When André Chouraqui translated the Bible into French in the 1970s, he gave Jesus a different name, there was no “Blessed” in the Beatitudes, and the Christian savior was presented as a Jew speaking to Jews. Chouraqui translated with an agenda, says Murray K. Watson, author of Restoring the Gospels’ Jewish Voice: André Chouraqui and the Intersection of Biblical Translation and Interfaith Dialogue (Paulist Press, Dec.). The first chapter, titled “Translation for Transformation,” asserts that Chouraqui’s aim was to make the Bible “a source of greater unity and respect, rather than a weapon in a theological flame war.”
The idea was that, by going back to the original languages, Chouraqui could reveal the fundamental truths and values Jews and Christians share. “Translation is always about making choices,” says Watson, whose expertise is in biblical studies. “No two languages line up exactly. You have to think about what brings out the nuance of the original. What is your lens, your criteria? Chouraqui wanted people to see there are other ways to look at the world, to see connections and foster compassion and understanding.”
Watson’s book offers many examples of Chouraqui’s deliberately provocative work. He renamed key people and places: Jesus is Yeshua, which “the Jews who lived in his time would recognize as rooted in the Hebrew word for ‘salvation,’ ” Watson writes. In the Beatitudes, Chouraqui replaced blessed with a phrase drawn from the Hebrew root word for going straight, for advancing in the right moral direction according to God’s law. He came up with a “radically different translation, one that many readers admire and others fervently detest: En marche!—Rise up! Forward! or Let’s get going!—a call to arise from social marginalization and continue a journey on the proper path, the path toward a very different future, in which fortunes will be reversed by God, and sufferings will be transformed into happiness and reward,” Watson adds.
Chouraqui’s translation choices force readers to think and rethink about scripture. “And when you make choices, you bring with you your whole life story,” says Watson. Accordingly, Watson details Chouraqui’s remarkable life at the beginning of the book. He was an Algeria-born Jew, a French lawyer active in the resistance during World War II, who became an Israeli citizen and an advisor to Prime Minister David Ben Gurion. He retired from political life as deputy mayor of Jerusalem to spend his final four decades translating the Hebrew Bible, the New Testament, and the Quran into French, launching the first interreligious society in Israel, and working for world peace. He died in 2007 at age 90.
Watson describes himself as “a professional theological cheerleader.” He’s a former Catholic priest devoted to biblical studies and an activist for building interreligious bridges. His book is part of Paulist Press’s Stimulus series—titles selected by the board of a nonprofit foundation established by the press that focuses on promoting Jewish-Christian dialogue.
And Watson’s telling of Chouraqui’s story is a “double pleasure,” says Paulist Press editor Trace Murphy. “You are learning of a fascinating life through someone who is a dedicated teacher.”
