Static

Static: Tune Out the “Christian Noise” and Experience the Real Message of Jesus
By Ron Martoia
Carol Stream, IL: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., 2007
Review by Carl McColman

Kind of an inverse Screwtape Letters, this book is built around a charming story line in which author Martoia, an evangelical preacher and Bible teacher, counsels his good friends Jess and Phil on the art of Christian witnessing here in the colorful wilderness of the thoroughly postmodern twenty-first century. What quickly emerges (er, pardon the pun) is a mandate to deconstruct (oops, I did it again) the classic “If you died tonight, do you know where you’ll spend eternity?” approach to spreading the gospel.

Martoia unpacks a simple truth that Catholics and all the other sacramental/liturgical types have known for quite some time now: that the take-no-prisoners, repent-or-be-damned approach to evangelism is, far from being an effective strategy for boosting church attendance, actually a chief contributing factor to why so many non-believers have such a low opinion of Christianity (and why so many non-evangelical Christians resent how the born again crowd have given the entire religion such a bad name). The author patiently recounts foible after foible as Jess and Phil blunder their way through attempts to witness to Marty, a secular co-worker of Phil’s; by the end of the book, I was wondering why Marty still even bothered to hang out with these two. But the juice in Static is not the humor in its depictions of how old-style evangelism no longer works (if it ever did), but rather in Martoia’s thoughtful exploration of key Biblical and cultural themes in his quest to articulate a vision of Christianity that remains scripturally-grounded, Christ-centered, orthodox (in the best sense of the word—think Brian McLaren), and entirely relevant to today’s world.

Why “static”? Because, as Martoia sees it, many of the buzzwords of contemporary evangelical Christianity: gospel, sin, salvation, being born again, repentance, and so forth—have accrued so much cultural baggage and stereotypical connotations over the years that to the average person (both inside and outside the church), the meaning of these words and their theological power has been lost, like a weak radio signal submerged beneath the hiss and crackle of airwave interference. The signal-to-noise ratio between the radical power of Christ’s liberating message, and the stultifying, stick-in-the-mud theology of repression that has come to characterize too much repentance-based religiosity, has reached a tipping point in the postmodern world: all but the most theologically naive are, simply put, immediately turned off to a religious message that is seen as controlling, manipulative, superficial, and insincere.

Into this morass wades Martoia, who clearly loves the Christian message and wants to find new ways to share it with people, even if that means slaughtering decades- or even centuries-old sacred cows in the process. For example, he provides a brilliantly simple reading of the story of Jesus and Nicodemus (John 3) to argue that conversion is really a process much more than a one-moment decision. Granted, for those whose experience of Christianity is eucharistic rather than propositional, this will hardly be anything new. But what a delicious treat it has been for me to “listen in” as the Bible-believing characters in this enjoyable tale marvel at the discovery of a deeper, more nuanced spirituality—one that cannot be reduced to a formula, but for that very reason is so truly, truly freeing.

Translating Julian

Every morning as part of our daily devotions, my wife and I recite the following prayer from chapter five of Julian of Norwich’s Revelations of Divine Love as translated by M. L. del Mastro:

God, of your goodness, give me yourself, for you are enough for me. I can ask for nothing less that is completely to your honor, and if I do ask anything less, I shall always be in want. Only in you I have all.

Last night at the Atlanta Julian Meeting, the group members discussed using this prayer to close our meetings. However, the group is reading a different edition of Julian’s book: Revelation of Love, translated by John Skinner. That translation goes like this:

God, of your goodness, give me yourself; for you are enough to me; and I may nothing ask that is less that may be full worship to you. And if I ask anything that is less, I am ever left wanting; but only in you I have all.”

Predictably, I favored the del Mastro translation, simply for force of habit. But other members of the group prefer the Skinner version, particularly because of the use of the word “worship” rather than “honor.” Intrigued, I said I wanted to go back to Julian’s original words and see what they say. So when I got home from the meeting last night, I consulted the Norton Critical Edition of the Showings of Julian of Norwich, edited by Denise N. Baker. Based on the Paris manuscript (one of four surviving early manuscripts of Julian’s book), in it the prayer reads like this:

God, of thy goodness geve me thy selfe, for thou art inough to me, and I maie aske nothing that is lesse that maie be full worshippe to thee. And if I aske anie thing that is lesse, ever me wanteth, but only in thee I have all.

So “worship” wins out over del Mastro’s paraphrased “honor.” Just to make sure, I consulted Julia Bolton Holloway’s magisterial Showing of Love: Extant Texts and Translation which includes all four of the early manuscripts. The Amherst manuscript, the shortest and oldest of the four, does not include this prayer. But the London and Westminster manuscripts both agree with the Paris manuscript.

So… del Mastro’s translation is (in my opinion) the more poetic, but also more of a paraphrase. Skinner’s translation is much more faithful to the original text, but suffers from a certain clunkiness which obscures the lyrical prayer in Julian’s own middle English voice (incidentally, overall I really like Skinner’s translation, and find it highly readable). If you know some of the issues surrounding Bible translation, this issue of accuracy vs. readability is a perennial challenge: highly transliteral versions like the New American Standard or the New American Bible are difficult to read, while more eloquent translations like the New Jerusalem Bible or the Revised English Bible are not always as word-for-word faithful to the original text.

At any rate, finding that I’m not entirely happy with either of the two translations of Julian’s prayer under consideration, I took the most logical third course, and tried my hand at translating it myself. And here’s what I came up with:

God, of your goodness, give me yourself, for you are enough for me. I may ask nothing less that is fully to your worship, and if I do ask anything less, ever shall I be in want. Only in you I have all.

To which I can only say, “Amen!”

Read my new blog

Just a reminder to folks: I have a new blog called “The Cloud and the Hazelnut,” and you can find it here:
mccolman.wordpress.com
You can also access my blog via my new “Mysticism Bibliography” page at www.anamchara.com
Cheers!

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