THEAETETUS: Well, do you see what we're looking for?
VISITOR: I think I see a large, difficult type of ignorance marked off from the others and overshadowing all of them.
THEAETETUS: What's it like?
VISITOR: Not knowing, but thinking that you know. That's what probably causes all the mistakes we make when we think.
THEAETETUS: That's true.
VISITOR: And furthermore it's the only kind of ignorance that's called lack of learning.
THEAETETUS: Certainly.
VISITOR: Well then, what should we call the part of teaching that gets rid of it?
THEAETETUS: The other part consists in the teaching of crafts, I think, but here in Athens we call this one education.
VISITOR: And just about all other Greeks do too, Theaetetus. But we still have to think about whether education is indivisible or has divisions that are worth mentioning.
THEAETETUS: We do have to think about that.
VISITOR: I think it can be cut somehow.
THEAETETUS: How?
VISITOR: One part of the kind of teaching that's done in words is a rough road, and the other part is smoother.
THEATETUS: What do you mean by these two parts?
VISITOR: One of them is our forefathers' time-honored method of scolding or gently encouraging. They used to employ it especially on their sons, and many still use it on them nowadays when they do something wrong. Admonition would be the right thing to call all of this.
THEAETETUS: Yes.
VISITOR: As for the other part, some people seem to have an argument to give to themselves that lack of learning is always involuntary, and that if someone thinks he's wise, he'll never be willing to learn anything about what he thinks he's clever at. These people think that though admonition is a lot of work, it doesn't do much good.
THEAETETUS: They're right about that.
VISITOR: So they set out to get rid of the belief in one's own wisdom in another way.
THEAETETUS: How?
VISITOR: They cross-examine someone when he thinks he's saying something though he's saying nothing. Then, since his opinions will vary inconsistently, these people will easily scrutinize them. They collect his opinions together during the discussion, put them side by side, and show that they conflict with each other at the same time on the same subjects in relation to the same thing and in the same respects. The people who are being examined see this, get angry at themselves, and become calmer toward others. They lose their inflated and rigid beliefs about themselves that way, and no loss is pleasanter to hear or has a more lasting effect on them. Doctors who work on the body think it can't benefit from any food that's offered to it until what's interfering with it from inside is removed. The people who cleanse the soul, my young friend, likewise think the soul, too, won't get any advantage from any learning that's offered to it until someone shames it by refuting it, removes the opinions that interfere with learning, and exhibits it cleansed, believing that it knows only those things that it does know, and nothing more.
- Plato, The Sophist 229b - 230d (tr. Nicholas P. White)
John at Locusts and Honey is wondering where the NASB's translation of 1 Peter 2:2 ("long for the pure milk of the word") came from, as compared with the NRSV which has (like many other modern translations) "long for the pure, spiritual milk." The NASB translation led John to suppose correctly that some reference to logos was present in this verse, and I'm sure that's exactly what the NASB translators intended in translating logikos as "of the word." This is precisely what the Greek suffix ikos (from which we get "ic") does: it forms an adjective meaning "having to do with." Now, the thesis of this post is that that word doesn't mean "spiritual."
Now, I confess to being biased by my background in classical philosophy: in Plato and Aristotle (and friends) the word certainly means "reasonable" or "rational" or "intellectual" or, occasionally, "linguistic," but never "spiritual." However, there is a good explanation of why logikos is often translated "spiritual" and that is given in BDAG (the big New Testament/ante-Nicene lexicon): BDAG (I'm working with the second edition; I don't have the third to compare) cites some examples, all of them questionable, for the reading "spiritual," and most of these rest on conflating the faculty of reason with the spirit - something Paul, at least, would never do (though other writers might). However, more importantly, BDAG says "it is to be borne in mind that logikos means spiritual ... also in contrast to 'literal' with the meaning 'metaphorical.'" I hope at some point to write a whole post on the contrast between logos (as in "the Word became flesh") and rhema (as in "the word spoken through the prophet"), but for now suffice it to say that rhema means a specific form of words, whereas logos means "the intelligible content of speech or writing" or some such. Mystical interpreters of Scripture, such as Origen, used the word logikos to describe the inner, mystical meaning found in the metaphorical content of a passage, as opposed to the literal, or rhematikos (I don't think they actually use that Greek word, but it is a real word) sense. Hence it means "spiritual" - that is, related to the deep, inner truth of a thing. I guess "spiritual" sort of means that...
Really, however, the word means "reasonable," "rational," "intellectual," or perhaps "linguistic." What the Origen example shows is that it also means "related to content" (as opposed to form). It simply doesn't mean "spiritual" in the sense I get from this English translation. It only means "spiritual" in the sense mentioned above which, I claim, is not a normal meaning of the English word "spiritual."
Two places where this is important are Romans 12:1 and 1 Peter 2:2, the verse John mentioned. In connection with Romans 12:1, BDAG does cite some previous examples of the phrase "reasonable act of service" (or "spiritual worship" in some translations), including Philo who says that God desires "the sacrifice of a rational spirit" rather than animal sacrifices. Perhaps the idea is that these other uses of logikos derive from that one?
At any rate, Romans 12:1 is correctly translated by the NKJV (following the original KJV), "your reasonable service." The central idea of that passage is that, when you consider the mercies of God, the only reasonable thing to do is to offer your body as a living sacrifice. Logikos. Reasonable.
In 1 Peter 2:2 things are somewhat more difficult, but my point still stands. The translations "of the Word," especially with a capital W, may be a bit much for St. Peter (if it was St. John I wouldn't hesitate), but "reasonable" or "rational" remains the correct translation: the milk we desire is milk for our reason as opposed to milk for our bodies. The translation "spiritual" also has the drawback that it conflates logikos with pneumatikos, which actually does mean "spiritual" and appears in v. 5.
These are, incidentally, the only NT occurences of this word.
Now, I must confess that I have departed somewhat here from the principles of humility and charity I normally try (with varying degrees of success) to follow in disagreeing with Bible translations by simply insisting that these translations are wrong, despite the fact that most modern translations agree, but I just can't see how logikos could possibly take this meaning. The evidence in BDAG mostly consists of these two references (the rest of the citations are either obscure, much later than the NT, or secondary articles, with the already mentioned exception of Philo). Furthermore, BDAG's arguments generally connect the meaning "spiritual" with the meaning "suitable to a creature endowed with reason" or some such, which makes it seem to me to be a misunderstanding of English rather than of Greek. ("Spiritual" doesn't mean that!) By contrast, the meaning I am talking about has dozens of citations in LSJ, from Plato and earlier to Plutarch (a contemporary of the New Testament) and later. Why invent new meanings when the most well-attested central meanings of the words can account for all the evidence?
On the other hand, it is only recent translations, for the most part, that have this translation, and they rely, I'm sure, mostly on BDAG3. Is there new evidence in BDAG3 that I'm missing?
So I suppose, John, that I'm in the opposite situation from you: I can't figure out where all the modern translations got the idea that it means "spiritual" instead of "of the word" (i.e. "rational"). Maybe if you tell me why you thought the NRSV's translation was closer to the Greek, then we'll both be able to figure out what's going on.
A month or so ago, I published a post which has been rather popular on Christianity and Homosexuality. In it, I discussed Paul's statements on homosexuality in contrast to the "received view" in Greco-Roman "polite society." I referred then to Plato's Symposium and Phaedrus, early and middle dialogs, respectively, which contain useful information on the practice of pedaresty in classical Athens. (If you are interested in interpreting Paul, it is important to note that classical Athens is some 400 years earlier, and a lot can change in 400 years - compare attitudes to homosexuality in our culture today to those of a mere 50 years ago.) In the Republic (I'm not going to hunt down the exact reference right now, but if anyone is looking for it and can't find it I will), another middle dialog, Plato made remarks to the effect that pedaresty probably had a negative effect on the boys involved. In our culture we of course believe this to be a self-evident truth and would not dream of questioning it, but Plato speaks as though he expects to be in the minority in making this claim. The reference I found today was from Plato's Laws, generally considered to be the very last of his dialogs (according to some accounts, he had not had a chance to edit it when he died). The passage is very helpful both in distinguishing what Plato believes to be the majority view among the Greeks of his time, what arguments were floating around (at least one of them will sound very familiar), and what Plato's own view was. One piece of background will be needed, which shows the complicated view of the subject the Greeks took: in Greek myth, Laius, the father of Oedipus, was the first pedarest. In some versions of the myth of Oedipus, this is the reason Oedipus and his descendants are cursed, but in other versions it has to do with the fact that Laius abducted the boy involved from his host, violating the laws of hospitality, and in still other versions it is simply because the Oracle commanded Laius not to have children and he disobeyed. Whatever the case, Odysseus meets Laius in Hades undergoing some nasty punishment or other (I don't remember the details at the moment). Having got that background out of the way, here is Laws 8.836c-e, in which Plato discusses what laws should regulate sexual conduct if the state is to be organized in such a way as to make its citizens virtuous (my fellow libertarians may cringe with me now):
Suppose you follow nature's rule and establish the law that was in force before the time of Laius. You'd argue that one may have sexual intercourse with a women but not with men or boys. As evidence for your view, you'd point to the animal world, where (you'd argue) the males do not have sexual relations with each other, because such a thing is unnatural. But in Crete and Sparta your argument would not go down well, and you'd probably persuade nobody. However, another argument is that such practices are incompatible with what in our view should be the constant aim of the legislator - that is, we're always asking, 'which of our regulations encourages virtue, and which does not?' Now then, suppose in the present case we agreed to pass a law that such practices are desirable, or not at all undesirable - what contribution would they make to virtue? Will the spirit of courage spring to life in the soul of the seduced person? Will the soul of the seducer learn habits of self-control? No one is going to be led astray by that sort of argument - quite the contrary. Everyone will censure the weakling who yields to temptation, and condemn his all-too-effiminate partner who plays the role of the woman. So who on earth will pass a law like that? Hardly anyone, at any rate if he knows what a genuine law really is. (tr. Trevor J. Saunders, emphasis original)
Over at Better Bibles Blog, Wayne Leman is discussing the difficulties involved in producting coherent English from Hebrews 11:1. I want here to produce some considerations on the use of a couple of unusual (in the NT) words in this verse that will hopefully help us to produce a better translation of the word. Wayne made it clear that his post was primarily about the coherence of the English. However, I think part of the reason we have difficulty rendering this verse in English is that we're not totally clear on what we are trying to communicate, so I will try to deal with both at once here. I am unfortunately suffering from two handicaps in this task at the moment: (1) I am at my parents' house for the holidays and don't have all my books with me - most importantly, I am missing BDAG and my Greek concordance of the NT, so I will have to make due with online resources. (2) I had my wisdom teeth removed this morning and am on pain medication, so I may be slightly less lucid than normal. Still, I have thought about this verse quite a lot, particularly in the last 4 or so months since I finished reading through Hebrews in Greek, so hopefully I can share some thoughts I had back when I was thinking more clearly, and hopefully I can successfully communicate them. I'll look back over this post and see if it makes sense (and fix it if it doesn't) in a couple days when I'm off the meds. In the meantime, please bear with me.
Hebrews is widely acknowledged to be written on a significantly higher linguistic register than the rest of the NT. The author of Hebrews apparently had a strong education, both Greek and Jewish, and the epistle is actually consdidered by many experts to contain the best Greek prose in all of the Koine dialect. To put it more simply, the language of the epistle is rather fancy and often highly rhetorical. His grammatical constructions are more complex than is common in other NT writers (though Paul and Luke use enough sophisticated grammatical constructs to show a strong grasp of the language - Luke, for instance, makes frequent use of the articular infinitive, and Paul uses large numbers of circumsantial participles in complicated ways), and its vocabulary is wider.
Hebrews 11:1 is an excellent illustration of the latter. It contains two terms which are very rare in the rest of the NT and are definitely words which are at a high linguistic register. What is interesting to me, is that both of these words have technical uses in Greek philosophy. They also have non-technical uses but, as I will show below, the most straightforward non-technical uses (at least the ones listed in LSJ) don't make nearly as much sense of the passage as the philosophical ones. Since they are uncommon terms, and since the author of Hebrews is highly educated and writing in a high linguistic register, I see no reason why they couldn't be used in their philosophical significations.
Now, if we believed these words were used in their philosophical significations, and were creating a New Testament translation intended for use by students and scholars fo ancient philosophy who would be familiar with these terms, it might make sense for us to transliterate the words, and come up with the following very literal translation (I have included v. 10:39 to get it to make better sense, but haven't looked at that verse too closely since it isn't the focus):
But we will not be the ones who fearfully shrink back [so that we are] destroyed, but the ones who trust [him so that our] souls [are] preserved. There is a trust [which is] the hypostasis of what is hoped for and the elenchus of the things that are not seen.
Note that I have translated pistis as 'trust' rather than the traditional 'faith,' simply because I think it is more accurated. Also note that the position of esti at the beginning of the sentence probably intdicates that it is the "existentical is" (i.e. "there is" or "there exists") rather than the "predicative is" (i.e. "x is y"), even though there is a predicate nominative in the sentence.
But what do these words, "hypostasis" and "elenchus" mean? Well, the NKJV gives hypostsasis as "substance" for a reason: it often means 'substance' in the sense in which that word is used in metaphysics. However, the HCSB's rendering "reality" is probably more accurate since the word 'substance' in English now has a variety of popular uses, not to mention its unrelated use in chemistry. Interestingly, the word is etymologically equivalent to John Locke's word "substratum" (which, in Locke's philosophy means the thing that has properties, which I believe, though I'm not entirely certain, is how Aristotle uses our word hypostasis). Both have the etymological meaning "to stand under." As such, LSJ lists a number of literal meanings, which obviously cannot be applicable here (neither trust, nor things hoped for, are physical objects located in space, so faith cannot literally stand under things hoped for).
A more promising idea might be LSJ's B.II.2: "ground-work, subject-matter, argument." Trust, one might think, is the ground-work or foundation for our belief in what we hope for: that is, we can believe in things that we hope for because we trust God (presumably, we trust him ot fulfill his promises).
LSJ does also produce some references in favor of the translation "confidence" (including our verse). These include Polybius 4.50: "At first the Byzantines entered upon the war with energy, in full confidence of receiving the assistance of Achaeus..." That writing is somewhere in the neighborhood of 250 years before the writing of Hebrews. The word can also mean "undertaking" or "promise."
However, the philosophical meaning seems to be primary, and here it means something like "substance," "essence," "reality," or "essential nature." In philosophical terms, the hypostasis of a thing "stands under it" in the sense of being its ontological basis. The hypostasis is the underlying reality, the ontological ground floor.
Elenchus is, as I have said, another term of interest in ancient philosophy. Famously, it is the Socratic method of refutation by cross-examination. That is, in the early dialogs of Plato, a pattern is followed: Socrates meets someone who is supposed to be some kind of expert, begins asking that persons questions related to his expertise, and by his questions leads the person into contradiction and general confusion. This process is called elenchus. However, it is not a purely negative process. It is a piece of the search for positive truth. The hope is that eventually we will find a foundation that cannot be torn down in that way. If we interpret the verse according to this usage, we would say that our trust in God is this foundation when it comes to our belief in unseen things. That is, trust allows us to examine our beliefs in things unseen and rightly come to the conclusion that they are indeed real. It is in this sense that it is evidence. The Socratic example is the famous one, but this particular word is almost always used in this sort of way in Greek literature.
Before trying to produce a 'plain English' translation, we should take a final step of examining the usage of these words elsewhere in the NT.
Hypostasis is used five time sin the NT: twice in 2 Corinthians, and three times in Hebrews. In some manuscripts, both of the 2 Corinthians uses, at 9:4 and 11:17, occur in precisely the same phrase: en te hupostasis tes kuacheseos, which translates literally as "in the hypostasis of our boasting" (the Nestle-Aland/United Bible Sociteties texts lack the tes kaucheseos in 9:4, but the vast majority of manuscripts contain it and, even if it isn't original, it is probably part of the implied meaning of the phrase). In this case, hypostasis as confidence makes a lot of sense, and, given the precedent in Polybius, is probably the correct translation.
However, the uses in Hebrews are quite different and, while Hebrews is certainly 'Pauline' in its content and use of theological language, there are many reasons to suppose that someone other than Paul was its author (we can by studying the letter come to a number of conclusions about the characteristics of the author, and it is my opinion that the description of Apollos at Acts 18 and 19 shows that he had all of these characteristics, but it is still all speculation), so that the author of Hebrews should use this word somewhat differently (remembering also the higher linguistic register) is unsurprising.
Hebrews 1:3 says that Christ is "the character of [God's] hypostasis," where character is the transliteration of a Greek term that can mean 'character' in the sense of a type of person, but also has numerous other meanings. This remark is, in my opinion, more confusing than 11:1, and so 11:1 should be shedding light on it, rather than the other way around! If, however, hypostasis is given its philosophical meaning, then character might take the meaning "image" or "distinctive mark" so that Christ is the means by which we are able to recognize and understand the fundamental essence of deity. (That sounds pretty good in the context, doesn't it?) Hence we get the HCSB's rendering "the exact expression of His nature."
Hebrews 3:14 also, in my view, makes good sense with the philosophical understanding of hypostasis. It may also be relevant that it is juxtaposed with metochoi, the noun form of metecho which is one of two roughly synonymous technical terms for the participation relation in Platonist metaphysics - the word literally means "to have a share of," but having a share of Christ doesn't work literally, since Christ is not divided (cp. Plato, Parmenides 365b-d for a related metaphysical problem). Christ would then be conceived of as a sort of Platonic form of the new humanity (cp. Romans 5:12-21, 1 Corinthians 15:45). This cannot, of course, be too literal, as Christ is a person and took on a body, etc., but the analogy may be useful to consider, and may even have been intended by the author (though this is a bit speculative). On this view Hebrews 3:14 would read as:
"For we have become participants in Christ[1], if we hold the fundamental principle of the hypostasis firmly until the end."[1] i.e., by being related to Christ Himself in a particular way we have become Christ-like in our own finite and imperfect way; see Plato, Phaedo 100c-e.
(I have italicized the word 'if' to communicate the emphasis indicated by the use of eanper rather than just ean.)
Here, the context makes the "fundamental principle of the hypostasis" "the boldness and boasting of hope," which we are also told to "hold firmly" to earlier in the same chapter (v. 6). Both these phrases must, in the context, refer to absolute trust in God's promise to bring us into his rest. We can see then that the philosophical meaning of hypostasis is quite likely to be the correct one in all three uses in the book of Hebrews.
What about elenchus? This word has only one other NT usage, and that is 2 Timothy 3:16, in the list of purposes for which "every Scripture" (or "every divinely inspired writing," depending on where you put the implicit copula, and whether you see the word graphe here as having its ordinary sense of 'writing' or its "proper noun" sense within Judaism of "Scripture") is useful. Fortunately, this word's philosophical usage is not unusual - LSJ doesn't really cite any other usage than that one.
To return to our initial question, how can we create a 'plain English' translation of this verse? Well, first, let me comment that I believe that an ideal translation would reflect the difference in register between, say, Matthew and Hebrews, and so the language in Hebrews can be a little fancy, but that doesn't mean it should be confusing or archaic, and it especially doesn't mean it should contain 'category mistakes' or anything of that nature. So, based on my above exposition, here is my attempt at a (somewhate loose) translation of Hebews 10:39-11:1:
But we will not be the ones who shrink back in fear so that we are destroyed, but the ones who trust him so that our souls are preserved. There is a trust which provides the foundation for the existence of that which is hoped for and makes the critical examination of invisible things possible.
The English could be cleaned up some more, and it could be made to follow the text a little more literally, and, of course, my interpretation is subject to dispute, but my purpose here is to spark discussion, and not to publish a professional Bible translation, so I will leave it as it is. The biggest problem, as I see it, is probably that in many English dialects, the term "a trust" refers primarily to "a trust fund" or something of the sort, but hopefully context would take care of that in a longer translation (or we could go back to 'faith' if we thought our target audience would understand that correctly).
I rather like these philosophical definitions, and I wouldn't put it past the author of Hebrews to use them, but I should perhaps be a bit cautious as my own background in ancient philosophy probably biases me. What does anyone else think?
Tonight, my proposal to direct Shakespeare's "The Life and Death of Julius Caesar" was officially approved as the Underground Shakespeare Company's 2007 main fall show. Auditions will be open to all.
Plot Summary: Rome. March 15, 709 AUC (44 BC). After decades of bloody civil war, the Populist Party has seized the city by force and installed its leader, General C. Julius Caesar, as consul for life, effectively giving him absolute power. A group of Constitutionalists led by Senator C. Cassius Longinus (C-Syria) plot the assassination of Caesar and the restoration of the ancestral constitution. They believe their plot can be successful if only they can gain the support of the immensely popular independent, Senator M. Junius Brutus (I-Cisalpine Gaul). However, they have forgotten to account for one factor: the powerful rehtoric of the young upstart Senator M. Antonius (P-Italy). As the Roman mob sways back and forth under the manipulation of the divided senate, Rome descends again into chaos, riots, and, ultimately, civil war.
In the very first Carnival of Citizens, there is a post at HeartFulls (a blog with which I was not previously familiar) in which the author wants to know how Christians deal with homosexuality. She seems to be particularly concerned with the question of gay marriage (which is presumably why this post was included in the Carnival of Citizens). She cites a few Scripture passages that are commonly used in arguments, but doesn't present a clear picture of how and why these arguments cause Christians to hold the positions they do (presumably, she doesn't know quite how these passages are interpreted, which is why this is part of her "I want to know" series). In this post, I will try to explain how these verses are interpreted, and how they should influence Christians' actions, especially in the political realm.
First, a word on where I'm coming from. My approach to Scripture is, in theory, held in common with virtually all those who call themselves Evangelicals. That is, I hold that the correct interpretation of the passage is the interpretation which, in the context, would have been the most obvious one to the originally intended audience at the original time of writing. I further believe that the correct interpretation of a passage of Scripture, in its complete content, always yields truth. (That is, I believe in Biblical inerrancy. On the problem of uncertainty about what the Bible actually teaches and what that means for inerrancy, see my post on the inerrancy of the autographs.) However, there are certainly plenty of cases where I think that the mainstream of Evangelicalism applies these principles incorrectly, and this especially happens in the case of Evangelicals who are heavily politically involved. My approach to politics is that of right-libertarian political philosophy; that is, I believe that there is a fundamental right of private property which is not created by the government or society, that the first thing an individual has ownership over is himself, that all other rights derive from these principles, and that the violation of such rights is never morally justifiable. As such, I believe (based on Scripture) that homosexual behavior is morally wrong as a matter of private or individual morality but that people nevertheless have a right to behave in this way without interference from their fellow human beings as a matter of public or political morality (on how I deal with matters of individual vs. political morality, see my post applying this distinction to the abortion debate). In other words, I think that the Church should continue to teach that homosexual behavior is wrong and should never perform or recognize homosexual marriages or civil unions, but that the government should mind its own business and not define marriage at all, one way or another. As a result of this, it can be seen that I really can't answer all of the question posed at HeartFulls, since I don't think gay marriage should be illegal, but I can provide a partial answer, by at least explaining why Christians (at least among those who believe in Biblical inerrancy) don't support it.
Now that we've got that out of the way, let's address the verses cited at HeartFulls. They are Leviticus 18:22, 1 Corinthians 6:9-10, and Romans 1:27. I think these verses, although not the only ones referring to homosexuality in the Bible, are sufficient to present the correct picture, if interpreted correctly. All quotes are from the Holmann Christian Standard Bible (HCSB).
You are not to sleep with a man as with a woman; it is detestable. - Leviticus 18:22
The first thing to note about this verse, is that it is part of the legal code of the Torah. This means that Christians in general do not (or at least should not) make direct application of it. This is not because we deny that the Torah is true or inspired or any such thing. Rather, we believe that the Torah is not addressed to us. What this means is that laws like this one, from a Christian perspective, simply record as a matter of historical fact that once upon a time (about 3500 years ago), God commanded the Israelites not to engage in homosexual sex. This doesn't tell us anything applicable to the present day unless we can understand why and under what circumstances he did this. Now, the phrase "it is detestable" might be thought to answer the question of why God did this. The Hebrew word, tow'ebah, does, indeed, seem to be applied only to sexual sin throughout the Leviticus. However, in Deuteronomy 14:3 the ritually unclean animals (e.g. pigs) are called "detestable" using the same word, and in 17:1 sacrificing an animal with a blemish is called "detestable to the Lord." So it doesn't appear that based only on the Torah text we can conclude that the prohibition is presently applicable. It is in a passage that seems at first glance to convey all or mostly universally applicable prohibitions (e.g. on incest and adultery), but the section does also, as was pointed out at HeartFulls, contain the prohibition on a man having sex with his wife when she is menstruating (v. 19) (by the way, it was asked whether this was still observed - certainly by Orthodox and Conservative Jews, beyond that I expect it is probably not seen as a moral obligation). In short, it would require quite a bit of research to determine whether this particular passage, taken without the aid of New Testament parallels, was presently applicable, and there would be a lot of uncertainty in the conclusion. Fortunately, we have NT parallels, so we don't have to do that.
Do you not know that the unjust will not inherit God's kingdom? Do not be deceived: no sexually immoral people, idolaters, adulterers, male prostitutes, homosexuals, thieves, greedy people, drunkards, revilers, or swindlers will inherit God's kingdom. - 1 Corinthians 6:9-10
There is a lot of confusion about the meaning of the words here translated "male prostitutes" and "homosexuals." The New King James Version has "homosexuals" and "sodomites," respectively, and a confusing footnote stating the "homosexuals" actually means "catamites" (what on earth is a catamite? The Heartfulls post includes the Webster's definition). Neither of these is very helpful. The original Greek words are malakoi and arsenokoitai, respectively. Malakos (the singular form of malakoi) literally means "soft." When applied to a man (as it is here - the grammatical form is masculine) it means "effeminate," which is indeed how the original KJV translated it here. (Interestingly, in modern Greek, malaka is a mild curse used as an interjection, roughly equivalent to the English "damn".) I will discuss in a moment how exactly that applies here, and why the translations say what they do. Arsenokoites (singular of arsenokoitai) is from the words arsen, meaning "male" and koite, which literally means "bed," but is a euphemism for sex. The grammatical form is masculine, so this word literally means "men who go to bed with men." Now, why are both words used here, what is the difference between them, and why do the translations say what they do?
Warning: the below section discusses some Greco-Roman sexual practices, and is slightly more explicit than anything I would normally post on this blog. I've tried to keep it as inoffensive as possible, but some readers may prefer to skip it.
I think it is clear that here malakos refers to the "passive" partner and arsenokoites to the "active" partner in anal intercourse between males. Why should Paul mention the two separately, and why should the NKJV tell us the first means "catamites" (by which they apparently mean willing victims of pedarests?) and the second "sodomites"? Why does the HCSB think the first means "male prostitute"? I think this links back to the Greco-Roman attitude and practice toward male homosexuality and is important in the cultural context in its differences from that practice.
It is abundantly clear from the literary record that pedaresty was a near universal practice among (especially upper-class) Greeks of the classical period (roughly 400 years before the NT - it is less clear what was going on in NT times in Corinth, but it is unlikely, I think, that the practice had completely disappeared). The older man was considered a sort of mentor to the younger boy, and the boy and his family were generally without objection to the practice. It was considered to be a normal part of the boy's growth and education. (See the speech of Alcibiades in Plato's Symposium, where in a role-reversal the Greeks must have thought humorous, a young Alcibiades attempts to seduce the older man, Socrates, and also Plato's Phaedrus where a speech attributed to Lysias attempts to convince a young man that it is better to have sex with an older man who is not in love with him than one who is, since love is a type of madness. Not all of the references to the practice are in Plato, it's just that I know Plato better than I know other writers.) Stories about "thigh rubbing" in connection with ancient Greek pedaresty can be disregarded (and are now disregarded by most scholars, I believe) as a prude fabrication of the Victorian era.
The practice was deemed no longer acceptable when a boy's beard began to come in. At this point, the boy became a man, and it was considered shameful for a man to be sexually passive. (In modern Greek the word pathetikos, which literally means "passive," has taken on sexual connotations and is considered highly obscene - I once heard a story of an argument in Greek between a native English-speaker and a native Greek-speaker which nearly came to blows when the English-speaker said this word thinking it had the same meaning as the English word "pathetic.") The ancient Greeks saw the sexual love between a man and a boy as of a higher order than that between a man and a woman (see the speech of Aristophanes in the Symposium). Note, however, that there was little or no stigma against homosexuality as such, but only against sexual passivity on the part of adult males.
While the Romans didn't engage in the pedaresty of the Greeks, they, similarly, had the attitude that it was not homosexuality as such, but sexual passivity that was shameful for men. So, in the Greco-Roman world, homosexual intercourse seems often to have been in some sense a form of dominance between males, as is seen in certain animals (e.g. dogs). It was also common in the tradition of Roman invective (for instance, in political mudslinging in the days of the republic) to label someone a passive homosexual. This is not to say that it was never consensual. I find it highly implausible to suppose that Paul means to say that men (or young boys) who were raped were somehow to blame for what happened to them, especially in light of the Torah law specifically stating that a woman who is raped is not to be held responsible for the loss of her virginity. (Specifically, a woman who did cry or may have cried for help cannot be punished for adultery or fornication - Deuteronomy 22:23-27.) This is probably the reason that the HCSB has translated the word as "male prostitutes." There were, indeed, homosexual male prostitutes, and consensual homosexual practice (and also heterosexual adultery) were quite common among Roman aristocrats (though, if I recall correctly, there is evidence that these things were frowned upon by the lower classes).
Based on these observations about the surrounding culture, it is my conclusion that Paul includes both terms in his list to make it clear that Christianity finds all homosexual practice equally unacceptable, rather than seeing the active partner as dominating the passive in a way that shows his strength or some such.
This is the end of the potentially offensive part.
So this verse does indeed object to (at least male) homosexuality, even if it is between consenting adults.
There is one more thing I want to observe before moving on, and that is verse 11: "Some of you [i.e. the Christians at Corinth] were like this, but you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of God." Thus we can see that the individuals in the list are not irrevocably condemned by the text. Rather, Paul is saying that individuals whose identities are defined by these kinds of behaviors are still in need of salvation. They cannot inherit the Kingdom of God as long as they see what God regards as sin as being part of their identity. They must be willing to give it up to God. (Compare Romans 7:17 and surrounding verses.) Note also that we are talking about behaviors here. Certainly we must also cease to identify with the inclination, but we are not held morally responsible for our natural inclinations, only for what we do with them. A person is not guilty of being a kleptomaniac, he is guilty of being a thief. There is a big problem in a lot of debate about homosexuality that some people use the word to mean the actions, and others to mean the inclinations. Here we are talking about actions, and the Bible condemns those actions.
This is why God delivered them over to degrading passions. For even their females exchanged natural sexual intercourse for waht is unnatural. The males in the same way also left natural sexual intercourse with females and were inflamed in their lust for one another. Males committed shameless acts with males and received in their own persons the appropriate penalty for their perversion. - Romans 1:26-27
The HeartFull post only quoted verse 27, but I think verse 26 is important because it is the only place I am aware of where the Bible talks about female homosexuality. I think this verse is quite clear. It consideres homosexual "passions" to be "degrading" and condemns the actions, whether male or female. It seems, in context, that these "passions" are punishment for the sin in verse 25: "they exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshipped and served something created instead of the Creator."
There are two things which I think need clarification about this whole punishment for sin thing: the first is that the text does not necessarily teach that every person who has homosexual desires has them for the reasons in this verse. There may also be other reasons which apply in some cases. Secondly, the Bible teaches that human beings are inherently communal beings, and, because we live in community, one person's sin (or righteousness!) affects other persons around him (see, e.g., Exodus 20:5-6). Thus, for instance, we can say that AIDS is a punishment for sin in the sense that if nobody ever sinned nobody would have AIDS. This does not - I repeat not - imply that people who have AIDS have AIDS because they are worse sinners than other people. One individual person getting AIDS may have nothing to do with any sin of his own - he might get it from a bad blood transfusion, or a spouse who cheated on him, or any number of other things like this; in other words, he might get it as a result of someone else's sin. It should be noted that, according to the Bible everything that is wrong with the world, including every disease, is ultimately a result of sin (i.e. of The Fall - Genesis 3); I have only chosen the example of AIDS because it is easy to see where sin enters the equation (although, I should mention that not everything that appears to be wrong with the world to us is necessarily actually wrong). I hope the use of AIDS as an example is not unnecessarily offensive and I hope I have made it clear that I don't mean to add to the already quite significant suffering of those affected by AIDS.
At any rate, there is no reason to think that similar reasoning does not apply to the claim in Romans that homosexual desires are some kind of punishment for sin. For instance, I have been told (I don't study psychology, so I don't really know if this is true, but it seems plausible) that women who are raped are more likely to become lesbians because some of them develop a general fear of men. These people have been deeply hurt by the sin of others.
So, this passage teaches three things: (1) having homosexual attractions is undesirable, (2) homosexual acts are sinful, and (3) at least some people at least some times have homosexual attractions as a result of sin (their own or that of others).
Beyond the passages mentioned, there is also the Biblical definition of marriage, which is always unequivocally heterosexual. (See Genesis 2:24, which is quoted repeatedly by the NT.)
This, I think, is enough to say that people who view the Bible as authoritative on ethical matters must believe that homosexual behavior is immoral, as a matter, at least, of individual morality. What does all of this mean to politics? I've said already that I don't think it justifies the illegalization of gay marriage. However, one thing that should be pointed out is that Christianity has a definition of marriage by which marriage is between a man and a woman and is the only appropriate context for any sexual activity. If the government passes a law that defines marriage in any other way, the government is passing a law that says Christianity is wrong (about this issue). This may be one reason that Christians generally fight to have this definition of marriage included in the law.
This is, however, the wrong approach and a totally wrong way of thinking about the issue. Why? Because America is not (contrary to popular belief) a 'Christian nation.' There are lots of non-Christians here, and we do not have a Christian government. I believe that it is wrong (Biblically) to attempt to impose Christianity on others by force, which is what we do when we try to legislate it. Besides, if we give the government power, they are going to use it wrongly, like they always do. Last but certainly not least, other religions (not to mention atheists) have different definitions of marriage, and we violate their religious freedom if we include our definition in the law. Ultimately, civil marriage is a contract and religious marriage is, well, religious, so if the government has any legal definition of marriage it violates either freedom of contract, freedom of religion, or, more likely, both. It amazes me that so many Evangelicals go around emphasizing the importance of making a "personal decision for Christ," and then support political action to prevent people from making their own decisions freely.
In conclusion, Biblical Christianity teaches that all homosexual activity is morally unacceptable, and this means that people who believe in Biblical Christianity ought not to practice homosexuality or condone gay marriage. However, there is no justification for the application of coercive force in this area. Furthermore, Christianity teaches that everyone stands equally condemned under God's law apart from the sacrifice of Christ (Romans 3:9-10). If someone is practicing homosexuality and doesn't know Jesus, his real problem is that he doesn't know Jesus, not that he's gay. If it wasn't homosexuality, it would be some other sin, and he would be equally condemned. Our call as Christians is to love people and show them the way out of sin and condemnation. Jesus sent us just as the Father sent him (John 20:21). How was Jesus sent? "Not ... that He might condemn that world, but the the world might be saved through Him." (John 3:17)
This, I hope, is a step to answering HeartFull's question, but as to Christians who think homosexual marriage should be illegal, I'll let them speak for themselves, since I am not one of them and don't think their position is justified.
I'm studying Plato's Parmenides in a graduate seminar this semester. It is rather a baffling text, and there is a wealth of secondary literature which contains little consensus on anything. Today, as I was reading Constance Meinwald's guidebook to the dialog, I came across an issue in the translation of the text which I think is relevant to a number of discussion about Bible translation that I've had on-blog, and thought I would share. The issue is one of preserving a (probably intentional) ambiguity in the original in translation, and thus with the degree of interpretation done by translators, and the degree left up to readers of the translation.
What is usually referred to as "part 2" of the Parmenides consists of a series of deductions from contradictory hypotheses. The hypotheses in question are stated in the Greek as hen estin (137c4, etc.) and hen me estin (160c1-2, etc.). The 'standard' translation (that is, the one included in the Complete Works, ed. John M. Cooper) by Mary Louise Gill gives two very literal translations. For the first hypothesis, in the main text Gill has "it is one" and in a footnote gives the alternate translation "one is." For the second hypothesis, Gill has "one is not" and doesn't give an alternate translation. This ambiguity applies to a huge number of statements throughout the dialog and seems to be intentional (more on that in a moment). Meinwald, citing Jowett, suggests (p. 30) that we can preserve that ambiguity if, instead of translations of the form "if the one is" we give translations of the form "on the hypothesis of the being of the one."
Now, if we did the latter in a Bible translation, many people who, like me, favor highly literal translations, would be up in arms about all the words we're adding. However, what I want to point out is that the more litaral translations are more interpretive than the looser ones. That is, because there are multiple possible literal translations of this particular phrase which have substantial differences in meaning, a literal translation requires the translator to pick one of those as the correct interpretation for inclusion in the main text, and thereby leaves fewer readings open in the English than are available in the Greek. That translator is here doing the interpreting and not leaving it to the reader.
To make matters worse, this probably isn't a case where we're simply not sure what Plato means, but a place where he is being ambiguous on purpose. The reason seems to be that the actual thesis of the historical Parmenides was simply "it is." He denied that "it" (that which is) was divided (DK28B8 line 22), and therefore, by implication, that it was plural. So the real hypothesis of Parmenides is that "that which is, is one," or, to put it in better English, "only one thing exists." But Plato's dialog is concerned with the theory of forms, and therefore he seems to use the phrase to mean "Oneness Itself exists." Thus the ambiguity seems to be necessary in order for the phrase to meet both the dramatic needs of the dialog (i.e. to be spoken by Parmenides) and the needs of Plato's philosophical purpose. This seems to be precisely the reason Meinwald embraces Jowett's translation.
To return to the question of the literalness and degree of interpretation of translations, it seems here that the less literal translation turns out to be more accurate. This result will be unsurprising to regular readers of the Better Bibles Blog, where such cases are on display regularly. What I really want to call attention to, though, is that the less literal translation actually involves less interpretation on the part of the translator and leaves more to the reader. This, as I understand it, is the main reason for those (again including myself) who favor more literal Bible translations. You will hear us say "I want a translator to tell me what it says, not what it means." While a certain degree of interpretation on the part of a translator is absolutely necessary, I do agree with that statement. However, as it turns out, there are some cases, such as this one, where that principle ought to cause us to lean toward a less literal translation. How about that?
Not long ago, I wrote a post suggesting that the New Testament may have consciously made use of the language of Athenian democracy, especially in its usage of the words ekklesia and kerux. JollyBlogger has now posted on the etymological fallacy in our understanding of the ekklesia (HT: Parableman). The etymological fallacy occurs when an interpreter uses a piece of information about the history of a word which was unknown to the author or, at least, which the author was not thinking about in his usage of the word. For instance, although I am aware that the word 'gay' originally meant happy, if you use that piece of information to interpret me as somehow asserting that all homosexuals are happy, you commit the etymological fallacy.
In my post on ekklesia, I pointed out that ekklesia is derived from ek plus klesis and thus has the etymological definition of "those who are called out." What JollyBlogger wants to draw our attention to (and what I hope was apparent in my original post) is that when the authors of the NT used the word ekklesia, the definitions going through their minds was not "those who are called out," but something else. What I suggested in my post is not that we should translate the word as "those who are called out," but that at least some of the NT writers (and the other early Christians who used the term) may have (and, in my view, probably did) self-consciously adopt the term from the socio-political arrangements of pre-Roman Greece.
The lexicon entry JollyBlogger cites does point to this usage, which would have been well-known at least to Greeks (would it have been well-known to Jews?) in NT times. However, the lexicon goes on to point out that "it is important to understand the meaning of ekklesia as 'an assembly of God's people.'" I agree that this is the correct interpretation, but I don't think it is right to treat this as a separate definition and translate the "of God's people" part. The intended audience of the New Testament books would probably have seen ekklesia and thought "assembly" or "meeting" or "gathering," and known only from context that we were talking about the Church. Sometimes the context is such that in order for English speakers to understand, we must add information that isn't part of lexicography strictly speaking, but additional contextual information. However, I don't think this is such a case. I don't think that if Paul writes "to the Assembly of God at Corinth" there will be any confusion with the Athenian Assembly (though there may be some confusion with the Assemblies of God denomination, which presumably got its name from this verse or a similar one). Even if it doesn't say "of God" in the text, I think Assembly with a capital A is enough for most readers to figure it out from context. The lexicon rightly points out that "a translator must beware of using a term which refers primarily to a building rather than to a congregation of believers" - in other words, the traditional translation "church" is a little questionable (linguistic research would be needed to determine if people interpret its use to refer to the building or the people - to assume that it refers only to the building in modern English based on its germanic root would be, again, the etymological fallacy).
Some people have suggested that the word already had some religious overtones due to its usage in the Septuagint (I don't know a lot about that). If this is so, then "congregation" might actually be a good translation.
At any rate, the important point JollyBlogger is making is that in all likelihood, the connection between ekklesia ('church') and eklektos ('elect') is nothing more than a pun, despite all the theological emphasis some Christians place on it. (Note that eklektos has only one kappa where ekklesia has two: LSJ says eklektos isn't even from the same root as ekklesia; it's from eklego.) I like to think it is an intentional pun, but I do not have strong evidence for this. A quick glance at my concordance shows that the two words never appear in the same verse. We ought not, on the basis of this etymology alone to connect the Church with the Elect. The etymology doesn't prove that, and the etymology of ekklesia is not necessarily the best place to start in building an ecclesiology. Of course, the Church is connected with the Elect, but we need to look at the text, and not just the etymology to show that.
Moral of the story: beware the etymological fallacy! Words today don't always mean what they meant in Shakespeare's day, and words in the NT don't always mean what they meant in Plato's day. Just because we can take a word apart and show what words it is derived from, doesn't mean we know what it means: the fact that conscience comes (I imagine) from the Latin 'con' meaning with and 'scientia' meaning knowledge has nothing to do with the meaning of the word. This, of course, is a fallacy that we classicists (especially those who do not yet own a copy of BDAG and work from LSJ when reading the NT) are particularly prone to. On the other hand, there is a great benefit in having the classical background as the original authors may have also had that background and it may have influenced their word usage (a favorite example of mine is that there is good reason to believe that Paul was familiar with Plato, directly or indirectly, and especially his Republic). However, it requires a lot of argument to show that, and it can't just be assumed that because the word came into usage in such-and-such a way (hundreds of years before the time of writing) it has a certain meaning.
It's official! Ok, so actually it's not official, but it's true: having just submitted my last assignment for my Attic tragedy class, I have completed all of my major requirements for classical studies (Greek language and literature emphasis). One down, two to go...
This is also my last assignment for my semester in Greece. On Friday I'll be heading back to Philadelphia where I will be working as a 'software engineer' for Hx Technologies this summer, then back to Penn for another year to finish up my other two majors in computer science and philosophy.
There may be lighter blogging when I first get back to Philadelphia because of (a) not wanting to spend more time in front of a computer after doing that for 40 hours a week for work, and (b) possibly having erratic Internet access when not at work until June 1 or so, but I'll try to keep updating at least occasionally.
I feel the need to point to this post about Parmenides over at Mathetes simply because ... well, because I approve of blogging about Parmenides! The post gives a good overview of Parmenides' argument for the establishment of monism. To which let me add three things:
My complements to Kristopher on his impeccable taste in blog subjects.
I've been meaning for some time to write a post tying together two topics that I had previously discussed. The items in question are my discussion of translation and transliteration and my suggestion in this post that Pagan religion might have had an influence on the New Testament's mode of expression. The common tie? The word "mystery."
This word, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, is first attested with the definition "A religious truth known or understood only by divine revelation; esp. a doctrine of faith involving difficulties which human reason is incapable of solving" in the Wyclif Bible of 1384. The same Bible introduces the meaning "A hidden or secret thing; something inexplicable or beyond human comprehension; a person or thing evoking awe or wonder but not well known or understood; an enigma." There does exist one usage of the word in poetry prior to this time, but it appears that the word has expanded to its present meaning primarily from this point; that is, it was transliterated into the language from the New Testament. You can see how much the meaning of the word has changed. It has virtually no religious connotation today. Now, there are two questions here that have a bearing on translation: first, do the OED's early definitions correspond to the meaning of the Greek word in the context of the New Testament? Second, does the present-day meaning of the word mystery correspond to its usage in the New Testament?
In fact, the original Greek word musterion is also a religious word (note that it is also the root of the word "mystic"), and it is here that we intercept the question of whether and how the New Testament's mode of communication was effected by Greek Paganism. In the previous post, I suggested that the resemblance of Luke's account of the Emmaus road to certain Greek myths may have been intentional, but I didn't have enough background to explain exactly how. Musterion is, in fact, a much better example. Let's look first at its usage in Greek Paganism.
A detailed discussion of this issue is found in the book A Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities (online edition at Perseus), under the heading mysteria. I recommend reading the article, but I will present the important core ideas. The Greeks had many "mystery cults," as classicists often call them. The closest modern equivalent to the mystery cults of which I am aware is Freemasonry (it is in fact a very close equivalent). The "initiates" of the mystery cults would watch a sort of ritual drama which was intended to reveal truth about the universe through allegory and symbolism. These were supposed to reveal divine truth directly from the relevant god. The truth could only be learned at a particular shrine (the most famous being that of Eleusis) and communicating it was forbidden. There were various mysteries at different shrines where people of different ages and genders went. For instance, at one shrine young girls, ages 5 to 12, I believe, "played the bear for Artemis." No, we don't really know what that means. Only a few, like Eleusis, were open to all Greeks. Some of the mystery cults had multiple levels, each of which had different "mysteries" (remember, these are rituals and/or dramas that are intended to reveal truth to the initiate) at different levels of initiation, as, indeed, the Freemasons do.
There are a handful of cases in classical Greek literature where the word is used to speak of "secrets" more generally, but these are so rare that they ought to be taken metaphorically. It may be that the metaphor was "dead" by the time of the NT so that no reference is intended. It may also be that a new definition cropped up in between. I simply don't have the information on which to judge this. However, the word musterion itself was a relatively late development in Greek religious language (at any rate, Homer uses different words for similar things). Furthermore, we know that the word was still in use in this meaning in the first century, so even if it had acquired a more general meaning, the phrase "I reveal to you a mystery," often used by Paul, said in a theological context, would almost certainly bring the Greek mystery cults to the minds of Greek readers, and all of Paul's epistles except Romans are addressed to Greek cities.
Now the question is: why? What is the meaning and purpose of this Pagan reference in the New Testament? To examine this, let's look at the New Testament's use of the word.
20 of the words 27 uses in the New Testament occur in the Pauline epistles; 3 are in parallel passages in the synoptic gospels (Matt. 13:11, Mark 4:11, Luke 8:10) where Jesus speaks of the "mysteries" of the kingdom of heaven being revealed to the disciples; the remaining 4 are in the Revelation. The usage in the gospels and Revelation are straightforward: in the gospels the word refers to special knowledge revealed only to Jesus' disciples, in the Revelation it refers to the interpretation of symbolic or allegorical content. Paul's usage, however, is slightly more complicated.
Paul's "mysteries" seem to be doctrines of Christianity. He identifies the following as mysteries:
Only one of these (the "marriage" of Christ and the Church) has an obvious symbolic/allegorical interpretation, so Paul apparently does not, by musterion mean, generally speaking, the correct interprettation of religious symbols/allegories. Fortunately, Paul gives us substantial hints at his meaning in Ephesians 3 (see also Romans 16:25, Colossians 1:26) when he says (vv. 5) that the mystery "in other ages was not made known to the sons of men, as it has now been revealed by the Spirit to His holy apostles and prophets." We see, then, that just as in the Greek religious context, Paul is talking about truth that is revealed supernaturally to certain people at certain times, but not part of general human knowledge. Is Christianity, then, a mystery cult? Certainly not! The mystery was not revealed in former times, but it has now been revealed by the Spirit, and Jesus gave us special instructions as to what to do with His secrets: "Whatever I tell you in the dark, speak in the light; and what you hear in the ear, preach on the housetops" (Matthew 10:27, cf. Luke 12:3). I conclude, therefore, that the New Testament's use of this word implicitly sets up a contrast between Christianity and the Pagan mystery cults: whereas the Pagans carefully guard their mysteries, the Christians are eager to announce them from the housetops! God's revelation, once given, is given to all mankind. All are welcome and invited to come and learn the mysteries of God. You need not go to any particular location or perform any particular ritual: we, the Church, will come to you to teach you the mysteries God has revealed to us.
This creates something of a difficulty for the translator, because modern audiences do not have familiarity with these kinds of religious "mysteries." As I mentioned, we have some secret societies that resemble the mystery cults, but modern religions tend not to work this way (although Mormonism does have some rituals that are open only to higher-level members of the church). As such, we do not have a term for this. The Eastern Orthodox Church continues to use the word "mystery" to refer to a mystical ritual, but this isn't quite right for Paul's usage either. Mystery is the word used in references to these things in writing about Greek culture and religion, so if the target audience of a translation is made up of hellenists, then keeping the word mystery is appropriate. Also, many "church people" have been taught the Pauline meanin of mystery as something that had never before been revealed to mankind, so this audience, although it doesn't catch the implicit contrast with Paganism, does get the correct meaning. But what about translations for more "mainstream" audiences? Is there a good translation of this word for that context, or is the best we can do something like the HCSB's "bullet notes?"
In a recent discussion with Suzanne McCarthy, my views were compared to Aristotle's, and I pointed out that I am really more of a Platonist and am often irritated at the continuing dominance of basically Aristotelian metaphysical ideas in Christian philosophy. In this post I will discuss the nature of these Aristotelian metaphysical claims, the manner in which they have been incorporated into Christian thought, and my reasons for objecting to said incorporation.
Before I start, I should note that I am not an expert on Aristotle, so I will be examining only basic points of Aristotelian metaphysics, and relying on interpretations that I take to be fairly uncontroversial. Of course, since I am not an expert, I could also be wrong in taking my interpretations to be uncontroversial. This is a blog discussion, not a research paper.
Aristotle is a "common sense" philosopher. In stark contrast to Plato, his teacher, he is eager to embrace the basic assumptions of his culture, and even searches for truth in facts about the Greek language. (See especially the Categories.) He is responsible for the "subject/predicate" distinction in grammar (that is, the so-called "Aristotelian predicate" which consists of the part of the sentence which is not the subject, as opposed to the "Fregean predicate," which is a somewhat different concept), and he saw this as a window to the way the world works. He claimed that the world consisted of "substances" (the things that can be subjects of sentences) and that these substances have properties. The properties are the things that might be predicated of the substance. That is, in sentences like "I am a philosophy student," we state that some substance ("I") has a particular property (belongs to the class of substances which are philosophy students). Some properties are essential - that is, if they changed the substance would lose its identity and become a different substance. Others are accidental - that is, the substance retains its identity if they change over time. If I was a philosophy student essentially then when I graduated I would become a different person. Since this is not the case, it is safe to say that I am a philosophy student only accidentally. (Although I can assure you that I became a philosophy student quite intentionally and with much effort! "Accidentally" in this context merely means non-essentially.) These essences, that is, collections of properties which define what it is to be something, are logical entities which are instantiated by certain individuals (but, again in contrast to Plato, Aristotle holds that the actual individuals are the "real" things, not the essences).
According to Aristotle, substances have a two-fold nature: they are "form" and "matter." Aristotelian theories that posit this two-fold nature are called hylomorphic theories. Matter, on this view, is the basic "stuff" of the world. "Form" is what gives it its identity as a unique entity. This exists in a sort of hierarchy. For instance, my form is my soul, and my matter is my body. The form of my body is its "vegatative soul," which is the organizing principle that takes care of blood flow, growth, digestion, etc. (but not motion - there is an "animal soul" in between the vegetative and rational souls). The matter of my body is the organs of which is made. Each organ, in turn, has form and matter, and so on.
The school of Medieval Christian philosophers known as the Scholastics were Aristotelians. During this time, Aristotelian metaphysics became a part of Catholic orthodoxy. In fact, this started very early.
The earliest example of which I am aware is the Chalcedonian Declaration of 451 AD. The Greek text of the Creed is available, with some glossary and commentary here, and there is an English translation in the Wikipedia article. This creed contains many technical terms of Aristotelian metaphysics, and by their use becomes dependent on this type of metaphysical theory. For instance, the Creed affirms that Christ is "co-essential [Gr. homoiousion] with the Father according to divinity." The claim is that Christ, considered in terms of his divinity, has the same Aristotelian essence as the Father (more on this later). Next, it claims that he is "co-essential with us according to humanity." Christ, then, instantiates two disparate Aristotelian essences: the essence of divinity and the essence of humanity. This means that he has all the properties one must have to be divine, and also all the properties one must have to be human. Note, however, that I have just stated this in non-Aristotelian language, so thus far we are merely using the apparatus of Aristotelian metaphysics, but have not made ourselves dependent on it.
Later the Creed affirms that Christ exists as two natures (phuseis) united in one person (prosopon) and one substance (hupostasis). In Aristotle, a phusis is "nature as an originating power" (LSJ, s.v. 4.1). prosopon meaning person is a later usage and is not found in Aristotle. (The word literally means "face" and in Aristotle's time the widespread figurative use was for "appearance," but by the time of the New Testament and all the more so in the later time of the Chalcedonian Creed, the word had come to mean "person.") Aristotelian hupostasis is the ontologically fundamental substance, the really real thing. I think a contrast between prosopon and hupostasis is probably intended here, meaning that Christ, despite having two essences and two natures (the latter can, I suppose, be interpreted as saying merely that Christ has both a divine origin as the only begotten of the Father existing from eternity, and a human origin as a man born from the womb of a human woman at a specific moment in history), is united both as to his outward manifestation and as to his fundamental nature.
Still, one need not affirm all of Aristotelian metaphysics to accept the Council of Chalcedon. One need only accept some metaphysical theory on which all of the concepts just mentioned (ousia, phusis, prosopon, and hupostasis) have meaning. This can probably be done, with a bit of finagling, on any theory that accepts the substance/property model of the world, which is so deeply ingrained in most (all?) human languages that it is nearly impossible to think or act without implicitly assuming it, so this is a fairly minimal requirement.
Later on, the Scholastics made good use of Aristotelian language in examining theological questions. For instance, they stated that God's essence includes existence, and so God is identical with his essence, whereas we are merely instantiations of our essence (or essences - there is and always has been some dispute between Aristotelians as to whether there is a single essence of humanity, or a unique essence of every human being or both).
However, the Scholastics and other Medieval theologians and Church leaders also constructed doctrines that depended far more heavily on actually believing the substance of Aristotle's metaphysics than does the Chalcedonian Creed. The most egregious example is the Roman Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation. In the Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent Session 13, Canon 2, a strict definition of orthodoxy is given stating,
If any one saith, that, in the sacred and holy sacrament of the Eucharist, the substance of the bread and wine remains conjointly with the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, and denieth that wonderful and singular conversion of the whole substance of the bread into the Body, and of the whole substance of the wine into the Blood-the species Only of the bread and wine remaining-which conversion indeed the Catholic Church most aptly calls Transubstantiation; let him be anathema.
This is my primary objection to the importation of Aristotelian metaphysics to Christian doctrine: a complicated and detailed metaphysical system which is in no way essential to the Christian revelation becomes part of a test of orthodoxy. However, my difficulty accepting it goes further.
Today, Christian philosophers continue to be predominantly Aristotelian. I haven't made an exhaustive statistical survey to show this or anything, so it may be merely that the Christian philosophy I have read is not a representative sample, but I don't think so. For instance, a look at part one of Richard Swinburne's The Christian God shows that Swinburne, one of the dominant figures of Christian philosophy today, retains many metaphysical assumptions from Aristotle. In that book, he does not even discuss any of the objections to them. Furthermore, looking over a few issues of the journal Faith and Philosophy, which is published by the Society of Christian Philosophers, will show that Medieval Aristotelians, especially Thomas Aquinas, receive far more attention than the early moderns, although the latter group was composed almost entirely of Christians.
This is deeply troubling to me for a number of reasons. The first is that it is extremely problematic to allow views to appear to be essential to Christianity when they are not. For instance, think of the number of people who have been turned off to Christianity because they think it means supporting all of the policies of the Republican party, when this in fact has nothing to do with the basic message of faith. This is especially important in light of the fact that modern science requires the rejection of many points of Aristotelianism which to the modern thinker can make a system that requires one to accept any part of Aristotelian metaphysics suspect. But Christianity is not such a system. The second critical point is that I believe these Aristotelian views to be just plain wrong (the reasons why are a topic for another post).
I can only speculate as to the reasons for the continuing prevalence of these views. One speculation I might make is that the Catholic and Episcopal churches are more encouraging of philosophical pursuits than most other churches, and so Christian philosophy tends to have a Catholic/Episcopal bias. (I have reason to suspect that there might be a Calvinist bias in academic theology for similar reasons.) Whatever the case, I believe it is extremely important for Christians to critically examine these assumptions and engage with the world of secular metaphysics, as Peter van Inwagen has so admirably done. While Aristotle's influence persists, serious Aristotelianism seems to be rare in secular metaphysics (again, I haven't done an exhaustive survey, I'm just drawing on what I've read), so the assumptions made by Christian metaphysicians, or the things they are unwilling to challenge, may be hindering them from having effective dialog with the rest of the world of philosophy.
The Economist is reporting on a new reconstruction by Michael Wright, a British museum curator, of the so-called Antikythera Mechanism. The Slashdot headline reads, "Ancient Greek Computer Reconstructed." In case you were wondering what on earth the Antikythera Mechanism is or was, Slashdot seems to think it's a computer. From ancient Greece. How ancient, you ask? Well it was discovered 100 years ago in a shipwreck off an island near Crete. The shipwreck has been dated to 87 BC. Which brings us to the title of this post: an ancient Greek what?!
Now, slashdot has a tendency to sensationalize, and this is no exception, but this is truly remarkable. I can't believe I haven't heard of it before. The actual find is just a rusted pile of metal, with something that looks like a gear sticking out of it. We're not completely sure what it does, but after bombarding it with various types of radiation to figure that out it seems that it has a differential gear in it. That's the thing in your car that allows equal torque to be applied to each wheel even if they move at different speeds (see wikipedia). It was (re)invented in the 16th century. Our best guess as to what the thing does is that you turn the dials on it to select a date and the device displays the position of the earth, the sun, and the known planets at that date on its face. That's what the reconstruction does, anyway, and since it is very similar in function to the analog computers developed by Pascal, Leibniz, and others, Slashdot has decided that it's a computer. Astounding.
See also: the ancient Greek steam engine and other notable 1st century inventions of Hero of Alexandria. Yes, it seems that he did build a coin operated vending machine. Nothing is new under the sun. Wow.