Category: Greek

A reader writes:

I’m trying to counter the common anti-Catholic argument that Jesus’ words "touto esti" (at the Last Supper) actually mean "this stands for" or "this represents" my body. I tried searching on the Internet without a lot of luck and I don’t know the Greek language at all.

Could you tell me the real meaning of the phrase or point me to a website that might have more info?

Touto esti means "This (touto) is (esti)." Period.

The verb eimi (here in its third person singular form esti) does not mean "stands for" or "represents." Nobody with adequate training would translate it that way.

This is not to say that eimi cannot be used symbolically. Just as in English we can say of a king who is also a great warrior, "The king is a lion" (meaning that the king has the qualities in battle of a lion), so one could say "This is my body" (meaning that "this" represents one’s body).

The language thus means one thing but may be taken in one of two ways.

The debate thus graduates from the level of language to the level of meaning. The broader context, both of Scripture and the Church Fathers, shows that Jesus meant what he said literally, not symbolically.

A reader(‘s son) writes:

I am a 14-year-old high schooler and am trying to teach myself ancient
Greek. I am using the Athenaze series.

Because I have no teacher to help with pronunciation, I was wondering if
you could help me with some questions I have. My mom reads your blog and
said that you are skilled at ancient languages. I know you are very busy
and hope you can find the time to answer my questions.

Here are my questions:

I want to know if the Greek letter chi is pronounced as the letter "k" is
pronounced, or as the letter combination "ch" in the English language?

It’s neither. The letter chi represents a sound that we either don’t have or that we barely use in standard American English. Ancient Greek textbooks will often say that this is like the "ch" in the Scottish pronunciation of "Loch" (a very harsh sound) but in modern Greek it’s more like the "h" on the front of "Hugh" (a less harsh sound). You also hear it compared to the "ch" in the German pronunciation of "Bach."

I know that it is pronounced as a softer sound in modern Greek but don’t know for sure whether it was harsher or softer in ancient Greek. Any of the above pronunciations (i.e., from "Loch," "Bach," and "Hugh") will get you in the ballpark, though.

A similar question for the letter phi and the letter psi.

The first is easy. Pronounce phi just like the letter "f."

Psi is a little harder for English-speakers at first. It is pronounced like the letters "ps" in the word "lips." You can’t drop off the "p" sound (as we do in English when we say "psychiatrist" and pronounce it /sai-kai-ah-trist/). Neither should you exaggerate the "p" sound and say "pea" (like the Animaniacs do when they say "pea-sai-kai-ah-trist"). It’s just like the "ps" in "lips" or "cops" or "chaps."

The difficulty is caused by the fact that, though we use this sound in English, we don’t put it on the front of words. The Greeks did. To get used to saying it on the front of a Greek word (like "psuche" [meaning "soul"]), you might try adding an extra syllable on the front of the word as a kind of "training wheel" that you can take off once you feel comfortable putting the sound up front. For example, you might say /cops-oo-chay/ (note that this has the chi-sound in it!)  and then drop the /co-/ to arrive at the correct pronunciation, /psoo-chay/.

Thank you very much. If you can suggest another series that might provide
more help than the Athenaze series, I would appreicate it.

I’m familiar with Athenaze, but I haven’t used it myself, so I don’t have a feel for how the program works. That makes it hard to recommend something better. If it were me, though, I’d probably try learning either Koine or modern Greek first, since there are very good tools for learning these (see recommendations below), and then afterwards learn the kind of classical that Athenaze covers.

My mom bought me the book on heiroglyphics that you recommended last year
and I really enjoy it. Actually I like languages a lot. My school doesn’t
offer Latin or Greek, so I am studying German. I am the top student in
the school.

Congratulations! Incidentally, your German will serve you well in learning Latin and Greek. The noun system in Latin and Greek works the same general way that the German noun system does (i.e., it has cases and declensions). Also glad you like the hieroglyphics book!

Also, can you recommend a resource to learn koine Greek? I am interested
in learning that so I can study the old Bible texts.

The best resource to really start studying Koine Greek in a serious way is William Mounce’s Basics of Biblical Greek. It offers tremendous help to the student that other courses don’t offer.

On the other hand, if it’s a little advanced for you, you might try Mounce’s Greek For The Rest Of Us or James Found’s Basic Greek In 30 Minutes A Day.

MORE KOINE GREEK RECOMMENDATIONS HERE.

The best resource for starting to learn modern Greek is Pimsleur. You might try one of the smaller, cheaper sets and see if you like the program.

Hope this helps, and good luck with your language studies!

So right now I’m reading Plato’s dialogue Theaetetus, in which the

definition of knowledge is discussed, and the edition I’m reading from

is a diaglot with English on one page and Greek on the other. The Greek

is a different dialect than I’m used to, but I can still make out a

good bit, and when I encounter an interesting word or phrase in

English, I’ll look over at the Greek out of curiosity to see what it is

translating.

I’m finding that the translation (by Harold North Fowler) is not as literal as I would have hoped. Oh, well.

But I ran across a funny.

At one point Theaetetus (a young man) is talking to Socrates (the famous philosopher) about one of his compansions, and he says:

It may seem easy just now, Socrates, as you put it; but you

are probably asking the kind of thing that came up among us lately when

your namesake, Socrates here, and I were talking together [147c].

"’Namesake’ . . . ?" I thought. "That’s an interesting word." So I

looked over in Greek for the phrase corresponding to "your namsake" and

saw that it was tO, sO, homOnumO, [little o is omicron, big O is omega, and comma is an iota subscript].

tO, is the dative form of the definite article (i.e., "the"), which Greek likes to throw into noun

phrases a lot more than English does, so this phrase is

literalistically "the your nameake."

sO, is apparently the dative form of the pronoun "you" in Plato’s

dialect (Attic Greek). From Koine Greek I’m used to the dative "you"

being soi.

homOnumO, is the word equivalent to "namesake." It’s also a dative form. I kind of wrinkled my nose for a second while I analyzed its meaning, then suddenly it hit me like a flash: Of course, that’s the Greek word for "namesake"! It makes perfect sense! There’s even an English equivalent!

Continue reading “"Your Namesake"”

So right now I’m reading Plato’s dialogue Theaetetus, in which the
definition of knowledge is discussed, and the edition I’m reading from
is a diaglot with English on one page and Greek on the other. The Greek
is a different dialect than I’m used to, but I can still make out a
good bit, and when I encounter an interesting word or phrase in
English, I’ll look over at the Greek out of curiosity to see what it is
translating.

I’m finding that the translation (by Harold North Fowler) is not as literal as I would have hoped. Oh, well.

But I ran across a funny.

At one point Theaetetus (a young man) is talking to Socrates (the famous philosopher) about one of his compansions, and he says:

It may seem easy just now, Socrates, as you put it; but you
are probably asking the kind of thing that came up among us lately when
your namesake, Socrates here, and I were talking together [147c].

"’Namesake’ . . . ?" I thought. "That’s an interesting word." So I
looked over in Greek for the phrase corresponding to "your namsake" and
saw that it was tO, sO, homOnumO, [little o is omicron, big O is omega, and comma is an iota subscript].

tO, is the dative form of the definite article (i.e., "the"), which Greek likes to throw into noun
phrases a lot more than English does, so this phrase is
literalistically "the your nameake."

sO, is apparently the dative form of the pronoun "you" in Plato’s
dialect (Attic Greek). From Koine Greek I’m used to the dative "you"
being soi.

homOnumO, is the word equivalent to "namesake." It’s also a dative form. I kind of wrinkled my nose for a second while I analyzed its meaning, then suddenly it hit me like a flash: Of course, that’s the Greek word for "namesake"! It makes perfect sense! There’s even an English equivalent!

Continue reading ““Your Namesake””

Put up a file on the treatment of the Greek in John 6:44 in my old debate notes.

Excerpt:

When I looked up that passage and compared what I wrote with the Greek text, my response was to ask, “What the heck was I thinking? That analysis is unsupportable! That translation is horrendous! I would never accept something like that from one of my Greek students. Was I severely sleep deprived when I wrote that or something?”

A reader writes:

Jimmy, I noticed that there are no books concerning the Septuagint. Do you know of any interlinear versions? While it’s use will naturally bring up the issue of canonicity with non-catholics, wouldn’t it be usefull in establishing contextual usages? An example that comes to mind was when I was trying to establish the usage of Trogos in John 6 as literal to a friend of mine. I found only two other occurances in the N.T. external to John 6. I gave up on the only online version I found when I realized it was universally translated every word for “eat” as Estheo. (I don’t know greek but as an engineer I recognized enough of the letters to get suspicius when the letters were spelling Phegos.)

Putting together an interlinear is a very difficult thing, and they don’t sell that great to begin with. I am not aware of anybody who has put together a Septuagint interlinear in book form. Normally it is either published with straight Greek text or as a diaglot (i.e., a work with two languages on the same page or on facing pages, but not woven together line by line in interlinear fashion). Here’s an example of a Septuagint-English diaglot.

There’s also an NIV Hebrew-Greek-English triglot Old Testament that Amazon has available from their used bookstore contacts.

Though there is no print interlinear of the Septuagint, there is one available in .pdf form, which you can get from www.ApostolicBible.com. It can be ordered on CD-Rom for sixty bucks or downloaded it for forty three. Here’s a peek inside it:

Now, you may notice that there’s something odd here. The words in the English lines are not strictly lined up under the corresponding Greek words. In Gen. 1:1, for example, the Greek line has “epoiesen h theos,” which in literal word order is “[he] made the God” (putting the verb before its subject) but which the English line has rendered idiomatically as “God made.” The same thing happens in 1:3 with “God said.”

This is not standard practice for an interlinear, and since I can’t find adequate online statements about who made this interlinear, what their agenda was, and how rigorous they were in doing it, there may be imperfections or biases in the thing, so fair warning.

Another way to accomplish the same effect (and which would be far better than buying the Septuagint in .pdf form) would be to use Bible software, opening a Septuagint window and linking it to an English window with corresponding words highlighted.

It sounds like, though, that what you’re after may not require a Septuagint at all (interlinear or otherwise). If you want to do primary source research, you would need the text of the Septuagint–for it is quite useful in fleshing out our knowledge of how words were used–but there’s probably a much simpler way to get the info that you’re after. A good Greek dictionary will tie together not only word usages from the Greek NT and the Septuagint but also from extra-biblical sources, and it’s *much* easier (and more reliable) to figure out a dictionary entry than to do your own primary source research. A professional Greek scholar might need to do the latter, but for a normal person’s purposes, a good dictionary is the way to go.

Though there are more detailed dictionaries available, the Abbott-Smith lexicon is a fairly simple one to use that includes data from the Septuagint, extra-biblical sources, and the Hebrew and Aramaic texts of the Old Testament. Little Kittel would be a step up in detail from Abbott-Smith, but it isn’t comprehensive and you have to be careful with it since the authors of the work it’s based on had an agenda (they were trying to write a theological encyclopedia disguised as a Greek dictionary). It still can be useful; you just have to be careful. There are also more detailed dictionaries, but they’re probably more than what you’re looking for.

If you need an English-Hebrew/Greek dictionary (i.e., one organized by English word order) so you can see what different words are translated as a particular English term, a good basic one is Vine’s Expository Dictionary. It’s not exhaustive (and the scholarship is a bit out of date), but it’s a place to begin. Bible software also frequently can perform this function.

P.S. The verb you’re after in John 6 is trogo, not trogos.

A reader writes:

Jimmy, I noticed that there are no books concerning the Septuagint. Do you know of any interlinear versions? While it’s use will naturally bring up the issue of canonicity with non-catholics, wouldn’t it be usefull in establishing contextual usages? An example that comes to mind was when I was trying to establish the usage of Trogos in John 6 as literal to a friend of mine. I found only two other occurances in the N.T. external to John 6. I gave up on the only online version I found when I realized it was universally translated every word for “eat” as Estheo. (I don’t know greek but as an engineer I recognized enough of the letters to get suspicius when the letters were spelling Phegos.)

Putting together an interlinear is a very difficult thing, and they don’t sell that great to begin with. I am not aware of anybody who has put together a Septuagint interlinear in book form. Normally it is either published with straight Greek text or as a diaglot (i.e., a work with two languages on the same page or on facing pages, but not woven together line by line in interlinear fashion). Here’s an example of a Septuagint-English diaglot.

There’s also an NIV Hebrew-Greek-English triglot Old Testament that Amazon has available from their used bookstore contacts.

Though there is no print interlinear of the Septuagint, there is one available in .pdf form, which you can get from www.ApostolicBible.com. It can be ordered on CD-Rom for sixty bucks or downloaded it for forty three. Here’s a peek inside it:

Now, you may notice that there’s something odd here. The words in the English lines are not strictly lined up under the corresponding Greek words. In Gen. 1:1, for example, the Greek line has “epoiesen h theos,” which in literal word order is “[he] made the God” (putting the verb before its subject) but which the English line has rendered idiomatically as “God made.” The same thing happens in 1:3 with “God said.”

This is not standard practice for an interlinear, and since I can’t find adequate online statements about who made this interlinear, what their agenda was, and how rigorous they were in doing it, there may be imperfections or biases in the thing, so fair warning.

Another way to accomplish the same effect (and which would be far better than buying the Septuagint in .pdf form) would be to use Bible software, opening a Septuagint window and linking it to an English window with corresponding words highlighted.

It sounds like, though, that what you’re after may not require a Septuagint at all (interlinear or otherwise). If you want to do primary source research, you would need the text of the Septuagint–for it is quite useful in fleshing out our knowledge of how words were used–but there’s probably a much simpler way to get the info that you’re after. A good Greek dictionary will tie together not only word usages from the Greek NT and the Septuagint but also from extra-biblical sources, and it’s *much* easier (and more reliable) to figure out a dictionary entry than to do your own primary source research. A professional Greek scholar might need to do the latter, but for a normal person’s purposes, a good dictionary is the way to go.

Though there are more detailed dictionaries available, the Abbott-Smith lexicon is a fairly simple one to use that includes data from the Septuagint, extra-biblical sources, and the Hebrew and Aramaic texts of the Old Testament. Little Kittel would be a step up in detail from Abbott-Smith, but it isn’t comprehensive and you have to be careful with it since the authors of the work it’s based on had an agenda (they were trying to write a theological encyclopedia disguised as a Greek dictionary). It still can be useful; you just have to be careful. There are also more detailed dictionaries, but they’re probably more than what you’re looking for.

If you need an English-Hebrew/Greek dictionary (i.e., one organized by English word order) so you can see what different words are translated as a particular English term, a good basic one is Vine’s Expository Dictionary. It’s not exhaustive (and the scholarship is a bit out of date), but it’s a place to begin. Bible software also frequently can perform this function.

P.S. The verb you’re after in John 6 is trogo, not trogos.

Just added a list of Greek Resources down yonder in the lower, left hand margin. These are the best ones for beginners to start with. The list has easy purchase links and some commentary from me on which you want for what purposes. Enjoy!

Another reader writes:

I’m having trouble developing a Catholic view of a debate the occurred amongst protestant biblical scholars over the proper translation of the greek word "hilasterion." C.H. Dodd argued that it should be translated as "expiation," conveying that Christ’s death covers or removes our sins. He disputed the translation of the greek word as "propitiation" which conveyed that Christ’s death appeased the wrath of God, a concept he found to be typical of pagan religions but inappropriately applied to New Testament thought.

It seems that some modern translations have since shyied away from "propitiation," including the New American Bible which uses the word "expiation" for all occurrences of "hilasterion," and the New Revised Standard Version uses the phrase "sacrifice of atonement."

I was beginning to think likewise until I recalled that the Council of Trent affirmed the theology behind the word "propitiation." When the Council defined the Sacrifice of the Mass it stated, "this sacrifice is truly propitiatory,…For the Lord, appeased by this oblation grants grace…" (DS 1743). So it appears that the Church confirms the concept of propitiation, in the sense of appeasing God’s wrath, even though the NAB and the NRSV avoid using this word. But I haven’t been able to find any contemporary Catholic literature on the matter. Could you please comment or advise?

This question has to be handled on two levels, the linguistic and the theological. Since I haven’t seen what Dodd said, I can’t speak directly to that, but let’s talk about the position you described.

It is very risky to mix linguistic and theological arguments in the way you described. Too often people let their theological commitments govern how they read the linguistic evidence, and this can lead them astray, even out of the best of motives (and even if their theology happens to be correct). The proper procedure is to try to first establish what the text says on purely linguistic grounds (or as near to pure as one can get) and then try to establish what it means theologically.

Linguistically, when hilasterion is used as a noun (it can also be an adjective), it appears to mean "propitiation" or "appeasement" (like its cognate noun, hilasmos). Abbott-Smith (who I just recommended, above) doesn’t list "expiation" as a possible meaning (though some newer dictionaries may, possibly through the influence of Dodd and others of the same mindset).

I wouldn’t appeal to this as a rock-solid conclusion, however, for several reasons: (1) Before doing so I want to check a bunch of dictionaries, including highly technical ones, (2) I’d want to dig into the original sources that the dictionaries and concordances reference to see if the word is regularly used in a way that would exclude "expiation" as a likely meaning, and (3) we often at this late date simply cannot tell the precise nuance a word is being given.

It’s clear that when Paul describes Jesus as a hilasterion (e.g., Rom. 3:25) that he means that it is through Jesus that the consequences of our sins are removed. That much is obvious. But the precise nuance he wants to give the term is far less obvious, whether it is the idea of turning away or satisfying wrath (propitiation/appeasement) or making amends (expiation) or something else. To establish the latter nuance with certainty, a lot of careful scholarly work would have to be done, and a completely satisfying answer might not be attainable due either to a lack of linguistic evidence or ambiguity in the evidence.

Nevertheless, let’s go with the understanding that hilasterion and its cognate terminology should primarily be understood in terms of turning away or satisfying wrath. Though I can’t document it the way I’d like at the moment, this seems to me to be the likely understanding of the nuance Paul wishes to call to mind.

Having dealt with the linguistic level, let’s kick it up to the theological level. What does propitiation mean theologically? Those who would argue that the idea taken literally is more suited to pagan than to Christian theology are correct. Pagan deities might literally feel passions like anger, but Christian theological had established long before the time of Trent that God does not literally have passions (see Aquinas on this point). As a result, when God is described as being angry or hating something, such as sin, there is a figurative component to the language (again, see Aquinas on this point).

When people sin, God is not literally burning with anger, because his infinite beatitude cannot be diminished by what creatures do. Instead, as Aquinas and Catholic theology in general points out (see Ott’s discussion of this), Scripture and the Magisterium are using language with a figurative component when they speak in this way.

The same component is present when the language of propitiation is used with regard to God. To say that God has been propitiated does not mean that he has stopped burning with anger (something he was not doing in the first place) but that the person now will not experience the painful consequences of sin that he otherwise would have experienced. The sacrifice of the Mass, by bringing about this state of affairs by applying the fruits of Christ’s sacrifice, is thus propitiatory.

What Trent was concerned to do was to repudiate Protestant hypotheses that tried to explain the Mass as a sacrifice of thanksgiving only and not one that put away sin. It was not trying to establish more precisely the concept of propitiation and relied on the understanding of it that Catholic theology had already worked out (e.g., as in Aquinas and the scholastics).

So, bottom line, from what I can tell without extensive digging into the linguistic evidence, I’d probably translate the hilasterion passages with propitiation/appeasement-related terms but then in commentaries or homilies (if I were a priest or deacon) explain what these mean theologically.