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Let's start with English. Modern English. It's not the same as English in 1750, nor is it the same as in 1600 or 1400 or 1200. If you go back in time and try to find the moment when "Modern English" started you can't. There's a smooth, gradual transition from one variety to the other. Even when the change is stunning abrupt by historical linguistics standards, it takes at least two generations, if not three.
"Evil" in 1600 did not mean solely, nor even principally, "morally vicious." The primary meaning was "bad" or "spoiled." "Corrupt" has changed it's meaning a bit since then, too. They weren't bad translations for the Greek. They had a drawback--they had to follow the Bishop's Bible translation when possible, so some of their language was a bit archaic even in 1611. Still, had the English been a bad equivalent for the Greek they'd have been authorized to change it. Now, had the KJV been transated in 2001, it would have been a horrible translation. The website is chronologically challenged and doesn't understand that languages change--even as they say that "classical Greek" changed to koine.
The problem is that if they generalized their knowledge to English, they'd have nothing outrage-inducing to say. They'd miss their audience, they wouldn't make people feel superior in their ignorance, and they wouldn't be able to achieve whatever their goals are. Thus ends point 1, with a rebuke.
Point two concerns koine. Koine wasn't a language. It was a language variety. Let's get straight what that means: The way I speak to my neighbor's dog and the way I speak to my wife's colleagues are usually different. One's informal. The other isn't. We can call those "registers" since they form different parts of my unitary language. The way my wife speaks and the way I speak form mildly differing language varieties--SW American vs. Mid-Atlantic English. My neighbors speak AAEV, African-American English Vernacular, which is even more divergent from modern standard American norms. The guy across the street from my mother is from near Dover, England, and speaks a general South British English variety. They're all English, but they're different varieties. We could speak of Early Modern English, as opposed to Modern American English, as a different variety--it accounts for some of the problems people have trying to understand the Constitution. The language has changed, and with it the grammar and meanings of words. Oh, and the pronunciation.
Notice that most people don't really consider these different varieties to be different languages. Why? Because there's a very large degree of interintelligibility. I can understand my neighbors, provided there's a bit of good will; my wife and I miscommunicate (because of linguistic differences) rarely. If I *want* to I can consider them all different varieties with unified grammars and nicely different lexicons, because they are. But that's immaterial. I know somebody who's writing a grammar of Inupiaq based on the westernmost portions of the dialect continuum--and when she's done, it won't be a grammar of Inupiaq but of the Inupiaq in two villages so that's what she'll call it. Still, when all's said and done if you learn *that* grammar you'll get by in most Inupiaq-speaking areas.
Such is koine. It wasn't the descendant of "classical Greek", because "classical Greek" is usually just Attic Greek; "classical Greek" is also the cover term for a variety of dialects--Doric, Ionian, Attic, etc., and in this sense koine is sort of the descendent of them *all*. It's an interdialect. It's the variety used between dialects that became so useful that it displaced the former dialects. But just as Standard English might, in theory, displace current American dialects still most of the dialectal material would continue. Why? Because the standard isn't *that* much different from the dialectal varieties, on the whole. So koine is very similar indeed to the older dialects--a bit of levelling, a bit of simplification, a few hundred years language change all with a shift from the educated, rhetorical norm to a more vernacular, street-use norm.
Is it a separate language? Define "language." The way that your site uses it, no. It's not. What wasn't recognized was that it wasn't just a set of ad hoc simplifications and changes to Attic, but an entire system of its own--albeit one very similar to educated, older dialects. Until it was necessary, in fact, to draw all the distinctions because of fine-grained linguistic work done by too many "generalists," most people didn't much care about how all the differences correlated. Granted, some theologians decided it had to be a "special" Greek, but that phase lasted but briefly.
Now, the Greek texts weren't widely known, but they were out and about for the earliest English translations. Scholars, such as they were, mostly based their translations on the easily available Latin, but more than a few checked the Greek. They weren't published, but they knew they were around and used them. That's point 2, hacked to death. But there's more.
Point 2a is that koine wasn't monolithic. It was more standard than they used to think, but there are still blatant dialectisms, Levantine usages, in the NT. It couldn't have been written by koine speakers from Athens. It may be that it was translated and too many phrases from Aramic loan-translated--a bad practice, but it happens to the best of us. It may be that there was simply substrate influence--just as a lot of children of Spanish speakers have a changed English grammar because they learned standard English imperfect. This is another source of change in koine. It can make life difficult, because even when you get the words' meaning, you have to look back to Aramaic to see what the non-compositional meaning of a phrase might be.
Point 3 involves what a translation is. Let's take a good, easy example from Russian--modern Russian. "Vot idyot poezd." Literally, "There goes train." The verb "idyot" means "go", and it's what you'd use in "I go to the store," "The train goes to the station", "The train goes at 3." But notice --no "the" in that sentence; no "the" in Russian, so the "right" translation--since we can't "add" words"--is ungrammatical. We translate a grammatical sentence as ungrammatical? Hardly sporting.
Also my example lacks context. It almost always means, "Here comes the train." That's what an American would say in parallel as a Russian said, "Vot idyot poezd." Russian can say "come" just fine, thank you: Russians wouldn't in this case. "Ya shol, ya idu, ya budu idti" shouldn't be simple-mindedly translated as "I went, I go, I will go," but more as "I came, I go away, and I will keep on going."
The point is this: When you translate, you have to understand the text. You can't translate "word for word" because that often leads to idiocy. Often there *are* no words in one or the other language corresponding to what's understood by native speaking; often you flip things around *to preserve the meaning.* After all, language is all about meaning--the meanings of words, the meanings intended by the speaker, the meanings understood by the listener. "There goes train." You can't translate word-for-word, as though every word has a fixed translation, because that leads to inaccuracy. "There goes the train" (which in English usually means it's passing by, or possibly leaving; it can't mean what the Russian "word for word" translation almost always means. In other words, it's not a translation of the Russian.)
In fact, often you wind up with completely bizarre translations, if you think that the translation should sound like actual speech. "Ne sgovarivayas'" and yet doing things the same way can't be translated as "Not agreeing," but by "As if by agreement"--the expectation is that you'd only act in parallel by agreement, and both deny that there was agreement. Different groups of speakers have different assumptions about what needs to be said. And when you start playing with language, or using dialectal forms, all bets are off.
The KJV translations sometimes did precisely what I say is wrong. Then again, they often did it when they didn't understand the original. Things like "the apple of my eye," not realizing that it was "the pupil of my eye" (not a grade-schooler, either). Or, I think, there's a place where they have "slime" but some later scholar suggests "egg white" (the matter's probably still unresolved). Often it involved realia unknown to them (and not always well known to us now).
Nida had a famous example: The NT was being translated many decades ago for some Amazonian native population. They had no wine. They had no grapes. They had never seen wine or grapes. How, then, to translate the NT Passover narrative? Do they make up a word for grape and wine and then explain it in great detail hoping that the tribal community will understand, or use the native beverage closest to wine in form and function? Nida didn't provide the answer: Knowledge came from the question. Both are right, in different settings; so both options are also wrong. Of course, now that this particular group has been more "westernized" they'd know what grapes and wine are, so if they opted for a native drink it would now look like a bad translation. :-)
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