My friend and colleague Steve Runge recently blogged about "Paying Attention to 'This' and 'That'" on the Logos Bible Software blog. He was showing how paying attention to ουτος and εκεινος can pay dividends in your study of the NT.

For a bonus on the difference between 'near' and 'far', check this Sesame Street clip from YouTube (thanks for the reference, Steve) where Grover makes sure we get the difference between the two.

Now that that's all cleared up, I ran into a stellar example of the difference between ουτος and εκιενος this weekend while reading Second Clement. Here's the text of 2Cl 6.3-5 from Holmes' second edition; pay particular attention to verse 4:

(3) ἔστιν δὲ οὗτος ὁ αἰὼν καὶ ὁ μέλλων δύο ἐχθροί.
(3) This age and the one that is coming are two enemies.

(4) οὗτος λέγει μοιχείαν καὶ φθορὰν καὶ φιλαργυρίαν καὶ ἀπάτην, ἐκεῖνος δὲ τούτοις ἀποτάσσεται.
(4) This one talks about adultery and corruption and greed and deceit, but that one renounces these things.

(5) οὐ δυνάμεθα οὖν τῶν δύο φίλοι εἶναι· δεῖ δὲ ἡμᾶς τούτῳ ἀποταξαμένους ἐκείνῳ χρᾶσθαι.
(5) We cannot, therefore, be friends of both; we must renounce this one in order to experience that one.

Holmes, M. W. (1999). The Apostolic Fathers : Greek texts and English translations (Updated ed.) (110-111). Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Books.

Also interesting is the use of δε in v. 4. This implies development of a point, whereas use of αλλα would likely heighten the contrast.

I've recently finished a first-pass examination of every instance of αλλα in the Apostolic Fathers. While I report numbers here, the big thing to notice are trends; the specific numbers may change as I re-evaluate things between now and November.

There are no surprises in the 352 instances evaluated.

First, αλλα usually occurs with a negated clause or phrase.

• The negator μη (or something very much like it, such as μηδε) is used 82 times.
• The negator ου and its kin are used 188 times (though note some of these are ου μη).

When I say μη or ου, I'm also including things like μη μονον and ουκ μονον and even ουδεν, μηδεν, μηκετι, ουκετι and stuff like that. Maybe not completely and technically accurate, but I have the details down in a spreadsheet I can use later to disambiguate if need be.

There are 76 'clearly' positive (so, no negator on either side of αλλα); there are six that I've found confusing enough to pass on for now. What could be confusing? Sometimes negators are involved, though it is difficult to determine if the entire context is negative, or if something else is going on. These usually involve use of μηδεν.

Recall, my submitted abstract involved examining the "positive" instances, so these instances will be followed up and re-examined.

As mentioned above, the negator occurs both before and after αλλα.

• Of the 82 instances of the negator μη, there is only one that has the negator after αλλα, though there are four instances (e.g. Ign Tral. 5.1) that have negators on both sides of αλλα.
• Of the 188 instances of ου and its kin, 21 instances occur after αλλα (αλλʼ ουκ is a relatively common formation), and seven instances that have negators on both sides of αλλα.

What have I found most interesting? Well, it has to be how the Shepherd of Hermas uses αλλα without negation. Of course, this is the largest item in the corpus of the Apostolic Fathers, but 39 of the 76 'positive' instances are found in the Shepherd. There are some pretty cool things going on in those 39 instances that have no analogue in the New Testament; I'm guessing that I'll end up working through a few of them for the paper as examples of how αλλα functions and what that means for evaluating αλλα from the perspective of discourse analysis.

What's my next step? I have similar data tables for the NT and the Apostolic Fathers. I believe my next step will be to re-evaluate the positive instances in the NT (90 clearly positive instances out of 638; but I have 35 more complex/confusing instances to re-evaluate and classify). After this, I'll be able to really start writing. I've already got a high-level outline in my head, it'll be interesting to see how it fleshes out.

When looking into the use of αλλα, one needs to (at least to some degree) consider the difference between αλλα and δε. Grammarians have hopelessly associated the two together. The conjunction δε is usually described as having "adversative" qualities, though it can also be "continuative" or even "transitional". The primary description of αλλα seems to be that it, as an adversative, is "stronger than δε" (though sometimes it is "transitional" too, they say). So αλλα is the "strong adversative" while δε is the "weak adversative". Or something like that.

And that description is somewhat helpful, but it leaves a lot to be desired. All these different functions/descriptions are based, it seems, on context of usage. When looking at the problem from a discourse level, however, these contextual descriptions don't really help, particularly when the basic recommendation for translation is to just use the English "but" for both cases. That may be accurate translation, but it doesn't really help us understand what is going on in the Greek and what function these two conjunctions have.

What are "strong" and "weak" adversatives? It seems the strong adversative is normally a corrective (and normally a negative particle or adverb is involved); the weak is normally a development of argument of some sort. Here's Hermas, Visions 3.1.9, in Holmes' 2nd edition, first in Greek then in English. This excerpt has two instances of αλλα; we're only interested in the second one for purposes of this blog post. <CP ...> marks the "counterpoint", typically the first phrase/clause that αλλα responds to; <P ... > marks the "point", typically the salient bit of the whole comparison.

(9) <CP θέλοντος οὖν μου καθίσαι εἰς τὰ δεξιὰ μέρη οὐκ εἴασέν με,> ἀλλʼ <P ἐννεύει μοι τῇ χειρὶ ἵνα εἰς τὰ ἀριστερὰ μέρη καθίσω>.
διαλογιζομένου μου οὖν καὶ λυπουμένου
   ὅτι οὐκ εἴασέν με εἰς τὰ δεξιὰ μέρη καθίσαι, λέγει μοι·
      Λυπῇ, Ἑρμᾶ;
         ὁ εἰς τὰ δεξιὰ μέρη τόπος ἄλλων ἐστίν,
            τῶν ἤδη εὐαρεστηκότων τῷ θεῷ
            καὶ παθόντων εἵνεκα τοῦ ὀνόματος·
         <CP σοὶ> δὲ <CP πολλὰ λείπει ἵνα μετʼ αὐτῶν καθίσῃς>·
         ἀλλʼ <P ὡς ἐμμένεις τῇ ἁπλότητί σου,
            μεῖνον,
            καὶ καθιῇ μετʼ αὐτῶν,>
               καὶ ὅσοι ἐὰν ἐργάσωνται τὰ ἐκείνων ἔργα
                  καὶ ὑπενέγκωσιν ἃ καὶ ἐκεῖνοι ὑπήνεγκαν.

Holmes, M. W. (1999). The Apostolic Fathers : Greek texts and English translations (Updated ed.) (346). Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Books.

(9) <CP Then when I wanted to sit down on the right side, she would not let me,> but <P indicated to me with her hand that I should sit on the left side>.
Then as I thought about this and was sad
   because she would not permit me
      to sit on the right side,
   she said to me,
      “Are you sad, Hermas?
         The place on the right side is for others,
            who have already pleased God
            and have suffered for the sake of the Name.
         But [δε] <CP you fall far short of sitting with them.>
         But [αλλα]
            <P persevere in your sincerity,
               as you are now doing,
               and you will sit with them,>
                  as will all who do what they have done
                  and endure what they have endured.”

Holmes, M. W. (1999). The Apostolic Fathers : Greek texts and English translations (Updated ed.) (347). Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Books.

Can you get the sense of the difference between δε and αλλα? Heckert summarizes δε as a "marker of development". In this case, δε is a further development of the preceding statement describing the meaning of the right side. The right side is for others; Hermas has fallen short of the status the others have achieved. The status of the right side and reason for Hermas' exclusion is more clear with the δε statement. This instance of δε would probably normally be classed as a "continuative" or "copulative"; in this instance it represents a further development of the state of those on the right side. In short, those on the right have "already pleased God", Hermas hasn't done this yet, therefore he is not worthy.

After explaining the right side, and why Hermas can't sit there, the good lady offers him some hope. This is the counterpoint, the foil the αλλα statement ends up responding to. Αλλα sits in the middle. Heckert calls αλλα a "marker of contrast". Here, the contrast is between Hermas' falling short of those on the right side, and what Hermas can do to achieve right-side worthiness. In the CP, Hermas can't sit with those on the right side as he is unworthy of them. But in the P, the good lady offers Hermas hope! He can sit with them if he keeps up what he has started.

This gets to what has been cookin' in my thinking concerning the use of αλλα, from the discourse level. I've looked at a lot of instances of αλλα (approaching 1000!) in both the NT and the Apostolic Fathers. When αλλα is used, as Heckert maintains, there is contrast involved. But I also think that when αλλα is used, it is the statement that happens after the αλλα that is being made prominent. That is, in this case, the important bit isn't that Hermas can't sit on the right side. The important bit is that, if he does the right stuff, Hermas will be able to sit on the right side among the honored of God, those who have suffered for the sake of the Name.

In other words, I'm beginning to come to the conclusion that αλλα does involve contrast, as Heckert maintains. With αλλα, there always seems to be a pair of things, whether the comparison/contrast is in the same phrase, in the same clause, in the same sentence, in the same paragraph, or whether the αλλα appears to be contrasting previous content at the discourse level or even contrasting an underlying idea floating in the contextual ether. The αλλα makes the contrast explicit and the content following the αλλα is the more salient bit. It is the reason for the contrast, it is the important piece of the puzzle that keeps the discourse going.

At least, that's where I'm at now. These things may change.

[NB: This post is a bit of a rant, and doesn't really come to an end or conclusion. It's just me thinking by writing, which is one of the most profitable ways I know to work my thoughts out. So, read on. But don't think I'm making conclusions or judgements; my thoughts could completely change. In other words, this is fluid, not static. RWB]

Here are some things about αλλα that I've noticed as I've worked through the 638 NT instances (a few times).

When considering an instance of αλλα, know that most of the time (approx. 85% of the time in the NT), a relationship with a negator of some sort is involved.

Instead of just making the oh-to-common mental note associating αλλα with the English gloss "but" and moving on, look around for the negative to determine what two things are in relationship with each other via αλλα.

Here's what I'm presently calling the "αλλα Funnel":

1: Look for a negator. This will be some form of ου or μη, most likely; or some other word like ουδεις, μηδεις, ουκετι, μηκετι, etc.) Again, around 85% of NT instances of αλλα involve a negator. You need to find it. Note the very small proportion of items that have negators on both sides of the αλλα (3 instances; e.g. 1Co 4.4).

2: First, look up (to the left). Over 75% of αλλα in NT have the negator preceding.

3: Still looking? Okay, look down (to the right). About 10% of αλλα in the NT have a negator following. In this case, the negator is usually ου or ουκ, and it usually follows the αλλα directly.

4: Still looking? Well, there are 15% or so instances of αλλα in the NT that do not seem to involve a negator. This is the minority case, so look again (up and down) to be sure.

5: Still looking? Then stop looking and assume there is no negator. At this point, you need to isolate the two items in relationship with each other through the αλλα. This is usually brain-dead easy; sometimes, though, it is a pain (Gal 4.8-9? 1Co 15.35?). Note that there are some instances where αλλα doesn't seem to be responding to an explicit statement. My working hypothesis at present is that αλλα must be a response (contrast, correction, clarification, expansion, what-have-you) to something; and when nothing is explicit the response must be to something implicit in the context. Examine the context and try to figure it out if the connection isn't readily apparent.

Now you're at the bottom of the funnel. The easy part is done, the hard work begins.

αλλα is typically described as a "strong adversative" and, to define "strong", most grammars say it is "stronger than δε". That isn't too helpful. That's like saying "bold" is stronger than "confident". So read the whole context of the statement (or statements) in question that uses αλλα as a hinge to compare. Read the larger context. What is happening with the two phrases/clauses that αλλα stands between? What is the point of the comparison of those two items? Is it replacement/correction? Is it enhancement or expansion? Don't cop out and just say it means "but"; get your mind out of the word-level jumble and think about the relationship between the phrases/clauses and what the point of the author could be in placing these items in juxtaposition with each other, using αλλα as a guide to that author's intent. He's left clues with αλλα, use (or non-use) of negators, and the items he's comparing.

On Lexicons and αλλα

This could actually be a whole additional post, but it won't be. In short, I've read most lexicon definitions of αλλα, and they are all uniformly unhelpful. They seem to jump from lexicography to syntax quickly, sorting "senses" by differing syntactic contexts that αλλα appears in. Cataloguing of instances by syntactic context does not make a helpful lexicon article.

I'm largely convinced that one of the reasons that αλλα is typically classed as an "adversative" is simply because in most of its instances it stands between two clauses/phrases, one negative and one non-negative. In this case, it is the clauses/phrases that are adversary, not αλλα. Then, if no negator is present, αλλα is said to be, perhaps, correlative or contrastive or continuative something like that.

[[This brings up a side rant: Morphologies of the Greek New Testament that provide senses/classifications to conjunctions (e.g. GRAMCORD, "conjunction, coordinating, adversative") are also relatively unhelpful if you're really interested in what the conjunction is up to. Why do I say this? Get yourself a few different morphologies that do this, and you'll see that everyone has different ideas in this area. Compare GRAMCORD to Friberg's morphology. You'll see that many do seem to be the same on first glance, but that's because most morphologies classify most instances of αλλα the same exact way. GRAMCORD has 97.6% of αλλα classified as "conjunction, coordinating, adversative"; Friberg has more variation with 86.5% as "conjunction, superordinating (hyperordinating)". (Full disclosure: The Logos Morphology has even more variation, but it also has more categories) Am I saying they should all be consistent? No; I don't subscribe to a 'concordant' method of morphological classification. I'm just saying there is a lot of variation so it brings into question the classification schemes themselves.]]

So what does αλλα do? What does it indicate? I'm still working on that.

My hope is to have some flash of insight and arrive at a grand unification theory. But I think a large part of the problem is that traditional methodology seems bound to try to answer the question, "how do I translate it?" (hence all sorts of categories and memorization of short glosses) when, in order to actually understand what the author is communicating, we really should be asking the question, "what does it mean?" or, perhaps, "how does it all go together?".

In the context of examining a discourse to better understand "what does it mean?", we need to examine how different parts of the discourse relate to each other. One way that discourse parts relate to each other is though use of conjunctions. So when the author/writer uses αλλα with two items in juxtaposition to each other, what is that author communicating? Are there semantic or grammatical connections between the two juxtaposed items and the rest of the discourse?

My guess is that that, chances are, αλλα means the same thing no matter what context it appears in. Instead, it's how the juxtaposed items relate to each other through αλλα that variation in understanding arises.

Update (2008-03-16): Responding to a few of the comments, I can only emphasize the word 'rant' in regards to αλλα and morphologies and lexicography/lexicons (not to mention grammars). If you compare the labelling of senses/types of αλλα across morphologies, you'll soon find that opinions differ, particularly as you get outside of the easy-to-understand instances (usually in some sort of negative context) and into the 'long tail' of instances. And that's fine; my rant is more my response to the difficulty of the problem than complete dissatisfaction with existing lexicons/morphologies. I guess my issue with the αλλα article in BDAG (and elsewhere) is that by their structure and breakdown they seem more geared toward telling me what to think about specific instances of αλλα than in sewing all that discussion up at the end and giving some thoughts on αλλα in general. It's more of a catalogue of instances than a discussion of the word.

To respond specifically to Mike about BDAG: I suppose one thing I'd like to see in BDAG is after the separation of discussion of αλλα in particular contexts, some discussion of how even in these differing contexts αλλα is functioning similarly. I realize the first sentence of the definition speaks of this somewhat, but something tying the whole thing in general would be nice.

To respond to Ken about adversative as a label: I don't have such a list, and I don't really have a problem with 'adversative' as a word to describe how αλλα functions. I do think that αλλα can be 'adversative' when no negator is present in either clause/phrase of the structure in question. What gives me pause would be to say of any instance of αλλα that it is an 'adversative αλλα'. No, it's αλλα. The context may be adversative, and αλλα is likely the hinge joining two adversarial or contradictory things; but that doesn't mean that αλλα is adversative. Anyway, that's my own issue with labelling things that I need to get over; not necessarily an issue with morphological classifications.

In case you're wondering what I've been spending much of my time at Logos doing, now I can show you since we spilled the beans on the Logos blog today.

I've been working with Dr. Steve Runge on his project to annotate several aspects of discourse grammar in the Greek New Testament. My job has been to take the annotation work he's been doing and make it work in Logos Bible Software. I've learned a whole lot in the process and am excited to now have something in a form we can begin to share with others.

There are two primary components of the project:

• The Lexham High Definition New Testament: ESV Version (HDNT)
• The Lexham Discourse Greek New Testament (LDGNT)

In the below screen shot, LDGNT is on the left, HDNT is on the right:

My job has been to process Steve's annotation work and work with him (and others here at Logos) to figure out how to represent it inside of Logos Bible Software. Steve works in the Greek New Testament, so I also have had to map the Greek data onto an English translation so we can start to make this sort of thing more usable to folks who only know English. It's been challenging and fun. We're not done yet. Steve's primary annotation of the New Testament is complete and can be called 'beta' (further revision/correction/etc. may happen); he's still working on the left-column outline stuff for narrative texts (Gospels/Acts) and Revelation.

Check out the Logos Blog post for more information and links. And check out Steve's page on the Logos site for links to articles and conference papers that explain some of the devices that he's annotating.

Did you know that αλλα occurs 557 times in the whole of the LXX (nearly four times the size of the NT); compared to 638 times in the NT? That number includes the alternate MSS text in Joshua, Daniel, etc.

And the LXX books with the most frequent instances of αλλα (instances per 1000 words in book) are books likely composed in Greek, stuff like Wisdom of Solomon (3 αλλα/1000 words) and 4 Maccabees (6.3/1000)? Tobit and Judith are also high (both 2/1000), but so are Malachi (~2/1000) and, believe it or not, Job (~3/1000)!

Comparatively, Holmes' second edition Apostolic Fathers Greek text has 352 instances. That's over half of the number of NT instances, but the corpus size is just over 1/3 of the NT.

That'll make a guy think.

Update (2008-03-12): On the idea of whether αλλα can be an indicator of Aramaic in the gospels, or translation Greek; let's not forget that it could just be a diachronic thing. LXX => early, NT => later, AF => even later. Maybe αλλα usage increased over time, particularly since it is a development from αλλος. (It may therefore be useful to compare use of αλλος/αλλα between LXX/NT/AF to get a better picture; I'll leave this for someone else to dig into).

On the Aramaic question, perhaps the place to start would be with Raymond A. Martin's Syntactical Evidence of Semitic Sources in Greek Documents (amazon.com). He thinks that minimal use of certain prepositions may be evidence of a translated text; also και/δε in some contexts, but doesn't say anything about αλλα (from my quick re-skim). Martin presents a lot of evidence, but I don't know that I buy it (call it my "correlation does not prove causation" skepticism).

Anyway, here's the chart of αλλα usage in the NT. I generated this with Logos Bible Software's Graph Bible Search Results feature, which is an option on the right-hand side of all Bible search results menus (Bible Speed Search, which I used for this; Bible Search; and Syntax Search). The numbers on the right of the bars are # of αλλα per 1000 words in a book. So Matthew has 2.0162 αλλα per 1000 words; Mark has 3.9788 per 1000; etc. This sort of distribution leads me to think that use of αλλα is perhaps more stylistic than translational; though the LXX numbers reported (that graph is below the NT graph) are much less frequent. This may say more about the translators and the time they translated in than the translation itself.

And here's the LXX graph:

At least, that was the working title of the abstract I've submitted for the 2008 ETS meeting in Rhode Island this November. But I couldn't bring myself to actually make that the title of the paper. So here's what I've submitted:

We'll see if the abstract is accepted. Either way, I've already started culling through the 638 instances of αλλα in the New Testament (500+ of which appear in a negative pairing, it seems), working through the section on αλλα in Denniston's Greek Particles (amazon.com), reading Heckert on αλλα (amazon.com); I'll probably be braving the lexicon articles (BDAG, LSJ, LouwNida) sometime over the next week; and hitting the grammars (BDF, Moulton-Howard-Turner, Robertson, Porter's Idioms, Moule's Idioms, Wallace; perhaps Young's Intermediate Grammar) as well.

Sounds like fun, huh?

Update (2008-03-11): Responding to some comments: Yes, I do plan on posting the paper, but likely in conjunction with or just after the conference in November. But I'll probably blog some thoughts along the way that may or may not make it into the paper. On other resource (e.g. Thrall); perhaps. There is no shortage of items to look at for background. But the paper isn't a review of how people have described αλλα in the past, so there has to be a limit to the background section of the paper. I just don't know what that is yet (beyond standard lexica and grammars, Denniston, and Heckert)

A friend just pointed this out to me, sitting on an FTP server at National Geographic.

It's hi-res images of what appear to be all of the pages of Codex Tchacos, which contains the Coptic of the Gospel of Judas. My guess is that these images match the plates in the Critical Edition of the Gospel of Judas, but if anyone is doing serious work with the Coptic of Judas (or any of the other documents in Codex Tchacos) then you probably want these images instead.

And, while we're on manuscript stuff, have y'all seen the online edition of Codex Gigas? (hat tip: Mark @ Biblical Studies and Technological Tools blog) If not, you should. It is way cool! Have fun playing with the "Browse the Manuscript" feature. Also: I didn't know that Gigas had editions of Antiquities of the Jews and Wars of the Jews in Latin, amongst other stuff. How cool is that? Here all along I'd just thought it was a Latin Bible.

It seems I've been busy since early November, what with ETS & SBL conferences, Thanksgiving, Christmas parties, and New Years. So I haven't had the chance to dig into Paul Trebilco's Early Christians in Ephesus from Paul to Ignatius (amazon.com) as much as I would've liked to.

But today I did get some time (after getting the garage cleaned and reorganized) to read a bit. I finally finished "Part I", which has to do with evidence of Ephesus in Paul and his Letters (Trebilco sees both Ephesians and the Pastorals as non-Pauline, so he does not include them here) and the evidence of Ephesus in the book of Acts.

It was the two chapters on Acts that I was most impressed with. Having done some work on a portion of Acts 18 for my 2007 ETS paper, it was great to read what Trebilco has done, working through all of the Ephesian mentions in Acts. If you are into the Paulines or Acts or Ephesus, then you need to read these chapters.

One thing that stuck out to me, particularly in working through the footnotes as I read the text, was how much the work of Haenchen and Conzelmann are called into question. As I worked through commentaries on Acts 18 for my ETS paper, I was amazed and dumbfounded at some of the claims that Conzelmann (apparently following Haenchen) made concerning Lucan sources in Acts. Treblico carefully works through the passages and other relevant data and shows that many times the leaps made by Haenchen and Conzelmann are too large. Reading this after having read Bauckham's Jesus and the Eyewitnesses really makes me think that the form-critical approach is dying (if not dead). It additionally makes me think that there needs to be a new Hermeneia volume on Acts (and the Pastoral Epistles, also by Conzelmann, for that matter).

That said, one thing that Trebilco does (that many others do) is frequently note "Lucan" or "Pauline" language, when what they really mean is that the content they attribute to a particular author uses the word in question, perhaps uniquely. I still think that any NT author sample, no matter what you think of authorship issues, is far too small to get a notion of what language quirks or vocabulary should be attributed to a particular author. But Trebilco doesn't do it much, and I realize that while this is a fairly blunt tool, it is a tool. So I'm not too offended by it. :)

All said, Trebilco's work is excellent and highly recommended. Do check it out (amazon.com). It's over 800 pages, and the Amazon price is really a steal (especially considering the Mohr-Siebeck edition, if you could actually find it, would probably cost you upwards of $300!)

It's a happy new year because the Journal of Greco-Roman Christianity and Judaism has just put four new articles online. These are in the 2007 volume (volume 3). If they're of interest to you, you should download them immediately because the JGRChJ only has the articles online until the volume is complete. Then they submit the volume to print and the articles go offline. So get 'em while you can:

4.3 John C. Poirier, The Linguistic Situation in Jewish Palestine in Late Antiquity
4.4 Julie Ann Smith, ‘What Now Lies Before Their Eyes’: The Foundations of Early Pilgrim Visuality in the Holy Land
4.5 David E. Malick, The Contribution of Codex Bezae Cantabrigiensis to an Understanding of Women in the Book of Acts
4.6 Justin M. Smith, Genre, Sub-Genre and Questions of Audience: A Proposed Typology for Greco-Roman Biography

I've not looked at any of the articles, though 4.3 and 4.5 look most interesting to me at this point.

In the most recent JBL (as of this writing; the citation is JBL 126, no. 3 (2007): 579-593), is an article David Konstan and Ilaria Ramelli (henceforth K&R) titled “The Syntax of εν Χριστω in 1 Thessalonians 4.16”. If you are an SBL member, you can retrieve this article from the JBL website.

I’ve actually written a series of blog posts for the Logos Bible Software blog on locating prepositional phrases using a syntactically annotated edition of the Greek New Testament (The OpenText.org Syntactically Analyzed Greek New Testament) using εν Χριστω in 1Th 4.16 as a starting point. Those posts don’t directly interact with the material and argument of K&R’s article; they just work through approaches to sifting data.

I’ve been chewing on K&R’s article for awhile and it’s time to write some more about it. But first, for those unfamiliar with the article, let me provide an excerpt from their introduction:

Our concern in this article is with the final clause: “And the dead in Christ will rise.” Does the Greek mean, “those who are dead in Christ will rise,” as many have taken it, including Jerome in the Latin Vulgate: mortui qui in Christo sunt resurgent? Or is it preferable to take it as meaning, “the dead will rise in Christ”? The choice between the two versions is of considerable importance. On the first interpretation, only those who have died in Christ will be resurrected, whereas the second can be taken to signify that all the dead will be resurrecte din Christ—the necessary premise for the theses of universal salvation or apocatastasis defended by Origen and other patristic writers, including Gregory of Nyssa. In this article, however, we set aside the theological arguments and concentrate simply on the point of grammar: does the prepositional phrase εν Χριστω modify οι νεκροι, or does it more naturally go with αναστησονται? (K&R, 579-581).

So the article is an exploration of a point of grammar (attachment of prepositional phrase) that has theological/doctrinal implications. And that’s great, particularly in this instance, because the text is ambiguous as to point of prepositional phrase attachment. Here’s the text with the pertinent bit italicised:

ὅτι αὐτὸς ὁ κύριος ἐν κελεύσματι, ἐν φωνῇ ἀρχαγγέλου καὶ ἐν σάλπιγγι θεοῦ, καταβήσεται ἀπʼ οὐρανοῦ καὶ οἱ νεκροὶ ἐν Χριστῷ ἀναστήσονται πρῶτον, (1 Th 4:16, NA27)

For the Lord himself, with a cry of command, with the archangel’s call and with the sound of God’s trumpet, will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. (1 Th 4:16, NRSV)

If you examine the text, you will find (as K&R note in the excerpt above) that the prepositional phrase εν Χριστω does have two potential points of attachment: οι νεκροι and αναστησονται. The attachment is ambiguous, but after examining the question K&R conclude that it is best to read εν Χριστω as attaching to the verb.

The more I consider K&R’s article, the less I like it and the more it frustrates me. And it isn’t (necessarily) their conclusion that frustrates me, it is the methodology. While they duly examine all 84 NT instances of εν Χριστω (both arthrous and anarthrous), include some extra-Biblical instances in footnotes, and while they even throw in NT instances of εν κυριω for good measure, their approach is lacking.

Why? There are a few reasons.

1. Their approach seeks to classify everything and group like with like; these groupings (and derived trends) then serve as the lense to classify the instance in 1Th 4.16.

Now classification isn’t bad, but this doesn’t address the primary issue with 1Th 4.16: There are two decent possibilities for attachment in 1Th 4.16, but the vast majority of instances of the prepositional phrase are not ambiguous in respect to placement. Classifying all of these primarily unambiguous instances does not necessarily help one think about the ambiguous instances more clearly. It can actually muddy the waters. Trends are not rules. That’s why I don’t like this paragraph:

The phrases εν Χριστω and εν κυριω seem, then, to be regularly attached to a verb, a participle, or an adjective with verbal force (this last very rarely, however). If they do modify a substantive, they are either clearly enclosed in a nominal phrase, as may occur also with a participle (1Co 7.22: ο γαρ εν κυριω κληθεις δουλος), or else they are preceded by a repetition of the article. (K&R, p. 589)

Do you see that? They’ve properly identified the trends of the unambiguous instances. But how does this really help consider what is going on in an instance where there are two relatively probable possibilities? While one can examine all instances to see which is most common, knowing the most common does not necessarily help in trying to determine the proper reading of the ambiguous instance. To simply follow the most common option is to make grammar and syntax into a popularity contest; this does not do justice to the text.

2. Their approach only examines particular components of the clause in question in comparison with other clauses; the questionable clause as a whole is not considered.

What I mean by this is that their approach neglects the clause as a whole; it only examines the subject (οι νεκροι), the prepositional phrase (εν Χριστω) and the verb (αναστησονται). They neglect the adverb πρωτον. This is evident in their proposing of the question (pp. 579-581, excerpted above). There is no discussion regarding how πρωτον affects either of their two possible readings. This, to my mind, is a gaping hole in the argument.

3. The “If Paul would’ve meant to associate the prepositional phrase with the substantive, he’d have written it this way” argument is unconvincing.

K&R proceed to examine instances of εν κυριω in their attempt to better understand εν Χριστω in 1Th 4.16. And this is fine as well. But I just don’t buy the following argument:

The only non-Pauline occurrence of [εν κυριω] is in Rev 14.13, and it, like the passage in 1 Thessalonians, concerns those who are dead in Christ. To indicate the dead, however, John does not use the bare expression οι νεκροι εν κυριω but rather repeats the article before the prepositional phrase, and in addition encloses the phrase between the article an a participle, so that its syntactical structure and meaning are unequivocal: μακαριοι οι νεκροι οι εν κυριω αποθνεησκοντες απ’ αρτι ... ινα αναποστησονται εκ των κοπων. We have here, then, a construction quite different from that in 1 Thessalonians, which indeed suggests what Paul would have written if he had meant to say “those who are dead”—or rather, who have died (the phrase depends on the participle)—“in Christ.” (K&R, 589)

Do you see the subtle flaw with their argument? They’re taking an unambiguous instance in a different author and stating that if Paul wanted the reading to be attached to the substantive, he would’ve done it this way.

To be more precise, however, one must instead conclude that if Paul wanted to present the reading attached to the substantive unambiguously, he might have done it the way John did—but they don't have access to the mind of Paul. One cannot conclude that because Paul didn’t write it the same way John did (or the way George or Ringo wrote it, for that matter), Paul can’t have meant what John meant.

4. Their approach assumes that a prepositional phrase must definitely attach to one or the other clausal component.

Again, this is evident in the phrasing of the question. And this seems largely driven by the traditional method of thinking about Greek syntax and perhaps even driven by the practice of sentence diagramming. This is good to think about and even necessary when doing exegesis; but isn’t it possible that the ambiguity of the phrasing could imply ambiguity in attachment on purpose? I guess I’m saying that in my experience language is messy; to say the prepositional phrase must “attach” to one component or the other may be generally true but, as with other things, I can’t help but think ambiguity should be an option as well.

5. Their approach pays little to no attention to the context surrounding the clause; that is, the clause is read in isolation to the larger context (surrounding clauses, paragraph and discourse levels).

This follows on point 2 above. Because K&R don’t treat πρωτον, they have no need to ask the question “what follows after the first thing?”. Verse 17 discusses what happens after the ‘first’ thing and this can help in resolving the ambiguity. Indeed, the whole context of vv. 13-18 have to do with believers both living and dead; Paul is answering the issue of what happens to those (believers) who die previous to Christ’s triumphant return. To include and consider relevant context is not theological discussion (recall K&R intend to specifically avoid discussing the theological implications of the syntactic reading); it is treating the discourse as a discourse instead of a jumble of unconnected words and phrases.

When there is ambiguity in the interaction of clausal components, examination of the larger discourse may provide light on how to resolve the ambiguity.

6. For an article on syntax, there is no interaction with standard grammars on the point of syntax discussed.

Specifically, there is no interaction with BDF§272, which cites this instance in particular. This is a minor nitpick, but where standard grammars interact on this specific question, that evidence should be noted.

Conclusion

Those are the primary issues I have with K&R’s article. Please don’t get me wrong, I think there is valuable stuff in there but I don’t see how it helps make a conclusion as to what is happening with the prepositional phrase in 1Th 4.16.

Additionally, I have to say that I enjoyed pp. 591-593, where K&R delve into patristic evidence of how 1Th 4.16 was read in the early church—specifically, their examination of Chrysostom and Gregory of Nyssa. I thought this portion was actually a stronger argument for their view than all of the listing and classification of Greek NT instances.

While out at ETS and SBL, the good folks at Kregel sent along a copy of Dr. Rodney Decker's Koine Greek Reader (amazon.com). Be sure to check out Dr. Decker's page for his book. Why did I get a copy? I was one of a select number quick enough to respond to Dr. Decker's offer of a free copy of the book on his blog — which just goes to show you, reading blogs can pay.

I haven't had time to look at the book much, but my friend and colleague Johnny borrowed it over the weekend and was suitably impressed. He said, "I wish my second-year reading class used it as a text!". He found the presentation of chunks (not just one verse) of text followed by grammar and syntax notes on the text helpful.

In the future, I hope to compare the Koine Greek Reader (amazon.com) with Whitacre's Patristic Greek Reader (amazon.com) to show strengths and weaknesses of each. But I have a lot of stuff I want to blog in the next while; so I may not get to it immediately. But the initial word is that Decker's Koine Greek Reader (amazon.com) looks useful and should be a great help, whether you are in a classroom setting or if you're simply wanting a refresher course from that year of Greek you had in school too many years ago.

I've finally begun reading David Weinberger's Everything is Miscellaneous (amazon.com). It's been on my to-read list for awhile but I've only recently gained access to a copy.

I've also been reading about Discourse Analysis and Discourse Grammar (the latter has more to say about what's going on at the sentence-clause level). One of the primary principles of Discourse Grammar is described by Stephen H. Levinsohn in his article The Relevance of Greek Discourse Studies to Exegesis. Here it is.

Jan Firbas, a Prague School linguist, was a pioneer in recognizing that, in the majority of sentences in a natural text, the order of non-verbal constituents tended to follow what has come to be called the "Principle of Natural Information Flow" (Comrie 1989; see Firbas 1964). According to this principle, non-verbal constituents that convey established information are placed before those that convey new or non-established information. (Levinsohn 14).

So, according to the principle of natural information flow, established information occurs first, and new information comes after.

Really, this is related to Weinberger's book (amazon.com). Trust me.

Here's Weinberger, in the chapter "The New Order of Order", subsection "Everything has its places".

The two processes by which new things are introduced into our homes are typical of how we handle information: we go through new arrivals and then we put them away. We go through the mail and file it in the special places we have for bills (the desk), cards from relatives (the refrigerator door), and junk mail (the trash). We go through bags of groceries and put the food away within minutes of bringing it into our house. We address these elements of disorder—unsorted mail in the mailbox, groceries sorted by relative weight into bags by a clerk in the store—with remarkable alacrity. (Weinberger 11)

We know how to sort our mail because it is ours. It is familiar. We go through the jumble of the mailbox, and certain things stand out: the electricity bill that needs to be paid; the envelope with the hand-written return address that looks like a card or letter (we open that one first because it is 'good mail'). The advertising circular that always comes on Tuesdays is likely plopped in the recycle bin on your way in the house because you know you already get the best price because you use your club card when you shop at that store.

Anyway, we process the information as we encounter it and filter it. We deal with the known (mail we recognize by some feature—size, color of envelope, type of postage, return sender, etc.) and move to the unknown. In so doing, some pieces of mail become prominent. We open those first because they're likely worthy of opening (except that clever junk mail in the manilla business-letter-sized envelope that looked like a check from the bank) and because we either have an inkling of what is inside or because it looks juicy but we don't really know what it is.

My flash of inspiration upon reading Weinberger after having read some papers on Discourse Analysis and Discourse Grammar — Reading involves the same process.

We do it innately with our native language because, like our mail, it is ours. We know how we've processed it in the past and we have lots of experience to filter through the new batches and determine what is promenent (the mail we open first) and what isn't (the flyers we throw in the recycle bin and the junk mail we rip up without even opening it). In our native language we naturally supply the known information and naturally note the new information and assimilate it into our further reading of the sentence/paragraph.

It is, however, much more difficult with a non-native language like Hellenistic Greek. We simply don't have enough experience "filtering the mail" to know which envelopes to open first, and which to throw out in the recycle bin. We can read the sentence/paragraph and get the gist of what's going on by assembling the words (more of a code/decode process) but we have problems picking out the salient bits because we haven't really internalized rules to tell us what is salient as we process the bag-o-words.

And this is what can be helpful in approaching the text of the NT from a Discourse Analysis and Discourse Grammar approach: we get some ideas on how to filter the mail. It gives us clues as to what to "open first" as we process a sentence or paragraph or an even larger discourse. It helps the prominent/salient bits become more evident, and this in turn helps our exegesis focus on what is necessary in order to properly handle the text.

I'm still thinking through this stuff; I'm interested to know what anyone thinks about this. Please use the comments if you have more to add to the discussion.

Randall Tan presented a paper in the Hellenistic Greek Language and Linguistics section at the recent International SBL meeting in Vienna called "Reversing the Roles of Lexis and Grammar?". I blogged about this back in January, where you can read a little background and the original paper proposal.

Randall was kind enough to list me as co-presenter, though my role was largely that of munger-of-data and sounding board. While I agree with what Randall presented, the ideas and approach are largely his.

Anyway, I figured it would be a good thing to post the paper here. So here it is:

• Reversing the Roles of Lexis and Grammar.pdf (103.97 KB)

We'd be interested in any feedback you may have on the paper; feel free to either comment here or zap email my way to the address listed in the sidebar.

If you're interested in Sahidic Coptic (and what serious NT scholar or NT scholar wannabe isn't?) then perhaps Bentley Layton's new intro is what you're looking for. Coptic in 20 Lessons: Introduction to Sahidic Coptic with Exercises and Vocabularies (amazon.com).

Speaking as someone who attempted Lambdin's Sahidic Coptic Intro (amazon.com), this sounds interesting. I made it through three or four lessons in Lambdin, just enough to not be freaked out by the extra letters (when compared to the Greek alphabet) or some other features, but not enough to really read anything. I've not yet purchased Layton's intro, but it is on my Amazon Wish List.

Here's the blurb:

Coptic in 20 Lessons (amazon.com) is written by the author of the most authoritative reference grammar of the Coptic language, and is based on decades of pedagogical experience. In easy steps and simple explanations, it teaches the patterns and syntax of Sahidic Coptic, along with the most useful vocabulary. Drills, compositions, and translation exercises enable the student to gain fluency. All words that occur more than fifty times in the Sahidic New Testament are introduced lesson by lesson in vocabulary lists, which are arranged by semantic field and accompanied by both Greek equivalents and English glosses. The book concludes with three chapters of the Gospel of Mark, in which all new vocabulary is glossed in footnotes. Coptic in 20 Lessons (amazon.com) is the ideal resource for use in the classroom or for teaching oneself Coptic.

Anyone out there familiar with the book and want to chime in on it's usefulness, particularly compared to Lambdin?

(hat tip: Jim West)

The critical edition of the Gospel of Judas (amazon.com) has finally been published by National Geographic. Copies can be had at Amazon.com.

Here is the description from Amazon's page (amazon.com):

For the first time in a single volume, discover the complete text of Codex Tchacos—the remarkable ancient papyrus book that contains the Gospel of Judas. Hidden for 1,600 years in an Egyptian cave, only to be found, traded, and all but destroyed before its restoration began in 2001, Codex Tchacos contains four texts that shed important light on the ancient world and the emergence of Christianity.

Featuring beautifully rendered, full-color photographs of the original papyrus pages alongside the Coptic text and its English translation, this critical edition provides everything needed for a full examination of the Codex. The Letter of Peter to Philip provides a mystical, Gnostic picture of Jesus; the text entitled James presents Jesus discussing the meaning of life and death with his brother James; the Gospel of Judas casts a new light on Judas' betrayal; and the previously unknown book of Allogenes, though fragmentary, portrays Jesus as a stranger who brings light to a world of darkness. Ideal for the scholar and layperson alike, these texts are published here by an international team of scholars and supplemented by insightful introductions, indices, and other revealing, explanatory essays.

Though I'm curious about the " ... other revealing, explanatory essays". Hopefully none are written by Bart Ehrman, who has said plenty enough already about the Gospel of Judas.

Update (2007-06-29): I received my copy yesterday. The book looks good. Photos of the entire codex, as well as transcription with English line-by-line translation. French translations appended. Notably, the index looks to be complete! Each tractate indexed with some degree of morphological sorting going on, with English and French translations. All in all, good stuff. Even better: I haven't seen the word "Ehrman" yet in the book!

Yesterday I stumbled across PJ Hillery's The Georgian Language: An Outline Grammatical Summary. No, this page isn't about how y'all talk down there in Atlanta; it is about the language of the country of Georgia. Vööbus describes Georgia as "that rough mountain-district between the Black and Caspian Seas — known to the ancient world as Iberia" (Vööbus 173).

I'm always at least superficially interested in the languages of the early versions of the New Testament (Latin, Coptic, Syriac, Ethiopic, Armenian, Georgian, Gothic, etc.). This gave me a chance to re-read sections of Vööbus and Metzger on the Georgian Versions (see citations below). You could also check the wikipedia entry on Georgian Language for general background on the language.

What do we know (or at least, what do we think we know) about the Georgian version?

• Christianity probably came to the region in the middle of the fourth century — that's like 350, y'all! (Metzger 184; see also Vööbus 176). For comparative purposes, that's around the same date that many ascribe to the copying of Codex Sinaiticus.
• The Georgian version was probably in currency " ... in the second part of the fifth century. Its origin, then, seems to belong to the decades before the middle of the fifth century" (Vööbus 178; see also Metzger 184). For comparison, many date Codex Bezae in the fifth century.
• Vööbus concludes the Georgian was likely originally translated from the Armenian and later subjected to editing against Greek exemplars (Vööbus 187-192). Metzger makes no conclusions, he just reports conclusions others have made (Metzger 190-196).

A quick search of the NA27 apparatus shows that it is only cited twice, in Mt 27.64 (supporting the omission of a pronoun) and Mk 10.25 (supporting the reading of a phonetically-similar word, καμηλον [NA27] vs. καμιλον). This makes sense because the Georgian is at least a translation of a translation (or perhaps a translation of a translation of a translation, depending on your view of the origin of the Armenian text). But Metzger, in his Textual Commentary, cites 'geo' almost 100 times. So it is of some value in the realm of NT textual criticism.

Wikipedia has some images from the Adysh Gospels (a canon table and an illumination) and also the Vani Gospels (an illumination), two early (10th century) Georgian codices. Here's the canon table from the Adysh Gospels, copied in 897 AD:

Works Cited

Metzger, Bruce M. The Early Versions of the New Testament. London: Oxford University Press, 1977, pp. 182-214.

Vööbus, Arthur. Early Versions of the New Testament: Manuscript Studies. Stockholm: Estonian Theological Society in Exile, 1954, pp. 173-209.

I'm stoked about THIS:

For those without Logos Bible Software, you should really obtain and read at least a few sections of the Handbook of Classical Rhetoric (amazon.com). You should also consider Porter's Handbook to the Exegesis of the NT (link to Logos) and his Idioms of the Greek NT (link to Logos).

Roger Pearse (who is always dabbling in very interesting things) reported on Thoughts on Antiquity his inability to find a reasonably priced general introduction to Armenian in English, and the inability to find an Armenian-English dictionary. I responded in the comments with a lead on a dictionary (Bedrossian's, which is mentioned in Thomson's intro as the Armenian-English dictionary to start with). I haven't looked for it in awhile, but I had never been able to find a decently-priced edition of Bedrossian's dictionary (maybe Wipf & Stock will do it someday?)

For some reason I'm fascinated by things Armenian though I have yet to do any serious reading or study on the language (outside of sections in Metzger's Early Versions and Vööbus' Early Versions). It's one of those things on my mental "stuff to study someday" list.

So imagine my surprise when Roger posted a follow-up to his original post pointing us all to the Leiden Armenian Lexical Database. This site has dictionaries (including Bedrossian) and, more importantly, some lexically analyzed texts, including Jonah and the Gospels of Luke and John (from Zohrab's edition) along with Cox's edition of Deuteronomy! Zounds! With a lemmatized John and a dictionary, and Thomson in print at my side, it makes working through the text to familiarize myself with the language that much more approachable!

Now, I just need about four more hours in each day ...

I'll discuss Atticism in more detail later (likely in part 4 of my Thorough-going Eclecticism series) but I wanted to mention this now.

Just last night I was reviewing some areas that J.K. Elliott chalks up to atticism and was thinking, "so how do we know what an atticism is?" I mean, my one year of Greek at a formal learning institution was Attic (my autodidact efforts have focused largely on Koine/Hellenistic). I remember the biggies (e.g. Attic ττ shifts to Koine σσ, πραττω to πρασσω) but not much more.

Later in the evening I was reading Caragounis' The Development of Greek and the New Testament (amazon.com). Imagine my surprise when I ran across his section on Atticism, pp. 120-140 where he reproduces lists from Phrynichos (424 words!) and Moiris (less than 50 words) that could be helpful when reviewing variants for possible atticism.

I just received a reminder about the SBL / Logos Technology Paper Awards. I'm anxious to see what folks are working on!

The dealine for papers is May 1, 2007 with winners announced at International SBL in Vienna. Here's a blurb for the uninformed:

Logos Bible Software and the Society of Biblical Literature announce two sets of awards for papers that creatively use technology in exploring questions of grammar and syntax in biblical studies: one focusing on the Hebrew Bible, the other on the Greek New Testament. The contests are open to all those engaged in the study of those disciplines, and prizes will be awarded in both areas for student and faculty/professional categories. A total of twelve awards will be given.

There's some decent winnings ($1000 cash, $1000 Logos software credit, and $200 SBL book credit for first place entries (4 available) for winning papers, and lots of chance to win with both student and professional entries for the areas of Hebrew Bible and also Greek New Testament. I'd enter, but Logos employees are not eligible.

Get thee to thine syntax annotations!

Update (2007-03-31): ricoblog reader Tom notes that syntax searching can be difficult to get a grasp on. I agree; the multi-dimensionality of the data alone is a new sort of concept to master in thinking about the Greek New Testament. For me, I've found a deductive method to work. If you are somewhat familiar with NT Greek, begin with a passage you know cold. Compare the syntax graph to what you know of and see mentally when  you examine the text itself. See how the syntax maps the structures you're thinking of. Then, using the graph as a guide, try to reproduce some structures. Start small and general, like a clause component that has the same wordgroup->head term->word (insert the proper lemma) as what you're looking at. Search and tweak until you get your template passage as a hit. Then add new components and tweak to get an idea of how to map the basic structure you already know. "Lather, rinse, repeat" is how I end up describing it. Also, beginning with a passage you know, you could do a Bible Word Study on a word and examine the sorts of things the Grammatical Relationships section returns. Under the hood, that's doing a lot of template-based syntax searching. So that's another way to start to play with syntax data without having to master the search dialog.