I read to my utter horror and abject despair in this morning's London Times that there is new translation of New Testament that's been given the blessing of the Archbishop of Canterbury.
Dr Williams praises the transation as a work of “extraordinary power” that is “so close to the prose and poetry of ordinary life”. The poetry of ordinary life? The poetry that sees original Hebrew and Greek names modernised from Peter, Mary Magdelen, Andronicus and Barabbas to Rocky, Maggie, Andy and Barry, apparently.
Here's the scene in the Pilate's courtyard on Holy Thursday, when Peter - oh, I'm sorry, Rocky - denies Christ: "Meanwhile Rocky was still sitting in the courtyard. A woman came up to him and said: 'Haven’t I seen you with Jesus, the hero from Galilee?' Rocky shook his head and said: 'I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!'
Who in the name of God dreams up this shit?
