Gospel & Culture blog
The Melanesian Institute’s (MI) Point 33 is replete with thick ethnographic description and missiological applications. In addition to supplying particulars about how and why sorcery is variously practiced throughout Papua New Guinea (PNG), the contributors suggest how the church should respond to this phenomenon.
The government has long been aware of the troubles caused by sorcery (sanguma in Tok Pisin), and made it illegal under the 1971 Sorcery Act. However, proscribing the practice has not been effective enough in mitigating these problems. The solution, the authors suggest, is not merely to discourage the practice of sorcery; rather to dispel such “ignorant” (31), “barbarous” (33), “heathen beliefs” (157) in the first place. Accusations of sanguma cause people to live in fear of their neighbors and usually victimize those with less power, such as women and the elderly, as they inevitably take the blame for death and other misfortunes.
Therefore, the authors are not wondering about how to discourage sorcery, rather how to foster another Enlightenment like Europe experienced (46). They admit this is an ambitious project, since Melanesian cosmology involves ghosts, demons, angels and mechanistic powers. Additionally, Melanesians see some value in the sorcery system: It empowers women who are known to be witches; it explains misfortune; and the fear or retribution by a sorcerer is an important regulating force (337).
While cultivating such an Enlightenment is ambitious, these authors do not consider it impossible. If pastors would preach “against the belief and practice of sorcery” (154) people would be less likely to blame others when misfortune befalls them. But if they must maintain their cosmology, pastors should at least encourage people to attribute misfortune to “nature spirits, ancestral ghosts, evil spirits, Satan or even God” (298) rather than to their neighbors.
Because most of the authors do not reify sorcery as a spiritually energized phenomenon, their missiological application is limited when it comes to combating demonic powers behind sorcery, e.g., through “power-encounters.” Apparently they believe that spiritual warfare would be unnecessary if people would cease believing in demonic powers all together.
Aside from the Western bias of the authors, they achieved their goal of “linking faith questions with a phenomenological approach based on ethnographic enquiry” (58). The research methodology in this book is indicative of the high caliber of scholarship going on at the MI, and we can expect more studies from them of this value in the future.
This article first appeared in Nehrbass, Kenneth. (2011). [Review of the book Sanguma in Paradise: Sorcery, Witchcraft and Christianity in Papua New Guinea, Point No. 33]. Missiology, 39 (3). pp. 248-249.
“The biblical writers intended to be understood,” Steve Fortosis asserts in The Multilingual God. However, Fortosis’ numerous stories of translation reveal that it is exceptionally challenging to generate a comprehensible translation of scripture in tribal languages. Many minority languages lack abstract terms such as love, holy, hope, kingdom, or faith. So translators and mother tongue speakers must be resourceful in finding alternatives. In one example, Fortosis relates that the disciples on the road to Emmaus asked each other, “Did not our hearts cool within us?” (99). In another example, one translation rendered Luke 4:32, “The crowds were amazed at his teaching, for he taught as a heavy-mouthed one” (90). These “functional equivalents” aren’t meant to be avant-garde, (compare the Cotton Patch Bible); they are serious attempts of translators to be faithful in two languages: the source and the receptor language (133). Fortosis’ many examples of our Multilingual God convey what inspires Bible translators to participate in “the most complex intellectual activity in which any person can engage” (1). For many, the motivation is the joy of watching communities understand the text for the first time, and the thrill of beholding people put their trust in Jesus Christ.
Thirty years ago, Don Richardson’s Peace child and Neil Anderson’s In search of the source inspired many Westerners to get involved directly in Bible translation, and encouraged countless others to support the effort. Fortosis briefly recounts these stories, and more than a hundred other tales of translation, spanning from David Livingston to the present. And for those who want to discover more about any of those examples, he has painstakingly footnoted virtually every account in the book.
Inevitably, monolingual literalists will be disconcerted – rather than inspired- by the “free translations” in the book. Hopefully, such die-hards will attend to Fortosis’ epilogue, where he explains the process of modern Bible translation. Western translators aren’t renegades who expand metaphors or put in cultural substitutes at a whim; their creative and culturally-relevant solutions are the result of collaboration at the village level, and are refined by input from consultants, Bible scholars, stylists and copy editors from around the world.
Don’t read the book for theories of translation; it is not a textbook for translators, nor a “how to” manual for getting around problematic elements like rhetorical questions, key terms, or possessive constructs. Instead, enjoy the 182 pages of linguistic difficulties and innovative solutions, as Fortosis acquaints you with the nearly impossible (yet exceedingly rewarding) task of Bible translation.
This post was originally published as Nehrbass, Kenneth. (2013). [Review of the book Multilingual God]. Missiology, 41 (3). pp. 359-360.
Jesus used various motifs to describe what He meant by “disciple.” He told some simply, “Follow me” (Matt. 4:19). The authors of the gospels never spell out criteria for who among the crowd following Jesus was a disciple and who wasn’t. It’s safe to say that there was no specific criteria for membership; disciples were those who came to Jesus for teaching (the core of the word “disciple” is one who adheres to the teachings of another). Davis (2015, pp. 29-32) suggests that perhaps the reason that practical theologians cannot agree on a definition of disciple is that it is, after all, a fuzzy (rather than bounded) set. Discipleship is not a program, or a twelve-step process. It is a lifelong process of transformation, and it is personalized- so it is a bit fuzzier to define.
Another motif for discipleship is based on Jesus’ teaching of the kingdom of God. Those who are under the rule of God, in whom the Kingdom is growing (Luke 17:21), are disciples.
Two main activities have characterized missiological understandings of making disciples: proclamation and obedience. Below I’ll explore both briefly.
Discipleship as persuasion
Church growth missiologists understood discipleship as primarily about proclamation. Wagner (1973) said the process of discipling involved helping “unbelievers to make a commitment to Christ. Wagner deliberately distinguished this activity from a separate stage, perfection, which involves “teaching them all things” (Rainer, 1993). Yet this narrow definition of discipleship is no longer in wide use. Scholar-practitioners now recognize that discipleship is more than bringing people to conversion.
Kenneth Nehrbass, Ph.D.
Professor at Biola University, Author, Pastor