Beyond the Subtitles

Have you ever seen a foreign film in which the native language is translated into nifty little subtitles for us English-speakers to read? You follow along, but are clued into the plot by the actors' faces, pitch, body language and vocal tones. You can't understand a word they're saying, and yet you understand perfectly.

Now imagine watching the same film, but with nothing but the subtitles. There's nothing to watch or see except for those blaring white words at the bottom of the screen. There's no sound, and there are no actors to be seen. No scenery to look at, no words or music to be heard, what you get are just the subtitles.
They're the same words, the same timing....and yet the impact is lost.

That's exactly what you get when you read a translation of Homer, of Oedipus Rex, of Dante. You're at the mercy of the translator. Instead of feasting on the author's original words, you're forced to digest some Englishman's version of a Classic. Not that all translations are fraught with error or dullness, but can you actually taste a painting of a grand feast?

When you learn the ancient language for yourself you open the door onto an intimate conversation with the author. You're finally allowed to feel the terrible wrath of the angered god Apollo, comprehend the incredible grief of wretched Oedipus, the horror of Dante's Inferno.

Can you imaging going to Egypt and knowing the the hieroglyphics mean?

Imagine traveling to Mars Hill and being able to read the New Testament in its original Greek.

Imagine decoding the Dead Sea Scrolls in their native ancient Hebrew.

Imagine a whole new world!

But you've got to see beyond the subtitles.