Monthly Archives: April 2012

Kleos for Antony the Great?

​I was reading Athanasius’ Life of Antony for one of my classes, and I came across something really interesting. Here’s the text that struck me:

Nor was the Lord then forgetful of Antony’s wrestling [with demons], but was at hand to help him. So looking up he [Antony] saw the roof as it were opened, and a ray of light descending to him. The demons suddenly vanished, the pain of his body straightway ceased, and the building was again whole. But Antony feeling the help, and getting his breath again, and being freed from pain, besought the vision which had appeared to him, saying, “Where wert thou? Why didst thou not appear at the beginning to make my pains to cease?” And a voice came to him, “Antony, I was here, but I waited to see thy fight; wherefore since thou hast endured, and hast not been worsted, I will ever be a succour to thee, and will make thy name known everywhere.” Having heard his, Antony arose and prayed, and received such strength that he perceived that he had more power in his body than formerly. And he was then about thirty-five years old.

(Athanasius, Life of Antony 10. From NPNF, second series, vol. 4. Emphasis added.

I think it’s interesting how Athanasius portrays Antony here; it’s as if Antony is a Christian form of a hero from ancient Greek epic. First, Antony secures divine favor specifically because he is a courageous fighter against his enemies, the demons — later, he even squares off with Satan himself and is victorious (Life of Antony 41). Second, God promises Antony fame on Earth for his bravery in battle. Now, one would expect God to promise Antony with a heavenly reward for being so courageous when fighting his demonic adversaries, so it’s a little surprising to see God offer him Earthly fame instead.

God’s promise of everlasting fame for Antony sounds remarkably like the heroic goal of kleos (“fame,” “repute”). For instance, Achilles’ goal in fighting as bravely and as fiercely as he did in the Trojan War (as narrated in the Iliad) was to win kleos on the earth, since after death, all that awaited him as a shadowy existence in Hades.

Moreover, Athanasius’ focus here is all the more interesting, since just a few paragraphs before, he has Antony hearing and obeying verses from the Gospel of Matthew, which has a strong focus on believers getting rewarded for their righteousness in the “kingdom of Heaven.” It seems strange to me that Athanasius would have Antony immediately obeying Jesus’ commands in Matthew, but would put Antony’s rewards on Earth, not Heaven. Thus, it’s my conclusion that Athanasius has God promising Antony kleos, in the same sort of way that Greek heroes, like Achilles, sought kleos while they were alive.

Further, I see two possible outworkings of this conclusion. First, Athanasius seems okay with earthly fame, at least for people who are worthy of it. Second, in setting up Antony as a model to be followed (his explicit goal, Life of Antony 94), Athanasius is also implicitly a share of
kleos for anyone who lives the same sort of life as Antony.

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Report: Excavations at Khirbat Qeiyafa

The Israeli Antiquities Authority has released preliminary findings from the 2011 excavation season at Khirbat Qeiyafa. Of the 6 strata uncovered at the sites, the most important are those from the late Persian to early Hellenistic era and from Iron Age IIA. In the Persian-Hellenistic era, the site seems to have been an administrative center. In Iron IIA, the site seems to have been a pretty thriving urban center. Here’s the Israeli Antiquities Authority’s list of important findings in the Iron IIA stratum:

1. A town plan characteristic of the Kingdom of Judah that is also known from other sites, e.g., Bet Shemesh, Tell en-Nasbeh, Tell Beit Mirsim and Be’er Sheva‘. A casemate wall was built at all of these sites and the city’s houses next to it incorporated the casemates as one of the dwelling’s rooms. This model is not known from any Canaanite, Philistine or Kingdom of Israel site.
2. Massive fortification of the site, including the use of stones that weigh up to eight tons apiece.
3. Two gates. To date, no Iron Age cities with two gates were found in either Israel or Judah.
4. An open space for a gate plaza was left near each gate. In Area C an area was left open parallel to three casemates and in Area D, the area was parallel to four casemates.
5. The city’s houses were contiguous and built very close together.
6. Some 500 jar handles bearing a single finger print, or sometimes two or three, were found. Marking jar handles is characteristic of the Kingdom of Judah and it seems this practice has already begun in the early Iron Age IIA.
7. A profusion of bronze and iron objects were found. The iron objects included three swords, about twenty daggers, arrowheads and two spearheads. The bronze items included an axe, arrowheads, rings and a small bowl.
8. Trade and imported objects. Ashdod ware, which was imported from the coastal plain, was found at the site. Basalt vessels were brought from a distance of more than 100 km and clay juglets from Cyprus and two alabaster vessels from Egypt were discovered.

Thus, they conclude,

The excavations at Khirbat Qeiyafa clearly reveal an urban society that existed in Judah already in the late eleventh century BCE. It can no longer be argued that the Kingdom of Judah developed only in the late eighth century BCE or at some other later date.

I’m not yet an archaeologist, but I think their conclusion might be reaching a bit far. It is one thing to say that the excavations at Khirbat Qeiyafa show the an urban society existed at this particular place or in this particular region in the late eleventh century BCE. It is another thing entirely, though, to extend that claim to the entire Kingdom of Judah, even if Khirbat Qeiyafa is close to Jerusalem.

(N.B.: I’m not saying their conclusion is false, because it may very well be that all of the Kingdom of Judah was an urbane society by the late 11th century BCE. I’m just saying that it seems difficult to me to support an argument about the nature of the entire ancient Kingdom of Judah on the excavations at one fortress.)

(HT: Joel Watts)

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Cyrus vs. Babylon in Herodotus, Isaiah, and Jeremiah

Cyrus’ sack of Babylon in 539 BCE was a truly impressive feat. Here’s how Wikipedia describes it:

In 539 BC, the Neo-Babylonian Empire fell to Cyrus the Great, king of Persia, with an unprecedented military engagement known as the Battle of Opis. The famed walls of Babylon were indeed impenetrable, with the only way into the city through one of its many gates or through the Euphrates, which ebbed beneath its thick walls. Metal gates at the river’s in-flow and out-flow prevented underwater intruders, if one could hold one’s breath to reach them. Cyrus (or his generals) devised a plan to use the Euphrates as the mode of entry to the city, ordering large camps of troops at each point and instructed them to wait for the signal. Awaiting an evening of a national feast among Babylonians (generally thought to refer to the feast of Belshazzar mentioned in Daniel V), Cyrus’ troops diverted the Euphrates river upstream, causing the Euphrates to drop to about ‘mid thigh level on a man’ or to dry up altogether. The soldiers marched under the walls through the lowered water. The Persian Army conquered the outlying areas of the city’s interior while a majority of Babylonians at the city center were oblivious to the breach. The account was elaborated upon by Herodotus [1.191], and is also mentioned by passages in the Hebrew Bible [Isa 44:9-45:4; Jer 50-51].

For your reading pleasure, here are links to the three ancient works the Wikipedia article cites, with excerpts to whet your appetite.


. . . and when he came to the lake, Cyrus dealt with it and with the river just as had the Babylonian queen: drawing off the river by a canal into the lake, which was a marsh, he made the stream sink until its former channel could be forded. . . . because of the great size of the city (those who dwell there say) those in the outer parts of it were overcome, but the inhabitants of the middle part knew nothing of it; all this time they were dancing and celebrating a holiday which happened to fall then, until they learned the truth only too well.


I am the Lord, who made all things, who alone stretched out the heavens, who by myself spread out the earth; who frustrates the omens of liars, and makes fools of diviners; . . . who says to the deep, “Be dry— I will dry up your rivers”; who says of Cyrus, “He is my shepherd, and he shall carry out all my purpose.”


Declare among the nations and proclaim,
set up a banner and proclaim,
do not conceal it, say:
Babylon is taken,
Bel is put to shame,
Merodach is dismayed.
Her images are put to shame,
her idols are dismayed.

For out of the north a nation has come up against her; it shall make her land a desolation, and no one shall live in it; both human beings and animals shall flee away.

I especially enjoy the reference in Isaiah, because it comes at the end of a very funny satire on idolatry, when compared with Yahweh worship. I also think it’s very cool that an event recorded in a Greek historian was of such significance for Israel that it made its way into two of the prophets.

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Greek Wednesday: The Subjunctive & Optative in early Christian Greek, Μὴ γένοιτο in Paul

Continuing in my current obsession with the optative mood, here are some statistics to support the notion that the optative was on the decline in first-century CE koine Greek, followed by a discussion of the optative in Luke and Paul, and the phrase μὴ γένοιτο in Paul and Epictetus.

The New Testament has 17,543 finite verbs. Of these, 1868 are subjunctives and 68 are optatives. In terms of percentages, 10.6% of the finite verbs in the NT are subjunctive, while only 0.388% are optatives. The Apostolic Fathers (not including the Latin sections of both Ignatius’ letter to the Philippians and the Shepherd of Hermas) has 7842 finite verbs, of which 1111 (14.2%) are subjunctive and 50 (0.638%) are optative. I don’t have access to word counts of the classical Greek corpus, but optatives certainly show up more more frequently than 1% of the time there. Thus, it’s very clear that the optative was on the decline in first-century CE Greek.

Within the NT, two authors — Luke and Paul — use the majority of the optatives. Luke has 29 optatives, while Paul has 24. Luke, owing to his more literary style, uses the optative more or less properly; in other words, his usage of the optative accords with its use in classical Greek. (Though he, idiosyncratically, uses εἴη quite frequently). Here are some examples (English is the NRSV):

Luke 1:38 εἶπεν δὲ Μαριάμ· ἰδοὺ ἡ δούλη κυρίου· γένοιτό μοι κατὰ τὸ ῥῆμά σου. καὶ ἀπῆλθεν ἀπ᾿ αὐτῆς ὁ ἄγγελος.

Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.

Luke 6:11 αὐτοὶ δὲ ἐπλήσθησαν ἀνοίας καὶ διελάλουν πρὸς ἀλλήλους τί ἂν ποιήσαιεν τῷ Ἰησοῦ.

But they were filled with fury and discussed with one another what they might do to Jesus.

Acts 17:27 ζητεῖν τὸν θεόν, εἰ ἄρα γε ψηλαφήσειαν αὐτὸν καὶ εὕροιεν, καί γε οὐ μακρὰν ἀπὸ ἑνὸς ἑκάστου ἡμῶν ὑπάρχοντα.

so that they would search for God and perhaps grope for him and find him—though indeed he is not far from each one of us.

In Paul, on the other hand, fully half (12) of his optatives are in Romans alone, and 10 of those are the phrase μὴ γένοιτο (“may it never be,” “by no means,” “God forbid”). Here’s a sampling (again, English is NRSV):

Romans 3:3 τί γάρ; εἰ ἠπίστησάν τινες, μὴ ἡ ἀπιστία αὐτῶν τὴν πίστιν τοῦ θεοῦ καταργήσει; 4 μὴ γένοιτο· γινέσθω δὲ ὁ θεὸς ἀληθής, πᾶς δὲ ἄνθρωπος ψεύστης, καθὼς γέγραπται· ὅπως ἂν δικαιωθῇς ἐν τοῖς λόγοις σου καὶ νικήσεις ἐν τῷ κρίνεσθαί σε.

What if some were unfaithful? Will their faithlessness nullify the faithfulness of God? By no means! Although everyone is a liar, let God be proved true, as it is written, “So that you may be justified in your words, and prevail in your judging.”

Romans 6:15 Τί οὖν; ἁμαρτήσωμεν, ὅτι οὐκ ἐσμὲν ὑπὸ νόμον ἀλλὰ ὑπὸ χάριν; μὴ γένοιτο.

What then? Should we sin because we are not under law but under grace? By no means!

Romans 11:11 Λέγω οὖν, μὴ ἔπταισαν ἵνα πέσωσιν; μὴ γένοιτο· ἀλλὰ τῷ αὐτῶν παραπτώματι ἡ σωτηρία τοῖς ἔθνεσιν εἰς τὸ παραζηλῶσαι αὐτούς.

So I ask, have they stumbled so as to fall? By no means! But through their stumbling salvation has come to the Gentiles, so as to make Israel jealous.

In fact, all told, Paul uses the phrase μὴ γένοιτο a whopping 14 times throughout his letters. One other author has a similar high concentration of “μὴ γένοιτο”: Epictetus, and a comparison between him and Paul will be useful.

(Of course, though the two authors use the phrase in similar ways, it is unlikely that either is dependent on the other. Paul couldn’t have read Epictetus, because Epictetus was born in 55 CE, and wasn’t active as a philosopher until near the end of the first century and into the second century, well after Paul had died. However, the similarities between the two are pretty eerie. For instance, Epictetus was a Stoic, and Paul showed sympathies to Stoicism. Epictetus learned philosophy in and originally taught in Rome; the majority of Paul’s μὴ γένοιτο phrases are in his letters to the Romans. Moreover, read these samples from Epictetus’ Discourses and tell me they don’t sound a little bit Pauline in usage (though not necessarily in content).)

1.2.35-36 τί οὖν; ἐπειδὴ ἀφυής εἰμι, ἀποστῶτῆς ἐπιμελείας τούτου ἕνεκα; μὴ γένοιτο. Ἐπίκτητος κρείσσων Σωκράτους οὐκ ἔσται: εἰ δὲ μή, οὐ χείρων, τοῦτό μοι ἱκανόν ἐστιν.

What then, since I am naturally dull, shall I, for this reason, take no pains? I hope not. Epictetus is not superior to Socrates; but if he is not inferior, this is enough for me.

1.8.14-15 τί οὖν; αἴρω τὰς δυνάμεις ταύτας; μὴ γένοιτο: οὐδὲ γὰρ τὴν ὁρατικήν.

What then? Do I take away these faculties which you possess? By no means; for neither do I take away the faculty of seeing.

2.8.1-3 Ὁ θεὸς ὠφέλιμος: ἀλλὰ καὶ τἀγαθὸν ὠφέλιμον. εἰκὸς οὖν, ὅπου ἡ οὐσία τοῦθεοῦ, ἐκεῖ εἶναι καὶ τὴν τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ. τίς οὖν οὐσία θεοῦ; σάρξ; μὴ γένοιτο. ἀγρός; μὴ γένοιτο. φήμη; μὴ γένοιτο. νοῦς, ἐπιστήμη, λόγος ὀρθός. ἐνταῦθα τοίνυν ἁπλῶς ζήτει τὴν οὐσίαν τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ.

God is beneficial. Good is also beneficial. It should seem, then, that where the essence of God is, there too is the essence of good. What then is the essence of God, – flesh? By no means. An estate? By no means. Fame? By no means. Intelligence? Knowledge? Right reason? Certainly. Here, then, without more ado, seek the essence of good.

Okay, so I lapsed into a little bit of a conspiracy theory there. Sorry. However, two similarities really stick out between Epictetus’ and Paul’s uses of the phrase. First, they ask a rhetorical question, which is often introduced by τίς, οὖν, or both. Second, they do not use the phrase with a verbal force (as seen in Classical Greek, e.g. Euripides, Medea 598-599: μή μοι γένοιτο λυπρὸς εὐδαίμων βίος
 / μηδ᾽ ὄλβος ὅστις τὴν ἐμὴν κνίζοι φρένα [“May such a wretched prosperous life never come about for me, / nor wealth of a sort that torments my heart”]), but instead use it simply as a strong means of denial; in other words, they use it as a very strong synonym for the word “no.”

Look, for example, at Romans 3:3-4 and Discourses 2.8.1-3 above. In both cases, μὴ γένοιτο clearly means “by no means!” or “no way!” or “God forbid!” Epictetus counters μὴ γένοιτο with ὀρθός, “certainly.” Thus, it is far more natural for μὴ γένοιτο here to mean “no way!” than for it to mean “may it never be!” Likewise, in Romans 3:3-4, it makes far better sense to read μὴ γένοιτο as “certainly not!” or “God forbid!” Thus, it seems, by the time of late koine Greek in the first and second centuries CE, μὴ γένοιτο had become a set phrase for a strong denial, lacking any verbal content.

So, in sum, the optative was clearly in decline in non-literary Greek by the time of the first and second centuries CE. However, it was preserved in a set phrase of strong denial, μὴ γένοιτο, that served only as a strong synonym for the word “no” but did not actually carry any verbal force.

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Epic in the Song of Deborah

I’ve been thinking all day long about the Song of Deborah (from, primarily, Judges 5). It is one of the oldest pieces of Hebrew poetry we have, dating back, in all likelihood, to the 1200s BCE, and I’d argue that it’s an episode from a longer epic, which we no longer have. I see three reasons in support of it originally being from a longer epic: first, the song itself mentions that it is to be sung in encampments at watering holes; second, it is highly repetitious at climactic or vivid moments; third, it has a quite abrupt ending.

First, though, here’s the text from the NRSV:

Then Deborah and Barak son of Abinoam sang on that day, saying:

“When locks are long in Israel, when the people offer themselves willingly— bless the Lord!

“Hear, O kings; give ear, O princes; to the Lord I will sing, I will make melody to the Lord, the God of Israel.

“Lord, when you went out from Seir, when you marched from the region of Edom, the earth trembled, and the heavens poured, the clouds indeed poured water. The mountains quaked before the Lord, the One of Sinai, before the Lord, the God of Israel.

“In the days of Shamgar son of Anath, in the days of Jael, caravans ceased and travelers kept to the byways. The peasantry prospered in Israel, they grew fat on plunder, because you arose, Deborah, arose as a mother in Israel. When new gods were chosen, then war was in the gates. Was shield or spear to be seen among forty thousand in Israel? My heart goes out to the commanders of Israel who offered themselves willingly among the people. Bless the Lord.

“Tell of it, you who ride on white donkeys, you who sit on rich carpets and you who walk by the way. To the sound of musicians at the watering places, there they repeat the triumphs of the Lord, the triumphs of his peasantry in Israel.

“Then down to the gates marched the people of the Lord.

“Awake, awake, Deborah! Awake, awake, utter a song! Arise, Barak, lead away your captives, O son of Abinoam. Then down marched the remnant of the noble; the people of the Lord marched down for him against the mighty. From Ephraim they set out into the valley, following you, Benjamin, with your kin; from Machir marched down the commanders, and from Zebulun those who bear the marshal’s staff; the chiefs of Issachar came with Deborah, and Issachar faithful to Barak; into the valley they rushed out at his heels. Among the clans of Reuben there were great searchings of heart. Why did you tarry among the sheepfolds, to hear the piping for the flocks? Among the clans of Reuben there were great searchings of heart. Gilead stayed beyond the Jordan; and Dan, why did he abide with the ships? Asher sat still at the coast of the sea, settling down by his landings. Zebulun is a people that scorned death; Naphtali too, on the heights of the field.

“The kings came, they fought; then fought the kings of Canaan, at Taanach, by the waters of Megiddo; they got no spoils of silver. The stars fought from heaven, from their courses they fought against Sisera. The torrent Kishon swept them away, the onrushing torrent, the torrent Kishon. March on, my soul, with might!

“Then loud beat the horses’ hoofs with the galloping, galloping of his steeds.

“Curse Meroz, says the angel of the Lord, curse bitterly its inhabitants, because they did not come to the help of the Lord, to the help of the Lord against the mighty.

“Most blessed of women be Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite, of tent-dwelling women most blessed. He asked water and she gave him milk, she brought him curds in a lordly bowl. She put her hand to the tent peg and her right hand to the workmen’s mallet; she struck Sisera a blow, she crushed his head, she shattered and pierced his temple. He sank, he fell, he lay still at her feet; at her feet he sank, he fell; where he sank, there he fell dead.

“Out of the window she peered, the mother of Sisera gazed through the lattice: ‘Why is his chariot so long in coming? Why tarry the hoofbeats of his chariots?’ Her wisest ladies make answer, indeed, she answers the question herself: ‘Are they not finding and dividing the spoil?— A girl or two for every man; spoil of dyed stuffs for Sisera, spoil of dyed stuffs embroidered, two pieces of dyed work embroidered for my neck as spoil?’

“So perish all your enemies, O Lord! But may your friends be like the sun as it rises in its might.”

And the land had rest forty years.

(For a helpful commentary on this text, with an amended and reconstructed text of the song, see Thomas F. McDaniel’s The Song of Deborah: Poetry in Dialect.)

This text shows two features that make it undoubtedly very old. First, Yahweh is still a storm god who lives on Mount Sinai (“Lord, when you went out from Seir, when you marched from the region of Edom, the earth trembled, and the heavens poured, the clouds indeed poured water. The mountains quaked before the Lord, the One of Sinai, before the Lord, the God of Israel.”). Second, Israel’s main occupation is still donkey caravaneering (“you who ride on white donkeys, you who sit on rich carpets and you who walk by the way”).

What strikes me most about this text, though, is that it’s meant to be sung in encampments, likely while on the caravan trail:

Tell of it, you who ride on white donkeys, you who sit on rich carpets and you who walk by the way. To the sound of musicians at the watering places, there they repeat the triumphs of the Lord, the triumphs of his peasantry in Israel.

Given that this passage is meant to be sung for entertainment and to communicate an important historical victory, I think it’s plausible that this song is a scene from a longer epic, the rest of which we no longer have.

As further evidence that this song is part of an epic, a poem meant to be sung for entertainment, note the repetition it shows in its phrasing (beyond the normal parallelism in Hebrew poetry):

Then loud beat the horses’ hoofs with the galloping, galloping of his steeds. . . .

[Jael] put her hand to the tent peg and her right hand to the workmen’s mallet; she struck Sisera a blow, she crushed his head, she shattered and pierced his temple. He sank, he fell, he lay still at her feet; at her feet he sank, he fell; where he sank, there he fell dead. . . .

Her wisest ladies make answer, indeed, she answers the question herself: ‘Are they not finding and dividing the spoil?— A girl or two for every man; spoil of dyed stuffs for Sisera, spoil of dyed stuffs embroidered, two pieces of dyed work embroidered for my neck as spoil?’

This repetition is a means of adding emphasis when singing the poem at the watering holes and of making the scenes more vivid and memorable (cf. the similar use of repetition in the Iliad), and is well suited for recounting Israel’s historic exploits at a wadi on the caravan trail.

My final observation in support of an original epic setting for this song is the abrupt ending:

“Out of the window she peered, the mother of Sisera gazed through the lattice: ‘Why is his chariot so long in coming? Why tarry the hoofbeats of his chariots?’ Her wisest ladies make answer, indeed, she answers the question herself: ‘Are they not finding and dividing the spoil?— A girl or two for every man; spoil of dyed stuffs for Sisera, spoil of dyed stuffs embroidered, two pieces of dyed work embroidered for my neck as spoil?’

“So perish all your enemies, O Lord! But may your friends be like the sun as it rises in its might.”

The last tag is, pretty obviously, the moral of the song within the framework of Judges 4-5. The episode of Sisera’s mother and her slaves, though, begs to be drawn to a close. We’d expect a scene where she discovers the death of her slaves and mourns her terrible misfortune, which would give the Israelite storyteller and audience even more opportunity to gloat over the death of Sisera. As it stands, though, the song is jarringly disjointed between the last episode and the moralizing tag, which argues strongly in favor of the Song of Deborah being one section of a longer epic.

Thus, in conclusion, I think that the Song of Deborah is a single episode, drawn from a longer epic. I see three factors in support of this conclusion. First, the song says quite clearly that it is to be sung around watering holes on the caravan trail, likely for entertainment, as an epic would be. Second, the language is full of parallelism and is highly repetitious and vivid at climactic points, like in other epics. Finally, the ending of this song is abrupt and disjointed, which supports the conclusion that the song comes from a longer work.

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The Demise of the Optative in Latin and Greek

I’ve been somewhat obsessed lately with the demise of the optative mood in both Italic (the parent language to Latin, among others) and in koine Greek. For some reason, it strikes me as very strange that both languages would lose the optative. Italic, of course, lost the optative completely, replacing it, to a certain extent, with the imperfect subjunctive (see my overview of that change here). Greek, however, didn’t technically lose the optative, but it replaced the optative with the subjunctive in most every case; in other words, it functionally, though not formally, lost the optative mood in terms of usual means of expression.

As I’ve reported, the old Proto-Indo-European subjunctive, along with the old desiderative, became the future tense in Latin, while the optative mood stepped in to fill the empty shoes that the old subjunctive left when it switched uses. Here’s the interesting part about this change: “The [Proto-Indo-European] subjunctive seems to have referred to a future event anticipated with some slight reservation on the part of the speaker — the equivalent of ‘I suppose’ or ‘in that case'” (Sihler 592), and in very old Sanskrit (a cousin to Latin), the subjunctive usually just acts as a simple future. In other words, it takes no great stretch of the imagination to see how the subjunctive could get watered down in Italic (and thus Latin) to the point where it is solely a future tense. That left only the optative for expressing counter-to-fact statements, and the optative form became, by default, the subjunctive.

Here’s where it gets interesting. In Greek, the subjunctive did not get watered down at all. In fact, by the time of the New Testament, the subjunctive had grown in strength to the point where it replaced the optative in most cases, except in prayers, strong affirmations or condemnations, stock phrases, and the like. So, while in Italic, the optative replaces a highly weakened subjunctive, Greek sees just the opposite: a strengthening subjunctive takes over the optative. However, both phenomena have the same effect, namely that, in both languages, the subjunctive is the primary mode for expressing something counter to fact.



Work cited: Andrew L. Sihler, New Comparative Grammar of Greek and Latin (new York; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), 592-600.

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The Apocalyptic Messiah and the Philosophical Trinity

Andrew Perriman has a great post on the difference between the biblical narrative of Jesus and the later doctrines of the Trinity. Here’s an excerpt:

Such an understanding of the Trinity binds our God into the narrative of history, not in modalist or process terms, but perhaps eschatologically: it is our way of saying that we relate to God only on the grounds of the messianic intervention in the story of Israel and of the hope of a final new creation to which that intervention gave rise. Significantly, Paul argues in 1 Corinthians 15:24-28 that at the end the “kingdom”—this authority to rule—will be given back to God the Father, with even the Son subjecting himself to him. That would make the “Trinitarian” arrangement contingent, not absolute, confined to the circumstances of human history and the contextualized witness of the covenant people. . . .

The doctrine of the Trinity may not come into quite the same category of redundant intellectual furniture as theories of the atonement, but if we are going to retain the construct, I would argue that it has to be done in a way that is much more transparent to the dominant lines of biblical thought. Clearly we still need to be able to speak coherently about Father, Son and Holy Spirit, but I seriously wonder whether the Western ontological-relational paradigm still serves a useful purpose. As with the atonement, I suspect that the narrative-historical approach has a lot to teach us.

Go check it out.

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“If Jesus saves, well, He’d better save Himself”

Oh father high in heaven,
smile down upon your son
who’s busy with his money games,
his women and his gun.
Oh Jesus save me!

And the unsung Western hero
killed an Indian or three
and made his name in Hollywood
to set the white man free.
Oh Jesus save me!

If Jesus saves,
well, He’d better save Himself
from the gory glory seekers
who use His name in death.
Oh Jesus save me!

I saw him in the city
and on the mountains of the moon —
His cross was rather bloody —
He could hardly roll His stone.
Oh Jesus save me!

Jethro Tull, “Hymn 43”

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Understanding the Resurrection

(HT: Joel Watts)

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Church “made me a better me.”

Bruce Boling was driven away from his family’s small-town Southern Baptist church by his mother’s insistence that he go every Sunday. “Once I grew up and didn’t have to go anymore, I just quit,” he says.

Years of moving between cities and careers didn’t give him any incentive to return, says Boling, a project manager for a contracting company.

His wife, Elizabeth, is Catholic, and though a priest married them, he never converted. The birth of their two children prompted him to rethink his choices.

“I thought if I went back, it would make me a better father,” Boling says. “What I found was it made me a better me.” Now, Bruce and Elizabeth worship on Sunday mornings at Grace Baptist Church in Hendersonville, Tenn. Sunday nights, they delve into Bible study in a small church group.

Bruce’s Bible once belonged to his late grandfather. After he’d returned to church and stuck with it for six months, he says, “my mother mailed it to me for my Christmas present.”

From “‘Reverts’ return to their childhood religions” by Cathy Lynn Grossman in today’s USA Today.

I know the observation is nothing new, but I find it interesting that church, for some segments of contemporary Christianity, often is not about worshiping God per se, so much as it’s about personal improvement — like a sort of divinely-assisted self-help. The act of worship becomes a means for lifting of mood and self-improvement, compared with the practices of other segments of Christianity, in which the act of worship is about formally appeasing God’s jealousy for glory, regardless of the effects the worship has on one’s own self.

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