In typical scatter-brained fashion, I've been thinking the past week or so about Latin and my own ignorance of the language.

I'm looking for recommendations of primer/introduction types of resources. But I need to make my purposes clear.

I'm not interested in Latin for classics. I'm interested specifically in Ecclesiastical Latin of three sorts:

• The “Old Latin” found in pre-vulgate NT Latin MSS/editions.
• The Vulgate (of course)
• Writings of the Latin Fathers

The “scholarly” Latin found through the 19th century (e.g., Tischendorf's apparatus) is of secondary interest to me. My primary interest is textual criticism. In the long run, I hope to have some sort of familiarity with the languages of the primary early editions: Latin, Syriac, Coptic, Ethiopic, Armenian, etc.

I have absolutely no Latin training, so I need something to inform my pronounciation. But I am familiar with Koine Greek, so anything that points out similarities (and differences) between the two would be nice. A sort of “Latin for Koine Greek Students” would be cool. I'd think that something along the lines of Lambdin's Sahidic Coptic Intro, which specifically notes loanwords from Greek, would be helpful.

I can't help but think with a decent pronounciation guide, some decently annotated paradigms, and some short vocabulary building exercises I could get a decent grasp of the language fairly quickly.

If you have any recommendations for me to check out, I'd appreciate it. If you just say “Get Wheelock”, you'll be summarily ignored unless you explain why Wheelock is appropriate to my situation.

Thanks!

It's time to recap the year. As I've only been blogging publicly since the middle of August I don't have a whole year's worth of posts to dig from. So I'm going to do a best-of-2004 list that has some categories for blog posts too instead of a seperate post for such things.

Regarding books: I don't recall publication dates so my best-of books won't be books necessarily published in 2004, but that I happened to read in 2004. Also, I'm not going to include anything I read for my Pastoral Epistles project.

Here we go:

Best Non-Fiction Book Read: An Army at Dawn: The War in Africa, 1942-1943, by Rick Atkinson. I didn't know much about the north African portion of WWII; or at least the part in which the Americans had a role. Atkinson's book is exhaustive and well-written. If you're looking for more info on this portion of WWII written as history, Atkinson's book is for you. My close second for this entry is Britain in Revolution: 1625-1660 by Austin Woolrych. My knowledge of the English Civil War and Cromwell's reign as Lord Protector was very spotty. Not anymore. Also recommended.

Worst Non-Fiction Book Read: Tough call here. I think I'll pick The Linguist and the Emperor: Napoleon and Champollion's Quest to Decipher the Rosetta Stone. The title is misleading. It should be: The Boy-Linguist and the Tyrant of Europe: The Boy-Linguist is a Coptic Wünderkind and the Emperor Finds some Rock in Egypt the Boy-Linguist Happens to Decipher. There is almost nothing in the book about the Rosetta stone itself and the actual decipherment process. The stuff on Napoleon pads out the thinness of the book's dealing with Champollion. I was disappointed with this one.

Best Fiction Book Read: I don't have a good entry for this. I don't read much fiction and the fiction that I did read was either not memorable or poor. The last really memorable fiction I read was in 2003 (or was that 2002?) — Alexandre Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo. Read the unabridged version someday if you haven't already. I had problems putting it down, it sucked me in so fast and so deep.

Best Album: This is tough. I've listened to a lot of new music this year thanks to RealRhapsody. But I've most enjoyed The Complete Norman Granz Jam Sessions, a series of studio recordings by some legends of jazz who just got together and let the music happen, for the most part. Incredible stuff. This was released as a boxed set in 2004, so it should qualify.

Best Movie: Since I saw Lord of the Rings: Return of the King on January 1, 2004, I suppose that will fit here. The extended DVD is better than the theatrical release; that one is hands-down the best DVD release of the year.

Favorite Event: The launching of my kayak, of course, on May 23, 2004. For those not in the know, I built my own 18 foot cedar-strip sea kayak. It took a few years, but it's pretty cool. Pictures and logs of the entire process are online. Here's a photo of the boat on top of the car after the inaugural paddle:

Best Biblioblogger Thread: The start of the thread was Eric Sowell's question about which to study first: Philo or the OT Pseudepigrapha. Responses were many, but Jim Davila nailed it out of the park and really got the discussion going with his response. Stephen C. Carlson's current string of posts on Luke 2.2 are a close second in my book, for reasons I've mentioned previously.

Favorite Ricoblog Post(s): This is a tough one. My attention span is somewhat short; I tend to hold whatever I'm working on currently as the most interesting thing. But I have a few posts that I'm fond of. Here they are:

• August 14, 2004: Public Prayer
• October 3, 2004: Gaining Facility and Proficiency with NT Greek
• October 13, 2004: Appreciation on Multiple Levels (and Compulsion)
• December 4, 2004: Weekend Project: Concordance of Three-Word Phrases in the Pastoral Epistles
• December 27, 2004: I Think, Therefore I Blog

If I listed most popular posts, I'd guess they'd include posts on Horrible Christmas Music, drippy bathtub spigots, cool typography blogs and the Linotype Manual of Typography. Those are the most common targets of Google searches at present, anyway.

I was recently asked to describe why I blog. This is something I've thought about in the past but don't really have a good answer for. There's the standard stuff of writing to work out thoughts, to share things with other folks and to get feedback on ideas. I know folks who live in the same town as I do who read this blog and I interact with them personally on some of the topics brought up here; and the blog is helpful for that.

That answer seems less than satisfying, at least to me. It is accurate, to a degree. But it comes up short. After all, there are others who read my stuff that I've never met and don't even know about.

Even more disturbing to me is that blogging in the way I do it (short to long posts of an eclectic nature consisting primarily of opinion) is really somewhat vain. (sorry; I don't recall where I read this thought, let me know the source and I'll gladly insert a link). No, not that blogging is useless (though that's debateable) but that blogging in this manner may be a sign of an incredibly self-absorbed person.*

I'm not ready to chalk it up to self-absorption, however. I really do find value in the interaction when discussing things, however trivial they may be. And sometimes, it's just stuff I find to be funny (ahem: Horrible Christmas Music?).

[Please bear with me, I'm getting to my point.]

I'm reminded of something I read two days ago in Diarmaid MacCullogh's The Reformation. In MacCullough's section on Erasmus, he writes:

Erasmus constructed a salon of the imagination, which embraced the entire continent in a constant flow of letters to hundreds of correspondents, some of whom he never met face-to-face. In the later days of division, this proved a precedent for the letter-writing campaigns of many Protestant leaders of humanist inclinations, like Philipp Melanchthon, Heinrich Bullinger, John Calvin, and Theodore Beza, but also for the thirty thousand letters surviving from that phenomenal correspondent of the Counter-Reformation, Archbishop Carlo Borromeo. Erasmus should be declared the patron saint of networkers. (MacCullough, 94)

Which brings me to my point.

Please don't think I'm equating myself with Erasmus, or my little backwoods of a blog with some sort of Erasmian “salon”. I'd be immensely satisfied to simply be one of Erasmus' many correspondents; someone he'd give a few minutes of time to in order to answer a question or give an opinion on a point or piece of work.

I think this idea of “correspondence” starts to get to the point of why I blog in the way I do. I think blogging is a way to correspond in a single forum with multiple topics and differing audiences. For instance, I know full well that many of you had no interest whatsoever in my plumbing woes of a few weeks back. But it was interesting to me, and it seemed to be a good thing to blog about as I have friends and family (Hi Mom & Dad!) who read this blog who don't really get into some of the Greek/NT/Pastoral Epistles stuff I blog about. They can keep up with some of the day-to-day minutiae of my life without my having to go to James-Joyce-ian levels of detail. And other folks who I don't know at all benefit from that conversation — you'd be amazed at the amount of hits this blog gets from folks searching for the very part number I replaced to fix my leaky tub spigot.

So, that's one aspect of a blog as correspondence. The other side of that coin involves dialogue.

That's where someone like me — no graduate degree or training, just an interested and motivated amateur with some text-processing power under his belt — can post thoughts, ideas and questions and, if I'm lucky, someone with an informed opinion can read them and perhaps even give a quick response, typically to shove me in the right direction. (Folks like Stephen C. Carlson, Jim Davila and Marc Goodacre — thanks for this).

In the end, I think this is the primary factor in why I blog: I think, therefore I blog. To simply consider an issue only in the ethereal area of one's mind is a tragedy. Ideas develop more when they're commited to media of some sort, like paper, word docs or as blog entries. Allowing others to read them gives opportunity for feedback and development.

I don't think I'm Erasmus. Far from it. But I'd like to be someone like Christopher Eschenfelder:

[Erasmus] was a friend not merely to princes and bishops but to anyone who shared his passion for learned wisdom. In 1518 he happened to meet a well-read tax collector on the river Rhine at Boppard, Christopher Eschenfelder, who was thrilled to meet the great man and talk to him about his work. They kept in touch until the end of Erasmus's life. (MacCullough 94)

* But I did score as a 100% introvert on the Myers/Briggs inventory the last time I took the test (scored as an INTJ) so that may explain it.

This (and a few others) taken from a vantage point on Chuckanut Drive (Washington state Highway 11). I'm guessing the tracks head north to Bellingham and then up through Canada.

I'm heading down the road to my folks' house for a few days, so I won't be posting anything here until perhaps Sunday or so.

Cheers and Merry Christmas to the small (but growing!) group that pokes around ricoblog on a semi-regular basis.

First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people, for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way. This is good, and it is pleasing in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth. For there is one God, and there is one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, who gave himself as a ransom for all, which is the testimony given at the proper time.

— 1 Timothy 2:1–6 (ESV)

First came the horrible.

Then came the most popular.

Now, it's time for my own Rhapsody Christmas playlist. Since I made a list of horrible stuff, I thought I should make a list of stuff I like. So, here we go:

• Jesu, Joy Of Man's Desiring — Leo Kottke: I'm not familiar with Leo Kottke, though perhaps I should be. This is on an album of his simply entitled 6- and 12-String Guitar. And that's all it is. I could get into this; though is other stuff looks to be different (based on solely looking at album covers and track names).
• The Little Drummer Boy — Kenny Burrell: This is an instrumental version, no singin'. But Burrell pulls it off. An OK song, to be sure, but most versions seem to be mediocre. Burrell gets past that.
• God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen — Charles Hammer: If you like simple classical guitar, then this Christmas album by Charles Hammer (A Classical Guitar Christmas) should go on your list.
• Once In Royal David's City — Charles Hammer: Another by Charles Hammer. I like this song a lot. If Rhapsody would've had Claire Holley's album Sanctuary, I would've listed that version instead.
• The Christmas Song — Mel Torme: The classic, sung by "The Velvet Fog". I always liked this version better than Nat King Cole's version (also available on Rhapsody).
• I Saw Three Ships — Sting: Call me a sucker, call me a child of the '80s, but for some reason I've always been fond of this version of this song. I'm not quite sure why.
• Christmas Song — Dave Matthews/Tim Reynolds: Once again, simple acoustic guitars and a guy singin'. Are you picking up the theme? Note that this song is not a different rendition of Mel Torme's classic; it is a completely different song altogether.
• Hark, The Herald Angels Sing — Vince Guaraldi: If you grew up when I grew up (late 70's/80's) then part of the Christmas ritual was watching A Charlie Brown Christmas. This is from the soundtrack. Honorable mention goes to Guaraldi's tune Linus and Lucy, which is the classic Peanuts song that one thinks of. Even though it is on the soundtrack for the Christmas show, I couldn't quite put that one on the list.
• Greensleeves — Vince Guaraldi: Another from the soundtrack of A Charlie Brown Christmas. Now if I could only find the soundtrack for the Rankin-Bass Christmas special with Rudolph, the Elf-Dentist (Hermie?), the Abominable Snowman and the Island of Misfit Toys!
• Swingle Jingle — Lionel Hampton: Lionel Hampton is one hip cat. You can feel his coolness exude from the vibes as you listen to him. This is his version of Jingle Bells.
• Cool Yule — Louis Armstrong: Louis Armstrong. What can I say? I've got a soft spot for the guy, and this is just a cool song. And it's Christmasy to boot.
• Christmas In New Orleans — Louis Armstrong: You didn't think I'd only have one Louis Armstrong tune, did you? If Rhapsody had his reading of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas I'd have placed that here, but they don't so I didn't.
• Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas — Frank Sinatra: Old Blue-eyes. The Chairman of the Board. This one is classic; you know you need to hear it at least once every Christmas season.
• Bah Humbug — Tim O'Brien: Tim O'Brien pretty much sums up what I think about the commerce-centric side of Christmas. The lyrics are hilarious: “ ... I unbutton my pants from the cheese and the candy / but the turkey comes out of the oven at three”. Then the chorus: “Bah humbug, bah humbug / chug-a-lug one more egg nog / It's just six more days 'til the end of the year!”
• Auld Langsyne — Groovegrass Boyz: Swingin' on into the New Year, bluegrass-style. I'd never heard of the "Groovegrass Boyz" before, but this version of Auld Lang Syne gets the thumbs-up from me. I think I like it better than the classic Guy Lombardo version.

Here's the whole playlist for folks who subscribe to Rhapsody: Rico's Groovin' Christmas.

I just read an excellent post on Lu 2.2 and the census over at Hypotyposeis. You should go read it, really.

One point that Dr. Carlson made immediately caught my attention. He writes:

Nevertheless, the standard interpretion still leaves me cold with a number of problems, the chief among them is why would Luke specify that it was πρώτη ("first"). If Luke merely wanted to tell when the registration happened, presumably under Quirinius (c. AD 6), there is little need to use πρώτη. What does that word do for the text? Of course, the census under Quirinius was hugely important. Josephus had recognized it as as a major factor ultimately leading to the Jewish War in the 60s. In fact, this census is so important that Luke could merely refer to it in Acts 5:37 as "the census" τῆς ἀπογραφῆς.

Dr. Carlson later works through the different major senses of the word πρῶτος:

Danker identifies two major senses for this adjective: (1) being first in sequence, time, number, or space, and (2) being first in prominence or importance. Many examples of the second sense can be found in Luke's writings, e.g. Luke 15:22 "[my] best robe"; Luke 13:30 (first vs. last); Acts 17:4 "quite a few prominent women" (NET); Acts 13:50 "the prominent men in the city"; Luke 19:47 "the prominent leaders of the people" etc.

All of this reminded me of 1Ti 1.15. You know, the part where Paul (assuming Pauline authorship, of course) says he is “the greatest” or “the foremost” of sinners? Here's what I've got in my current draft of notes (emphasizing the word draft) on v. 15. Single ‘quotes’ indicate glosses quoted from a lexicon (BDAG/others, cited in the note); bold text represents the ESV text.

After establishing the general principle that Christ Jesus had come to save sinners, Paul offers that he is the foremost of sinners. While the word translated “foremost” (πρῶτος) literally means ‘first’,³⁸ Paul is not claiming to be the first or primary sinner. The sense is that of ‘most prominent’ or perhaps ‘worst’ of the sinners.³⁹ This is less of a boast and more of an effort to establish a very high bar that all can pass under.
---------------
³⁸ BDAG, p. 893. Occurs 155x in NT; 10x in PE.
³⁹ “ … and I am the worst of them!” is the NET Bible translation of this verse.

Just another instance where πρῶτος doesn't necessarily mean 'first'. (This also happens in 1Ti 1.16, but the eight other occurrences in the PE all seem to be along the lines of ‘first’.) Of course, to relate this back fully to Dr. Carlson's post, I'd have to ask if this use of πρῶτος fits the pattern of use in Luke/Acts, and if that has any merit whatsoever in advancing the argument of Luke as Paul's amanuensis for the Pastoral Epistles.

Addendum: It occurs to me that I should say why I think the original post is so “excellent”. I'm not one who could say one way or the other what the proper translation of Lu 2.2 is. It is a difficult verse for the very reasons mentioned in the original post. What I like about the post, though, is the exploration. Not just dismissing something because it hasn't been looked at recently; but working through it to see if it has merit.

I think sometimes I take a “majority rules” approach to working with the Greek text. My skills aren't the best and I'm still working through issues (particularly syntax). If I'm stumped (which happens more often than I'd like to admit) and if most of the modern translations treat a verse or phrase or word in a similar way, then it must be right. Right? Well, not necessarily.

What I appreciated about Dr. Carlson's post was that he examined an alternative to the typical approach and worked through it, and then posted his stuff for other folks to check out. Dr. Carlson's thoughts could stimulate someone else's thinking on the issue, and who knows where that will lead.

All in all this is fun stuff. This is what “biblioblogging” (or whatever the label ends up being) should be like.

[notes on EpDiog §4]

This chapter (EpDiog 5) is one of the longer sections of the letter. But it is important because it records how Christians were perceived (or how they wanted themselves to be perceived, depending on your view) at a very early point in Christian history.

The author transitions from talking about the inadequacies and problems with the Jewish religion to describing how Christians live in the world. Christians aren't a particular ethnic group; they're present and noticeable across ethnic boundaries. But even in light of this, Christians are unique, writes the author, for a number of reasons. EpDiog 5.1-4 set the stage (Ehrman's translation):

1. For Christians are no different from other people in terms of their country, language, or customs.

2. Nowhere do they inhabit cities of their own, use a strange dialect, or live life out of the ordinary.

3. They have not discovered this teaching of theirs through reflection or through the thought of meddlesome people, nor do they set forth any human doctrine, as do some.

4. They inhabit both Greek and barbarian cities, according to the lot assigned to each. And they show forth the character of their own citizenship in a marvelous and admittedly paradoxical way by following local customs in what they wear and what they eat and in the rest of their lives.

The balance (EpDiog 5.5-17) is dedicated to showing that while Christians may appear to be similar to their neighbors, Christians really aren't similar to their neighbors. A bit paradoxical (as 5.4 mentions above) but that's really the best way to sum it up. The author writes things like “They (Christians) marry like everyone else and have children, but they do not expose them once they are born.” (EpDiog 5.6).

Verses 7-10 are similar; noting that Christians share their meals and not their wives; that while Christians are in the flesh, they do not live after the flesh (allusion to 1Jn 2.16?); that while Christians live on the earth, their citizenship is in heaven; that while they are subject to laws on earth, they surpass the same laws in practice as they live according to a higher standard.

The concluding verse to this chapter (EpDiog 5.17) always leaves me in a state of awe.

17. They (Christians) are attacked by Jews as foreigners and persecuted by Greeks. And those who hate them cannot adequately explain the cause of their enmity.

Even though Christians are similar to their neighbors and arguably peaceable folk, for some reason the lifestyle of Christians stirs up the ire of others. This (of course) reminds me of Titus 2.6-8:

6 Likewise, urge the younger men to be self-controlled. 7 Show yourself in all respects to be a model of good works, and in your teaching show integrity, dignity, 8 and sound speech that cannot be condemned, so that an opponent may be put to shame, having nothing evil to say about us.

Next up: EpDiog 6. Not sure when, though.