Remember the adage: "Greek gives us the range of possibilities; context makes the determination."

Maybe "adage" is too strong, since I made it up; but I do say it a lot.

Matthew starts his gospel as such: "This is the genealogya of Jesus the Messiahb the son of David,a the son of Abraham" (NIV). There is a footnote on "genealogy" that says, "Or is an account of the origin."

γένεσις has four basic meanings according to BDAG.

• "Birth"
• "Existence"
• "An account of someone’s life, history, life"
• "Lineage, family line"

According to Carson, this gives us three possibilities in Matthew 1:1.

We had a good week working on the NIV in Switzerland; lots of ideas for future blogs. I also had one day afterwards to do a little more site-seeing with the family, and had a really cool experience I wanted to share. More about Greek next week.

I have often said that while general revelation tells us something of God's divinity and power (Rom 1:20), it tells us nothing of God's love. I stand corrected.

We took a train to Zermatt, and then up a sequence of gondolas for about an hour. At the top of the final gondola you take an elevator up to the highest viewing platform in the Swiss alps. I stood there totally amazed, dumbstruck.

This isn't going to sound like much, but much of translation is in the details, often little nuances.

The rich young man comes to Jesus and asks, "Teacher, what good deed must I do (ποιήσω ← ποιέω) to have (σχῶ ← ἔχω) eternal life?” (ESV).

At first it sounds like a good question. Shouldn't we all want to have eternal life, and shouldn't we want to know how to get there? Yet, as is often pointed out, the verb "do" betrays the core issue (along with "good thing"). He had already been keeping the ten commandments, and yet he evidently believed, as did many Jews, that one "specific act of goodness could win eternal life (Carson, citing Str-B, 1:808ff.).

Before I get into today’s blog, I want to mention something I was asked recently. The question has to do with why learn Greek.

“It seems there are many cases where this is true [referring to multiple interpretations], and it seems the Greek leaves us with nothing definitive. Then I see all of the Greek cases on your website, all the possibilities to consider ... then throw in verbal aspect or Aktionsart and it makes the idea of wanting to know New Testament Greek seem so much less appealing. In light of all of this, what would be the benefits of me (Joe Pew-sitter) to try to learn and understand New Testament Greek?”

I was asked why the ESV translates the plural μάχαι as the singular “fighting,” and the plural φόβοι as the singular “fear.”

When it comes to the ESV, the first place you always go to is the RSV and see if the ESV repeats its predecessor. (The ESV has always been clear that it is an evangelical update of the ESV.)

You will see the the ESV did not change the RSV at this point, and that may be all the answer there is.

I was asked why the ESV translates the plural μάχαι as the singular “fighting,” and the plural φόβοι as the singular “fear.”

When it comes to the ESV, the first place you always go to is the RSV and see if the ESV repeats its predecessor. (The ESV has always been clear that it is an evangelical update of the RSV.)

You will see that the ESV did not change the RSV at this point, and that may be all the answer there is.

I just got back from a week of teaching the Pastorals at the Carolina School of Divinity. In going through the Pastorals again I was reminded how difficult some Greek can be to exegete. The interpretation of some passages just ends up being 50/50, and 2 Tim 1:12 is one of them.

In my commentary I translated it, “I am not ashamed, for I know in whom I have trusted and I am fully convinced that he is able to guard my deposit (δυνατός ἐστιν τὴν παραθήκην μου φυλάξαι) until that day.”

Is Paul convinced God can guard what God entrusted to Paul (e.g., the gospel), or what Paul entrusted to God (his life)? The Greek allows both, and my point today is that the arguments are strong for both positions.

I was asked about the subjunctive in John 3:16. The concern was that the NIV/NLT reads “shall,” which makes it a promise of salvation. His contention is that the subjunctive makes it a “condition of salvation” and it should be translated as “may,” and the Greek grammar does not “allow” the translation “shall.”

First of all, let’s have a little humility. To say that two major translations mistranslate a famous verse, choosing a translation that the Greek does not “allow,” is quite a claim.

Is it possible for two major translations to make a major mistake? Sure. I think that translating οὕτως in John 3:16 as “so” is precisely that. But is it possible that two major translations violate Greek grammar in the same verse? Highly unlikely.

I am beginning to think that the imperfect is perhaps one of the more subtle tenses, and one whose full significance is most often overlooked.

Sunday school last week was on Mark 8:14-21. Jesus just finished the Feeding of the 4,000, and as they are traveling across the lake he says, “’Be careful,’ Jesus warned (διεστέλλετο) them. ‘Watch out for the yeast of the Pharisees and that of Herod’” (NIV; cf. also NLT).

διεστέλλετο is imperfect, but there is no way someone would understand this from “warned,” which sounds more like an aorist. Other translations include “cautioned” (ESV, NRSV), “commanded” (HCSB), “ordered” (NET), and “charged” (KJV).

Substantival participles (and substantival adjectives) can be tricky, especially when they are generic. Take, for example, τοὺς κακῶς ἔχοντας in Mark 6:55 in the HCSB.

“Mark 6:55 They hurried throughout that vicinity and began to carry the sick on mats to wherever they heard He was.”

When I first read this, I stopped on the word “sick.” “Sick what?” I found myself asking. It actually took me a few passes before I realized that “the sick” meant “the sick people.”

I don’t know why I struggled with this one. I am scanning other verses in the HCSB that use “the sick,” and they seem fine. And when the adjective is in the predicate, it is clear as well. “Now a man was sick, Lazarus, from Bethany” (John 11:1).

I had a great time at Lifeway a few days ago, and as I was leaving they handed me an HCSB study Bible. Pretty impressive, especially in its use of color. Not sure I like their lack of formatting on poetry, but time will tell. Anyway, I thought I would use it for my daily devotions for a while; it is fun to develop a better feel for the translation.

In talking about his ecstatic experience, Paul says that this “man” (i.e., himself most likely) “was caught up into paradise and heard unspeakable (ἄρρητα) words that a person may (ἐξὸν) not utter.

There are two ambiguities in this verse. (1) ἄρρητος can mean “that cannot be expressed, since it is beyond human powers, inexpressible” (BDAG), or “of someth. that must not be expressed, since it is holy, not to be spoken” (BDAG). It is a NT hapax

(2) ἔξεστιν likewise can mean “to be authorized for the doing of someth., it is right, is authorized, is permitted, is proper,” or, “to be within the range of possibility, it is possible.

So was Paul unable to express what he saw, or was he not permitted to tell?

This is not a big deal, but the NIV struck me as a little strange here. Jesus cries out, "Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani." The soldiers think he is calling for Elijah, and one of them offers Jesus some wine vinegar. The others respond, “Now leave him alone. Let’s see if Elijah comes to save him.”

Two things.

Every once in a while we find a Greek word or expression that simply cannot come into English. We want to translate every word, but in some cases, no matter what you choose, you create the wrong impression of what was being said.“Woman” is one of those words.

Jesus heals a crippled woman, and says to her, “Woman, you are freed from your disability” (Luke 13:12; ESV). There is no getting around that the fact that the use of “woman” sounds pejorative to our ears, and yet there is nothing pejorative at all in the Greek γύναι. After all, this is what Jesus calls his mother (John 2:4; 19:26). It is the term Jesus uses to address the weeping Mary at the tomb (John 20:15).

I was reading through the Parable of Sower and noticed something strange. It isn’t a big think, but isn't it nice when Greek slows you down and you start to notice God’s words?

The parable starts with the emphasis on what was sown. “And as he sowed, some seeds (ἃ) fell along the path” (Matt 13:4). “Seeds” is assumed from the relative pronoun. The antecedent is not explicit, but it is implicit from the infinitive (ἐν τῷ σπείρειν αὐτὸν).

And yet, why is it neuter. Notice that the neuter continues in the word ἄλλα (vv 5, 7, and 8). One of the things I learned latter in my Greek career is that often a word’s form can be explained by a word that has been omitted in the sentence. The trick is to find the implied word being referenced by the explicit words.

Here is a great example of the ambiguity of personal endings. In Mark 13:29 Jesus says, “So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near (ἐγγύς ἐστιν), at the very gates ” (ESV).

Any first year Greek student knows that ἐστιν is third singular, and that the personal ending does not designate gender. So what is the subject of the verb?

As usual, the rule is context. What does the previous verse talk about? V 28 talks about learning the lesson from the fig tree, and the preceding verses talk about the return of the Son of Man, Jesus. So it is natural that the ESV would use “he.”

I was teaching on the end of Mark 1 a couple weeks ago in Sunday School, and I hadn't read the text as carefully as I should have. I was using the NIV; because I am more familiar with this story in the ESV, I wasn't ready for the surprise.

So lesson #1: prepare for Sunday School by reading the entire passage in the Bible version from which you are teaching.

It is the healing passage of the man with leprosy. He says to Jesus, “If you are willing, you can make me clean.” V 41 in the NIV says, "Jesus was indignant. He reached out his hand and touched the man. 'I am willing,' he said. 'Be clean!'”

"Indignant"? That's what caught me off guard. Every other translation has something like, "moved with compassion."

Every once in a while I am asked a question that surprises me because it alerts me to an exegetical option I have never thought of or read. (I am surprised quite often.)

The question is whether James 5:14 could be speaking of a person who is weary in their Christian walk (struggling, flagging in faith or courage); when this depressed person calls for the elders, their prayer will most assuredly help restore him to spiritual health and dedication to the Lord.

The verse is generally understood as being about a person who is “sick” (ἀσθενεῖ τις). The elders pray and anoint the person, and “the prayer (εὐχή) offered in faith will restore (σώσει) the one who is sick (τὸν κάμνοντα) and the Lord will raise him up (ἐγερεῖ).”

One of the greatest exegetical conundrums for me is this final phrase in the Lord’s Prayer. My assumption is that when asked how to pray, Jesus would have given an answer that was understandable. But then again, I am not Jesus.

As we all know, Jesus starts by orienting us to God, his immanence and transcendence. “Our Father in heaven.”

We then confess his supremacy in all things: his holiness, kingly rule, divine will. And we conclude by admitting our dependence on him for all things: sustenance, forgiveness, and protection from sin and Satan (assuming τοῦ πονηροῦ is substantival).

I have always said there is always a reason for any one specific translation. For all the versions out there, and all the different verses, there always seems to be a specific reason why the translators did what they did in every verse; there are no random translations.

That’s why I am stuck on this one. In the NIV we read, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?” (Mark 4:38). The disciples are on their way across the lake, Jesus is sleeping in the back, and the storm hits. They are frightened when they realize the size of the storm, and surprised that Jesus apparently is not concerned. “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”

I was reading through Mark 5 this weekend in preparation for Sunday school, and it was interesting to watch the prepositions. It illustrates how you have to watch context carefully in choosing just the right translation. I will be using the NIV to illustrate.

One of the strange literary characteristics of the gospel of Mark is the apparently inordinate use of εὐθύς. It is an adverb I memorized as meaning “immediately.”

It occurs 59 times in the NT, 41 being in Mark, 11 of them in chapter 1. The explanation I have always heard is that Mark was written for the Roman church, and part of the Roman psyche is an admiration for being a person of action. So Jesus does this, and then immediately rushes off to do that. It is exhausting just reading Mark 1.

First class conditional sentences are formed with a protasis (the “if” clause) with εἰ and the indicative (any tense). Their basic meaning is to say that if such-and-such is true (and we will accept the truth of the protasis for the sake of the argument), then such-and-such will occur.

Of course, that does not mean the protasis actually is true. It could be a lie, or it could just not be true. In fact, the second class conditional sentence (“condition contrary to fact” it is also called) is identical in form to the first (except that the verb in the protasis is past time) and the protasis is clearly false. “If you believed Moses, you would believe me, for he wrote about me” (Jn 5:46). They clearly do not believe Moses.

I am back from Asia, safe and sound. I discovered, among many things, that the native language has four tones, and the differentiation in tones is as significant to them as a change in consonants would be to us. I was trying to say “Thank you” and almost no one recognized my feeble attempt. But when I changed the tone just a tad, their eyes lit up.

It is kind of like slurring the end of a German word. It doesn’t mean much in English since most of the meaning is front-loaded in English, but for German it is significant how a word ends.

This is one of the most frustrating passages in the Bible. I think that every time I taught Romans, I changed my mind on what this verse means.

Paul is arguing that “it is not the hearers of the law who are righteous before God, but the doers of the law who will be declared righteous” (v 13). Everyone agrees that the following two verses are an illustration of this truth, and the declaration of righteousness picks up at v 16 where Paul concludes that this will happen “on the day when God judges  the secrets of everyone according to  my gospel through Christ Jesus.” This is why the NIV puts vv 14-15 in parentheses. So far no problem.

I was trying to make sense of Revelation 12 yesterday in my quiet time.

John has covered his second cycle of events (chapters 8 – 9) and the Interlude (chapters 10 – 11). Now comes a focused part on Satan, the two beasts, and the destruction they bring (chapters 12 – 14).

In 12:1-6 we see the Messianic community (a woman) giving birth to Jesus, and the appearance of the red dragon. The woman flees to the wilderness where she is protected by God for 1,260 days.

In the Pastorals, Paul talks about “healthy (ὑγιαινούσῃ) teaching.” ὑγιαίνω has a range of meaning that is impossible to bring into English and provides an interesting study in semantic range.

ὑγιαίνειν, “to be healthy,” occurs twelve times in the NT, all but four in the PE (Luke 5:31; 7:10; 15:27; 3 John 2, all denoting physical health). This corresponds with BDAG’s first meaning: “to be in good physical health, be healthy.”

The other meaning of ὑγιαίνω, according to BDAG, is “to be sound or free from error, be correct,” and this is where BDAG and many translation see the word’s meaning in the Pastorals, using a term like “sound” (ESV, NIV, NASB, HCSB, NRSV, KJV, NET).

I have been playing around with word meanings lately. How do words get meaning? We understand that words have a semantic range, a bundle of meanings, and it is the context of the passage and not the word’s etymology that is determinative of meaning.

And of course there is the dreaded "Etymological Fallacy,” the idea that a word’s meaning in any context is determined by the morphemes that make up the word itself. In fact, all you have to do is suggest that perhaps a word’s etymology still has some affect on its meanings in any context, and you can hear the ridicule in the blogs.

I came across an interesting situation this morning in Sunday School. (You remember Sunday School? That mid-level entry point into our mega churches?) The NIV translates Mark 3:21 as, “when his family heard about this… “?

"Family" is a translation of  οἱ παρ᾿ αὐτοῦ, which is to say, rather strange. In which sense are these people παρά him?

We often distinguish between two types of translations, a formal equivalent and a dynamic equivalent. Formal tries to stick to the Greek/Hebrew grammar as closely as possible while still making sense in English. Dynamic focuses more on meaning; as the NIV says in its preface, “we have sought to recreate as far as possible, the experience of the original audience.”

I wonder if we should actually think in terms of three categories, the third being “natural language.” A natural language like the NLT appears to give virtually no attention to “how” it was said in Greek and Hebrew; it focuses its attention fully on conveying the same meaning in English and using English vocabulary and grammar that is totally natural to English speakers.