AI Bible Translation: Who Takes Responsibility?
Translation is always interpretation: someone decides and answers for what that text claims.
Your app translates the Bible in seconds. And it doesn't show its face for what it said. That, which sounds like a technical detail, decides whether what you share with your cousin in Miami or your grandma in Bogotá says what God said.
Translating is one of the most common things a Hispanic Christian does without realizing it. You subtitle the sermon clip for your church's Instagram. You turn an English devotional into Spanish for the youth group. You explain to a friend what the preacher meant. Every time you do that, you translate.
Translating is interpreting, not moving words
When you translate, you choose. The Greek doulos can be "servant" or "slave," and the word you pick changes what your reader understands about who owns their life. The Hebrew hesed has been rendered as mercy, kindness, or steadfast love; no single word exhausts it. Choosing is part of the work, not a betrayal.
«The words that say who God is deserve a face behind them.»
The Bible itself shows it. In Nehemiah 8, when Ezra reads the law to the people who returned from exile, the Levites don't just read aloud. The text says: "They read from the book, from the Law of God, clearly, and they gave the sense, so that the people understood the reading" (Nehemiah 8:8, ESV). They gave the sense. They explained. They interpreted so others would understand.
Every translation carries fingerprints. Someone decided that such a word goes here and not there. And that someone can be called to answer for what they wrote.
The machine doesn't answer for what it says
God wasn't afraid of human languages. He spoke in Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek. And the center of the Christian faith is that the eternal Son became human and spoke like a man of his time and region speaks. "And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us" (John 1:14, ESV). The God who communicates doesn't despise anyone's language.
That's why a tool that translates fast can be very useful. It can bring a young person closer to a text they couldn't reach before, and there's nothing wrong with that. The problem appears when we confuse fluency with faithfulness. A sentence can sound impeccable in Spanish and say something the original didn't say, or say less, or say more.
And there's the point: the machine doesn't answer. It can fail with total confidence, without hesitating, without shame. A human translator makes a mistake and signs off; they can be corrected and can learn from their errors. The tool has no name or conscience, and no one is embarrassed when it messes up. Treating it as an authority is the same old problem: wanting the result without the responsibility. That's a sin from before the first computer existed.
Who reviews it before you share it?
Here's the concrete step. Before publishing a translation, ask yourself who reviews it. If the answer is just you and an app, find someone who knows both languages and knows the Bible. Compare the verse with a printed RVR1960. If you translated a sermon, ask the pastor to read it before uploading it. If you can't defend the sentence in front of your congregation, don't share it.
None of this is technophobia. Your phone is a good servant. But the words that say who God is deserve a face behind them. And that face, today, can be yours.
Who reviews what you translate before it reaches others? Tell me in the comments.
