The Single Act of the Resurrection

Christ is risen!

A translation is always a balancing act between an ungrammatical, too-strict word-for-word replacement and a new work merely "inspired by" the original text.  I've always loved the way John Dryden describes the issue in his essay "Ovid and the Art of Translation."  

Dryden defines three distinct styles of translation: "metaphrase, or turning an author word by word, and line by line, from one language into another"—about which he later says, "'Tis much like dancing on ropes with fettered legs: a man may shun a fall by using caution; but the gracefulness of motion is not to be expected"—"paraphrase, or translation with latitude, where the author is kept in view by the translator, so as never to be lost, but his words are not so strictly followed as his sense; and that too is admitted to be amplified, but not altered," and finally "imitation, where the translator (if now he has not lost that name) assumes the liberty not only to vary from the words and sense, but to forsake them both as he sees occasion; and taking only some general hints from the original, to run division on the groundwork, as he pleases."  (As he later notes, "Imitation of an author is the most advantageous way for a translator to show himself, but the greatest wrong which can be done to the memory and reputation of the dead.")

 In more contemporary discourse, the usual terms are dynamic equivalence and formal equivalence, the former being, in Dryden's terms, imitation, or paraphrase that is always on the verge of becoming imitation, whereas the latter would be paraphrase fighting against the slippery slope into metaphrase.  Dynamic equivalence is about giving the author's meaning, intention, "vibes," without bothering too much about the individual words and phrases, as long as the translation flows well in its destination language, while formal equivalence errs on the side of faithfulness to the original phrasing, even at the expense of a more awkward flow in the final product.

(I myself incline to formal equivalence; I have, I hope, managed to climb up out of the marsh of metaphrase into paraphrase, though there is still a siren call in that slavish swamp.)

All of this is but a long-winded proemion to a simple matter: how to translate the Paschal troparion.

The current Ruthenian translation (found in the 2006 "Green Book") reads thus:

Christ is risen from the dead!  By death he trampled Death; and to those in the tombs he granted life.

The earlier Ruthenian translation, the first one I encountered (found in the 1978 "Blue Book"), reads slightly differently:

Christ is risen from the dead!  By death He conquered Death; and to those in the graves He granted life.

Besides the loss of the reverential capitalization, the only difference is two words: "conquered" became "trampled," while "graves" became "tombs."  In both cases, I think the current translation captures the nuances of the Greek a bit better: for the first, the Greek uses the verb πατεω, "to trample" (often specifically in the sense of "trampling out the vineyard," whether what is stored there be His grapes of wrath or mere earthly grapes); for the second, the Greek has μνημα, which is a "tomb," with an emphasis on how it helps enkindle memory (μνημη) of the dead. 

What I want to focus on here, though, is not the meaning of the words, but rather the syntax.

In translation, it is often the syntax, the grammar, that can cause more problems than simply the meanings of the words.  I particularly noticed this when reviewing my recently-published translation, St. Claude La Colombière's Not of the World.  For instance, when speaking in generic terms, French often uses a special indefinite pronoun, on (German likewise has the indefinite pronoun man).  In my translation, I often rendered this literally as "one," as in the following passage:

When one chooses a state, one envisages only the human advantages that are found in it and in no way the duties.  One cannot fail in these duties without injuring the neighbor...

This is a strictly accurate translation, but it can feel awkward in English, especially in passages where on is used over and over again.  If I were retranslating the work now, I would probably reword it to say, "When someone chooses a state, he envisages only the human advantages...  He cannot fail in these duties without injuring his neighbor."  Here, I have pulled away from metaphrase towards paraphrase, and the result sounds much more natural in English, while still retaining that generic, indefinite feel.

But sometimes an attempt at paraphrase (in Dryden's sense) can lose important elements of the original text.  I think some of that appears in the translations of the Paschal troparion, though it can be a common problem in translating from Greek and Latin in general.  Both languages tend to have many subordinate phrases, making free use of participles, in order to create quite complex sentences.  (Certainly they are not alone in this, though.)  This complexity in sentence structure is evident in the more recent translation of the Roman Rite Liturgy from around 2010 as compared to the initial post-Vatican II translations in the late 1960s and early 1970s (the latter being heavily marked by dynamic equivalence).  (Fr. John Zuhlsdorf's blog often has comparisons between the Latin of a collect, a literal translation, and the two official English translations.)

In the case of the Paschal troparion, the Greek has a single active verb: ανεστη, "arose."  Instead of having active verbs in the other two phrases, as the English does, the Greek has participles, making both phrases subordinate to the main clause.  Thus a more precise translation, following the terms used in the modern Ruthenian translation, would be:

Christ is risen from the dead, trampling death by death, and to those in the tombs granting life!

Why all this background and blather about a slight rephrasing?  Because syntax has significance.  I am reminded of St. Basil's paean to the importance of theological syllables at the beginning of On the Holy Spirit: "The beginning of teaching is speech, and syllables and words are parts of speech ... If a man despise the first elements as small and insignificant, he will never reach the perfection of wisdom" (I.2).  What I am discussing here is in no way as monumental as the syllables St. Basil analyzes (which determine the divinity of the Holy Spirit), but there is still truth to be found that can be lost in translation.

The Greek syntax makes everything in the troparion subordinate to that single word, ανεστη, "arose," or "is risen," or "has risen."  "From the dead," of course, describes whence He has risen; the other two phrases, meanwhile, describe "side effects" of the Resurrection.  In the action of arising, Christ tramples death and grants life.  These are not separate actions, but constituents of the one action of the Resurrection.  

(As I said, this use of participles is common in Greek.  I remember a professor correcting me on a paper when I translated Mt 28:19 in this way: "Going forth, then, make disciples of [or, teach] all the nations, baptizing them..."  In this case, almost all English translations reword this into two active verbs—"Go and make disciples..."—though a few literal translations match my method, and the Douay-Rheims has "Going therefore, teach ye all nations.")

All of this is a rambling and long-winded way to say: in the Paschal troparion, the sole full action is the Resurrection itself, and its wondrous effects are not separate acts, but subordinate elements of the act of Resurrection.  In the very act of His Resurrection, Christ is trampling death, and He is granting life to those in the tombs.  By viewing each of these as separate actions, we dilute the focus the troparion intends.

But, if we yearn for those clear, separate actions in English, rather than those oddly-arranged participles, we can turn to the blunt declarations of that great work of (Pseudo-)Chrysostom, the Paschal Homily:

O Death, where is your sting? 

O Hell, where is your victory? 

Christ is risen, and you are overthrown. 

Christ is risen, and the demons are fallen. 

Christ is risen, and the angels rejoice. 

Christ is risen, and life reigns. 

Christ is risen, and not one dead remains in the grave. 

For Christ, being risen from the dead, is become the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep. 

To Him be glory and dominion unto ages of ages. Amen. 

 

Text ©2026 Brandon P. Otto.  Licensed via CC BY-NC.  Feel free to redistribute non-commercially, as long as credit is given to the author.