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I recently received this question, and I thought the answer would be helpful for those learning to determine the meaning of words.

“I was wondering if you could answer why most of (I have not read all) the different translations translate airo in John 15:2 as "take away"?  I've only had an introduction to Greek, but it seems to me that "raise up" (or something similar) would be more contextually appropriate, especially in light of vs. 3, so I was wondering if it is translated the way it is because of some other textual reasons.”

Before answering the question, please note two good parts of the question. (1) Humility. The writer sees his lack of experience as a potentially limiting factor. (2) His question is based on the context of John 15. Both are very good. Congratulations.

Here are the two verses in question: “Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away (airo, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit. Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you.”

This is the first time in the blog I have dealt with the issue of etymology, so perhaps a few introductory comments are in order.

The etymology of a word is the meaning of its parts. In English we might talk about a “goalpost.” This is a goal that is formed by two vertical posts. In other words, in the creation of the word for where you kick the ball in soccer — excuse me, football — somebody took the word “goal” and the word “post” and created a term. When you look at the etymology of “goalpost,” you can see its two parts and those two parts tell you the meaning of the new term, “goalpost.”

Etymologies can be fun to play with. I just found Etymonline.com. I don’t know how reliable it is, but it is fun.

The problem in Bible Studies is that in previous years too much weight was placed on etymologies. You would find a word in a certain context, and in determining its meaning people would look at the meaning of its parts and assume that was the meaning of the current word under investigation. No effort was put into determining the word’s meaning within its current context. This led to some pretty poor exegesis and unfortunately many inaccurate sermon illustrations.

Someone asked the other day about the translation of οτι in 1 Timothy 1:12. “I thank him who has given me strength, Christ Jesus our Lord, because (οτι) he judged me faithful, appointing me to his service” (ESV). He wondered about the difference between “that” (NIV) and “because” as a translation of οτι.

This is actually a good chance to talk about how to read BDAG, our main Greek lexicon.

BDAG gives this basic set of meanings. Be sure to read their entire entry.

Someone pointed out the other day that the only time Jesus is directly addressed in the nominative κυριος as opposed to the vocative κυριε is in Thomas’ declaration, “My Lord and my God” (John 20:28, ο κυριος μου και ο θεος μου). Is there any significance?

On the one hand, the nominative can be used to function as the vocative, so there is no necessary significance. And yet it is interesting that this is the only example of κυριος being used this way of Jesus. In every other case (as far as I can tell) it is κυριε.

I wouldn’t have thought much about this distinction except that it is such an important passage. It is one of clearest statements of the divinity of Christ, and although our Christology does not depend on explicit statements, it is nonetheless important (see the discussion in Carson’s commentary).

Acts 20:7 reads, “On the first day of the week (μια των σαββατων), when we were gathered together to break bread ….” (ESV).

There is an obvious question for the Greek newbie as to why μια is translated as “first” when we learned it as “one,“ and why σαββατων is translated as “week” when we learned it as “sabbaths”? Why “first day of the week” and not “one of the sabbaths”?

Part of the key is in the nature of the word σαββατον. It is not as straight forward as one might expect. A quick perusal of BDAG show these options.

1. “the seventh day of the week,” hence, the “Sabbath.” It can be used in the singular but also the plural, and here is the interesting part; in the plural it can refer to multiple days but it can also refer to a single day. Why, you say, would they do that? I have no idea. The attestation given in BDAG is significant and the point can’t really be debated. There is evidently something idiomatic in how the word is used such that a plural can refer to a single day.

2. “Week.” Again, it can be both singular (Lk 18:12; Mk 16:9; 1 Cor 16:2) and plural.

When the Jewish leaders see Jesus' rising popularity in light of Lazarus' resurrection, they respond, "If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation.”

"Place" (topos) can mean both an inhabited space (like a village), a physical structure (such as the temple), a place to live (BDAG entry 1). topos can also refer to a position held by someone or even a possibility.

The ESV "place" allows for the flexibility while the TNIV translates "temple" (see Acts 6:13f.; 21:28), reversing the NIV "place."

I find it interesting how things can often occupy Christians’ minds. Sometimes our preoccupations are healthy, when they are the very things that preoccupy Jesus. But other times we become so preoccupied with secondary things that, in essence, they become idols.

This doesn’t mean our preoccupations are necessarily wrong; many times the things that consume our thinking are good things, theological things, things of God. Just like the Pharisees. They were consumed with the minutia of the Law, but that consumption was a barrier that allowed them to neglect the heart of God. And that is the point.

In dealing with the adiaphora (“secondary things”), in working with “strong” and “weak” Christians (Romans 14), the difficult question is determining whether our particular theological or social preoccupation is of central significance, something all Christians must agree to, or whether our preoccupation belongs to the adiaphora, secondary things about which we can agree to disagree.

One of the topics that often surfaces in this context is the name of God. When the Bible says “at the name of Jesus every knee should bow” (Phil 2:10, ESV), is the power in the actual name “Jesus” (or more likely “Lord,” see later in the verse)? When Peter says that “there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12), do we all have to get the “name” right, and that means pronouncing it properly?

The normal picture people have of Timothy was that he was timid, a picture largely centered on 2 Tim 1:7 — “For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self–discipline” (TNIV). When combined with the fact that he was young and evidently sick much of the time (1 Tim 5:23), many have a constructed an image of Timothy that would hardly be emulated.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Timothy was one of Paul’s right-hand men. When Paul had difficult situations, fraught with danger and conflict, he shows no hesitation in sending Timothy into the fray. Ephesus was an established church full of entrenched, sinful management. Paul sends Timothy. The persecutions in Thessalonica were intense. So who did Paul send? Timothy. Of no one else does Paul say, “For I have no one like him, who will be genuinely concerned for your welfare” (Phil 2:20).

This should alert us to a problem. Perhaps “timid” has been misunderstood.

I was reminded the other day how meaning is conveyed not only by individual words but also by the larger context of those words. It is easy to hang on to a particular word and forget to check the overall context, but it is equally easy to miss the meaning of a particular word by not looking at its context.

1 Tim 3:2 says that “an overseer must be (δει) above reproach.” δει is a strong word; it leaves no wiggle room. This is supported by its use throughout the Pastorals, throughout Paul, and throughout the NT (see my commentary, pp 169f). If a person is to be in a position of church leadership, then they must meet the overall standard of being “above reproach.”

I remember a discussion with a former elder when we were working on a elder position paper (available under the Publications tab near the bottom of the page). The goal was to define what we understood to be the biblical instructions for recognizing official church leadership. When we were done he commented that he thought the whole process was unnecessary, and all we needed to do was elect good men who could make decisions. Wow. Such a blatant willingness to ignore the clear and unequivocal teaching of Scripture, and to replace the Word of God with the word of a man. (And he claimed to be an inerrantist. Ah, the intersection of belief and practice.)

One of the interesting issues that comes up in discussions of translation theory is what I would call the mixing of the idea of a “word” and the “Word of God.” Some say that because Scripture is the Word of God, then we are required to translate word for word.

I believe in verbal plenary inspiration. This means that God’s inspiration extends to all (“plenary”) the words (“verbal”) of Scripture. But I do not think that this mandates the type of translation theory.

A charge from the formal against the functional camp is that the latter cannot believe in verbal plenary inspiration since they “leave out” words. Take, for example, the translation of και, especially in John.

και can one of the more difficult words to translate. It indicates a slight continuation (“and”). And in keeping with Hebrew, the Gospel of John begins many of his verses with και, words often omitted in more functional translations. Why? Because starting verse after verse with “and” is poor English grammar, and by using poor English grammar you are saying something about the Greek that is not true.