live by wit and wisdom to fulfill their function as symbolically captured in the pun involving Eve (havah="life") who is the prototypical "mother of all living" (hay). Hence, as already noted, Eve is counterposed as the strong, active one over agains the passive, compliant, comical Adam. The various women of Genesis, Exodus, Esther, Job, and the Song of Songs continue to embody this drive to give birth to new life and then to nourish and protect it. We can draw a comic arc among Eve's daughters that stretches from Sarah who laughs with embarrassed skepticism at the promise of life but who then laughs joyfully over the birth of her son "Laughter," to the mother and sister of Moses who conspire together with Pharoah's daughter in defiance of her father's decree to save Moses from a watery grave, to Esther who plays the clever and courageous heroine who rescues her people from Haman's genocidal plan and helps to institute the festival of Purim, to Job's wife and daughters who play peripheral, albeit striking roles in the story of Job, and finally to the fabled Shulamite who becomes the more dominant speaker and lover in the Song of Songs, a woman who both playfully subverts the domineering presence of the royal lover and powerfully affirms the "love that is strong as death" (8:6) (281-82)

Notice the need for word play, for pun, in naming, from original to translation.

So now, I've run out of time for today. (Later, perhaps, I'll get to the abolitionists, and their need for pun, for translation of wordplay). I have to leave you now with a long quotation. Perhaps it's the keynote of this post. It's Von Flotow-Evans again; this time, she's discussing the problem of masculinist translation of the Bible:

Rewriting Existing Translations: The Bible

. . . . In a brief manuscript text entitled ‘Names and Titles’, Eugene Nida, famed American Bible translator and translation theorist, has commented on [certain] types of linguistic changes. . . as generally impracticable. . . He gives the feminist views relatively short shrift, ignoring the careful argumentation in the introductions to [Joann] Haugerud’s work [The Word for Us] and the Inclusive Language Lectionary. He proposes that the problems are cultural, not linguistic, and . . . he asserts, the Bible needs to be read in the context of the chauvinist male-dominated society in which it originated, and which has been perpetuated by the church. . . .

The point about the chauvinist patriarchal aspects of the society which many of the biblical texts originated is doubtless true. It is, however, also true that over the course of one thousand years of rewriting and translation by the Church, these texts have been subject to ‘patriarchal’ translation. . . . Feminist translators do not seek to change historical fact, [but rather] they want to overcome some of the patriarchal excesses imposed on the Bible through translation.

Nida’s. . . point that an institution can reform itself without linguistic changes contrasts sharply with the approaches of feminist translators who posit a close link between the language used to describe God and patriarchal culture. . . .

[T]he male biased vocabulary used for God is seen to have an important influence on patriarchal social structures that assign authority to human males. The fact that such language also reflects the patriarchal bias of the societies that are the sources of the Biblical texts is acknowledged by these translators. Yet they view the Bible as a book that is used for contemporary religious instruction and worship, a book that must speak to ‘young and old, male and female, and persons of every racial, cultural and national background’ (Inclusive Language Lectionary, Preface). The contemporary context in which ‘mutuality and coequality are important in the Christian church’ (Inclusive Language Lectionary, Appendix) thus justifies these new translations. This can be seen operating in the following excerpt (from the Book of Genesis), which includes a translator’s note:

Then God the Sovereign One said, ‘it is not good that the human being should be alone; I will make a companion corresponding to the creature.’. . . So God the Sovereign One caused a deep sleep to fall upon the human being, and took a rib out of the sleeping human being and closed up the place with flesh; and God the Sovereign One built the rib which God took from the human being into woman and brought her to the man. Then the man said,
‘This at last is bone of my bones
and flesh of my flesh
she shall be called Woman
because she was taken out of Man.’***
Therefore a man leaves his father and his mother and cleaves to his wife and they become one flesh. And the man and woman were both naked, and were not ashamed.

***This literary pun on ‘man’ (ish) and ‘woman’ (ishshah) intends to show relationship rather than biological origin. The relationship is one of equality: ‘bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh.’ (Inclusive Language Lectionary, Lent 1)

This reading of the well-know creation myth amply demonstrates the effect of inclusive language. God is no longer ‘the Father’, and human beings, not ‘men’, are being created. In the first paragraph, ‘God the Sovereign One’ and ‘God’ appear four times; no pronoun ‘He’ is used to avoid repetition. Moreover, the translator’s note places the emphasis on the relationship between the sexes rather than on any essential biological qualities. The re-translation thus deletes the male bias and patriarchal authority and seeks to establish a sense of inclusive mutuality considered more appropriate to the context of the late twentieth century. The fact that this text may be difficult to read says more about religious traditions and reading habits than about appropriateness of the translation. (56-57)

Translooting the Woman (Pun in Greek)

"Translooting the Bible (Puns)" was the title of one of my posts yesterday. Today, I want to look at the sexist, masculinist methods that constrain pun translation in the Bible.

Before even considering the Bible, which I'll do later this week, let's look at the Greek traditions that intersect with it. The Jewish Bible, of course, was first translated into Greek from Hebrew (as the Septuagint, or LXX). And then the Christian part of the Bible (or the New Testament) was written in Greek with much of the dialogue in the narratives translated from a little Roman-Latin and a lot of Aramaic-Hebrew. So the look over at Greek is helpful when considering the early sexism.

"Puns discover a coincidence, a potential affinity, a homonymy already latent in language," says translator scholar Suzanne Jill Levine. Levine hints at the sexism surrounding puns, and finds Plato's Socrates pushing against them:

They place sound above meaning, and yet point to hidden semantic bonds between words. While puns leap out spontaneously in (and especially between) languages, the suggestion of causality between pun and pain, half-hiding and half-revealing itself, seems, according to Walter Redfern, "like wit to wed the dissimilar.'" Freud made us see that jokes signal something censured, that witty and "ready repartees" are often acts of revenge. Puns hide (hence reveal) pain and, as Shakespeare proved, are seriously laughter-provoking; we wield puns in order to provoke outrages. "Crime and Puns," used by Nabokov in his own translation of his novel Despair (1966), and added to Three Trapped Tigers, is no joke: Puns are punishment. "Pun" has evolved from "pound," meaning "to mistreat words": Have we discovered here the etymology of Ezra's patronym? Socrates pinpointed language's unstable polyvalence in his aporiae, exposing how words like pharmakon (meaning both "remedy" and "poison") undermine [Aristotle's] logic, subverting our complacent dependence on an inert relation between word and idea, language and thought. (Subversive Scribe 13)

Anne Carson is more direct about the sexism in Greek, and about Aristotle's roles:

Aristotle tells us that the highpitched voice of the female is one evidence of her evil disposition, for creatures who are brave or just (like lions, bulls, roosters and the human male) have large deep voices. If you hear a man talking in a gentle or high-pitched voice you know he is a kinaidos (“catamite”). The poet Aristophanes put a comic turn on this cliché in his Ekklesiazousai: as the women of Athens are about to infiltrate the Athenian assembly and take over political process, the feminist leader Praxagora reassures her fellow female activists that they have precisely the right kind of voices for this task. Because, as she says, “You know that among the young men the ones who turn out to be terrific talkers are the ones who get fucked a lot.” This joke depends on a collapsing together of two different aspects of sound production, quality of voice and use of voice. We will find the ancients continually at pains to associate these two aspects under a general rubric of gender. High vocal pitch goes together with talkativeness to characterize a person who is deviant from or deficient in the masculine ideal of self-control. Women, catamites, eunuchs and androgynes fall into this category. Their sounds are bad to hear and make men uncomfortable. Just how uncomfortable may be measured by the lengths to which Aristotle is willing to go in accounting for the gender of sound physiognomically; he ends up ascribing the lower pitch of the male voice to the tension placed on a man’s vocal chords by his testicles functioning as loom weights. (Glass, Irony, and God)

Carson says more about Aristotle's influence with respect to women and translation and their disparagement:

Females blurt out a direct translation [i.e., as with a pun] of what should be formulated indirectly [as by a syllogism of logic] . . . . [S]ince woman does not bound herself, she must be bounded. The celebrated Greek virtue of self-control (sophrosyne) has to be defined differently for men and for women, Aristotle maintains. Masculine sophrosyne is rational self-control and resistance to excess, but for the woman [according to Aristotle] sophrosyne means obedience and consists in submitting herself to the control of others. (Men in the Off Hours 142)

Katharine Kittredge gets to some of the influence of ancient Greek males on Roman and modern men. A forked tongue snake may pun with Eve in the beginning of the Bible; and the origin of puns among the Greeks (and the copycat Romans) seems to involve something similar:

Punning was often compared to the splitting of a bird's tongue, after which it sings twice as much, as the flow of meaningless babble is doubled. In [Jonathan] Swift's prefatory verse to his Ars Punica, he imitates the original two-sexed human described by Aristophanes in Plato's Symposium. Swift describes the mythological birth of a pun as a double-sexed creature whom Jove eventually splits with a thunderbolt in an attempt to silence it. Unsurprisingly, the "Thing" merely "PUNN'D as much again" (56-57), as Jove relates to Pluto:

And ever since, your Men of Wit,
Until they're Cut, can't PUN a bit.
So take a Starling when 'tis Young,
And down the middle slit the Tongue,
With Groat or Sixpence, 'tis no matter,
You'll find the Bird will doubly chatter.
Upon the whole, dear Pluto you know,
'Tis well I did not split my Juno!
For had I don't when e'er she'd scold me,
She'd make the Heavens too hot to hold me. (60-65)

Jove seems to have considered "splitting" Juno with one of his thunderbolts when she last scolded him, but he realizes that, like the bird's tongue, her scolding might be doubled. Thus Swift links the double language of a pun with the volubility of a woman. The "splitting" of a woman, arguably visible in her genital structure, doubles her garrulity just as the splitting of a word into a pun doubles the significance. (Lewd and Notorious 73-74)

What I'll do in another post is try to show the associations by men between women and puns in the Bible. If we have time, we'll try to show how translation, like punning (and especially translation of puns), is important to women and to feminine discourse. Likewise, for groups oppressed by slavery and / or by racism, puns--even in the Bible--are important. Hence, translators who neglect or ignore or refuse to translate puns tend to work in masculinist and oppressive paradigms.

Translooting the Bible (Puns)

A couple of Bible bloggers are musing about translation of puns: ElShaddai Edwards and Mike Sangrey. Later this week, I'll post something on the sexist, masculinist methods that constrain pun translation in the Bible. Today, here's a bit of a primer on the translation of puns from Suzanne Jill Levine, and her book, The Subversive Scribe: Translating Latin American Fiction (pages 14-15):

Language is already always a betrayal, a translation of the object it intends, pretends to re-create. Mythology claims that Satan fell from grace because of his games with God’s sacred words, as Borges claims in his venomous article, “The Art of Verbal Abuse” (which I translated for Borges: A Reader, an anthology with a pun in its title):

The particle ël was trimmed off the angel Satenaël, God’s rebellious first-born. . . . Without it, he lost his crown, splendor, and prophetic powers. . . . Inversely, the Cabalists tell that the seed of the remote Abraham was sterile until they interpolated in his name the letter he, which made him capable of begetting. (48)

The all-powerful word has a life of its own, beyond good and evil, according to Nietzsche, another punster. “In the beginning was the pun,” quipped Beckett in Murphy. St. Augustine was perhaps the first to recognize the wordsmith in God, who incarnated the Word in the speech-less (infans) infant Jesus.

One of the first puns Freud ponders . . . is the well-worn traduttore, traditore, meaning “translator, traitor,” the most oft-used cliché in translation debates, betrayed of course in translation. The pun is the meeting point not only of two meanings but of two intimately related linguistic processes, wordplaying and translating.

The wordplay, an identity in sound, a similarity in difference, forces the translator to transloot, to be a traitor. Translating forces the writer / translator to displace an original meaning, or effect, onto words other than the original term: Supplementary meanings are brought in, the focus of the original statement somehow diverted. Traditore pushes toward traduttore in sound but pulls in the opposite direction in meaning. Translation intends fidelity but perpetrates infidelity. And yet, as with puns, where the accent falls on a rediscovered familiarity between two distant terms, so does good translation seek out, stress the common but hidden bonds that may exist between two languages, two cultures, two poems, two puns. Through its synonymous movements, translation too lays bare a potential of the original text in another language.

The translator of puns, a tinkerer with a musical ear, makes use of her language and its possible associations with the language of the source pun and, as Pound advised, selects the living part.