What can a Klingon Bible teach us about translating Scripture? This post explores the challenges of language, culture, and meaning in Bible translation—and why reading multiple versions can help us better understand and engage with the text across time, traditions, and perspectives.

Alien Translations: A Bible in Klingon

Several years ago, I stumbled across something that, at first glance, seemed like little more than a quirky novelty: a Klingon translation of the Bible. Yes, that Klingon—from Star Trek. But the more I looked into it, the more I realized it wasn’t just a fan project; it was an unexpected window into one of the most important and often overlooked issues in biblical studies: the challenge of translation.

Early in the project, the translators ran into a dilemma that was as linguistically fascinating as it was theologically charged: how should the word “bread” be translated into Klingon? The Klingon language has no word for bread. It’s not part of their cultural or culinary vocabulary. So, the translators split into two camps. One group favored rendering it as “grain food”—a general, though bland, approximation. The other group argued for something more culturally resonant: “blood pie,” a quintessential Klingon dish evoking nourishment, strength, and honor. Two very different concepts. One anchored in semantic accuracy, the other in symbolic equivalence.

As far as I know, neither translation was ever completed. But what stuck with me was not the novelty—it was the insight. This seemingly absurd scenario revealed something profound about what it means to translate sacred text across languages and cultures.

Translation Is Never Just Literal

Let’s suppose you’re tasked with translating Jesus’ words in John 6:35—“I am the bread of life”—into Klingon. You now face a dilemma: do you keep the word “bread” and risk cultural confusion, or do you replace it with something that evokes what bread meant to first-century Jews? This is the heart of every translation debate, whether you’re working in Klingon, Koine Greek, or English.

Translation is not just about swapping words—it’s about rendering meaning across time, culture, and worldview. Linguist and missionary Eugene Nida called this dynamic equivalence: the idea that a translation should communicate the same effect or intent in the receptor language as it had in the source. He famously said, “The ultimate aim of translation is not to translate words, but to translate meaning.”

But how do we know we’ve captured that meaning? And who decides?

From Klingon to Khoisan: The Challenge of Cultural Distance

Real-world translators face similar challenges. Consider the work of Wycliffe Bible Translators among indigenous groups with no word for “sheep.” How do you render “Behold, the Lamb of God” (John 1:29)? One famous example substituted “the Pig of God” because pigs were the culturally significant sacrificial animal. Some balked at the choice—yet the theological meaning was preserved.

Or consider how some tribal languages have no abstract nouns. How do you translate “grace”? “Righteousness”? “Salvation”? These are not universal categories; they are theological constructions embedded in a cultural frame.

When we insist on word-for-word fidelity, we risk missing the deeper meaning. When we loosen too much, we risk reshaping the message. It is a sacred tension, and one that calls for humility, scholarship, and, most of all, prayer.

Tolkien, Elvish, and the Sanctity of Language

J.R.R. Tolkien, a devout Catholic and a master philologist, understood this tension better than most. He didn’t just create stories—he created languages. The Elvish tongues of Quenya and Sindarin weren’t mere fantasy novelties; they were fully formed linguistic systems, inspired by Finnish, Welsh, and Latin. Tolkien once wrote, “The invention of languages is the foundation. The ‘stories’ were made rather to provide a world for the languages than the reverse.” (The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter 165)

There’s no complete Bible in Elvish, but fans have translated portions of Scripture into Quenya, including the Lord’s Prayer and Psalm 23. These projects are less about dogma and more about devotion—yet they hint at something deeper: the longing to hear God speak even in a language not of this world. It’s almost a return to Eden or perhaps a step toward Eä, the world that is because it was sung into being.

In The Silmarillion, creation itself unfolds through the Ainulindalë—a divine music sung by the Ainur, where language and sound shape the very fabric of existence. For Tolkien, words don’t just describe reality—they make it. It’s a powerful echo of Genesis 1, where God said, “Let there be…” and there was.

What About Our English Bibles?

Before we laugh at the Klingon Bible, perhaps we should look more closely at our own English translations. We have dozens of them—KJV, NIV, ESV, NASB, NLT, CSB, Amplified, and more—each with its strengths, weaknesses, and interpretive choices.

Have you ever wondered why some translations render sarx as “flesh,” others as “sinful nature,” and still others as “humanity”? Or why “justification” sometimes becomes “made right with God”? These choices reflect theological and linguistic decisions, not just mechanical translation.

Even in English, no one translation can perfectly capture the original texts. That’s why I read from multiple versions, comparing them side by side. Often, the differences help me see more clearly what the original author likely intended. One translation might highlight the emotional tone; another, the precise legal structure; yet another, the poetic rhythm.

The Spirit Speaks Klingon, Too

At the end of the day, our confidence isn’t in the perfection of translators, but in the faithfulness of God. Jesus promised that the Holy Spirit would guide us into all truth (John 16:13). That doesn’t mean the Spirit guarantees inerrant translation choices—but it does mean that God meets us in the text, however imperfectly rendered.

Yes, we should strive for accuracy. Yes, we should challenge sloppy theology. But we should also remember that God has always spoken through the broken vessels of human language—from Moses with his slow tongue to Paul with his tangled Greek, to 21st-century software-assisted translators… and maybe even a Klingon or two.

So, What’s the Takeaway?

Translation is an act of faith, not just scholarship. It’s a recognition that the eternal can speak through the temporal, that the divine can inhabit the ordinary. And it’s a reminder that we should read with reverence, but also with curiosity.

So next time you open your Bible—whether it’s on paper, app, or even in Quenya—ask not just, “What does it say?” but “What did it mean, and how does that meaning take shape here and now?” Because the Word, after all, is still becoming flesh—right here in our own language, in our own lives.

Sidebar: Other Translations into Constructed Languages

Esperanto

• Full Bible translation available.
• As a neutral, constructed language, Esperanto has had complete Bible translations since 1926. It’s widely used among internationalist and ecumenical communities.
• Biblia Esperanta (YouVersion) https://www.bible.com/versions/221-eco-biblia-esperanta

Klingon (Star Trek)

• Partial translations include the Lord’s Prayer, Genesis, and Psalms.
• Ongoing fan-led efforts revealed major linguistic challenges—e.g., translating “bread” into a warrior culture.
• Two rival efforts debated between “grain food” and “blood pie” for theological and cultural accuracy.

Quenya & Sindarin (Tolkien’s Elvish)

• Portions such as Psalm 23 and the Lord’s Prayer have been translated by Tolkien enthusiasts.
• These poetic renderings reflect a longing to blend beauty, mythos, and theology.
• See: Ardalambion for detailed Elvish grammar and samples.

 Lojban

• A logical, ambiguity-free language.
• Small portions of Genesis have been translated as an experiment in precision and clarity.
• Raises fascinating issues in translating abstract theological terms.

Toki Pona

• Minimalist language (~120–150 root words).
• Selected verses (e.g., “God is good”) highlight the interpretive choices required when vocabulary is severely limited.

High Valyrian (Game of Thrones)

• Fan translations of short verses have emerged.
• Example: “In the beginning” rendered with poetic flourish, though vocabulary remains limited.

Pig Latin

• A novelty translation of the New Testament exists.
• Not scholarly, but functions as both satire and a surprisingly effective demonstration of how translation shifts readability and tone.

Emoji Bible

• An irreverent, digital-age adaptation using emoji icons to represent biblical ideas.
• Not a translation in the traditional sense, but a visual paraphrase that raises modern questions about symbolic literacy and accessibility.

Each of these translations—serious or satirical—demonstrates that sacred texts must always pass through the lens of culture, language, and worldview. Even constructed languages force us to confront our assumptions about what words mean… and what meanings we’re willing to protect or transform.

Excerpt

What can translating the Bible into Klingon or Elvish teach us about language, culture, and theology? This post explores the challenges of bringing sacred texts across linguistic boundaries—and why translation is always more than just words. A thoughtful look at how fiction reveals real-world truths about Scripture.

Resources

• https://sites.google.com/klingonword.org/klv/klv
• https://www.mrklingon.org/
• The Klingon Language Version of the World English Bible Psalms https://amzn.to/4jHd5dP
• 4 Unusual Bible Translations By Chris Stokel-Walker Aug 6, 2013 https://www.mentalfloss.com/article/52016/4-unusual-bible-translations
• https://www.ardalambion.org/