Rubén Gómez' post on NT Papyri reminded me of something I wrote almost a year ago on my internal-to-the-office blog (which preceded this public blog). So, without further adieu ...

Just got back from a Bible study. We're studying James. Tonight was on James 2.14-26, the passage dealing with faith and works.

One of the participants in the study is Dr. Cal Hansen who used to be the president of Trinity Western. He also taught Greek exegesis for a number of years. It's kind of cool that he's in the study. Anyway, he assigned me homework. He wants me to look into James 2.21. This says (ESV):

Was not Abraham our father justified by works when he offered up his son Isaac on the altar?

He asked the question, "what if that wasn't a question mark at the end of this verse? After all, the original Greek text(s) didn't have punctuation, that has only been inserted later."

Now, I say all of this under the guise of "the internet is cool" because I happen to know that many of the papyri are on the internet as images. So, I opened my trusty The Text of the Earliest New Testament Greek Manuscripts (second edition, 2001) and learn more about P20 (P.Oxy 1171), which is the earliest witness (3rd century! That's in the 200's, folks!) for this portion of scripture. Then I went to the Oxyrhynchus site at Cambridge, but the don't have all of the images online. Drats.

So, Google to the rescue. I searched for 'Oxyrhynchus 1171' and ended up at Princeton, where the manuscript is housed (duh). From there, I could follow the link to NT Epistle of James (first one). Note they've got an error -- the manuscript fragment actually contains portions from James 2.19, not James 2.26 as the link states. So, anyway, I clicked on the link to get more info. Small pictures of recto & verso plus some bibliographic information. Cool. But they've got high-quality pics of each side of the manuscript! So ... I looked at the recto. As Tiny Elvis would say, "man .... that sucker's huuuuge!". If you look on the sixth line from the top, you'll see ]USIASTHRIONBLE[. James 2.21 ends after USIASTHRION (the full Greek word is QUSIASTHRION).

Thus, I've confirmed that (at least as of the 3rd century) there was no punctuation in the Greek text. All from the comfort of my kitchen table.

QED: The internet is cool. I mean, I knew that punctuation marks wouldn't be in the papyri, and that they were added by later editors of later MSS ... but, in a single night, to get to the actual papyrus? And the quality of the images? That is cool!

Part II of the assignment involves sifting through journal articles in Logos using Galaxie's Theological Journal Library. I found an article from January 2002 in BibSac that argues that while the same word is used in both instances (James 2 & Romans 4), each author was using a semantically different meaning of the verb. Paul was speaking of a formal act of justification, that of God declaring one righteous (as he did in the Abrahamic covenant in Ge 15). James was instead speaking of justification in the sense of "proving", that is, one proves he has faith through works — which is more along the lines of Ge 22, which is what James was citing.

This is a tough text, and while one may interpret the two passages differently, the difficulty of the same word meaning different things — and statements that indicate seemingly opposite ideas — makes it challenging. It seems the theory of semantic domains is one way to deal with difficulties of this particular sort, and the method is particularly attractive in this instance as we're dealing with two different authors.

No, I didn't arrive at any further conclusions than the one mentioned above. And I still think the internet is cool; the availability of papyri, if you do some diligent searching, is way cool. Check out the Duke Databank of Documentary Papyri and, of course, Oxyrhynchus Online (watch out — the interface is horrid).

And ... curiously ... I've been reading the same book that Mr. Gómez mentions, McKnight & Osborne's The Face of New Testament Studies. If you're into that sort of stuff, I'd recommend it. I'd also recommend Eldon Jay Epp's article in the Spring 2004 JBL, “The Oxyrhynchus New Testament Papryi: 'Not Without Honor Except in Their Hometown'?” (watch out, link is to a PDF file).

I'll probably be playing around with different colors this weekend on ricoblog, so if something looks particularly hideous ... don't be alarmed. I like the default dasBlog layout, but want to differentiate a little from JIMMYBLOG.

Oh, yeah — You may have noticed my list of furled links on the side of the page. Furl is a service (freebie) that is like bookmarks on steriods. It's pretty cool; I've been meaning to get the list on this page for a few days and finally got 'round to it.

Update: I think I like the new colors. I still need to figure out the calendar (don't like the grey background) but there are five different shades of gray there to replace. I need to figure out the right combo.

My colleague Eli Evans recently reminded me of something I wrote awhile back (Dec. 17, 2003). So, here it is:

Here's a list of argument types to watch out for. If you're arguing with (you know, debating) someone, and they pull out one of these arguments: stay the course. You know you've won. Why did I think of this? Well, I was listening to NPR the other day, and ... well, you know.

Argumentum ad Hitlerum: If you're debating someone, and they compare you or people who espouse ideas that you support to Hitler — you've won the argument. Also, watch out for the following subtle variations on this particular fallacy:

• Argumentum ad Stalinum: Comparing one to Joseph Stalin
• Argumentum ad Mussolini: Comparing one to Benito Mussolini
• Argumentum ad [insert dictator or general bad guy here]-um: You get the drift. 

And please don't forget the soon-to-be-very-popular Argumentum ad Saddam Husseinium.

Argumentum ad Filiium: If you're debating someone, and they say something along the lines of "But think of the children" — especially if they over-emphasize "children" — you've won the argument. There are several subtle variations on this argument too.

• Argumentum ad Senior-Citizenum: Instead of "the children", now you're implored to act irrationally for "Senior Citizens" or "the Elderly". Note: if you're an AARP lobbyist or employee, then this is not a logical fallacy.
• Argumentum ad Envrionmentum: Now, instead of "the children", we're to think of "the environment" or "mother earth" or some other such object. Be on watch for seemingly convincing scentific stats with absolutely no backup or citation whatsoever. Especially if "global warming" is mentioned.

Argumentum ad Nauseum: Sometimes, people don't know when to give up. They've implored you to save the children. They've vociferously demanded that you save the environment. They've compared you Hitler, Goebbels, Stalin, Mussolini, Saddam, Ayatollah Khomeni, Genghis Khan, and just about anybody else who's exercised a fanatic bent towards world domination from about 400 AD on. And they don't stop. Don't worry, you've won. Wipe the foaming froth from their mouths and declare yourself the victor.

These are just a few common logical fallacies presented in argument — even public debate — today. Be on the lookout for them, they appear when you least expect them.

What other common logical fallacies do you encounter? I'm not looking for a full philosopical tome or a formal survey on the topic of logic. But are there other common arguments made today that, while many people acquiesce upon their mention, are really indicators that the one who makes the argument has actually lost?

Update: Mr. Evans, your wish is my command. At least this time. There were two comments on this thread:

Eli Evans:

There's argumentum ad emotion-um — what I'm saying is true because I passionately hold it to be true. "I've looked inside myself and this is what I find." People who argue like this are common, and not used to the intellectual rigor of logic. Some can be turned around, though.

Closely related is the argument from personal experience, which is just poor extrapolation from too small a sample. "I can't believe something is generally true if I had a personal experience that I can cite to the contrary." There's always someone who knows (or was) the exception that seems to disprove the rule.

There's one of my favorites, Argumentum ad Espiritu Sanctum ... well, you probably know what that one is. "I'm right because the Holy Spirit told me so." Try arguing with that one.

I run into a lot of tautology, as well.

Pete Williamson:

Argumentum ad Historium/Traditionum — a favorite of your more historically encrusted congregations and denoms. To wit, the argument is sealed with the mighty phrase "We've never done it that way before, that's why."

Argumentum ad Parentii (is that the proper plural?) — never fails when responding to the child/ren's queries of "Why?" Important to place the stress properly on "Because I SAID so." Acceptable alternatives are "Because I'm your FATHER/MOTHER (note again the stress)."

Professor Bainbridge links to The Questioning Christian, which links to a longish Paul Graham essay entitled “The Age of the Essay”.

The essay is worth the read. One of the basic ideas is that the process of writing the essay formalizes thought. The essay isn't an argument, with a topic/thesis, support, and conclusion (sorry, Mrs. Adams,** I guess you got it wrong). The essay involves exploring a question or an idea, examining different aspects of it, and arriving at conclusions or clarification of ideas based on the process of writing. The essay isn't the destination, it's the journey.

I've always considered writing to be beneficial in the role of clarifying thought; Mr. Graham puts words on paper mostly reflective of my point of view. This is one of the reasons why I blog. I know most folks out there don't give a whit about the stuff I write; but it helps me immensely when thinking about issues, small or large. Consider this excerpt from Mr. Graham's essay:

If all you want to do is figure things out, why do you need to write anything, though? Why not just sit and think? Well, there precisely is Montaigne's great discovery. Expressing ideas helps to form them. Indeed, helps is far too weak a word. Most of what ends up in my essays I only thought of when I sat down to write them. That's why I write them.

In the things you write in school you are, in theory, merely explaining yourself to the reader. In a real essay you're writing for yourself. You're thinking out loud.

But not quite. Just as inviting people over forces you to clean up your apartment, writing something that other people will read forces you to think well. So it does matter to have an audience. The things I've written just for myself are no good. They tend to peter out. When I run into difficulties, I find I conclude with a few vague questions and then drift off to get a cup of tea.

Wow, he is so right on track here. I do exactly the same thing unless I know I have an audience. This is why I've invited some close friends to help me by commiting to read drafts of what I write for the Pastoral Epistles and then come over to my house to talk about what I've written. It helps the process immensely, and a better product is the result.

** Mrs. Adams was my 10th grade English/composition teacher.

At the recommendation of a friend, I'm reading Donald Hagner's New Testament Exegesis and Research: A Guide for Seminarians. Now, I'm not in seminary, but I figure it's ok for me to read anyway; it may help me in my study on the Pastoral Epistles. I haven't read too much of the book (it's short) beyond the first chapter, though I've skimmed through the whole thing.

In the first chapter, Hagner lays out his five-step exegetical method for the NT. For the most part, this is all sound, solid stuff -- I'm not questioning the method. But I do have some questions regarding implementation. First, the five steps:

1. Grammar; Form/Structure
2. Textual Criticism and Lexical Study
3. Source Criticism; Form Criticism; Redactional Analysis
4. Historical/Cultural Background
5. Theological Synthesis and Implications

Ok, steps 1 & 2 are done; basically synthesized into the jumble that I've called “Lexical Notes”. Sweet. Step 4 is obvious and I've done some reading there, too. And I'm in the process of step 5.

Step 3 confuses me, though. I'm not quite sure what is meant by doing “Source Criticism”, “Form Criticism” or “Redactional Analysis” on Paulines. In the Gospels, sure, I have some conception of these things. But in the Pastorals? I'm lost.

I suppose Harrison's The Problem of the Pastoral Epistles deals with “Source Criticism” in that he posits external fragmentary sources for some parts of the Pastorals, and a “dedicated Paulinist” who composed the balance. I don't agree with Harrison's thesis, but I'm familiar with it. But beyond that, what does it mean to do “source criticism” in the Pastorals?

The same question for “Form Criticism”. There are a few things available on different “forms” of things in the Pastorals. For instance, the “Faithful Sayings” (George Knight & H.B. Swete have that covered); there are also some catalogues of virtue and vice in the Pastorals. I suppose I could also compare them with other similar Pauline catalogues. Does “Form Criticism” as applied to the Pastorals simply mean looking at that stuff? Again, I have a conception of what it means in the Gospels, but I just don't see an easy application outside of the Gospels.

The same goes for “Redaction Analysis”. I suppose Harrison may have some application here again, but that almost seems like a cop-out. And I'm disinterested because I've looked at Harrison's stuff and don't agree with him.

I guess it comes down to this: Unless there's a hypothetical Q-like source posited as the basis of the 1 Timothy, 2 Timothy, and Titus (don't worry, I'm not going to propose one) and unless these three letters are really just re-hashing that hypothetical source ... I'm not quite sure how step 3 applies.

I want to be somewhat thorough in my approach, however, so I want to know what I'm missing. If you know, please clue me in and erase my ignorance.

Codex Argentus is a sixth-century Gothic MSS. It is unique in that the vellum(?) is purple, and the lettering is silver and gold.

There's a facsimile online. There are a few pages representative of the actual color of the MSS; but the facsimile edition has its contrast such that the letters can actually be read ... well, if you know Gothic.

Kudos to Hypotyposes for the link to the Codex Argentus page at Uppsala University.

While we're on the topic of Gothic, my colleague Eli Evans has designed a Gothic font called Gotisch (bottom of the page). If you're at all interested in Gothic you may be interested in the font.

A few weeks back, I had some comments about 2 Clement and 'double'. These are the passages that say something like “to yourself and your hearers”. 1Ti 4.16 uses language like this.

Well ... let's add Ignatius to the Ephesians to the list. Here's IgEph 16.1-2:

¹ Be not deceived, my brethren. Corrupters of houses shall not inherit the kingdom of God. ² If then they which do these things after the flesh are put to death, how much more if a man through evil doctrine corrupt the faith of God for which Jesus Christ was crucified. Such a man, having defiled himself, shall go into the unquenchable fire; and in like manner also shall he that hearkeneth unto him. (IEp 16)

The language in Lightfoot is somewhat archaic, it's the last bit of v. 2 I'm concerned with. Here's how Ehrman translates it: 

 ... Such a person is filthy and will depart into the unquenchable fire; so too the one who listens to him.

Of course, the logical explanation for all of this is that the listener has a responsibility to critically evaluate what he is being taught. And this is true, for what it is worth.

But still, teachers have an increased responsibility precisely because those being taught are more likely to rely on the teachings of a few. If a sincere, well-meaning person puts his trust in the snake-oil of an insincere teacher, then the insincere teacher is responsible for them both. Likewise, if a teacher is well-intentioned but misguided, that teacher is still responsbile for the content of his teaching. And if the sincere listener is caught up, then there are consequences.

I'm going to be keeping my eyes open for more of this sort of stuff.

Stories about customer service may well become a running feature on ricoblog. Or not.

Anyway, this is more of the white board story. On my white-board search I also went to Home Depot. Hey, why not check, right? They might have had the super-groovy 4x8 sheets of white board material, which would've been really awesome.

As I was wandering in the lumber section with 'nary an orange apron to be seen, I heard at least two people mutter, “now if I could only find someone to help me”. There was an older lady fighting with some lumber trying to get it into her cart. There was nobody around. As I walked by I asked her if I could help. Unfortunately I was about five minutes too late — she'd just managed to get what she needed in her cart. “Oh, do you work here?!” she said. “No, but you looked like you could use some help. Are you sure I can't help you with that?” “No”, she said, “I just need to get to the place where they cut lumber now, I've got what I need. But thanks for asking!”

What is it about providing good customer service that is so hard? I saw small groups of orange-aproned Home Depot employees milling about other sections, but the lumber section — you know, the one with the really big bulky stuff — was almost totally void of any employees. I did see one employee in that section; he looked frazzled and was in the process of helping an older gentleman with some stuff. Too bad there weren't three more employees in that area to help folks out.

If you're interested, see BobPritchett.com for other customer service stories.