I’ve argued that you don’t have to reference Greek or Hebrew to study the Bible. You can observe, interpret, and apply just fine using a decent English translation (I use the ESV and NET the most).
In this post, I’d like to give an example of how knowing a bit of Greek can actually distract you from careful OIA of a passage.
Afghanistan Matters (2009), Creative Commons
In John 21:15-19, Jesus and Simon Peter eat breakfast and chat about love and lambs. Three times, Jesus asks Peter, “Do you love me?” Three times, Peter affirms his love, and Jesus calls him to be a godly shepherd.
Those who dig into the Greek text of John 21 quickly discover that John uses two different words for “love.” Jesus’ first two questions use the word agape. Jesus’ third question and all three of Peter’s responses use the word philia.
“Do you love (agape) me?”
“Yes, Lord, you know that I love (philia) you.”
“Do you love (agape) me?”
“Yes, Lord, you know that I love (philia) you.”
“Do you love (philia) me?”
“You know that I love (philia) you.”
The question arises: What is the difference between agape and philia? What’s really going on in the conversation that doesn’t come across in English?
So the student reads commentaries and consults lexicons. Many blogs address this particular question in this particular passage (just Google “agape philia john 21,” and you’ll have no shortage of reading material). Some say that agape love is the higher form of love, and Jesus comes down to Peter’s level the third time. Others reverse it, saying that by the end Peter convinces Jesus that he has the right kind of love.
The problem with this approach is that it assumes that Greek words each have a focused, specialized meaning. It approaches lexicons as technical manuals, almost as if there’s a code to be broken, and the right tools offer the key.
But no language works that way. Not English or German, Greek or Hebrew. Words certainly have histories. They have ranges of meaning. Lexicons help us to understand their range of usage.
But literature is as much an art as it is a science. Writers have agendas, but they advance their agendas by making them beautiful. So they use synonyms, turns of phrase, metaphors, and other such devices.
Referring to John 21;15-19, D.A. Carson explains:
Some expositions of these verses turn on the distribution of the two different verbs for “love” that appear…This will not do, for at least the following reasons…The two verbs are used interchangeably in this Gospel…The Evangelist constantly uses minor variations for stylistic reasons of his own. This is confirmed in the present passage. In addition to the two words for “love,” John resorts to three other pairs: bosko and poimano (“feed” and “take care of” the sheep), arnia and probata (“lambs” and “sheep”), and oida and ginosko (both rendered “you know” in v. 17). These have not stirred homiletical imaginations; it is difficult to see why the first pair should (The Gospel According to John, pp. 676-677).
If we hadn’t gotten distracted by Greek expeditions, what treasure might we mine from this passage? Note the following observations, which could easily be made from the English text.
- The setting: the scene takes place at a charcoal fire (John 21:9), the same setting where Peter denied Jesus three times (John 18:18). Charcoal fires appear in only these two scenes in the Gospel of John. It’s not an accident.
- The flow: Peter begins the chapter chasing his former vocation as a fisherman (John 21:3). Jesus wants to turn him into a shepherd (John 21:15-17). Peter gets it. Later, when he instructs church elders, he doesn’t call them to be fishers of men. He commands them to shepherd the flock of God (1 Peter 5:1-2).
- The model: Jesus wants Peter to follow him (John 21:19b). This means Peter should be a shepherd like Jesus was (John 21:15-17). This means dying for the good of the sheep, just like Jesus did (John 21:18-19, 10:11-15).
John 21 shows Jesus restoring and commissioning Peter for sacrificial leadership in the church. This much is clear even in translation.
Sure, the Greek (or Hebrew) text often reveals wordplay that doesn’t translate well. Sometimes the structure of a passage or argument is more clear in the original language than in translation. And Greek and Hebrew are simply beautiful and fun.
But the main point of a passage rarely depends on intimate knowledge of the original languages.
A friend sent this to me… Excellent work. I’m in full accord with you, having written a dissertation that dealt at length with this very topic. Your literary observations were spot-on, and your overall point—that for the most part Bible readers can do just fine in English (and the implicit point, that when they stray to Greek they may do more harm than good)—is close to my heart.
Have you ever read Silva’s Biblical Words and Their Meaning?
Keep up the good work.
Thanks for your kind comments, Mark. Has your dissertation been published?
No, I haven’t read Silva’s book, but I went to high school with his son. Does that count?
I just checked out your blog. Great stuff! I think we share a passion for sensible linguistics. I’ve added your blog to my feed reader, and I’m eager to read more.
Yeah, considering that we use the same blog theme and say the same things, it was a weird feeling reading your blog!
My dissertation has been “published” only for the few family and friends who might be interested—click here.
Fantastic. I plan to share this widely, as the abuse of word studies is common and not really very edifying. Thanks for helping us see the big picture connections here.
Thanks, Doug. Word studies can often be like speed dating: lots of activity but not much intimacy. I find the flow of thought and author’s main points to be much more compelling!