Richmond Lattimore had already published highly regarded translations of “The Iliad,” “The Odyssey” and other Greek and Latin texts when he turned his skills to translating the New Testament.
He was a religious skeptic. A classicist at Bryn Mawr College from 1935 to 1971 and a visiting scholar at other institutions, he was worldly as well as intellectual. He spent the first 14 years of his life in China, where his American parents worked. A Rhodes scholar, he studied at Oxford, won a Fulbright Fellowship for study in Greece and held a fellowship at the American Academy in Rome. He served in the Navy during World War II and published several books of his own poetry.
He died in 1984 at the age of 77. The day before Easter in the last year of his life, he was baptized at the Episcopal church where his wife worshipped. The priest had known him to be a nonbeliever, so he asked Professor Lattimore at what point he gave up his reservations about Christianity and the church.
The eminent scholar answered simply, “Somewhere in Saint Luke.”
For a man who devoted his life to words – translating ancient texts, writing poetry and scholarly books (such as “Themes in Greek and Latin Epitaphs”) and teaching students to master Greek – it was an unexpectedly brief yet eloquent explanation.
“At the public baptism, with closed eyes and head uplifted, Dick solemnly recited the Creed whose Greek was his vernacular,” Rev. George W. Rutler wrote years later in an issue of Crisis Magazine. “He instructed that at his funeral, this story be told to all his academic colleagues.”
I thought of Professor Lattimore’s understated conversion story after I came across a book by Richard Dawkins titled, “Outgrowing God: A Beginner’s Guide.”
Of course, Dawkins, a respected scientist, is not the first or only person to believe religion is a fantasy that probably will be abandoned in time. Karl Marx, for example, used words like “illusory” to describe religious faith, which he believed would become unnecessary in the society he envisioned. Sigmund Freud compared religion to a childhood neurosis and expressed the hope that “mankind will surmount this neurotic phase” in his 1927 book “The Future of an Illusion.” (Not to be outdone on book titles, Dawkins’ signature book on religion is “The God Delusion.”)
Approaching the issue from a more specific angle, in light of Professor Lattimore’s experience, one could ask: Do the writings of Saint Luke have a future? Or are they destined for irrelevance in an era of technological, scientific and social progress?
In addition to the Gospel that bears his name, Saint Luke is the author of the Acts of the Apostles, an account of the Church’s development from the Resurrection of Jesus to Saint Paul’s first Roman imprisonment. The evangelist’s two volumes narrate a story of hope that depicts realities that are as familiar today as they were 2,000 years ago: casual cruelty and easy judgements, persecution of the innocent, authorities who abuse their power, good people who struggle with disillusionment, and individuals who become courageous and selfless through a demanding personal journey.
Yet Saint Luke depicts these struggles as part of a story that was shocking then and, arguably, remains so today: God comes into the world helpless, lifts up the lowly and willingly suffers.
In Saint Luke’s telling, shepherds find the savior of the world in a manger. Jesus tells some of his most beloved parables, including the Good Samaritan, the Prodigal Son, and the Pharisee and the Tax Collector. Jesus asks his Father to forgive his executioners, assures the penitent thief of his salvation and reassures his followers on the Road to Emmaus. Throughout his Gospel, Saint Luke emphasizes Jesus’ mercy and compassion, his concern for women and his criticism of the self-righteous.
To Dawkins, Freud, Marx and many others, Saint Luke is merely an early proponent of a mass illusion that belongs in the past. They could argue that his writings are not proof of Christianity’s claims. True enough.
But at some point, everyone wonders if their existence begins and ends with their own flesh. And they have the same question about any person they have ever loved. Everyone, sooner or later, wonders if the only meaning they can find in life is the meaning they create for themselves.
To the eternal questions of how to live, what to believe and what to hope for, there may be no better place to look for understanding – as Professor Lattimore suggested – than somewhere in Saint Luke.
Carl Peters is former managing editor of the Catholic Star Herald.
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