Lost in Translation

A Reflection on the First Reading for May 31st, 2020:
The Solemnity of Pentecost Sunday

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​Acts 2.1-11

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.

Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in their own language. Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and converts, Cretans and Arabs — in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.”
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Pause. Pray.

And then read more...

Whether we are all together in one place as Christ’s disciples were, or abiding by our current social distancing protocols, language is important. During this time of disconnect our language, whatever language it is, connects us. When I traveled, I often made a point of learning a few key phrases in the language of the country I was visiting. It was a small way to build connections with the people I would meet along the way. I wanted to make the effort to know who they were. Language identifies us. Knowing a common language helps create a sense of  belonging. When you’re speaking the same language with someone, it can feel like you’ve found your people. Note the many peoples Saint Paul wrote about. God seeks to speak to them as One.


Identity in and belonging to that Oneness is a part of the language of our faith. There is a rhythm and language to the Mass that is familiar, and in some ways brings a sense of home — even when you’re far from home. Whether I was in Manila, Toronto, Rome, Winnipeg, or Paris, I could go to Mass and know what was being said because the Mass is the Mass. Several years ago I found myself at an 8:00am daily Mass in Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. After finding the side chapel where Mass was being celebrated, I sat down and took in my surroundings. There were maybe 12 people with me, spread out in a space that could easily accommodate 100. I was suddenly struck as I looked at them and the space in which we were sitting. For centuries, people of all languages have sat in the same hard pews, praying the same prayers, seeking to understand the same God. A God who has always sought to be understood by us.


But what happens when you don’t have a sense of the language? Many years ago, I stood in front of a large sign near the Acropolis in Athens, Greece, and all I could think in my head was, “Huh, it’s all Greek to me!” I laughed to myself and was struck by the fact that no one around me would get this common English idiom. I literally could not understand what the sign was telling me. We all know people who have walked into Mass for the first time in years or maybe the first time ever, and it’s been all Greek to them. They end up feeling excluded rather than included. When that happens, we have not “translated” God’s Love well. God desperately wants all to understand the language of His Love for us. He sent His only Son to reveal this Love. And They sent the Holy Spirit to gift us with further understanding of this Love more importantly, and the ability to speak of that Love. The Holy Spirit helps us to prevent God’s love from getting lost in translation.



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Aurea Sadi

Photo by Siora Photography on Unsplash

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