Let us begin with a story.

Around the middle of the nineteenth century there was a series of charismatic revivals in Scotland. It was during this time that a 15-year-old girl named Margaret MacDonald, on her sickbed, had a vision regarding the Church being taken away before a time of suffering in the last days. Soon after, a preacher named John Darby began to preach the doctrine of a ‘rapture’ of the Church. When Darby came to preach about the rapture in the United States, he influenced a Bible student named Cyrus Ingerson Scofield, who later published notes on the rapture in the 1909 Scofield Reference Bible. Since these notes on the rapture were in the Bible, swarms of Christians took them to be actual scripture, and this ‘rapture’ theology took off.

To be fair, Margaret MacDonald’s vision may not have actually been the direct source of the ‘rapture’ theology popularized by John Darby. Nonetheless, her story does encapsulate the more general milieu of the eschatological thought and preaching which ultimately gave rise to the escapist theology of Hal Lindsey, Tim LaHaye, and the like. This is an eschatological understanding that simply did not exist among early Christians.

Aside from the fact that the word “rapture” does not appear anywhere in the New Testament (or the Old Testament, Apocrypha, or Pseudepigrapha for that matter), there are several other reasons why rapture theology is bad theology. Our attention will be briefly focused, however, on the two passages most commonly cited in support of an escapist ‘rapture’ eschatological understanding, namely Matthew 24:36-41 and especially 1 Thessalonians 4:15-17.

A discussion of the events surrounding the coming of the Son of Man is indeed the context of Matthew 24:36-41. These events include signs of cosmic distress (24:29) and mourning among all the nations of the earth (24:30). Indeed, it is said that the Son of Man will arrive in great power and glory in the midst of his angels’ loud trumpet call (24:30-31). This makes the idea of this coming as being clandestine or secret incredible if not absurd.

What is described beginning in the following section has the same event in view, namely “the coming of the Son of Man” (24:37). The concern here regards what is meant by, “one is taken, and one is left” (24:40-41). Most recently many Christians, especially Evangelicals, have understood the Christian to be the one taken and the non-Christian to be one left behind to endure the cataclysmic (Greek, kataklysmos, used in 24:38 to describe the flood) events just described. The key to understanding who is taken and who is left behind, however, involves the analogy drawn with regard to the days of Noah in the previous verses. Notice that here it is those who are swept away by the flood (i.e. those who are being judged) who are “taken away,” not Noah and his family.

This is exactly what Jesus means when he speaks of the two men in the field and the two women working at the mill in the following verses. The “one [who] is taken” is being taken away for judgment—not to escape the cataclysmic events of the eschaton! Clearly, Jesus’ first hearers would have understood the analogy this way. Quite unlike many evangelical Christians today, they didn’t want to be taken away!

But what about those who are “snatched up … in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air” in 1 Thessalonians 4:17? First of all, it is important to realize that Paul does not intend for this to be taken as a literal description of eschatological events. This is simply a metaphorical way of alluding to the parousia, that is, the return of Christ to eternal presence among his people. I’ll allow N. T. Wright to explain further:

When the emperor visited a colony or province, the citizens of the country would go to meet him at some distance from the city. It would be disrespectful to have him actually arrive at the gates as though his subjects couldn’t be bothered to greet him properly. When they met him, they wouldn’t then stay out in the open country; they would escort him royally into the city itself. When Paul speaks of “meeting” the Lord “in the air,” the point is precisely not—as in the popular rapture theology—that the saved believers would then stay up in the air somewhere, away from earth. The point is that, having gone out to meet their returning Lord, they will escort him royally into his domain, that is, back to the place they have come from. … Being citizens of heaven … doesn’t mean that one is expecting to go back to the mother city but rather means that one is expecting the emperor to come from the mother city to give the colony its full dignity, to rescue it if need be, to subdue local enemies and put everything to rights. (Surprised by Hope, pp. 132-3)

This is exactly the picture we find in Revelation 21 (cf. also 2 Peter 3:13) of Christ returning to rule over his domain and bringing with him a new heaven and a new earth. The hope of the biblical salvation-history is not that God will take his people away from this evil planet to dwell with him, but that God will return to the world he created in order to “put everything to rights” and dwell with his people.

From beginning to end, the biblical story is one of a God who longs to cohabitate with the human beings whom he created. In Genesis 1, God creates the earth and human beings and dwells with them in Eden. When things go awry, Yahweh still chooses to dwell among his people in a tabernacle and then a temple (cf. Exodus 29:45, “Then I will dwell among the Israelites and be their God”). In John 1 we meet the Word who “became flesh and dwelled among us” (1:14) through the person of Jesus Christ. Finally, when Christ returns, John of Patmos tells us that he saw

a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Now the dwelling of God is with people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” (Revelation 21:1-5a)

Thanks be to God.

Before delving into the thesis statement to Paul’s letter to the Romans, I’d like to share with you all that I just received an offer letter from the Ancient History department at Macquarie University in Sydney, Australia to pursue further graduate work in New Testament. I’d appreciate your prayers as I prepare to move to Australia in July. (I’m moving to Australia! Whoohoo!)

Now…

Romans 1:16-17 are pivotal verses in Paul’s letter to the Romans, and indeed in the New Testament as a whole. In a few short lines, Paul summarizes the life-transforming gospel which he had so longed to proclaim to the Christians in Rome (1:11, 15). That gospel, Paul makes very clear, is not a lifeless message but a vibrant encounter for all who respond in faith, and to understand and respond to this gospel is to have one’s time and eternity completely altered.

Paul introduces himself in 1:1 as “a bond-servant of Christ Jesus, called as an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God.” The recipients are “all who are beloved of God in Rome, called as saints” (1:7), which, Paul will make clear, includes both Jews and Gentiles. Romans 1:2-6 summarizes the “gospel of God,” perhaps using a hymn or some other primitive Christological statement in hopes that his readers would recognize it, and thus recognize him as a fellow Christian. Both Paul’s politeness and his conventionality to the Greek letter form are evident in 1:8-15, where we see that he is able to give thanks “because your faith is being proclaimed throughout the whole world” (1:8).

The thesis, or propositio, to the epistle to the Romans is set forth in 1:16-17. Paul lays out in these verses the proceeding arguments of his letter as follows: (1) the quotation of Habakkuk in v. 17b foreshadows what follows in chs. 1-8; (2) the emphasis on the gospel as the power of God for salvation first to the Jew and also to the Gentile foreshadows chs. 9-11; (3) the reference to living by faith in v. 17b looks forward to the discussion in chs. 12-15; and (4) the reference to the righteousness of God anticipates a major theme in chs. 1-11. As such, almost every word of Paul’s statement in 1:16-17 is important to the rest of the letter, since these verses submit the proposition from which Paul will advance his series of arguments in the rest of his epistle.

Paul begins his propositio with the curious statement, “I am not ashamed of the gospel.” This could be, as K. Grieb notes, a form of rhetorical understatement, litotes, by which Paul means to say, “I am proud of the gospel.” However, R. Jewett rather compellingly contends that such an understanding of this statement “sidesteps the precise social issues of shame and honor.” We learn from such ancient orators as Isocrates and Philip of Macedon that honor and shame were regularly addressed in orations by employing the “I am ashamed/not ashamed” formula. What was the shameful issue of the gospel for Paul, then? It has been suggested that the shameful issue was the very message of Christ crucified, which was “to Jews a stumbling block and to Gentiles foolishness” (1 Cor 1:23). For Paul and the first-century peoples to whom he preached, such a message “seemed to demean God and overlook the honor and propriety of established religious traditions, both Jewish and Greco-Roman.” It could also be the case that Paul is defending his gospel against accusations of anti-Semitism and antinomianism, as Douglas Moo and others have speculated (cf. 3:8 and 9:1-5).

Paul next insists that this gospel is “the power of God unto salvation.” Herein we see the paradox of the gospel of the cross, a message which would seem shameful and powerless to many, but in which the power of God is revealed in such a way that it brings salvation. The preposition eis (“to/unto”) here should be understood with the sense of “toward,” or “with the effect of bringing about salvation,” as Dunn renders it, and not as an extension involving a goal or place such as “into” or “for.” Contrary to Lutheran tradition, salvation cannot be a mere shift into “right standing” before God; rather, it is past, present, and future-both an initial act of faith and an ongoing operation which one must “continue to work out … with fear and trembling” (Phil 2:12). The coordinating conjunction ga.r indicates that this clause expresses the cause or explanation of the preceding clause; hence, Paul states that he is “not ashamed of the gospel because it is the power of God unto salvation.”

It is important to recall, as Jewett does, that in the Greco-Roman cultural context, priestly, military, and administrative power forms were honored as effective means of salvation. Indeed, the emperor was celebrated as a savior (sōtēr), and his allegedly divine power was heralded as the “gospel” (euangellion) of salvation. Jewett contends that such an understanding of Paul’s words enables one to explain the claim that the gospel “is the power of God unto salvation.” Jewett is right in his consideration of the Greco-Roman cultural context of Paul’s words; however, he fails to give the Jewish view of divine power its due weight. It is preferable to say, then, as E. Käsemann affirms, that “the power of God unto salvation” is best understood as God’s redemptive activity directing history. It “is not one miracle among others”—namely, the Roman empirical powers; rather, “it is the epiphany of God’s eschatological power pure and simple.”

The gospel is the power of God unto salvation “to everyone who trusts in [him],” or “to everyone who has faith.” Either of these translations is preferable to the more common rendering “to everyone who believes.” K. Grieb is correct that there is quite a difference between one who “puts trust/faith in” and one who “believes.” For Paul, pisteuō (“believe”) and its cognates signify more than mere belief; it is a full reliance on and confidence in the integrity, power, ability, and surety of God, and moreover, “faithful obedience” to him (v. 5).

While the gospel means salvation unto everyone who trusts in God, it is delivered “to the Jew first, and also to the Greek.” The emphasis on “all” (panti). in the previous phrase finds a balance here in “first” (prōton (which, not surprisingly, Marcion appears to have omitted ). Paul “does not for a moment forget, nor does he want his Gentile readers to forget Jewish priority in God’s saving purpose (cf. 3:3-4; chaps. 9-11); but equally fundamental is his conviction that Jewish priority does not shift the ‘terms of salvation’ one whit beyond faith,” that is, faith in God through Christ.)

Verse 17 tells us why (once again, we have the causal conjunction gar) the gospel is God’s power for salvation unto all who have faith: “through it the righteousness of God is being (and will continue to be) revealed.” Here we encounter for the first time the controversial phrase “righteousness of God” (dikaiosunē theou). The debate over this phrase concerns the use of the genitive, and whether or not it is meant to refer to a quality in God. There are at least three ways in which the genitive qeou/ may be interpreted.

(1) The genitive theou (“of God”) might be interpreted as an objective genitive, i.e. “righteous status granted by God.” This is the view espoused by Luther, who understood the term “righteousness of God” not as a matter of internal, moral transformation, but as a matter of judicial standing.

(2) A similar interpretation takes theou as a genitive of source, i.e. “righteousness sourced in God.” The nuance of difference between the genitive of source and the objective genitive is that of the procession of righteousness from God to man, though in both the “righteousness of God” refers to a “righteous” status granted by God. Syntactically, the genitive of source leaves room for the possibility of internal transformation as well.

(3) The genitive theou might also be interpreted as a subjective genitive, in which case it may refer to “righteousness shown by God” or, in the possessive sense, “righteousness belonging to God.” E. Käsemann, whose contribution to the subjective interpretation has been significant, emphasized the apocalyptic understanding of “righteousness of God,” arguing that the phrase “speaks of the God who brings back the fallen world into the sphere of his legitimate claim.” Scholars have also largely accepted the concept of the “righteousness of God” as God’s covenant faithfulness; thus, it is offered “to the Jew first, and also to the Greek.”

Before drawing a conclusion regarding dikaiosunē theou, there are contextual matters to be considered. First, Paul calls the gospel “the power of God unto salvation” (v. 16). Since “gospel” (euvagge,lion) is clearly the antecedent of the “it” through which the righteousness of God is revealed, we can say that the righteousness of God is revealed through his saving power, the gospel. Second, the quotation from Habakkuk that “the righteous one will live according to faith” is paralleled with Paul’s statement about the righteousness of God; thus, we can also say that the righteousness of God has something to do with the way one lives who has been affected by it. Third, Jewett points out that both “power of God” in v. 16 and “wrath of God” in v. 18 are subjective genitives, rendering it most likely that “righteousness of God,” which appears between them, should be taken the same way. The immediate context of dikaiosunē theou, then, makes it preferable to opt for the subjective genitive interpretation.

“The righteousness of God,” Paul says, “is being (and will continue to be) revealed.” The verb “revealed” (apokaluptetai) is in the present tense, indicative mood, indicating that the action is taking place during the time at which Paul is writing. But clearly Paul does not intend to say that this revelation is only happening while he is writing about it. Indeed, if the gospel is the power of God “because in it the divine righteousness breaks into the world as eschatological revelation,” as Käsemann affirms, then apokaluptetai must be meant to have present implications for us as well.

This must be, then, the “extending-from-past” present, which uses a present tense verb to describe an action begun in the past that continues into the present. This type of present tense Greek verb is best translated in a similar way to the English present perfect. It is different from the perfect tense, however, insofar as the perfect tense speaks only about results continuing into the present time. The “extending-from-past” present, on the other hand, speaks of the continuation of the action itself. Moreover, the use of the passive voice is an indication of divine agency, “both in Paul’s ministry and in the triumph over unrighteousness.” Therefore, we can gladly say that “the righteousness of God is being (and will continue to be) revealed” through God’s saving power of the gospel.

Having dealt with one difficult phrase, we now move to another in “from faith to faith” (ek pisteōs eis pistin). If this phrase is not simply declared meaningless or brushed off as a rhetorical adornment, it is usually taken to denote some sort of progression or transformation. Several parallels for this expression can be cited. For example, Ps 84:7 promises that the one whose strength is in God will go on “from strength to strength” (ek dunameōs eis dunamin), and the wicked in Jeremiah 9:3 progress “from evil to evil” (ek kakōn eis kaka). Paul uses this formula again in 2 Cor 2:16, “from death to death … from life to life” (cf. 3:18). Barrett is on the right track in acknowledging that these parallels suggest the meaning “from one level of faith to a higher;” however, wrongly abandoning this textual evidence, he concludes that such a meaning “does not … suit the present context,” and is rather a simple emphatic rhetorical device.

A myriad of other proposals have been made regarding the meaning of this phrase, such as “from the faith (of the preacher) to the faith (of the hearer),” and “from faith (as a starting point) to faith (as a permanent condition).” A few have proposed the meaning “from (God’s) faith to (humanity’s) faith.” However, such interpretations seem to disregard what is known about the employment of this formula outside of the present text. I tend to agree with Colin Brown and the NIDNTT editorial committee that

… it seems more natural to construe ek as indicating not the source or starting-point (“from faith”) but the basis or means (“by faith”; as in Hab. 2:4), with the eis pistin either intensifying the effect of ek pisteōs … or denoting the goal of God’s impartation to men of a righteous status (“leading to faith”).

Furthermore, Moule affirms the translation of eivj pi,stin here as “leading to faith.” I would suggest, then, that this phrase is best translated “by faith leading to faith,” that is, a greater degree of faith. In this view, “faith is portrayed as the vital and perpetual characteristic of Christian experience.”

The righteousness of God is being revealed by faith, unto greater faith, “just as it has been written: ‘The righteous one will live according to faith.’” Paul’s citation of Hab 2:4 is introduced by the traditional formula “just as it is written” (kathōs gegraptai). This formula appears eighteen times in the Pauline letters, sixteen of which are in Romans alone, following the Jewish tradition found in 2 Chr 23:18 and Dan 9:13 (TH), “just as it has been written in the law of Moses”. This introductory formula emphasizes, not only that the written word still exists (notice the perfect tense of the verb), but that its authority remains present and binding. D. Wallace thus offers a loose paraphrase, “Although this scripture was written long ago, its authority is still binding on us.”

The quotation from Hab 2:4 is problematic, both because there are textual differences between Paul’s wording and the original text of Habakkuk and because Paul seems to give the words a different meaning. The major textual problem concerns the use of personal pronouns in the Hebrew original, the LXX versions, and the parallel in Hebrews. The MT says, “The righteous one shall live by his faith.” The LXX has two variations: codices S and W have, “The righteous one shall live by my [i.e. God's] faith,” while codices A and C read, “My [i.e. God's] righteous one shall live by faith.” The citation in Hebrews 10:38 follows the latter variation.

Paul’s omission of the pronoun “my” makes clear that in this instance he is not referring to Christ, as some have speculated. It also seems unlikely that, by dropping the pronouns, Paul wishes to introduce his own characteristic phrase, “righteous by faith.” R. M. Moody’s argument that the variation over the personal pronoun serves only to emphasize a basic consistency of order seems unlikely as well, since this leads him to follow Barrett, who holds that “by faith” qualifies both “the righteous one” and “shall live.” Most preferable is Jewett’s conclusion that the omission of the personal pronoun, as well as the context of Rom 1:16-17, “point indisputably in the direction of ‘faith’ [as opposed to ‘faithfulness'] as a theological formula for participation in the Christ movement.”

The ambiguity of the Greek presents a further problem with the Habakkuk citation: are we to take “out of/by faith” (ek pisteōs) with “the righteous one” (ho dikaios) or “shall live” (zēsetai)? Many scholars, perhaps the majority, argue that “by faith” modifies “the righteous one”, which renders, “The one who is righteous out of faith shall live.” But if Paul had intended to say this, would he not have written it as such? We know from Rom 10:6 that Paul could have used such a word order had he wished. Moreover, if Paul was at liberty to omit the personal pronoun, it seems that he would have been at liberty also to change the word order so as to remove all ambiguity if indeed he had intended such an interpretation.

Jewett rightly proposes that it is best in this case to follow the normal rules of Greek grammar by connecting “by faith” with “shall live”, since prepositions most frequently modify verbs. Also, despite the variations among the MT and the LXX, they have in common that “by faith” modifies “shall live”, and not “the righeous one”. There is thus no good reason to think that Paul or his readers in Rome would have understood this citation any differently. It seems best, then, to take the word order here as emphatic, because “in the ordinary way of taking the verse it is implied that the ruling motive of the man, the motive which gives value to his righteousness and gains for him the Divine protection, is his faith.”

“For I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God unto salvation to everyone who trusts in him: to the Jew first and also to the Greek. For through it, the righteousness of God is being (and will continue to be) revealed by faith unto faith, just as it has been written: ‘But the righteous one will live according to faith.’” In two short, densely-packed sentences, Paul has summarized the gospel which he had so longed to proclaim to the Christians in Rome (1:11, 15). That gospel, as Paul tells again and again in Romans, is the saving power of God, who, out of love, died for us while we were still sinners (5:8)-and there is nothing in all creation that can separate us from that love (8:38-39).

Do I understand Greek and Hebrew? Otherwise, how can I undertake, (as every Minister does,) not only to explain books which are written therein, but to defend them against all opponents? Am I not at the mercy of every one who does understand, or even pretends to understand, the original? For which way can I confute his pretence? Do I understand the language of the Old Testament? critically? at all? Can I read into English one of David’s Psalms; or even the first chapter of Genesis? Do I understand the language of the New Testament? Am I a critical master of it? Have I enough of it even to read into English the first chapter of St. Luke? If not, how many years did I spend at school? How many at the University? And what was I doing all those years? Ought not shame to cover my face?

-John Wesley, An Address to the Clergy

Languages are the scabbard that contains the sword of the Spirit;
they are the casket which contains the priceless jewels of antique thought;
they are the vessel that holds the wine;
and as the gospel says, they are the baskets
in which the loaves and fishes are kept to feed the multitude. . . .
As dear as the gospel is to us all,
let us as hard contend with its language.

-Martin Luther

I have become increasingly frustrated as of late with the unabashed ignorance of many clergy men and women when it comes to the knowledge which is absolutely necessary to interpret and teach Scripture properly. Within this category fall such things as the cultural, social, and literary backgrounds of the Jewish and Greco-Roman worlds; however, the most important skill for proper interpretation is without a doubt the ability to read the Scriptures in their original languages, namely Greek and Hebrew. Indeed, it is the inability to read the Scriptures in their original languages that lead to exegetical blunders like this one and this one, and far worse.

David Alan Black, a well known author and professor of New Testament Greek, has rightly said:

Consider … the alternative-pastors who do not know Greek are forced to borrow their ideas from others. They are slaves to the commentators, but have no means to check their accuracy. The best tools of interpretation are beyond their reach. Not even the English translations they use are completely trustworthy. Worst of all, without thorough training in Greek they may discover that they are passing on in the name of God their own ignorance, based upon erroneous interpretations.

-David Alan Black, Using New Testament Greek in Ministry: A Practical Guide for Students and Pastors(Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker, 1993)

Unfortunately, this appears to be a problem especially in evangelical Protestant churches. I had classmates both in college and in seminary who, because of a variety of factors including laziness, disinterest, and lack of diligence, barely made it through their required original language courses with a passing grade. I had other classmates who dropped their original language courses or transferred to a different degree program or school which didn’t require them simply because learning to read the Scriptures in their original languages was “too hard.” Most of these former classmates of mine are now pastors.

It is true; learning Greek and Hebrew is hard. I will readily admit that I still struggle with properly understanding the Scriptures in their original languages (and I will doubtless continue to struggle with it until the day I die!), and I read Greek and Hebrew every single day. Indeed, it takes a great deal of time, commitment, and self-control, not to mention a great sense of calling, in order to endure the pain and frustration that often accompany learning Greek and Hebrew. But aren’t these character qualities that ordained clergy should possess anyway? Should those who lack the self-control even to acquire the skills necessary to properly interpret the living Word of God really be ordained clergy? To put it another way, Do pastors who can’t even read the Scriptures in their original languages-and therefore must rely on what others say about them-have any business teaching them to their congregations who regard their teaching as authoritative? Moreover, how can they authoritatively proclaim and exposit Scripture if they haven’t acquired the skills necessary to do so?

While I have some strong disagreements with the über-Calvinism to which John Piper subscribes, I appreciate his enthusiasm for Scripture and his commitment to reading them in their original languages. Following is an article by John Piper (used by permission) about the topic at hand, and it is well worth reading (and perhaps passing on to your pastor!).

_______________

Brothers, Bitzer Was a Banker!

by John Piper, The Standard, June 1983, 18-19. Used by permission.
A slightly revised version of this article now also appears in Piper’s book, Brothers, We Are Not Professionals (Broadman & Holman, 2002).

“As dear as the gospel is to us all, let us as hard contend with its language”

Last year Baker Book House reissued a 1969 book of daily Scripture readings in Hebrew and Greek called Light on the Path. The readings are quite short, and vocabulary helps are given with the Hebrew verses. The aim of the editor, who died in 1980, was to help pastors preserve and improve their ability to interpret the Bible from the original languages.

His name was Heinrich Bitzer, and he was a banker.

A banker! Brothers, must we be admonished by the sheep what our responsibility is as shepherds? Evidently so. For we are surely not admonishing and encouraging each other to press on in Greek and Hebrew. And most seminaries-evangelical as well as liberal-have communicated by their curriculum emphases that learning Greek and Hebrew well is merely optional for the pastoral ministry.

I have a debt to pay to Heinrich Bitzer, and I would like to discharge it by exhorting all of us to ponder his thesis: “The more a theologian detaches himself from the basic Hebrew and Greek text of Holy Scripture, the more he detaches himself from the source of real theology! And real theology is the foundation of a fruitful and blessed ministry! (p.10).

A Plague of Uncertainty

What happens to a denomination where a useful knowledge of Greek and Hebrew is not cherished and promoted as crucial for the pastoral office? (I don’t mean offered and admired. I mean cherished, promoted and sought.)

Several things happen as the original languages fall into disuse among pastors. First, the confidence of pastors to determine the precise meaning of biblical texts diminishes. And with the confidence to interpret rigorously goes the confidence to preach powerfully. You can’t preach week in and week out over the whole range of God’s revelation with depth and power if you are plagued with uncertainty when you venture beyond basic gospel generalities.

Second, the uncertainty of having to depend on differing human translations (which always involve much interpretation) will tend to discourage careful textual analysis in sermon preparation. For as soon as you start attending to crucial details (like tenses, conjunctions and vocabulary repetitions), you realize the translations are too diverse to provide a sure basis for such analysis.

So the preacher often contents himself with the general focus or flavor of the text, and his exposition lacks the precision and clarity which excite a congregation with the Word of God.

Expository preaching, therefore, falls into disuse and disfavor. I say disfavor because we often tend to protect ourselves from difficult tasks by belittling or ignoring their importance. So what we find in groups where Greek and Hebrew are not cherished and pursued and promoted is that expository preaching (which devotes a good bit of the sermon to explaining the original meaning of the texts) is not much esteemed by the clergy or taught in the seminaries.

Sometimes this is evident in outright denunciation of schoolish exposition. More often there is simply a benign neglect; and the emphasis on valuable sermonic features (like order, diction, illustration and relevance) crowds out the need for careful textual exposition.

Another result when pastors do not study the Bible in Greek and Hebrew is that they (and their churches with them) tend to become second-handers. The harder it is for us to get at the original meaning of the Bible, the more we will revert to the secondary literature. For one thing, it is easier to read. It also gives us a superficial glow that we are “keeping up” on things. And it provides us with ideas and insights which we can’t dig out of the original for ourselves.

We may impress one another for a while by dropping the name of the latest book, but second-hand food will not sustain and deepen our people’s faith and holiness.

The Mother of Liberalism

Weakness in Greek and Hebrew also gives rise to exegetical imprecision and carelessness. And exegetical imprecision is the mother of liberal theology.

Where pastors by and large can no longer articulate and defend doctrine by a reasonable and careful appeal to the original meaning of biblical texts, they will tend to become close-minded traditionalists who clutch their inherited ideas, or open-ended relativists who don’t put much stock in doctrinal formulations. In both cases the succeeding generations will be theologically impoverished and susceptible to error.

Further, when we fail to stress the use of Greek and Hebrew as crucial in the pastoral office we create an eldership of professional academicians. We surrender to the seminaries and universities essential dimensions of our responsibility as elders and overseers of the churches.

Acts 20:27 charges us with the proclamation of “the whole counsel of God.” But we look more and more to the professional academicians for books which fit the jagged pieces of revelation into a unified whole. Acts 20:28 charges us to take heed for the flock and guard it from wolves who rise up in the church and speak perverse things. But we look more and more to the linguistic and historical specialists to fight our battles for us in books and articles. We have, by and large, lost the biblical vision of a pastor as one who is mighty in the Scriptures, apt to teach, competent to confute opponents and able to penetrate to the unity of the whole counsel of God.

Is it healthy or biblical for the church to cultivate an eldership of pastors (weak in the Word) and an eldership of professors (strong in the Word)?

The Pastor Debased

One of the greatest tragedies in the church today is the debasement of the pastoral office. From the seminaries to the denominational headquarters, the prevalent mood and theme is managerial, organizational and psychological. And we think thereby to heighten our professional self-esteem! Hundreds of teachers and leaders put the mastery of the Word first with their lips, but by their curriculums, conferences, seminars and personal example show that it is anything but foremost.

One glaring example is the nature of the Doctor of Ministry programs across the country.

The theory is good: continuing education makes for better ministers. But where can you do a D.Min. in Hebrew language and exegesis? Yet what is more important and more deeply practical for the pastoral office than advancing in Greek and Hebrew exegesis by which we mine God’s treasures?

Why then do hundreds of young and middle-aged pastors devote years of effort to everything but the languages when pursuing continuing education? And why do seminaries not offer incentives and degrees to help pastors maintain the most important pastoral skill-exegesis of the original meanings of Scripture?

No matter what we say about the inerrancy of the Bible, our actions reveal our true convictions about its centrality and power.

We need to recover our vision of the pastoral office which embraces, if nothing else, the passion and power to understand the original revelation of God. We need to pray for the day when pastors can carry their Greek Testaments to conferences and seminars without being greeted with one-liners. The day when the esteem for God’s Word and its careful exposition is so high among pastors that the few who neglect to bring their Testaments will go home to study. The day when prayer and grammar will meet each other with great spiritual combustion.

Never Too Late

In 1829 the 24-year-old George Muller wrote, “I now studied much, about 12 hours a day, chiefly Hebrew … [and] committed portions of the Hebrew Old Testament to memory; and this I did with prayer, often falling on my knees…. I looked up to the Lord even whilst turning over the leaves of my Hebrew dictionary” (Autobiography, p. 31).

In the Methodist Archives of Manchester you can see the two-volume Greek Testament of the evangelist George Whitefield liberally furnished with notes on the interleaved paper. He wrote of his time at Oxford, “Though weak, I often spent two hours in my evening retirements and prayed over my Greek Testament, and Bishop Hall’s most excellent Contemplations, every hour that my health would permit” (Dallimore, Whitefield, I, p. 77).

Brothers, perhaps the vision can grow with your help. It is never too late to learn the languages. There are men who began after retirement! It is not a question of time but of values.

Continuing education is being pursued everywhere. Let’s give heed to the word of Martin Luther: “As dear as the gospel is to us all, let us as hard contend with its language.” Bitzer did. And Bitzer was a banker!

The text of 1 Peter 3:1-7 and other similar NT passages  have often been used to suppress able Christian women, both in the home and in the church. The controversial note on 1 Peter 3:7 in the 1547 Matthew Bible perhaps best conveys the misogyny which has occasionally pervaded the interpretation of these passages: “And [if the wife] be not obedient and healpfull unto [her husband], endeavoureth to beate the feare of God into her heade, that thereby she maye be compelled to learne her dutie, and to do it.”  To the contrary, the Petrine exhortation of 1 Peter 3:1-7 ought to be understood as a call for the reformation of the patriarchal culture of the ancient Mediterranean, not as a proof-text for the inferiority of women to men. Through exploration of the household ethics of the Greco-Roman world and comparison with that of 1 Peter, as well as detailed exegesis, it will be shown in this essay that the author of 1 Peter in fact intends to challenge the misogynistic social mores of the Greco-Roman culture, calling instead for mutual honor and equality among all Christians.

Translation

3:1 Likewise, wives, [do this]  by submitting yourselves to your own husbands, so that that even if some disbelieve/disobey the Word, through the conduct of their wives they will be gained without a word, 2 having observed your reverent, pure conduct. 3 Let your adornment not be external—braiding of hair and wearing of gold or putting on of clothing—4 but the secret person of the heart, with the imperishable quality of a humble and quiet spirit, which is most precious before God. 5 For in this way, at one time, also the holy women who hoped in God would adorn themselves by submitting themselves to their own husbands, 6 as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him “master,” whose children you became when you did good and did not fear anything fearful. 7 Husbands, likewise, [do this] by living together with the females as the weaker vessel in accordance with knowledge, imparting honor, as also co-heirs of the grace of life, in order that your prayers might not be hindered.

Introduction and Background

First Peter 3:1-7 is situated within the so-called “household code” (sometimes called by its German designation, Haustafel) of 1 Peter, which begins in 2:13 and continues through 3:12. As the part of the household code addressed to wives (3:1-6) and husbands (3:7), 3:1-7 follows the initial exhortation for all believers to submit to political rulers (2:13-17) and the admonition for slaves to submit to their masters (2:18-25). The exhortation following the address to wives and husbands is once again addressed to all believers (3:8-12).

Codes of household ethics found in NT texts like 1 Peter 2:13–3:12 and also, for example, Col 3:18–4:1 have their historical and social background in the dominant Greco-Roman culture, specifically that set forth by the great Greek philosopher Aristotle.  Of particular importance to the study of such NT household codes is Aristotle’s discussion “concerning household management” in Politics I. He summarizes the ideal for household relationships as follows:

And now that it is clear what are the component parts of the state, we have first of all to discuss household management; for every state is composed of households. Household management falls into departments corresponding to the parts of which the household in its turn is composed; and the household in its perfect form consists of slaves and freemen. The investigation of everything should begin with its smallest parts, and the primary and smallest parts of the household are master and slave, husband and wife, father and children; we ought therefore to examine the proper constitution and character of each of these three relationships, I mean that of mastership, that of marriage, and thirdly the progenitive relationship. (Pol. I, 1253b [Rackham, LCL])

For Aristotle, then, the household is a microcosm of the government; that is, proper authority exercised in the household will produce stability, harmony, and hierarchical order in the state.  Within this system of ethics, one of the tenets for understanding the relationship between husbands and wives was the inferiority of women to men. Plato explains, “Now the better are the superiors of the worse, and the older in general of the younger; wherefore also parents are superior to their offspring, men to women and children, rulers to ruled” (Laws XI 917a [Bury, LCL]).

Influential Roman philosophers, governors, and emperors found this ethic of household management quite useful in their attempts to bring order to an aggressively expanding, imperialistic Roman empire. Since Rome regarded itself as a household with the emperor as the pater familias, the center of the Roman world was the home.  As Cicero put it, the home is “the foundation of the civil government, the nursery, as it were, of the state” (De Officiis I 54 [Page and Rouse, LCL]). As ruling conquerors, it fit the value system of the Roman Empire to argue that some persons are intellectually and politically inferior—beginning, of course, in the home and expanding to conquered nations and the greater Roman Empire. Any attempt to threaten their categories, then, would be perceived as a threat to the Roman Empire itself.

It is against this background that one must read the passages concerning the status of women in the NT as a whole, and particularly this passage in 1 Peter. In the midst of the imperialistic Roman Empire which was suspicious of foreigners with religious and social values different from their own, Christianity emerged as a religion which gave equal status to women in the sight of God (cf. Gal 3:28, e.g.). The household code of 1 Peter, then, serves as a paraenesis to ameliorate domestic tensions and foster growth in character in a situation of non-conformity to the social status quo,  and perhaps also as an apologetic against the suspicion of the Roman empire.

Exposition

The adverb homoiōs (“likewise”) that begins this section of the household code takes up the theme of submission introduced by the imperatives of 2:17 and is not, as Bigg has suggested, a command that wives submit to their husbands in the same way that slaves must submit to their masters.  Like the household slaves (2:18) and the husbands (3:7), wives are also to fulfill the commands of 2:17 (“honor all, love the kindred believers, fear God, honor the emperor”), in their case by submitting themselves to their husbands.

Achtemeier is quite right to note that the participle hupotassamenai (“submitting yourselves”) is not so much imperatival as it is instrumental, providing the means by which the wives are to fulfill the commands of 2:17.  Though such imperatival force is widely held to be present,  Daube has shown that such usage cannot be said to have been normal practice in Hellenistic Greek.  Indeed, it is the nature of the participle to subordinate to a finite verb, so such an independent imperatival force cannot be simply assumed. In this instance the participle may easily be connected to the imperatives of 2:17 as an adverbial participle of means. As such, it may carry over an imperatival nuance; however, its primary function is to express the means by which the wives are to fulfill the commands of 2:17, namely “by submitting yourselves to your own husbands.” It is also important to stress here that this is not a general statement of subordination of women to men, but rather of the Christian wife to her husband, which is made especially clear by the presence of idiois (“your own”).

Wives in the ancient world were expected to worship the gods of their husbands. According to Sarah Pomeroy, “A family’s religion was transmitted through males, and the pater familias was the chief priest. Upon marriage, a girl renounced her father’s religion and worshiped instead at her husband’s hearth.”  In his “Advice to Bride and Groom,” Plutarch contends:

A wife ought not to make friends of her own, but to enjoy her husband’s friends in common with him. The gods are the first and most important friends. Wherefore it is becoming for a wife to worship and to know only the gods that her husband believes in, and to shut the front door tight upon all queer rituals and outlandish superstitions. For with no god do stealthy and secret rites performed by a woman find any favor. (Moralia II, 140D [Babbitt, LCL])

In the case of Christian wives married to pagan husbands, which is apparently the case here, the situation is therefore potentially volatile. Their failure to follow their husbands’ religious beliefs would be viewed as disruptive to the social order and as such would entail immediate suspicion within the Roman world.  Moreover, a wife’s failure to submit to her husband in this regard, as well as her participation in socially questionable behavior, would impart shame upon her husband.  Peter’s advice, however, is not for the wives to abandon their worship of Christ, but for them to continue in Christian living and to honorably and admirably submit to their husbands in all other regards.

The motive for submission by the wives is clearly stated in the ἵνα clause: “in order that, even if some disbelieve/disobey the Word, through the conduct of their wives they will be gained without a word.” With the help of a play on the word λόγος—in the first instance meaning the gospel, and in the second meaning spoken word—the author orients himself to the patriarchal world in which these women find themselves: “Whether it can be concluded from the expression ‘without a word’ that in principle women should not preach … is questionable; the point is probably the worldless mission through those who as inferiors were not in the position to do the talking.”  Indeed, the wives of 1 Peter are called to preach, though through silent rather than verbal witness. As Daube has convincingly shown,  the verb kerdēthēsontai (“they will be gained”) here has a clear missionary sense: through the quiet, pure and reverent conduct (3:2) of their wives, the author is virtually certain (note the future tense) that their husbands “will be gained” to the Christian faith.

What follows in 1:3-4 is a typical contrast between outward and inner beauty, a contrast not infrequent in the ancient world. In Prov 31:30, for instance, “Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.” Likewise, virtue was valued over beauty in the pagan world, partly because outward adornments were often perceived as instruments of seduction and deception.  In his Enchiridion, Epictetus writes:

Immediately after they are fourteen, women are called “ladies” by men. And so when they see that they have nothing else but only to be bed-fellows of men, they begin to beautify themselves, and put all their hopes in that. It is worth while for us to take pains, therefore, to make them understand that they are honoured for nothing else but only for appearing modest and self-respecting. (40 [Oldfather, LCL])

The author’s instructions against outward adornment, then, probably served a dual purpose. On the one hand, by instructing Christian women to live on the highest level of pagan morality, it served an apologetic function. If a Christian wife was leaving her home without her husband to attend Christian worship, society would perceive that act alone as questionable. By leaving her home unadorned, however, her pure intentions would be all the more clear.  On the other hand, simplicity of lifestyle ought to be a Christian characteristic, as was taught by Jesus himself (cf. Matt 6:19-34, e.g.). While some of the early church fathers understood this as a wholesale prohibition against any external adornment, this clearly goes well beyond what the text says.

Set over against lavish external adornment is “the secret person [ho kruptos … anthrōpos]” within one’s heart (3:4), which in this context refers to a disposition hidden from public view, visible directly only to God. Both the language and the message echo Matt 6, in which Jesus repeatedly stresses that “the Father, who sees what is done in secret [tōi kruptōi], will reward you” (6:4; cf. 6:6, 18).  It is this true self—the self “of” or “within the heart” if we take the genitive as qualitative, or the hidden self “which is the heart” if it is appositive—whose adornment is important.

This internal adornment is to be accompanied by  “the imperishable quality of a humble and quiet spirit,” qualities modeled by Jesus himself (cf. Matt 11:29; 21:5). “Gentleness” or “humbleness” (prautēs) in the Greek world was a highly prized social virtue in human relationships that contrasted with roughness, bad temper, sudden anger, and brusqueness. It was viewed as an adornment of the soul and a virtue especially prized in women.  For our author, however, such virtues are ideal not only for women, but for the entire Christian community (cf. 3:16). In this instance, the two virtues “humble” and “quiet” together form the ideal response to slander by husbands and others.  Such virtues would not only please the pagan husbands, but they are also, and most importantly, “most precious before God.”

To underline the preciousness of inward virtue, the author appeals to the lives of “the holy women” of the past “who hoped in God.” The phrase houtōs gar … kai (“for in the same way … also”) introduces 3:5-6 as a support for the exhortation given in 3:1-4. While groups of people are called “holy” in the NT, the phrase “holy women” (hai hagiai) is unique in the NT. It is probably true, as many commentators have suggested,  that the following reference to Sarah (3:6a) indicates that the author has in mind the matriarchs of the family of Abraham, though it may be a general reference to the women of Israel. Whoever these OT exemplars may be, their example is clear: “As those who hoped in God they decked themselves out, as is explained by means of the participle upotassamenai, with subordination to their husbands.”

This is also true for the explicitly named Sarah, whom the author presents as a model for submission because she called her husband “master” (3:6). It is important to note, as Elliott has, that kurios (“lord/master”) here reflects the conventional Hellenistic and Jewish view of the wife as under the authority of her husband, who by marriage legally became her “lord.”  It need not imply anything more. Genesis 18:12 (LXX) is the only lexical connection between the OT story of Sarah and Peter’s claim. Here Sarah refers to Abraham as her kurios; however, she does not address him by that term directly and, moreover, she appears more disrespectful of him than obedient to him. Indeed, the verb ὑπακούω or any other verb meaning “to obey” is never used in the LXX with reference to Sarah’s relationship with Abraham. To the contrary, Abraham is said to have obeyed Sarah in Gen 16:2; and in Gen 21:12, God tells Abraham to do whatever Sarah tells him to do.  This was apparently an embarrassment to Philo and Josephus, whose softer and more self-effacing portraits of Sarah may reflect a long-standing interpretive milieu.

As Kiley points out, if the author’s emphasis is upon obedience, then the motifs of Genesis 12 and 20 may form the relevant background for the reference to 18:12. In these episodes, Sarah is portrayed as submitting to her husband’s questionable ruses, perhaps intended by our author as a parallel to the Christian wife called to suffer and the husband who disobeys the Word. The author’s reflection on the Abraham-Sarah story, then, may be meant to establish her “not just as a model of obedience but as a model of those wives who obey their spouses in an unjust and frightening situation in a foreign land/hostile environment.”

It is also quite possible that intertestamental literature lies in the background. In particular, T. Martin has compellingly argued that Testament of Abraham illuminates the background for this reference because it contains several situations in which Sarah calls Abraham “lord” and obeys him. Furthermore, Sarah is conceived as the “mother of the elect” and appears as an example of good deeds and fearlessness.  Jobes is probably correct that our author is most likely drawing on Jewish interpretive tradition, of which all of the above suggestions are a part, without intending a choice of any one passage from Genesis or any other text in order to understand this reference to Sarah.  The author wishes to present Sarah, who in Jewish tradition is a virtuous woman by obedience to her husband, as an exemplar of the inward virtue the wives have been called to put on.

The author turns to the final segment of his household code with an exhortation to Christian husbands (3:7). The husbands, like the wives (homoiōs), are to fulfill the Christian duty set forth in the imperatives of 2:17, but obviously under different social circumstances. This is done “by living together [sunoikountes]”  with their wives in accordance with the knowledge that she is “the weaker vessel.” The use of the comparative adjective “weaker” (asthenesteros)—probably a reference to physical rather than spiritual or moral weakness—clearly implies that both men and women are “vessels” and so should not be taken to imply anything degrading.

Commentators have perhaps too quickly assumed that the females in view are the believing wives of Christian husbands.  Kelly argues that since “in the circumstances of ancient society their wives and families must normally have conformed [to the religion of the husband], … there is no need to deal with the agonizing problems, and missionary opportunities, of mixed marriages.”  While it is true that the Greco-Roman social mores expected the wife to follow the religion of her husband, it must be emphasized that this was an expectation and not a rule or a law. Indeed, we know from 1 Cor 7:12-16 that there were Christian husbands married to unbelieving wives in the earliest churches. Moreover, if the husbands addressed in this exhortation have believing wives, the pattern of the household code (i.e. slaves with unbelieving masters [2:18-25], wives with unbelieving husbands [3:1-6]) is discontinuous.

Carl Gross has proposed that the structure of the Greek in the verse and its context in the Petrine Haustafel suggest that the husbands addressed in this verse are most likely married to wives who are not Christian.  If this is the case, the clause hōs kai sugklēronomois karitos zōēs should be understood to mean that the husband should impart honor to his non-Christian wife “as [he imparts honor] also to coheirs of the grace of life,” presumably with the same evangelistic intent as the wives who have non-Christian husbands. In any case, it is clear that for the Christian wife, her status as a coheir levels the spiritual ground between her and her Christian husband. We see, then, the reformation, though not the outright abolition, of the patriarchal culture.

The final hina (“in order that”) clause indicates the seriousness with which our author takes the exhortation for men to treat their wives honorably as coheirs of God’s grace. They must treat their wives with honor “in order that [their] prayers might not be hindered.” While it is grammatically possible that the genitive plural pronoun humōn (“you”) could be construed to mean that the prayers of both men and women will be hindered,  Achtemeier is quite right to note that there is nothing in the context to lead one to assume that the pronoun refers to anyone but the men in this verse. Furthermore, “[t]he notion that God would ignore the prayers of women who are not treated in a Christian way would be to punish the weak who are abused, an idea hardly in accord with Christian tradition about the relation of God to the downtrodden.”  The point, then, is clear: God is so offended by men who treat women as inferior that such treatment may result in the Christian husband’s inability to communicate with God.

Conclusion

The exhortation, “Wives, be submissive” would not have come as a surprise in the context of the Greco-Roman society where it was first heard. As we have seen, the widespread adoption of the Aristotelian household ethic resulted in a milieu in which the perceived inferiority and subjection of women was not only the norm, but was indeed expected in an Empire modeled on household relationships. The domestic code of 1 Peter, however, rejects Rome’s insistence upon the absolute religious and social subordination of women to their husbands. To Christian women with Christian husbands today, this exhortation no longer conveys the message as it would have been heard in the first-century Mediterranean. Balch comments:

The very words which those early slaves and wives understood gave them more independence, freedom, and power in a repressive, hierarchical, patriarchical Roman society are now interpreted to mean that Christian women should have less freedom than their secular counterparts.

Our author’s intent clearly was not outright abolition of the patriarchal culture, but reformation of it. He insists that women stand equally with men before God as coheirs of God’s salvific eschatological grace of eternal life. There is no higher status than this. If contemporary Christians will read 1 Peter in this light, there is no basis for denigration or relegation of women to an inferior status in this text.

Following is the first part of a paper I recently wrote on the christology of the prologue to John’s Gospel, which happens to be my favorite passage out of my favorite book out of my favorite corpus in the entire Canon.

I’ve transliterated the Hebrew and Greek so that it will—I hope—be fairly accessible. I’ll post the rest later, since it’s too long for a single entry.

Translation

1:1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was fully God. 2This one was in the beginning with God. 3All things were created through him, and apart from him not even one thing was created. What has come about 4in him was life, and that life was the light of humanity. 5And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not receive/overtake it.

6(A man appeared, sent from God, his name was John. 7This one came as a witness in order that he might testify about the light, in order that all might believe through him. 8That one was not the light, but [he came] in order that he might testify about the light.)

9The true light, which gives light to every human being, was coming into the world. 10He was in the world, and the world was created through him, and the world did not know him. 11He came unto his own, and his own did not receive him. 12But as many as received him, he gave to them power to become children of God—that is, to those who believe in his name, 13who were born not from blood nor from the will of flesh nor from the will of man, but from God.

14And the Word became flesh and tabernacled among us, and we beheld his glory, glory as of the only posterity from the Father, full of grace and truth. 15(John bore witness about him and has cried out, saying, “This one was the one about whom I said, ‘He who comes after me ranks ahead of me, because he existed before me.’”) 16For from his fullness we all received, namely grace in place of grace. 17For the Law was given through Moses; grace and peace came about through Jesus Christ. 18No one has ever seen God. The only posterity, himself God, who is in the bosom of the Father, he has made him known.

I. Introduction

The Problem of the Prologue

Before pursuing the Christology of the Johannine prologue, it is first necessary to attend briefly to the problem of the prologue to John’s gospel, namely the question of its origin, redaction, and hymnic structure. The prologue (usually regarded as John 1:1-18) appears to stand by itself as an introductory hymn or poem, prefixed to the gospel either as an original composition by the evangelist  or as an originally separate composition—perhaps a hymn of the Johannine community—adapted more or less successfully to its present situation.

As E. Käsemann has aptly put it, “the state of this discussion is not a happy one.”   Indeed, the structure and origin of the prologue to John’s gospel has been a matter of vigorous debate among a wide range of scholars and has resulted in an equally wide range of theories. R. Butlmann has argued that it originates from an Aramaic hymn of the Baptist community, translated, edited, and deployed by the evangelist as the introduction to his gospel.  C. K. Barrett, on the other hand, rejects Bultmann’s hypothesis of an Aramaic origin, and furthermore denies the poetic/hymnic structure of the prologue altogether.  R. Schnackenburg, convinced that the prologue was not originally the work of the evangelist, rejects any lines containing Johannine characteristics as the evangelist’s own additions.

Most recently the prevalent conviction, and indeed the preferable one, is that the prologue is based on an originally independent poem or hymn which was adopted and adapted by the evangelist for the beginning of his gospel. Käsemann agrees, offering in addition, rightly I think, that the evangelist interpolated the parenthetical prose notations about John the Baptist at 1:6-8 and 1:15. This is the view that will be taken up in this essay.

The opinions regarding the hymnic structure of the prologue are myriad. Since it is not the purpose of this essay to deal with the complexities of its arrangement, we will assume the following four-strophe construction. The first strophe consists of 1:1-3b and proclaims the pre-existence and divinity of the Logos and his role in creation. The second (1:3c-8) describes the Logos in terms of the life and indistinguishable light of humanity. The third strophe (1:9-13) laments the rejection of the Logos in humanity. The fourth (1:14-18) finally praises the saving work of the Logos through the Incarnation and his revelation of the Father.  These Christological motifs in the prologue create a tension in which the reader has been informed of the “who” and “what” of the Incarnate Logos, preparing the reader to learn the “how” of God’s saving work through Jesus in the body of the Gospel.  Bultmann eloquently explains the importance of these motifs for understanding the rest of the Gospel: “Because they are half comprehensible, half mysterious, they arouse the tension, and awaken the question which is essential if [the reader] is going to understand what is going to be said.”

The Prologue and the Wisdom Tradition

That the Johannine prologue, and indeed the entire Gospel, has as its background the Jewish Wisdom tradition has long been recognized. C. H. Dodd has given an impressive list of parallels between the Johannine prologue and the Wisdom literature, from which it is apparent that the prologue—and the first fourteen verses in particular—appear to be a patchwork of phrases in praise of Wisdom (Sophia).  According to the Wisdom literature, “The LORD created me [Wisdom] at the beginning of his work … before the beginning of the earth” (Prov 8:22-23); in the prologue of John, “In the beginning was the Logos” (1:1). In Prov 8:29-30, Wisdom says of herself, “when he [God] marked out the foundations of the earth, then I was beside him;” likewise, the Logos of John’s Gospel “was in the beginning with God” (1:2). Wisdom of Solomon praises Wisdom as “the fashioner of all things” (7:22); of the Johannine Logos it is said that “all things were created through him” (1:3). Wisdom is said to be “a reflection of eternal light” (Wis 7:26); the Logos is “the light of humanity” (John 1:4). Perhaps most striking of all, Wisdom “appeared on earth and lived with humankind” (Bar 3:37), being commanded by God to “Make your [Wisdom’s] dwelling [kataskēnōson] in Jacob” (Sir 24:8); the Johannine Logos “became flesh and dwelled [eskēnōsen] among us” (1:14). Naturally, more parallels could be drawn; however these suffice to show that there can be little doubt about the dependence of the content of the Johannine prologue upon the Jewish writers in the Wisdom tradition.

Brown, Barrett, and others have offered additional parallels with Jewish tradition, most notably “the word of the LORD” (dbr YHWH) in the Hebrew OT and Jewish speculation on the Torah.  Many of the functions ascribed to the Logos in the prologue to John’s Gospel are in fact functions ascribed to the dbr YHWH in the OT. For instance, it is “by the word of the LORD [dbr YHWH] the heavens were made” in Ps 33:6; and in Wis 9:1, Solomon begins: “O God … who have made all things by your word [logōi].” There appears to be an overlap, then, between Wisdom and Word in Jewish tradition, though Brown notes that Wisdom is never called the word of God.  However, in Sir 24:3 Wisdom claims, “I came forth from the mouth of the Most High.”

From the wisdom tradition of Sir 24:23-25, it appears that Wisdom was also identified with the Torah: “All this is the book of the covenant of the Most High God, the law that Moses commanded us. … It overflows, like the Pishon, with wisdom.”  Moreover, Bar 4:1 says of Wisdom: “She is the book of the commandments of God, the law that endures forever.” It would appear, then, that J. Painter is correct to say that Word, Law, and Wisdom had come to be used interchangeably in the Wisdom literature. Thus, the themes of Wisdom, Word, and Law in the Jewish Wisdom tradition have much in common with, and are clearly background for, the Johannine prologue’s use of “the Logos.”

II. The Logos and Prehistory (John 1:1-3b)

The Pre-existence of the Logos

Like Gen 1:1 (LXX), the prologue to John’s Gospel begins with “in the beginning” (en archē). Here, however, the language relates not to the act of creation, but to what was already in existence with God before creation happened, namely “the Word.” Quite unlike the created being Word/Wisdom/Torah of the Wisdom literature (cf. Prov 8:22-23; Sir 24:9, e.g.), the Logos of John’s Gospel was, in the words of Martin Hengel, “the eternal being of the Word right from eternity.” 

Here we must pause to ask the question, Why does John designate Jesus as Word? It has already been shown that Word, Wisdom, and Torah had come to be used interchangeably in the Wisdom tradition; John chose Word. It is probably true, as many have noted, that Torah was excluded because John wished to contrast the incarnate Word with the Law. Indeed, he does so already in verses 16-17 of the prologue. Wisdom was also unsuitable, both because it is a feminine noun and, more importantly, because the Wisdom christology was defective. J. Painter proposes that John chose Word, furthermore, because

[t]he use of λόγος expressed the theme of revelation dynamically, drawing together a number of themes, thus uniting the creative Word (Gen 1.1; Ps 33.6), the prophetic Word and the incarnate Word who himself is the Word of God, speaks the Word of God and is proclaimed in the preaching of the Church.

This Word is not only said to be present with God before creation came into being, however. This Word was God. Despite some arguments to the contrary,  the phrase kai theos ēn ho logos does not mean “and the Word was a god” here, nor does it simply mean “and the word was of the category of divinity,” as Haenchen prefers to translate it. Many years ago, E. C. Colwell observed the rule that definite predicate nouns usually lack the article when they precede the copulative verb. Colwell’s treatment of our particular phrase is worth quoting:

The absence of the article does not make the predicate indefinite or qualitative when it precedes the verb; it is indefinite in this position only when the context demands it. The context makes no such demand in the Gospel of John, for this statement cannot be regarded as strange in the prologue of the gospel which reaches its climax in the confession of Thomas.

Moreover, M. Endo has pointed out that John 1:1-2 form a chiastic structure, causing the predicate noun theos to precede the subject ho logos. Thus, the article was taken from theos in order to make clear which noun is the subject.

But the absence of the article before theos in fact has something more to say. C. K. Barrett is quite right to note that if ho theos had been written, it would have been implied that the Logos is the only being who is God, that is, that no divine being exists outside of the second person of the Trinity. Furthermore, Colwell’s rule does not rule out the possibility that the anarthrous predicate noun may have a qualitative nuance while still being definite; hence, “the Word was fully God.” The anarthrous noun certainly makes this reading possible, if not preferable, and moreover emphasizes the fact that the Logos is of the same essence as God the Father. Of course, if any question remains regarding whether the Logos is still distinct in person from God the Father, it is clarified in the following verse: “He was in the beginning with God.”

The Logos and Creation

In light of the reference to Gen 1:1 in the first words of the prologue, the narrator now speaks of the presence of the Logos in creation. The Logos is asserted to be the mediator of all creation, both positively and negatively. “Everything by the Logos, nothing without him,” says Bultmann. Until 1:3, the imperfect ēn was the only verb used, expressing the timelessness of the Logos and his relationship to God. The switch to the aorist egeneto in 1:3ab looks back to the finished creative work of God in the past as an act that has already revealed the Logos. “The fact that the Word creates means that creation is an act of revelation.”

III. The Logos, Life and Light (John 1:3c-8)

The Logos as Light in the Darkness

At the beginning of the second strophe, the verb tense quickly shifts once again to the perfect gegonen. Having moved from timeless prehistory in the imperfect tense (1:1-2) to the completed creative act of God through the Logos in the aorist tense (1:3ab), the narrator now shifts from creation to history (1:3c-4). The perfect tense describes an event that took place in the past which has continuing relevance, namely in this case the coming about of life in the Logos.

According to the best textual witnesses (including

With all of the interest in the historical Jesus and early Christianity as of late brought on by books like The DaVinci Code, the Discovery Channel documentary on the so-called “Jesus Tomb,” and National Geographic’s release of the Gospel of Judas translation, it has become well-known that the Greek word Matthew uses in 1:22, which we usually translate “virgin,” does not agree with the original Hebrew text of the Isaiah prophecy from which Matthew is drawing. Matthew, in fact, is quoting the Septuagint (LXX), in which the Greek word parthenos was chosen by translators for the Hebrew word ‘almah used in Is 7:14. The problem is, these words don’t seem to have the same meaning. Parthenos usually means “virgin.” This is whence we get our common English translation of Matt 1:22, “Behold, a virgin shall conceive.” ‘Almah, however, does not necessarily imply virginity at all; rather, it means “a young woman of marriable age.”

Moreover, this prophecy which Matthew appears to be using to support the idea of virginal conception is historically specific. In Is 7:1, we find the historical context of this prophecy:

When Ahaz son of Jotham, the son of Uzziah, was king of Judah, King Rezin of Aram and Pekah son of Remaliah king of Israel marched up to fight against Jerusalem, but they could not overpower it.

In 7:2-9, it is predicted that their threat to Jerusalem will fail. Isaiah then challenges Ahaz, “Ask the LORD your God for a sign…” (v. 11), to which Ahaz responds, “I will not ask; I will not put the LORD to the test” (v. 12). Isaiah then rebukes Ahaz, “Will you try the patience of my God also? Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign” (vv. 13b-14a). Immediately following is the prediction that “a virgin shall conceive and bear a son” called Emmanuel (v. 14). Isaiah firmly ties Emmanuel’s birth to the threatened invasion in the verses which follow:

“… for before the boy knows enough to reject the wrong and choose the right, the land of the two kings you dread will be laid waste. The LORD will bring on you and on your people and on the house of your father a time unlike any since Ephraim broke away from Judah—he will bring the king of Assyria.” (vv. 16-17)

The point here is that, if Matthew interprets Is 7:14 as a text prophesying the virginal conception of Jesus, he may be grossly misinterpreting it—not forgetting, of course, that the word Isaiah originally wrote doesn’t mean “virgin” anyway. If indeed this is Matthew’s intention here, we who believe in the virginal conception have a rather serious problem.

But what if Matthew isn’t using this quotation from Is 7:14 in that way at all? That is to say, what if Matthew is quoting this text, not as a citation of an OT prophecy about a first-century A.D. virgin birth, but rather because he wants to portray the birth of Jesus, like that of Emmanuel, as a divine saving presence in the world? If this is the case, Matthew’s emphasis here is not on the word parthenos (“virgin”)—which relieves us of the translation issue—but on the the word Emmanuel, which means “God with us.”

There is a helpful article from Biblical Archaeology Review (BAR) entitled “Does the Gospel of Matthew Proclaim Mary’s Virginity?” in which Charles Isbell argues very compellingly for this interpretation. First, he establishes that neither ‘almah nor parthenos has the inherent meaning of “virgin.” He cites texts from both the Old and the New Testaments where both words are used of virgins and non-virgins. Since neither word alone is sufficient to express the idea of virginity, Isbell argues and provides examples that, both in Hebrew and Greek, biblical writers used standard, very specific phrases to describe a woman whose virginal status they want to leave without doubt. For example,

the narrator in Genesis 24 wished to describe Rebeccah as a virgin. And so he clearly stated the fact that “no man had known her” (Genesis 24:16). He could refer to Rebeccah as a bethulah [which normally means "virgin" in Hebrew] (Genesis 24:16), as an ’almah (Genesis 24:43), or as a na’arah (Genesis 24:14, Genesis 24:28 etc.). But her virginity could not be certified by any one of these terms; that is why he pointedly declared that “no man had known her.” Such a phrase, unlike bethulah or any other vocabulary word in Hebrew, was totally unambiguous. A similar phrase is consistently used throughout Biblical literature whenever the author wished to stipulate clearly that a certain woman was a “virgin,” and the use of such phrases can be traced back at least as early as the Code of Hammurapi. (Isbell)

In light of Isbell’s observation, we see now that if one wants to know whether or not the evangelists thought Mary to be a virgin when she conceived, one must look not to particular words, but to the phrases which they chose to describe her sexual status. Indeed, Matthew does use such phrases. For example, in 1:18, he uses specific language to make clear that Joseph did not father Jesus before his marriage to Mary (“before they came together”). Furthermore, 1:25 clearly states that Joseph abstained from having sexual intercourse with Mary until after Jesus was born.

What does all this mean? First, it means that the text of Is 7:14 has nothing to do with the idea of a virginal conception, neither in the MT nor in the LXX nor in Matthew. Second, it means that Matthew did not misinterpret Is 7:14; on the contrary, he is recalling the same historical event of which Isaiah speaks. Rather, it is Christians who have commonly misinterpreted Matthew’s purpose for the citation of Is 7:14, which was to recall God’s hand at work bringing hope to his people who were in desperate need of salvation, and also to say, especially to his Jewish readers, “Hey! Remember when this happened? God has done it again—only this time it’s through Jesus, and he has brought hope and salvation to the entire world!” Finally, it means that even though neither Matthew nor Isaiah intended for Is 7:14 to speak of a virginal conception, we still have plenty of very specific scriptural statements regarding Mary’s virginity. Thus, we can still say with confidence, “We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ … [who] was incarnate of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary …”.

For more, see Charles D. Isbell, “Does the Gospel of Matthew Proclaim Mary’s Virginity?” Biblical Archeology Review 3/2 (June 1977), 18-19; John Schmidtt, “Virgin,” Anchor Bible Dictionary, 6:853-54, ed. David Noel Freedman et al. (New York: Doubleday, 1992); and Gerhard Delling, “παρθένος,” Theoligical Dictionary of the New Testament, 5:826-37, ed. G. Kittel and G. Friedrich (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1967).

Readability is important. For some, ye Olde Englishe of the KJV, which of course is no longer spoken, is perfectly intelligible and indeed preferable. That is fine. However, most readers require a modern dialect, and many, furthermore, require one written in natural English idiom. Ultimately, there is no hard and fast rule for choosing a Bible translation; it is an issue of one’s own needs and preferences. It is true that when it comes to choosing a Bible translation, one size does not fit all.

Following are some considerations to make when choosing a translation.

1. Age

Getting children to read the Bible (or listen as it is read to them) is often no easy task. It should go without saying that the KJV isn’t a good choice for a kid; yet, believe it or not, there exists a KJV Kids’ Study Bible. There are several good translations available at children’s reading level (and no, the KJV is not one of them), such as the New International Readers Version (NIrV), the International Children’s Bible (ICB), and the New Century Version (NCV). Let’s compare a couple of these translations with the NASB:

NASB: Beware of practicing your righteousness before men to be noticed by them; otherwise you have no reward with your Father who is in heaven.

NIrV: Be careful not to do ‘good works’ in front of others. Don’t do it to be seen by others. If you do, your Father in heaven will not reward you.

NCV: Be careful! When you do good things, don’t do them in front of people to be seen by them. If you do that, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.

For older children and teens, the NLT is a very good choice. The NIV and TNIV are also good choices and are less dynamic than the NLT, but they are on a slightly higher reading level.

Once one is old enough to read and understand a variety of English translations, choosing a translation really becomes a matter of preference and purpose.

2. Level of Education

There are plenty of adults who still have trouble reading and understanding “literal” translations. For adults with a high school education or less, the GNT/TEV and NLT are good translations and are certainly easier to read and understand than “literal” translations like the KJV, NASB, and even the ESV. If the GNT/TEV and NLT are too pariphrastic, the NIV, TNIV, and NJB are all good, quite readable translations which fall somewhere between the easy to read but highly dynamic translations like the NLT and the difficult to understand but more “literal” translations like the NASB.

The following table organizes popular translations by reading level. The data has been compiled from publishers’ web sites, and of course it is subjective.

3. How Will It Be Used?

One final consideration is the purpose for which the Bible is being purchased. Is it for devotional reading or serious study? Will it be used just for following along at church, teaching your Sunday school class, or public readings? We have already established in an early post that for serious Bible study, more “literal” translations are most appropriate for those who can’t read the original languages. For private devotional reading, however, a more dynamic translation may be preferable. The English of the KJV was intentionally crafted to be beautiful and literary (and it still is even 400 years later) and as such might also be preferable to some for devotional reading. If the Bible is simply for following along at church, for most it is easiest to read the translation normally used at your church.

Ultimately, these things are a matter of personal preference; however, purpose is an important consideration which is often overlooked when choosing a translation.

Stay tuned for the next installment: “Gender Accurate Language”.

Ask a typical evangelical Christian what will happen to his soul when he dies, and he will likely respond, “Well, it will go straight to heaven, of course.” Having been surrounded by evangelical Protestantism my whole life (I grew up in evangelical churches, attended preschool and elementary school at an evangelical Christian academy, graduated from an evangelical Christian university, and am now studying at an evangelical theological institution) this is what I grew up hearing and believing. As such, the Roman Catholic notion of purgatory, the Eastern Orthodox idea that the soul awaits final judgment in the ‘abode of the dead,’ and the like were off-limits because they were too “Catholic”—and frankly, they seemed rather fantastical to me anyway.

Now, however, try as I might, I simply cannot reconcile the common evangelical Protestant understanding of the course of the afterlife with both Scripture and reason. As a result, I’ve found that the notion of some intermediate state between death and heaven (though not the Catholic dogma of purgatory) to better suit both my own reasoning (inasmuch as I have actually reasoned it out) and what little can be gleaned from Scripture. My rationale follows.

1. Scripture has precious little to say about the matter, at least in explicit terms. What can be gleaned comes only through implicit references, many of which, at times, seem inconsistent. Evangelicals sometimes argue that in fact there are explicit passages supporting the oft-quoted mantra “to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord”—which, by the way, is not at all what Paul says in 2 Cor 5:8. Indeed, there are at most a handful of passages that, at first glance, may seem to support this common Evangelical view in a fairly straightforward way (cf. e.g. Deut 18:10-12; 2 Cor 5:8; Phil 1:21-23; 1 Pet 3:18). Space, unfortunately, will not allow for a detailed exegetical discussion here. When read carefully and honestly, however, it is quite apparent that these passages no more explicitly support the notion of immediate entrance into heaven at death than the notion of something like purgatory. Some of them, in fact, are about something else altogether.

To be fair, the passages cited by Roman Catholics in support of purgatory are sketchy as well (cf. e.g. Matt 18:23-25; 1 Cor 3:11-15; 1 Pet 3:19; 2 Tim 1:16-18; Rev 21:27), though this hardly needs mention to a readership which I imagine is by and large Protestant.

It seems clear to me, then, that the precise course of the afterlife cannot be definitively determined sola scriptura. But Scripture does not rule out either of these views—no, not even something like purgatory!

2. God cannot tolerate the presence of sin. This is a rudimentary theme that dominates Scripture, from Genesis to Revelation. If God cannot tolerate the presence of sin, then one cannot enter God’s full presence if one is not entirely pure in heart, that is to say in Wesleyan terms, entirely sanctified (cf. Rev 21:27).

So, what of those who aren’t yet entirely sanctified when they die? Their debt has been paid and they will surely enter heaven, but they cannot enter still marred to any degree by sin. The encounter with God requires holiness. I am not satisfied with the Catholic explanation, namely, that souls in purgatory are less than completely happy and need our prayers to get out. However, Protestant theology, as I perceive it, has failed to satisfactorily answer the question it was left with when it rejected the doctrine of purgatory five hundred years ago.

3. The final judgment has not yet occurred. Obviously. In general, Christians agree that when one dies, one experiences particular judgment, that is, the immediate judgment of one’s eternal destiny. And then what until the final judgment? Here is where the road splits in many directions. Without taking the time to expound all of the nuances and distinctions of Christian theology on this matter, all of which I am not familiar with anyway, I will simply say that the Eastern Orthodox explication of the state of the soul between particular judgment and final judgment is the most satisfactory to my own reasoning.

The Eastern Orthodox understanding is that after death, the soul awaits the final judgment in the ‘abode of the dead.’ Depending on whether one is judged righteous or unrighteous at particular judgment, one’s experience while awaiting final judgment will be that of paradise or suffering—a foretaste of one’s ultimate destiny after the final judgment, but not yet the full experience of heaven or hell. Calvin held a very similar understanding. For me, this explanation deals most directly and logically with the position of the soul between the particular and final judgments and the bodily resurrection, though it is not without difficulties, of course.

4. It’s tradition. Like it or not, Protestants, tradition is highly important to Christian theology—and I’m not talking about red carpet and hymn books. When Scripture is vague on certain questions of theology, we must look to the next most authoritative thing, which is Christian tradition. Much of what Christians understand about God, salvation, etc. that cannot be found explicitly within the pages of Scripture has been handed down to us from the very earliest Christians, who were instructed by the apostles, who were students of Jesus. Although in many cases it took several hundred years before certain doctrines became fully developed, most can ultimately be traced back to, or at least very near to, apostolic teaching. Christian tradition, then, must be authoritative (though, of course, it certainly is not infallible).

The dogmatic definition of purgatory and the name “purgatory” were not developed until the thirteenth century. The idea that souls await the final judgment and resurrection in some intermediate state, however, was dominant from Christianity’s inception. It may be found in rather precise terms in the writings of many of the Church Fathers, such as Irenaeus (c. 130-202), Clement (c. 150-215), Origen (c. 185-254), Chrysostom (c. 347-407), and Augustine (354-430).

My hunch is that when the reformer Martin Luther rightly rejected the doctrine of purgatory in the sixteenth century, his contention was primarily with the practice of indulgences, and that contention is what resulted ultimately in his rejection of any such intermediate state, as well as the idea of prayer for the dead. I could be wrong, of course. But it is certain that when Luther rejected the notion of the intermediate state and prayer for the dead, he discounted and discarded 1500 years of Christian tradition. Perhaps he was right—but 1500 years of Christian tradition handed down from the earliest Church Fathers, and perhaps even the apostles and Jesus, is a thing with which to be carefully and prayerfully reckoned.

Conclusion

Plenty more could be said, naturally. I certainly wouldn’t presume to claim that I have it all worked out. After thinking on this for a while, however, I am inclined to believe that some intermediate state—though surely not the Catholic dogma of purgatory—indeed does exist, and necessarily must. Perhaps it is the case that at death, souls experience particular judgment and then await the final judgment and the bodily resurrection in the abode of the dead, either in paradise or anguish, at which time those souls who are not yet entirely sanctified may become prepared to enjoy God’s full presence in heaven. Perhaps I’m wrong.

I’m anticipating a lot of contention and hopefully some good discussion. What do you think?

We’ve already established that there’s no such thing as a truly literal translation, since at least some interpretation is necessary for the sake of coherence. But, as it was mentioned earlier, there are some very good nearly literal translations available. (We’ll henceforth refer to these as “literal” translations.) Among these are the New American Standard Bible (NASB), the English Standard Version (ESV), and, yes, the King James Version (KJV) and the New King James Version (NKJV).

What exactly is literal about “literal” translations, then? These translations attempt to preserve in their renderings the subtleties of the original Greek and Hebrew texts, such as grammatical features (tense, voice, mood, gender, etc.), syntactical patterns, word order, and rhetorical devices. Following is an example from James 3:18. The Greek text with a word-for-word translation is given first, followed by the ESV rendering.

καρδὸς δὲ δικαιοσύνης ἐν εἰρήνῃ σπείρεται τοῖς ποιοῦσιν εἰρήνην.
a harvest and of righteousness in peace is sown by those who make peace.

ESV: And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.

On the one hand, these sorts of translations have particular advantages for serious Bible study, because they allow readers to better see how the meaning was expressed in the original text. This is useful, for example, for word studies and, since “literal” translations attempt to preserve verb tense, for discerning temporal distinctions (e.g. there is a difference, albeit subtle, between saying “Christ rose from the dead” and “Christ has risen from the dead”). On the other hand, “literal” translations often preserve the subtleties of the original text at the expense of natural English expression; that is to say, “literal” translations aren’t always easy to understand and, moreover, aren’t always faithful to the thought of the original text.

Dynamic or idiomatic translations are easier to read than “literal” translations because, rather than following a word-for-word translation of the original text, they attempt to render the text thought-for-thought. In other words, dynamic translations are not concerned with preserving the grammar and word order of the original texts so long as the meaning is preserved. This allows for more natural, and therefore more readable, English style, generally without compromising the meaning of the text.

Most modern translations fall into this category; however, the spectrum of dynamic translations is such that some are more conservative in their use of dynamic equivalence, and others more liberal. On the more conservative end of this spectrum fall, for example, the New International Version (NIV) and Today’s New International Version (TNIV), the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV), and the New Jerusalem Bible (NJB). Those which use dynamic equivalence more freely include the New Living Translation (NLT), the Good News Bible/Today’s English Version (GNB/TEV), and the Contemporary English Version (CEV). In the following renderings of James 3:18, notice the differences between the two extremes of dynamic equivalence, as well as the differences between the dynamic translations and the “literal” translation from the ESV above:

NIV: Peacemakers who sow in peace raise a harvest of righteousness.

NLT: And those who are peacemakers will plant seeds of peace and reap a harvest of righteousness.

The obvious advantage of dynamic translations has already been mentioned: since they attempt to render the English more naturally, they are easier to read than “literal” translations, and can even occasionally be more faithful to the thought of the original texts. On the other hand, dynamic translations often sacrifice literalness for readability. This isn’t a bad thing, as we’ve seen; however, for this reason, dynamic translations (especially the freer ones) are less suited for serious Bible study than “literal” translations. That is not to say, of course, that one cannot conduct a meaningful study of scripture from, say, the NIV. It is to say, however, that when reading from dynamic translations, one should avoid jumping to interpretive conclusions based on minutiae of grammar, word order, etc. without first consulting a more “literal” rendering of the text.

Paraphrases are something else altogether—namely, they are paraphrases, not translations. In other words, paraphrased versions are the authors’ interpretations of the Biblical text, written in their own words. Essentially, a paraphrase is its author’s commentary on the Bible. There are two types: those which paraphrase the original Greek and Hebrew texts, such as The Message and The New Testament in Modern English; and those which paraphrase English translations, such as The Living Bible. Both attempt to interpret and summarize the meaning of the original text; neither attempts to translate it. Here is how The Message renders James 3:18. Compare it with the renderings of the ESV, NIV, and NLT above.

MSG: You can develop a healthy, robust community that lives right with God and enjoy its results only if you do the hard work of getting along with each other, treating each other with dignity and honor.

The difference between a paraphrase and a translation should be apparent: The Message rendering of James 3:18 is essentially what the text means, but it isn’t what it actually says.

So, should you use a paraphrase? Sure. If the plain English of a paraphrased version helps you understand scripture, why not? However, if it is important to realize that a translation is not inspired, it is all the more important to realize that a paraphrase is not inspired! Furthermore, when using a paraphrase, it is always best to read it alongside a good translation. Rule of thumb: use a paraphrase to help understand the meaning of the text, or to hear it in a different way; don’t use a paraphrase as if it is the text itself—because it isn’t.

Next episode: “What’s My Age Again?” Stay tuned.