During the week, I was listening to someone having a little rant. That happens from time to time. On this occasion, they were ranting about the English language, or more accurately the way the English language sometimes gets used. And their particular gripe was to do with the word “journey”. “Everyone’s been on a ‘journey’,” they complained. “These reality programmes like MasterChef, the people always say they’ve been on a journey. ‘Oh, it’s been an amazing journey,’ they say. But they haven’t been on a journey! They’ve been stuck for weeks on a television set. They haven’t been anywhere.”
Now, while I have some sympathy for my ranting friend, at the same time I understand what those folk are saying. When we experience something which is life-changing, something profound, something which takes us beyond what we have known to someplace new, we often use the language of “journey”. “Journey” is the metaphor for change.
Now while we’re discussing language issues and journeys, let’s consider this morning’s gospel reading. Here we have two journeys: one which is entirely physical – a real, bodily journey – and another which is altogether more metaphysical – a journey of the heart.
We begin with the real journey: Jesus and the disciples travel by boat from Galilee to the country of the Gerasenes. And as we’re interested in language matters, we should note that the NIV which Rhyllis read from says it thus:
They sailed to the region of the Gerasenes,
which is across the lake from Galilee.
But, if we compare it with the NRSV translation we find:
Then they arrived at the country of the Gerasenes,
which is opposite Galilee.
“Across the lake from Galilee”?
Or “opposite Galilee”?
