One of the fascinating things about these nine chapters is its use of formulaic language, and the oddities of and diverges from the various forms employed. For example, one way to introduce someone’s descendents is with the formula, And the sons of X: A and B and C. (Extend this for however many sons the character might have.) However, a number of characters only have one son. One would think that the Chronicler would simply make a small adjustment to his formula and write like so: And the son of X: A. But he doesn’t. Instead, he does what we find in 1 Chronicles 1:31 –

And the sons of Appaim: Yishi. And the sons of Yishi: Sheshan. And the sons of Sheshan: Ahlai.

It’s almost painful to read. Why did the Chronicler not instead write

And the son of Appaim: Yishi. And the son of Yishi: Sheshan. And the son of Sheshan: Ahlai.

Or he could simply use the verb “beget,” a verb he uses in some other passages, which here would result in the even smoother reading:

Appaim begot Yishi, and Yishi begot Sheshan, and Sheshan begot Ahlai.

Why does the Chronicler insist on being difficult? I don’t know. This leads to an interesting question concerning philosophy of translation. Should we translate his work as though he were smoother — should we try to improve upon the Chronicler? So far as I know, no major translation in the last eighty years has decided to leave this verse in its rough state — the NIV, NLT, ESV, and NASB, among others, all find ways to make the verse read more like should than like it does.

What is the harm in this? Isn’t it good to make the Bible easier to understand? Yes and no. Yes, it is true that obscure language should not function as an unnecessary barrier between the text and the reader. But sometimes the passage is genuinely obscure, and the reader can profit from the English reflecting that. How can he profit? Let me count the ways.

1. The reader learns that the Bible is inconvenient. The simple fact of the matter is that the Bible is a massive inconvenience to everyone who spends any serious amount of their life with it. If it is not, something is wrong. Any reader who finds that his Bible goes down smooth is deluded — translating 1 Chronicles 1:31 in its unpolished state is a way of reminding the reader that the Bible doesn’t always do what we want it to do.

2. The reader is alerted to the problem with maintaining a simple technical view of inerrancy/inspiration. The smoother your Bible reads, the easier it is to ignorantly wave it around like a weapon or a tool. Again, nothing against writing the Bible so it can speak to its readers. But translating 1 Chronicles 1:31 literally serves as a mild cautionary note against simplistic Bible-toting excess.

3. The reader is specifically alerted to the fact that Chronicles is a “bumpy” text. The text of Chronicles as it has been passed down to us is full of irregularities large and small, in spelling, in Chronology, and in sentence structure. If translation is the attempt to make it as though the reader understood the original Hebrew text, then the bumpiness, smoothness, and other characteristics of each text must be allowed to shine through. Translating 1 Chronicles 1:31 as is helps the reader accustom his mind to the character of the work he is reading.

4. Irregularities can serve as a spur to biblical studies. Many a reader has been drawn more deeply in the text because something about it seemed “off.” What could be more “off” than three men with one sons apiece.

If every believer were forced to grapple with the sheer inconvenience of the Bible, to wrestle with the exact nature of the authority of Scripture, to see the characteristics of the individual books throughout the Bible, and to be enticed into personal Bible study by the little oddities of the Bible, the intellectual life of Christianity would be transformed. I’m not saying that a literal translation of 1 Chronicles 1:31 is a cure-all, but it’s at least a gentle nudge toward where we need to go.

They shall no more offer sacrifices to demons, after whom they have played the harlot.  This shall be a statute forever throughout their generations.

Now, demons are all over the place in the New Testament.  Apparently they’re primarily invisible, they deceive people with all sorts of false ideas, and they live in people (though the word “demon-possessed” is a translational problem unto itself).  But they don’t tend to show up in the Old Testament, unless we count the frequent references to the gods.  So I was curious, and I pulled out Jay P. Green’s Interlinear, where things just got more complicated.

The Hebrew word in question is Strong’s #8163, sa`iyr, and Green renders it “goats” in Leviticus 17:7.  So what is a sa’ir?  Is it a goat or a demon?  Well, it turns out that the word appears in the AV 59 times, and 52 times it is rendered “kid” or “goat.”  There are several exceptions, though.  First, it is used as an adjective for “hairy.”  This is particularly interesting in Genesis 27, where the hide of a sa’ir (goat) is used to make Jacob’s arms feel sa’ir (hairy).

Next, we have 2 Chronicles 11:15,

Then he [Rehoboam] appointed for himself priests to the LORD, priests for the high places;  for the demons, and the calf idols which he had made.  (NKJV)

The close association of sa’irs and calves in this passage would suggest that we may well be looking at goat idols here.  Finally, there’s the odd cases of Isaiah 13:21 and 34:14, which speak of a variety of animals, including (KJV) “satyrs,” roaming the deserts.  Although I imagine the coincide may not be significant sa’ir and satyr do look a bit alike, no?  Anyhow, the NKJV translates sa’ir/satyr in both places as “wild goat(s).”

So it would appear that the word sa’ir refers to nothing more than goats, or perhaps in a few places goat-gods of some sort.  They don’t seem to be solid examples of “demons” in the OT in the NT sense of the word.

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