It’s (as yet) all Greek to me

I’ve mentioned my studies a couple of times (see here and here). Alas, formally they are now over. I say alas because I have really enjoyed all of the process, content and, as it happens, the outcome. Perhaps it’s the academic in me. So, next summer, all being well, I shall graduate from Union. However, for tactical reasons I managed to avoid serious engagement with the original languages in which the Bible is written (primarily Hebrew and Greek). This was tactical because at my relatively advanced age learning a new language in the time available, essentially from scratch, would have been a big ask. I have picked up occasional words in both Hebrew and Greek in my MTh studies, and over the years from commentaries and articles. But I have no real understanding of the grammar of the languages, and the actual number of words I am familiar with you could probably count on the fingers of two hands and plus the toes of one foot. Given the time and assessment constraints in the MTh, there were lots of other things I wanted to study and (whisper it) I wanted to pass well. Still, this avoidance has led to the occasional pang of guilt. So with the MTh now complete, I have embarked on learning New Testament Greek with the help of some of Union's learning resources (which I still have access to as a current student). I hope to be of a suitable standard by graduation to contemplate taking some of the language modules on a “stand-alone” basis next session.

But why bother you might ask? After all, I actually believe in what is often called the doctrine of Scripture’s perspicuity. “Perspicuity” is to the contemporary mind a very opaque word meaning “clarity”. While “All things in Scripture are not alike plain in themselves…” (to quote the Westminster Confession, 1.7), the really important things, like how God can be truly known, is so clearly taught that “not only the learned, but the unlearned, in a due use of the ordinary means, may attain unto a sufficient understanding of them.” “Ordinary means” in this context is the reading and teaching of Scripture in our vernacular languages (ie in translation). This was a major point of contention in the Reformation and for a recent book-length defence of this position Mark Thompson’s “A Clear and Present Word” is worth a read. But it is not that there is a central kernel that can be generally understood, surrounded by lots of really hard stuff that should be left to “experts” (whatever that means). In the Old Testament, Israel was told to teach what God had revealed to their children (Deuteronomy 6:7) and it is emphasised that this is a far from impossible task; in general God’s words are both understandable and doable (Deuteronomy 30:11-14). In the New Testament, much of Jesus’ teaching is remarkably clear and straightforward. It’s not that the semantic content of both Jesus’ teaching and the rest of the New Testament, the words and concepts, are hard to understand. The real problem lies elsewhere. The very fist step to understanding is not essentially intellectual but spiritual, more about the heart than the mind. You can get an idea of what I mean by reading Ephesians 2:1-3. Ask yourself what the dead are capable of.

When God by His Spirit brings life where there was only death, and throws that switch that brings light where before there was darkness (akin to Jesus’ healings of the blind), the Bible comes alive in whatever language you happen to normally operate in. It remains God’s word and provides more than enough to keep any one of us going for more than a lifetime. Why, then, a need to get into the weeds of the original (or near to the original) Greek? Because they are not weeds and there is always more, layer after layer of nerve jangling, mind-stretching truth. But here are some immediate reasons. All translation involves interpretation. So the Bible translations that I use rely on the interpretations of others. Usually these are fine; no text can mean anything (something that the more extreme post-modernists got disastrously wrong) and only occasionally do different translations diverge significantly. But to be able to see where and why the divergence in English comes about, strikes me as valuable. And of course some divergent interpretations are occasionally based on a particular asserted meaning of the original text. To be able to go and check that there hasn’t been some twisting of the original, or that some linguistic fallacy isn’t being perpetrated (for a number of these see Don Carson’s “Exegetical Fallacies”), is also valuable. Then there is the pleasure of eventually being able to almost see into the mind of John and compare it with Paul, to develop a feel for their individual writing style. All of these seem to me to be real incentives for doing what will be hard work over an extended period.

So I’m currently on the initial slopes of the foothills. Some are quite steep. Others seem to be going on for quite a distance. My progress is sometimes slower than I would like. But the journey is a worthwhile one, and the view from the top will be glorious.