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Last week I raised the issue of anger, and whether it is ever appropriate. The Greek is in Eph 4:26 where Paul writes, ὀργίζεσθε καὶ μὴ ἁμαρτάνετε.

ὀργίζεσθε is, I think, clearly an imperative, although techniclly it could be an indicative. We are told to get angry. The other side of the coin, and a necessary side — have you ever seen a coin with only one side? — is that anger is to be balanced with not sinning.

I have been thinking about anger lately. I was raised in a traditional Christian home and church, and like many people believed that anger was wrong. Period. Anger was the response of people who who weren’t mature in their faith and had not experienced the sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit. I don’t remember being taught this explicitly, but I suspect it was part of our cultural environment.

Every once in a while you will see an inflected form that can be parsed two different ways. If all you are looking at is the Greek word, you can get tricked.

In 1 John 4:7 John says, “Dear friends, let us love (ἀγαπῶμεν) one another, because  love is from  God.” In 1 John 4:19 we read, “We love (ἀγαπῶμεν) because he first loved us.”

This verse hit me pretty hard this morning: “Those who consider themselves religious and yet do not keep a tight rein on their tongues deceive themselves, and their religion is worthless” (James 1:26).

I have often said that gossip is the native tongue of the church, and what this means is that a large number of people who attend religious services Sunday morning need to be told that their “religion is worthless.” But what does that mean?

I was going to take one more week off for a short summer break, but someone challenged me on one of my decisions in my commentary, so I thought I would enter back into the fray, so to speak.

In 1 Tim 3:1, Paul writes, “Whoever aspires to be an overseer desires a noble task” (NIV). The ESV shows the exegetical issue; “If anyone aspires to the office of overseer, he desires a noble task.” Which is it, the overseer or the office?

We all know by now that it is often impossible to bring the full meaning of a word into English. Languages do not have equivalent vocabularies. But that does not mean we stop trying.

One of the areas where this is especially difficult is when there is a specific figure of speech, a specific image or nuance in a word.

My dad is working on a new translation of the gospel of Mark for the Discipleship:Foundation Track on BiblicalTraining.org. I thought you might enjoy looking in on the types of conversations we often have. Ah, the joys of being in the same field as your father!

Jay asked, “How do you know that this sentence is interrogative?” (speaking of Gal 1:10). I love it when I get question that is so basic that I have forgotten to deal with it. Good question.

I was asked why John 12:32 is always translated as “when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all (people or men) to myself” rather than simply I will draw “all” to myself.

Someone asked, “I am curious why Gal 2:16; 3:22, and Rom 3:22, 26, are translated as ‘faith in Christ’ when the genitive case is used.” Good question.

Gal 2:16 reads, “yet we know that no one is justified by the works of the law but through faith (διὰ πίστεως) in Jesus Christ (Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ).” The other verses are quite similar in their use of πίστεως Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ.

When Jesus’ parents finally realized they had left Jesus in Jerusalem, returned, and finally found him, Jesus’ response is surprising to all parents.

“Why is it that you were looking for me? Did you not know that I would have to be in my Father’s house?”

Someone sent me a blog post that says, “You don't need to be a Greek scholar to know that the Greek grammar of John 10:33 is the way one would say ‘make yourself a god’ in Greek.” (The writer does not believe in the deity of Christ, seeing “make” to mean something like “pretend.”) But the statement disproves itself; you apparently need at least a little Greek not to make an erroneous statement like this.

I was a bit surprised to find that this is an issue of some debate: who is doing the groaning in Rom 8:26, the believer or the Holy Spirit?

I came across a good example of semantic range today in church. I know Monday with Mounce is about Greek, but a little Hebrew wouldn’t hurt any of us, and it illustrates the point well.

The Lord is instructing Joshua to establish the Cities of Refuge, and he says, “Tell the Israelites to designate the cities of refuge, as I instructed you through Moses, so that anyone who kills a person accidentally and unintentionally may flee there and find protection from the avenger of blood” (20:2-3).

I received two questions a while back and I thought I would answer them.

The first was that the comment that there is no imperative in the Greatest Commandment, just a future. “You shall love (ἀγαπήσεις) the Lord  your God with all  your heart, with all your soul, and with all  your mind.” (Matt 22:37). So how could this be a command, other than the previous question uses the word “commandment.” “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment (ἐντολὴ) in the law?”

Usually adjectives used substantivally (i.e., as nouns) are pretty easy to figure out. Between the meaning of the adjective and the context of the passage, the translator can figure out how to treat the word. But every once in a while things can confuse the picture, and one of those things are headings in modern Bibles.

We all know that Greek uses ὁ differently than English uses “the.” In fact, I am hesitant to even talk about the Greek definite article, since ὁ functions so differently much of the time.

One of the more difficult constructions is the prepositional phrase where ὁ is regularly omitted. In fact, when you see ὁ before the object of the preposition, it should make you sit up and take notice.

But knowing when to include “the” is a matter of exegesis, and sometimes it can be tricky.

It is interesting to trace the use of “grace” (χάρις) through 2 Cor 8:1-9. Paul is making use of the semantic domain of χάρις to mean “grace” and “kindness,” and it is the use of the same Greek word that ties the entire argument together.

I came across this on Google+ and had to repost it. Good advice from Amanda Patterson.

1. “Substitute ‘damn’ every time you’re inclined to write ‘very’; your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be.” ~ Mark Twain

2. “If writing seems hard, it’s because it is hard. It’s one of the hardest things people do.” ~ William Zinsser

I received this question a while back, and it turns out to be a fascinating exercise in exegesis. In fact, after reading the literature, I had to call my good friend George Guthrie, a Hebrew’s specialist, to make sure I was understanding the issue.

The fun part is that the Greek is, shall we say, “atrocious,” “convoluted,” or perhaps I should say, “not quite clear.” As a result, it becomes an exercise in exegetical method. So hold onto your hats.

I don’t know about you, but prepositions can be such a pain. It is strange to think that something that is so often ambiguous could have been created for clarity.

I remember writing about this several months ago. In the course of the Greek language, there was so much ambiguity to the case system that prepositions were created to bring clarity. But through the centuries, it appears that many (not all) of the prepositions picked up some of the same ambiguity as the cases they were meant to clarify. Just think of ἐν and the dative.

I wish modern English had a different form for “you” plural. It would solve some sticky translation problems. So until then, I guess we all have to learn some Greek.

Philip finds Nathanael to tell him about Jesus, and Nathanael responds with his now famous, “Can anything good come from [Nazareth]?” (1:46). Jesus tells Nathanael that he saw him under the fig tree, and Nathanael responds “Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the king of Israel” (1:49).

I had a great comment about a previous blog, and I thought I would follow up. It helps show the kind of transitions we all have to make from first year to second year Greek.

There is no substitute for common sense in translation. Sometimes when you read the Greek, it is so obvious that it can’t mean what it says. The question is, what is a translator to do?

Stephen says in his speech, “But as the time of the promise drew near, which God had granted to Abraham, the people increased and multiplied in Egypt until there arose over Egypt another king who did not know Joseph (ὃς οὐκ ᾔδει τὸν Ἰωσήφ)” (Acts 7:17-18, ESV).

Paul tells the Roman church that he has wanted to come to see them (and soon will), but that he has been "hindered" (NIV, ESV, NRSV, KJV, NET). The connotations of this word are interesting.

Other translations use "prevented" (NASB, HCSB), but the problem with this translation, at least to my ears, is the suggestion that someone stopped Paul.

I came across a great use fo the imperfect in my reading this mornng. In 1 Cor 3:6, Paul writes, "I planted,  Apollos watered,  but God gave the growth (ηὔξανεν)" (ESV). A pretty generic, colorless transation that is reflected by most other translations (cf. NRSV, KJV, HCSB, NET). The NLT, it seems to me, is even more colorless: "it was God who made it grow." That relegates God's work totaly to the past.

The joy of punctuation! It can get the translator out of a real jam, and it can add clarity and reduce misinterpretation. I am wondering why I don’t talk about it more in my grammar.

We talk about semantic ranges, and that a word in one language does not have the same range of meaning as a word in another language, which is one reason translation can be so challenging.

There is perhaps no other word that epitomizes this as much as παιδεία, generally translated “discipline.”

I never cease to be amazed at the power of context in translation. So many times I will see what I think is a good translation of a verse; but when I read it in context, red flags start to wave. Phil 4:13 is one of those passages.

All major translations other than the NIV (2011) translate the plural πάντα as a plural. “I can do all things through him who strengthens me” (ESV, so also NASB, NRSV, HCSB, KJV, NET). The 1984 NIV and NLT say, “ I can do everything,” which is essence says the same thing as the plural.

Are you familiar with the term “natural language”? It is a translation theory that seeks to say, for example, in English the same thing as is said in Greek, but to say it is naturally as possible for the English speaker.

In other words, the order of the Greek sentence and its grammatical forms are of less significance than how the English reader hears the biblical text.