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Set Your Heart Upon Your Ways (Haggai 1)

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After many long years in exile, a remnant of the Jewish people returned to Israel eager to resume life in the promised land. Their first order of business? To rebuild the Temple of the Lord. But after nearly twenty years, the Temple still lay in ruins and the people had entered a period of despair and decline. At that time, the prophet Haggai stepped onto the scene with a surprising message that re-centered the people's priorities. Nearly 2500 years later, Haggai's first sermon remains just as fresh in an age of misplaced priorities and endless busyness.

Related Topics: Christian Life, Discipleship, Spiritual Life

Vom Unbehagen eines nicht-charismatischen Evangelikalen

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Translated by Anne Shulz

Anmerkung des Herausgebers: Bei dieser Mitteilung handelt es sich um die leicht modifizierte Version eines Vortrags, der auf der Regionalkonferenz der Evangelical Theological Society [Evangelikalen Theologischen Gesellschaft] 1994 an der John Brown University in Arkansas gehalten wurde. Sie wird für diejenigen hilfreich sein, die andere Essays von Dr. Wallace über die Widersprüche in der Pneumatologie (d.h. die unterschiedlichen Ansichten über den Dienst des Heiligen Geistes) gelesen haben, um hierzu eine ausgeglichene Sichtweise zu gewinnen.

Einleitung

Ähnlich wie frühere Präsidenten der ETS-SW hatte ich reichlich Zeit, über diese Ansprache nachzudenken.  In meinem Fall war es so, dass ich das Thema, über das ich vor zwei Jahren zu sprechen vorhatte, zu den Akten legte, denn in den vergangenen achtzehn Monaten hat der Herr, so glaube ich, mir ein anderes Thema ans Herz gelegt.  Sie werden in wenigen Augenblicken erfahren, was der Katalysator für diese Veränderung war.  Und was den Rest dieser Rede betrifft, werden Sie dann darüber urteilen müssen, ob dieser Impetus vom Herrn oder aus einer anderen Quelle kam.

Drei Bemerkungen zu Beginn: Erstens muss ich mein Zielpublikum definieren.  Einige von Ihnen sind Charismatiker oder Pfingstler.  Zu Ihnen werde ich heute abend nicht sprechen.  Aber ich denke, dass Sie mit vielem, was ich zu sagen habe, übereinstimmen werden.  Ich lade Sie daher als Zuhörer ein, wenn ich zu meinen nicht-charismatischen Brüdern und Schwestern spreche.

Zweitens: Ich spreche aus der Warte eines Nicht-Charismatikers oder Cessationisten heraus.  Das heißt, ich glaube, dass bestimmte Gaben des Heiligen Geistes in den frühesten Zeiten des Christentums eingesetzt wurden, um zu beglaubigen, dass Gott hier etwas ganz Neues wirkte.  Diese „Zeichengaben“ – wie die Gaben der Heilung, des Zungenredens oder des Wunderwirkens – hörten mit dem Tod des letzten Apostels auf.  Das also meine ich mit „Cessationismus“.  Einige von Ihnen, liebe Mit-Cessationisten, betrachten sich vielleicht als „weiche“ Cessationisten und meinen damit, dass einige der Gaben noch existieren, oder dass die Zeichengaben an Orten auftauchen können, an die das Evangelium gerade neu gebracht wurde1, oder dass Sie sich gegenwärtig als Agnostiker bezüglich dieser Gaben betrachten, doch zumindest keine praktizierenden Charismatiker sind.  Aus Gründen der Argumentation will ich hier die harte Richtung vertreten, damit nichts, was ich heute über den Dienst des Heiligen Geistes sagen werde, als Äußerungen eines heimlichen Charismatikers verstanden wird.  Weiter: Es ist nicht meine Absicht, den Cessationismus zu verteidigen.  Das wird, soviel ich weiß, morgen in der Gruppendiskussion angegangen werden.  Vielmehr möchte ich einige kritische Punkte ansprechen, die ich als Cessationist im Hinblick auf die Rolle des Heiligen Geistes im heutigen Cessationismus bedenkenswert finde.

Drittens: So wie Sie mich von früheren Vorstellungen bei ETS-Konferenzen kennen, werden Sie wahrscheinlich eine gründlich dokumentierte, vernünftig recherchierte und ziemlich abstrakte akademische Vorlesung erwarten.  Es kommt aber nichts dergleichen.  Solche Vorlesungen haben ihre Berechtigung, doch nicht hier und nicht bei diesem Thema.  Vielmehr wird diese Ansprache persönlichen und anekdotischen Charakter haben.  Ich hoffe zuversichtlich, dass Sie meine Mitteilung trotz der nur spärlich vorhandenen Fußnoten nicht als unwahr abtun werden.  Was ich Ihnen mitteile, entspringt meiner eigenen Erfahrung mit Gott.  Das ist natürlich keine Grundlage für eine Veröffentlichung in einer theologischen Fachzeitschrift!  Aber ich hoffe und bete, dass es eine Grundlage dafür ist, Sie intellektuell anzuregen – wie gesagt: nicht dadurch, dass ich alle Ecken und Winkel der Pneumatologie ausgeleuchtet hätte, sondern dadurch, dass es glaubhaft klingt.  Hoffentlich – und das ist mein eigentlicher Wunsch und Gebet – wird es ebenso überzeugend in Ihren Herzen wie anregend in Ihren Köpfen sein.

Meine Ansprache setzt sich aus zwei Teilen zusammen.  Am Anfang steht ein Thema, das in der ETS nur selten vorkommt: ein persönliches Zeugnis.  Vielleicht liegt es an unserem wissenschaftlichen Bestreben, ad hominem-Argumente zu vermeiden, dass wir schließlich dahin gekommen sind, alles Persönliche geringzuschätzen.  Aber unser Verstand lässt sich nicht von unserem Herzen trennen.  Wenn wir ein bestimmtes Thema erforschen, entspringt der Impuls dazu oft höchst persönlichen Kämpfen und Problemen.  Und auf die Gefahr hin, dass ich dadurch verwundbar werde, dass ich Angriffspunkt für Anwürfe biete wie „die Ansichten von Wallace kannst du vergessen – wir wissen ja, woher die kommen“: Ich möchte Ihnen heute etwas mehr darüber anvertrauen, wer ich bin und wie Gott in meinem Leben wirkt.  Als Zweites werde ich elf Thesen auf den Tisch legen – Thesen, die damit zu tun haben, inwiefern unsere Beziehung zum Heiligen Geist Mängel aufweist.  Diese Thesen sind noch im Entstehen begriffen2 – und zur gegebenen Zeit möchte ich eigentlich gerne 95 davon festnageln!

Mein spiritueller Weg

Ich wuchs auf in einer konservativen baptistischen Gemeinde im Süden von Kalifornien.  Im Alter von vier Jahren erfuhr ich meine Bekehrung, als ich im Sommer 1956 die Ferien-Bibelkurse besuchte.  Es war mein Bruder, der mich im reifen Alter von fünfeinhalb Jahren zu Christus brachte.  Ironie des Schicksals: Er selbst war zu dieser Zeit gar nicht gläubig.  Ein Dutzend Jahre später war ich dann Werkzeug dafür, ihn zum Erlöser zu bringen.

Ich wuchs in der Gemeinde auf.  Meine Jugend war von Furchtsamkeit geprägt: Ich war ein Clark Kent ohne Alter Ego.  Ich hatte Angst vor dem Leben, Angst vor Neuem, Angst davor, meine Fragen laut zu äußern.  Trotzdem – oder vielleicht deswegen – war ich Jugendgruppenleiter.  Aber ich hatte Fragen, die mir keine Ruhe ließen – Fragen über eine authentische christliche Erfahrung.  Im Alter von sechzehn Jahren befand ich mich dann mitten in einer lebensbedrohlichen Krise: Sollte ich Terri C. um ein Rendevous bitten oder nicht?  In Anbetracht des Aufruhrs in meinem Herzen stimmte ich rasch zu, als ein Freund mich zu einem Revival der Charismatiker im Melodyland in Anaheim/Kalifornien einlud.  Das Gebäude war überfüllt, einige tausend Menschen bildeten die Zuhörerschaft.  Der Sprecher sagte Verschiedenes, das mich intellektuell aufrührte.  Er forderte uns auf, zum Altar zu kommen, und ich war bereit, nach vorne zu gehen und ihm einen Teil meines Wesens zu überantworten.  Als ich von meinem Sitz aufstand, ergriff der Heilige Geist mein Herz und sagte: „Nein, deshalb gehst du nicht nach vorne.  Du musst mit Gott ins Reine kommen.“  Natürlich sprach er nicht hörbar zu mir, und diese Worte sind nicht als Neonlettern zu verstehen.  Aber als ich aufstand und bevor ich auch nur einen Schritt tat, war ich auf überwältigende Weise meiner Sündhaftigkeit überführt.  Der Geist Gottes war eindeutig an diesem Ort!

Während ich mich vorwärts bewegte, strömten ungefähr vier- oder fünfhundert andere Menschen nach vorne zur Mitte der Bühne.  Unter Hunderten von Menschen dort war ich recht verblüfft. als der Sprecher, mit dem Mikrophon in der Hand, ausgerechnet mich auswählte.  „Warum bist du nach vorne gekommen, junger Mann?“ fragte er mich.  „Ich bin gekommen, um mein Leben aufs Neue Christus zu weihen“, antwortete ich.  Gut, dass der Heilige Geist Einfluss auf mein Herz nahm, bevor meine Lippen in Gang kamen!

Dieser Abend des 6. Januar 1969 war ein Wendepunkt in meinem Leben.  Noch immer begehe ich diesen Tag als meinen spirituellen Geburtstag (da das genaue Datum meiner Bekehrung mit vier Jahren etwas nebulös war und noch immer ist).

In derselben Nacht lud mich, bevor ich Melodyland verließ, ein Mann namens David Berg ein, seine Gefolgschaft in Huntington Beach zu besuchen.  Diese Gruppe, die damals unter dem Namen „Leuchtturm von Huntington Beach“ bekannt war, wurde später als „Die Kinder Gottes“ bekannt, und David Berg wurde später David Moses oder Moses David genannt.

Ich schloss mich dieser Gruppe an und wurde ein Charismatiker.  Die Gruppe sprühte vor Anbetung und vertrat einen mutigen Evangelismus.  Mein Glaube lebte.  Mein Gebetsleben wuchs und gedieh.  Und ich gewann Mut.

Ich betete mehrere Stunden jeden Tag; ich betete darum, dass Gott mir die Gabe des Zungenredens gewähren möge.  Als einer der „Apostel“ (Apostel Bob, glaube ich3) im Leuchtturm entdeckte, dass ich noch nicht in Zungen geredet hatte, fragte er mich, ob ich schon im Geiste getauft worden sei.  Als ich das verneinte, legte er mir die Hände auf und erledigte das gleich an Ort und Stelle.  Und als er sah, dass sich dadurch nichts änderte, äußerte er Zweifel an meiner Erlösung.

So verließ ich still und leise die Gruppe.  Die darauf folgenden Monate verbrachte ich in der Gemeinschaft der Calvary Chapel, wo die neo-charismatische Bewegung ihre Ursprünge hat.  Schließlich, und eigentlich selbstverständlich, wandte ich mich überhaupt von der charismatischen Bewegung ab.  Aber mein Eifer für Gott war nicht gestillt.  Ich wurde als Nicht-Charismatiker Teil der Jesus-Bewegung.  Ich fuhr fort zu beten, zu missionieren und die Bibel zu lesen.  Tatsächlich gab es einen längeren Zeitraum, wo ich das Neue Testament jede Woche von vorne bis hinten las.  Ich sah Gottes Hand in Allem.  Und der Herr gewährte mir Mut in einem Maße, wie es mir von Natur aus nicht zukam und auch nicht zukommt4.  Auch nachdem ich die charismatische Bewegung verlassen hatte, brauchte ich noch lange Zeit, um meine Leidenschaft für Jesus Christus durch eine Leidenschaft für die Bibel zu ersetzen.

Aufgrund meines Interesses an spirituellen Dingen entschloss ich mich, ein christliches Liberal Arts College [in etwa: Schule für Christliche Allgemeinbildung; Anm. d. Ü.] zu besuchen.  Ich ging zur Biola-Universität, heiratete ein hübsches irisches Mädel5 direkt vom College weg und ging dann nach Dallas, um dort meine theologische Ausbildung fortzusetzen.

Während ich ein christliches College und ein cessationistisches Priesterseminar besuchte, verlor ich über die Jahre unmerklich meinen früheren, lebensprühenden Kontakt mit Gott.  Meine Erkenntnis der Schrift wurde vervollkommnet, aber mein Weg mit Gott wurde immer schleppender, bis er nur noch ein Dahinkriechen war.  In meiner Beschäftigung mit der Schrift nahm ich eine defensive und apologetische Haltung ein.  In den letzten paar Jahren habe ich schließlich begonnen, die Richtigkeit dieser Einstellung infrage zu stellen, weil ich – zumindest im Unterbewusstsein – erkannte, dass er meine tiefste Sehnsucht nicht befriedigen konnte.

Joe Aldrich, der Präsident des Multnomah Bible College, sagte einmal zu mir: „Nach dem Abschluss des Seminars braucht der durchschnittliche Student fünf Jahre, um aus dieser Erfahrung aufzutauen.“ Für die meisten Seminar-Studenten geschieht dieses Auftauen, so vermute ich, durch den ganz natürlichen Gang der Dinge.  Dagegen waren bei mir gleich mehrere Krisen notwendig, bevor der Herr mich wiederaufzuwärmen begann.  Die jüngste davon betraf meinen Sohn Andy, als er acht Jahre alt war – das ist gerade zwei Jahre her.

Im Dezember 1991 wurde Andy von einem schulbekannten Raufbold in den Bauch getreten.  Er hatte danach Bauchschmerzen, die eine ganze Zeit lang anhielten.  Zwei Monate danach vergaß Andy einmal, durch einen Zufall des Herrn geleitet, die Badezimmertür zu schließen, und meine Frau kam in diesem Moment vorbei.  Sie sah etwas, das sie zutiefst erschreckte: sein Urin war braun.  Noch am gleichen Tag ging sie mit ihm zu unserem Hausarzt.  Derwar nur der Erste einer ganzen Reihe von Ärzten und Spezialisten.  Keiner von ihnen konnte herausfinden, was Andy fehlte.  Schließlich wurde er am 20. April 1992 für eine Nierenbiopsie in der Kinderklinik aufgenommen.

Bevor die Nierenbiopsie stattfand, wurde noch eine Ultraschall-Untersuchung durchgeführt.  Wir hatten ein Blutgerinnsel in der Niere erwartet, doch das Sonogramm zeigte, dass es mehr als das war.  Es konnte ein Tumor sein.  Einer der Ärzte schlug vor, statt der Biopsie gleich eine explorative Operation durchzuführen.  Für mich klang das völlig verrückt!  Meinen „Beaker“6 aufschneiden!  Widerwillig gaben wir unser Einverständnis für den Eingriff.

Die Operation fand am Mittwoch, dem 22. April statt.  Damit begann ein wahrer Alptraum.  Einer der Ärzte bereitete uns im Voraus darauf vor:

Mr. und Mrs. Wallace, Sie brauchen sich wegen dieser Operation keine allzu großen Sorgen zu machen.  Was man auf dem Sonogramm gesehen hat, kann immer noch einfach ein Blutgerinnsel sein.  Und wenn es kein Blutgerinnsel ist, dann handelt es sich am wahrscheinlichsten um einen gutartigen Tumor.  Und wenn er nicht gutartig ist, dann ist es wahrscheinlich ein Wilms-Tumor.  Das ist ein angeborener Nierenkrebs, der bei Kindern vorkommt.  Er ist behandelbar und heilbar.  Wenn es allerdings kein Wilms-Tumor ist, dann gibt es die ganz entfernte Möglichkeit, dass ihr Sohn ein Nierenzellkarzinom hat.  Aber das ist bei Kindern eine so seltene Krebsart, dass die Wahrscheinlichkeit dafür äußerst gering ist.

In den endlosen Stunden während und nach der Operation wurden wir von einer furchtbaren Nachricht nach der anderen überrollt.  Andy hatte tatsächlich ein Nierenzellkarzinom.  Und es handelte sich dabei nicht nur um den normalen Typ – der an sich schon tödlich genug ist – sondern Andy hatte den aggressiveren Typ eines Nierenzellkarzinoms.  Weniger als zehn Kinder, bei denen dieser Typ weltweit je diagnostiziert wurde, haben damit mehr als zwei Jahre überlebt.  Außer einer radikalen Operation gibt es buchstäblich keine Behandlung und keine Heilung, soweit die medizinische Wissenschaft es sagen kann.

Aber mitten in alldem gab es auch positive Erkenntnisse – Erkenntnisse von schicksalhaftem Charakter, Erkenntnisse, die mir die Hoffnung gaben und immer noch geben, dass mein Sohn am Leben bleiben wird.  Erstens: Der Raufbold, der Andy in den Bauch getreten hatte, hatte ihm wahrscheinlich das Leben gerettet.  Nur in einem Drittel der Fälle gibt es beim Nierenzellkarzinom blutigen Urin.  Andere Symptome bestehen gewöhnlich in leichten Bauchschmerzen und gelegentlich erhöhter Temperatur7.  Erst der Tritt in den Bauch hatte wahrscheinlich den blutigen Urin ausgelöst.  Zweitens: Der eine Arzt, der auf einer explorativen Operation statt einer Biopsie bestanden hatte, hatte ihm ebenfalls das Leben gerettet.  Das Nierenzellkarzinom ist ein so aggressiver Krebs, dass in jedem berichteten Fall, in dem eine Biopsie durchgeführt wurde, der Patient daran verstarb.  Inmitten aller Fragen, aller Verwirrung und aller Schreie zu Gott konnte ich doch in alledem noch seine Hand erkennen.

Andys Niere wurde entfernt und er durchlief verschiedene sehr strapaziöse Untersuchungen, bei denen sein Körper nach irgendwelchen Resten von Krebs durchsucht wurde.  Denjenigen von Ihnen, die mit Krebsleiden vertraut sind, brauche ich nichts über die Qualen einer Knochenmarkszintigraphie zu erzählen.  Sechs Tage voller Untersuchungen brachten keine Spur von Krebs zutage.

Ein Nierenzellkarzinom ist bei Kindern so selten, dass Andy der erste bekannte Fall in den Vereinigten Staaten seit acht Jahren war.  Weltweit ist er das 161. Kind, bei dem jemals diese Diagnose gestellt wurde.  Es gibt keine Selbsthilfegruppen!  Bevor Andy aus dem Krankenhaus kam, konnte sich ein Team von zehn Ärzten nicht darüber einigen, ob eine Chemotherapie durchgeführt werden sollte.  Es wäre eine rein präventive Maßnahme, aber beim Nierenzellkarzinom ist Prävention alles.  Wenn der Krebs metastasiert, wird Andy sterben (nach dem, was die Statistiken sagen).  Kein Kind hat je das erneute Auftreten eines Nierenzellkarzinoms überlebt.  Uns wurde die Entscheidung überlassen, ob wir eine Chemotherapie wollten oder nicht.

Wir entschieden uns für eine Chemotherapie, weil das Risiko, sie zu unterlassen und ihm dadurch möglicherweise das Leben zu nehmen, unerträglich war.  Ich kann gar nicht in Worten ausdrücken, was die folgenden sechs Monate für uns waren – für Andy, für mich und seine Mutter, für seine drei Brüder.  Aber ich kann Ihnen sagen, dass ich mich emotional in einer Einöde befand.  Ich war wütend auf Gott und fand ihn sehr distanziert.  Hier war doch dieser kostbare kleine Junge, dem die Haare ausfielen und der immer mehr an Gewicht verlor.  Es gab eine Zeit, da wog er nur noch fünfundvierzig Pfund.  Sein Zwillingsbruder hatte zu diesem Zeitpunkt fünfundachtzig Pfund.  Andy war so schwach, dass wir ihn überall hintragen mussten.

Durch diese Erfahrung stellte ich fest, dass die Bibel nicht reichte.  Ich brauchte Gott auf eine persönliche Art – nicht als Objekt meiner Studien, sondern als Freund, als Führer, als Tröster.  Ich brauchte eine existenzielle Erfahrung des Einen Heiligen.  Offen gesagt fand ich, dass die Bibel nicht die Antwort war.  Ich fand die Schriften hilfreich – sogar in autoritativem Sinne hilfreich – als Anleitung.  Aber solange ich Gott nicht fühlte, gab die Bibel wenig Trost.  Mitten in diesem „Höllensommer“ begann ich zu erforschen, was aus meinem Glauben geworden war.  Ich fand in mir eine Sehnsucht nach größerer Nähe zu Gott; aber ich sah mich nicht in der Lage, diese mit meinen eigenen, normalen Mitteln zu erreichen: mit Exegese, Schriftlesung, weiterer Exegese.  Ich glaube, ich hatte Gott so sehr entpersonifiziert, dass ich gar nicht mehr wusste, wie ich mich mit ihm verständigen könnte, als ich ihn wirklich brauchte.  Ich sehnte mich nach ihm, stellte aber in meiner cessationistischen Umgebung viele, in der gesamten Gemeinde verbreitete Beschränkungen fest.  Ich stellte fest, dass der Heilige Geist in meiner evangelikalen Tradition ebenso erstickt worden war wie in meinem eigenen Herzen.

Diese Erfahrung mit der Krebserkrankung meines Sohnes war es, die mich zur Besinnung brachte, die mich zurück zu meinen Wurzeln brachte.  Und aus dieser Erfahrung heraus habe ich mich in den vergangenen achtzehn Monaten mit den praktischen Aspekten der Pneumatologie auseinandergesetzt.

Elf Thesen

Ich glaube, im heutigen Nordamerika gibt es zwei Richtungen des konservativen Christentums, aber keine von beiden ist wirklich ganz zufriedenstellend.  Es gibt das charismatische Christentum – die freigeistige, rechtshirnige Achterbahn der Erfahrungen.  Und es gibt den evangelikalen Rationalismus – angespannt, linkshirnig, kopflastig, argumentativ.  Keins von beidem ist eigentlich adäquat.  Verstehen Sie mich nicht falsch: Ich bin ein überzeugter Cessationist.  Ich glaube, dass die Zeichengaben im Verlauf des ersten Jahrhunderts aufhörten.  Aber ich denke, dass die Cessationisten anfangen sollten, sich ernsthafter mit Gott einzulassen.  Was wir brauchen, ist eine tief wurzelnde Reue – sowohl individuell als auch auf die ganze Gemeinschaft bezogen.

Ich möchte Ihnen elf Vorschläge präsentieren, elf Provokationen – elf Thesen, wenn Sie so wollen –, mit denen wir uns auseinandersetzen müssen.  Ich habe noch keine 95 davon – und hier ist auch nicht die Wittenberger Kirche.  Und, wie eingangs gesagt, diese Aufzählung befindet sich noch in einem Entwurfsstadium.  Die Reihenfolge der Thesen ist daher etwas zufällig.

(1) Im ersten Jahrhundert starben zwar die Zeichengaben aus, aber nicht der Heilige Geist. Wir alle können das in theologischer Hinsicht bestätigen, aber in praktischer Hinsicht verhalten wir uns so, als wäre der Heilige Geist auch gestorben.  Das ist meine fundamentale These, und es lohnt sich, diese These näher zu untersuchen.  Wo können wir, als Cessationisten, das Wirken des Heiligen Geistes heute noch bezeugen?  Was meinte Jesus, als er sagte: „Meine Schafe hören meine Stimme.“?  Was meinte Paulus, als er erklärte: „Die vom Geist geleitet werden, diese sind die Söhne Gottes.“?  Was meinte Johannes, als er schrieb: „Ihr habt die Salbung von dem, der heilig ist.“?

(2) Während die Charismatiker der Erfahrung höhere Priorität einräumen als der Beziehung, räumen die rationalistischen Evangelikalen dem Wissen höhere Priorität ein als der Beziehung zu Gott.  Beides trifft aber den Kern nicht.  Und Paulus verurteilt im 1.Korintherbrief beides.  Wissen macht aufgeblasen, und spirituelle Erfahrung ohne Liebe ist nichts wert.

(3) Die Betonung des Wissens vor der Beziehung führt uns in eine Bibel-Anbetung hinein.  Da der Text unsere Aufgabe ist, haben wir ihn zu unserem Gott gemacht.  Er ist unser Idol geworden.  Ich will es einmal klar und deutlich sagen: Die Bibel ist kein Glied der Dreieinigkeit.  Eine Dame in meiner Gemeinde sagte einmal betont witzig zu mir: „Ich glaube an die Dreieinigkeit: Vater, Sohn und Heilige Bibel.“

Eines der großen Vermächtnisse, die uns Karl Barth hinterlassen hat, ist sein christozentrischer Fokus.  Es ist wirklich eine Schande, dass allzu viele von uns so heftig auf Barth reagiert haben, denn vor lauter Eifer, mit dem wir seine bibliologischen Mängel aufgezeigt haben, sind wir geradewegs zu Biblioten geworden.  Barth und Calvin haben eine Menge gemeinsam: Sie zeigen eine Wärme, eine Frömmigkeit, eine Hingabe, ein Staunen in Gottes Gegenwart, das in vielen theologischen Wälzern fehlt, die aus unseren Kreisen hervorgegangen sind.

(4) Unter dem Strich kommt bei dieser Bibel-Anbetung eine Entpersonifizierung Gottes heraus.  Und am Ende nehmen wir gar keine Beziehung mehr zu ihm auf.  Er wird zu einem Objekt unserer Forschungen statt zu unserem Herrn, für den wir Subjekte sind.  Unsere Religion wird aller Vitalität entleert.  Und während Gott disseziert und (in Ihrem Falle, liebe Trichotomisten) triseziert wird, ändert sich unsere eigene Haltung vom „ich glaube an“ zu einem „ich glaube, dass“.

(5) Die Motivation für diese Entpersonifizierung Gottes kommt teilweise aus dem zunehmenden Bedürfnis nach Kontrolle.  Was wir an den Charismatikern am meisten verachten, ist ihr Kontrollverlust, ihre Emotionalität.  Davor haben wir Angst.  Wir trösten uns damit, dass die „Selbstbeherrschung“ ein Teil der Frucht des Geistes ist.  Aber wir meinen damit „tu alles in Maßen“ – einschließlich der Anbetung Gottes.  Sollten wir aber in der Verehrung Gottes nicht vielmehr eine rücksichtslose Hingabe zeigen?  Sollten wir uns nicht ganz auf ihn werfen, wo wir doch wissen, dass wir ohne ihn nichts tun können?

Stattdessen wollen wir als typische Cessationisten jederzeit die Kontrolle behalten.  Selbst wenn das bedeutet, dass wir Gott dadurch aussperren.  Dieser Punkt, die Kontrolle, war es, der meinen Freund Sam so lange bei den Cessationisten hielt.  Inzwischen ist Sam Mitglied der Vineyard-[Weinberg]Bewegung und ganz glücklich dabei: er erkennt nun an, dass er eigentlich niemals die Kontrolle innehatte.  Mitten in dieser meiner Ansicht nach heterodoxen Verlagerung seinerseits hat er den aufrichtigen Durchbruch zu Gott geschafft.

(6) Gott ist noch immer ein Gott des Heilens und der Wunder.  Als Cessationist kann ich die Tatsache anerkennen, dass es Wunder gibt, ohne einen Wunderwirkenden anzuerkennen.  Gott ist noch immer ein Gott des Heilens, auch wenn sein üblicher Modus operandi nicht unbedingt ein Gesundbeter ist.  Wenn Sie mir eine plumpe Verallgemeinerung erlauben: Das Problem bei den Charismatiker ist ihr Glaube, dass Gott nicht nur heilen kann, sondern heilen muss.  Gott wird auf diese Weise zu einem Werkzeug, das der allmächtige Glaubende handhabt.  Das ist einer der Gründe dafür, dass in der Geschichte der charismatische Glaube eine Bewegung unter den Arminiern war.  Das Problem bei den Nicht-Charismatiker ist andererseits, dass sie zwar behaupten, dass Gott heilen kann, aber davon ausgehen, dass er es nicht tun wird.  Ich glaube eigentlich nicht, dass sie an Gottes Fähigkeit glauben – sie glauben wohl eigentlich nicht, dass Gott heilen kann.  Das Problem bei den Charismatikern ist also die Negierung von Gottes Souveränität; das Problem bei den Nicht-Charismatikern die Negierung von Gottes Fähigkeiten oder seiner Güte oder von beidem gleichzeitig.  Und keine der beiden Parteien geht vollkommen ehrlich mit Gott um.  Keine vertraut ihm bedingungslos.

Lassen Sie mich das noch etwas weiter ausführen: Ist es einem Calvinisten möglich zu sagen, dass der Herr von einem Arminier Gebrauch machen könnte, um jemandem Erlösung zu bringen?  Ja, ich denke, Calvinisten würden einräumen, dass so etwas möglich wäre.  Wenn das so ist, ist es nicht gleichbedeutend damit, dass Gott einen „Gesundbeter“ benutzen könnte, um jemanden zu heilen?  Mit anderen Worten: Kann ich, als Cessationist, dem beistimmen, dass Gott manchmal jemanden durch die Anwesenheit oder den Stimulus eines Gesundbeters heilt?  Vielleicht zeigte der Kranke oder der Gesundbeter ja einen besonders starken Glauben.  (Schließlich zeigen die Charismatiker ja eher Glauben an Gottes Fähigkeiten als die Cessationisten.)  Könnten wir in einem solchen Fall nicht sagen, dass Gott weniger dem Gesundbeter Macht verliehen als vielmehr einfach seinen Glauben belohnt hat?

Wenn diese Vorstellung zutrifft, würden wir nicht unbedingt erwarten, dass jeder Mensch, den ein Gesundbeter berührt, auch geheilt wird.  Und genau so ist es auch: Nicht jeder wird geheilt.  Da der normale Modus operandi des Heilens der durch den Glauben eines Menschen ist, kann ich als Cessationist sowohl sagen, dass in charismatischen Kreisen oft ein starker Glaube existiert, als auch, dass es heutzutage so etwas wie einen Bona-fide-Gesundbeter nicht gibt.  Ich kann akzeptieren, dass in ihrer Mitte Wunder geschehen, ohne zu akzeptieren, dass es einen Wunderwirkenden gibt.

(7) Evangelikaler Rationalismus kann zum Abfall von der Spiritualität führen.  Ich spreche hier über die Erstickung des Geistes während des theologischen Aufbaustudiums und über die Verführung des akademischen Denkens.  Den meisten von uns werden wohl Beispiele einfallen für junge, begabte Studenten unter unserer Mentorschaft, die in der akademischen Umgebung all ihre christlichen Überzeugungen zu verlieren schienen.  Für viele von uns sind diese Erinnerungen nur zu schmerzlich.  Wie oft haben wir schon einen Daniel in die Löwengrube geschickt und ihm gleichzeitig durch unser Verhalten klargemacht, dass Beten überhaupt nichts bringt?

Für mich gibt es ein bestimmtes Beispiel, bei dem mir die Erinnerung schwer wird.  Einer meiner intelligentesten Studenten ging, vor etwa dreizehn Jahren, für seine Doktorarbeit nach Übersee.  Wir bereiteten ihn gut darauf vor, was die Exegese betraf.  Aber wir bereiteten ihn nicht gut vor, was das Beten betraf.  Vor ein paar Jahren traf ich ihn wieder und stellte fest, dass über sein evangelikales Erbe nur noch verwirrt war.  Er stellte selbst die Einmaligkeit Jesu infrage.  Dieser Student hatte einen Teil des Arsenals, das ihm zur Verfügung gestellt worden war, einfach verdrängt: das Zeugnis des Heiligen Geistes, etwas, zu dem ein Ungläubiger keinen Zugang hat.  Bis heute frage ich mich, inwieweit ich selbst beigetragen habe zu der Verwirrung dieses Mannes und zu seiner Verdrängung des Zeugnisses des Heiligen Geistes.

Es sind nicht alleine die geschichtlichen Daten und Fakten, die jemanden dazu bringen, die Auferstehung als Wahrheit anzunehmen.  Der Geist muss auf unser Herz einwirken und unsere natürliche Reserviertheit überwinden.  Wenn unsere Studenten, die nach dem Abschlussexamen an ihre Doktorarbeit gehen, nicht mehr daran denken, dass es zuerst und vor allem der Heilige Geist war, der sie zu Christus gebracht hat, und wenn sie dann sein Zeugnis in ihrem Herzen verdrängen, dann sind sie reif zum Abfall von der Spiritualität.  Sie müssen – ebenso wie wir alle, die wir in einer akademischen Umgebung leben – daran erinnert werden, dass ein christliches Leben nicht nur aus Exegese und Apologetik besteht.

Ich spreche hier nicht nur von Erfahrungen meiner Studenten.  Ich selbst fand mich, als ich mich während meines Promotionsstudiums intensiv mit den Daten und Fakten über die Auferstehung herumschlug, plötzlich mitten in einer existenziellen Krise wieder.  Damals studierte ich biblische Theologie und setzte mich intensiv mit den zwei großen Denkern Rudolf Bultmann und Karl Barth auseinander.  Ich war beeindruckt von der Tatsache, dass – so stringent die geschichtlichen Daten und Fakten über die Auferstehung auch sein mochten – immer noch ein gewisser Zweifel blieb und bleiben würde.  Daten und Fakten alleine können die Kluft zwischen uns und Gott nicht überbrücken.  So sehr ich auch versuchte, die Daten vom Anfang bis zum Ende reichen zu machen, damit zwischen Herz und Verstand vollkommene Übereinstimmung herrschte – ich schaffte es nicht.  Irgendwann war ich dann bis tief ins Herz verzweifelt.  Ich war schon so tief in den Objektivitäts-Kult hineingezogen worden, dass ich vergessen hatte, wer mich überhaupt erst zum Glauben gebracht hatte.  Erst als ich zögernd die Tatsache akzeptierte, dass doch zumindest an irgendeiner Stelle der Glaube eine Rolle spielen musste – und zwar unter Vermittlung durch den Heiligen Geist –, schaffte ich es, meine Verzweiflung zu überwinden.  Die nicht-verifizierbaren Elemente des Evangelikalismus waren mir eher zur Peinlichkeit geworden als zu einem Anker.

(8) Die Power-Broker des rationalen Evangelikalismus seit der Jahrhundertwende waren weiß, männlich und zwanghaft.  Seit den Tagen der Princeton-Absolventen (Warfield, Hodge, Machen u.a.) wird der amerikanische nicht-charismatische Evangelikalismus von weißen, linkshirnigen, nachaufklärerischen, zwanghaften Männern mit schottischer Vernunft dominiert.  Durch diese Situation wird möglicherweise ein Teil vom Bilde Gottes unterdrückt, vielleicht wird dadurch auch das Zeugnis des Geistes zum Teil unterdrückt.  Und vielleicht fällt sie auch aus dem historischen Verlauf des Christentums heraus8.  Die demographischen Gegebenheiten haben vielfältige Folgen.

  • Die weiße evangelikale Gemeinschaft muss auf die schwarze evangelikale Gemeinschaft hören und von ihr lernen.  Ich finde es äußerst faszinierend, dass die Erfahrungen mit Gott in der schwarzen, nicht-charismatischen Gemeinschaft sehr verschieden sind von denen in der weißen nicht-charismatischen Gemeinschaft.  In vieler Hinsicht ähneln sie eher den Erfahrungen weißer Charismatiker als den Erfahrungen weißer Cessationisten mit Gott.  Eine umfassende Erfahrung von Gott findet immer Kontext der Gemeinschaft statt.  Und diese Gemeinschaft muss heterogen sein.  Wenn, wie oft gesagt wird, in Amerika die Absonderung Sonntags vormittags zwischen 11 und 12 Uhr am größten ist, dann stimmt irgendetwas ganz und gar nicht mit der Kirche.
  • Der Heilige Geist wirkt nicht nur in der linken Gehirnhälfte.  Er arbeitet auch am rechten Hirn: Er facht unsere Vorstellungskraft an und lässt uns froh sein, lachen, singen und erschaffen.  Nur wenige Christen arbeiten heutzutage oder widmen sich ganz der Kunst.  Wo sind die Liedkomponisten?  Wo sind die Romanschreiber?  Die Maler?  Die Dramatiker?  Ein sehr hochranginger Herausgeber einer christlichen Zeitschrift sagte mir vor zwei Wochen, dass er auf dem Gebiet der Belletristik nur einen einzigen hervorragenden christlichen Schriftsteller wisse.  Was machen unsere theologischen Seminare, um die Rechtshirnigen anzuspornen?  Was tut die Kirche, um sie anzuregen?
  • Im Großen und Ganzen sind Frauen mehr auf Empfang als Männer, was das rechte Hirn anbetrifft.  Wir Männer haben es versäumt, den Frauen in unserer Mitte zuzuhören – und dieses Versäumnis hat damit zu tun, dass wir nicht auf die Stimme des Geistes hören.  Wenn das Imago Dei männlich und weiblich ist, dann verzerren wir eben dieses Bild vor den Augen der Welt, indem wir den wertvollen Beitrag, den Frauen leisten, im Kern ersticken.

(9) Wir brauchen noch immer die Führung des Heiligen Geistes, um den Willen Gottes zu erkennen. Der Rationalismus in unseren Kreisen macht das Fällen von Entscheidungen zu einem rein intellektuellen Vorgang.  Das Gebet hat dabei keinen Platz.  Der Heilige Geist hat dabei keinen Platz.  Ich glaube, dass es noch einen Mittelweg gibt zwischen der täglichen Erwartung von Offenbarungen einerseits und den ausschließlich auf Logik und Vernunft basierten Entscheidungen andererseits.  Garry Friesens „Decision-Making and the Will of God” [„Unsere Entscheidungen und der Wille Gottes“] hat viel dazu beigetragen, manche einfältigen Vorstellungen darüber zu korrigieren, wie wir im weltlichen Bereich funktionieren.  Aber ich glaube, Friesen ist dabei zu weit gegangen.  Ich empfange vielleicht keine Offenbarungen, aber ich glaube trotzdem, dass der Geist mich oft mit unausgesprochenen Impulsen leitet.  Zugegebenermaßen geschieht das vor allem im moralischen Bereich, und Friesen behandelte im Prinzip den amoralischen Bereich.  Aber für die Führung des Geistes im moralischen Bereich bin ich immer sensibler geworden durch die grundlegende Erkenntnis, dass der Geist mich heute eigentlich in allen Bereichen leitet.

(10) Wenn wir nach der Kraft des Geistes suchen, dürfen wir dem Leiden Christi dabei nicht aus dem Wege gehen.  Das ist die Botschaft des Markus-Evangeliums: Die Jünger konnten den Christus in seiner Herrlichkeit nicht ohne den Christus in seinem Leiden haben.  Allzu oft, wenn wir beschließen, dass es jetzt wieder einmal angebracht wäre, unsere Bekanntschaft mit Gott zu erneuern, tun wir das nach unseren eigenen Vorstellungen.  Wiederum spreche ich aus persönlicher Erfahrung.

Vor sechs Wochen starb einer meiner Studenten an Krebs.  Ein anderer lag im Sterben.  Ich begann die Studenten am Seminar in Dallas zu drängen, dass sie für ein Eingreifen Gottes beten sollten.  Der Herr antwortete auf unser Gebet nicht so, wie wir es uns erhofft hatten.  Vor drei Wochen wurde Brendan Ryan beerdigt.  Mein Schmerz nahm noch zu, als ich seine drei kleinen Kinder beim Gedenkgottesdienst vor den Trauernden aufgereiht stehen sah.  Ich hatte Brendan nur einmal im Krankenhaus besucht, und ich war entschlossen, dass so etwas nicht noch einmal vorkommen sollte.

Zwei weitere meiner Studenten stehen am Rande des Todes.  Ich habe sie letzte Woche angerufen und besucht.  Und ich habe etwas über das Leiden und über die Aufrichtigkeit vor Gott gelernt.  Ich stellte Gott Fragen – und tue das immer noch.  Aus meinem Schmerz heraus – dem Schmerz über diese Studenten und ihre Familien, dem Schmerz über meinen Sohn, dem Schmerz über mich selbst – entstehen Aufrichtigkeit und Wachstum.  Es gibt Momente, in denen ich an Gottes Güte zweifle.  Doch ich zweifle nie daran, dass er für mich viel mehr gelitten hat, als ich je für ihn leiden werde.  Und das ist der einzige Grund dafür, dass ich ihn meine Hand halten lasse auf dem Weg durch dieses dunkle Tal.  Auf der Suche nach Gottes Macht habe ich seine Persönlichkeit entdeckt.  Er ist nicht nur allmächtig, sondern er ist auch der Gott allen Trostes.  Und eines der wichtigsten Mittel, die der Geist einsetzt, um uns zu Gott zu bringen, besteht darin, dass er uns durch das Leiden hindurch und nicht aus dem Leiden heraus führt.

(11) Eine Frage am Ende: Wofür legt der Geist Zeugnis ab?  Mit Sicherheit über die Auferstehung Christi.  Aber was ist mit den Schriften?  Für eine bestimmte Interpretation vielleicht?  Für eschatologische Dinge?  Für exegetische Methoden?  Antworten Sie nicht vorschnell.  Manches davon muss man noch einmal überdenken. ... Und das ist auch meine Herausforderung an Sie: Ergründen Sie noch einmal, was das Neue Testament über den Heiligen Geist lehrt.  Beschönigen Sie nicht die Texte, sondern kämpfen sie um ihre Bedeutung.  Wenn der Geist nicht im ersten Jahrhundert gestorben ist – was tut er dann heute?


1So etwas bezeichne ich als konzentrischen Cessationismus, im Gegensatz zum linearen Cessationismus. Das heißt, dieser Cessationismus betrachtet die Dinge nicht chronologisch-linear, sondern behauptet vielmehr, dass sich das Evangelium wie die Wellen um einen Stein, der in einen Teich geworfen wurde, und dass am äußersten Rand des Kreises, der sich in Raum und Zeit immer weiter vom Jerusalem des ersten Jahrhunderts weg ausbreitet, die Zeichengaben noch immer existieren. So gäbe es die Zeichengaben beispielsweise in der Dritten Welt zu der Zeit, wo das Evangelium dort jeweils zum ersten Mal verkündet wird. Diese Sichtweise lässt also die Möglichkeit zu, dass die Zeichengaben an den Grenzen des Christentums vorkommen, ist aber eher skeptisch, was die „durchgearbeiteten“ Gebiete betrifft.

2Zur Zeit bin ich Mitherausgeber für ein Buch über genau dieses Thema. Es trägt den Arbeitstitel Wer hat Angst vor dem Heiligen Geist? Oder: Pneumatisches Christentum: die dritte Alternative.  Dieses Buch wird von Cessationisten für Cessationisten geschrieben werden.  Wir haben eine sehr lange Vorlaufzeit mit dem Verlag; zum Teil damit man qualifizierte Leute für die Beiträge gewinnen kann, zu Teil aber auch, um den beiden Herausgebern genügend Zeit zu geben, dass sie sich darüber klar werden und in Worte fassen, wie Gott mitten in beider gegenwärtigen Krise wirkt.

Genauso ist auch diese gesamte Arbeit noch in einem vorläufigen Entwicklungsstadium. Ich hoffe, Sie werden mir verzeihen, dass ich Ihnen keinen vollständig ausgearbeiteten Text präsentiere.

3Es gab zwölf Apostel im Leuchtturm.  Wir kannten sie alle nur unter ihrem Vornamen, denn – so sagte der Apostel Bob – „die ursprünglichen Apostel hatten nur einen Namen“.

4Und das so sehr, dass ich in den späten 1960er Jahren als Hochschüler die University of California in Irvine aufsuchte, um vor einem öffentlichen Forum zu missionieren.  Das war anlässlich der Besetzung der UCI eines „Sit-Ins“ der SDS (einer Gruppe junger Sozialisten).  Die Schule wurde während der Besetzung geschlossen.  Ich mogelte mich hinein in der Hoffnung, zu Hunderten von Studenten über eine größere Revolution als die sozialistische sprechen zu können.

5Ich muss zugeben: sie besitzt auch das sprichwörtliche irische Temperament.  Aber nach fast zwanzig Jahren des Zusammenlebens mit ihr würde ich es gar nicht anders wollen.

6Andys Spitzname.  Seit er etwa vier Jahre alt war, imitierte er immer die Geräusche von Beaker in der Fernsehsendung „Sesamstraße“.

7Tatsächlich verlief der erste Fall, der (1934) aus Amerika berichtet wurde, so mild, dass das Kind starb, bevor die Eltern überhaupt irgendetwas an ihm wahrnahmen, was einer Vorstellung beim Arzt wert gewesen wäre.

8Im Einklang damit trug Vern Poythress im vergangenen November eine Arbeit vor der ETS vor, in der er die Existenz des Wunderbaren unter den Cessationisten bestätigte.  Teil seiner Argumentation war die Feststellung, dass die Cessationisten des 19. Jahrhunderts in so vieler Hinsicht Gottes Gegenwart wahrnahmen und sein Wirken sahen, wie es unter heutigen Cessationisten nicht annähernd mehr der Fall ist.

Related Topics: Pneumatology (The Holy Spirit)

Who is Ezekiel's Daniel?

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In Daniel 1:6 we are introduced to the author of this book: דניאל An increasing number of scholars have argued that the book of Daniel is pseudepigraphical, written during the Maccabean era (c. 165 BCE).  By late-dating Daniel they can speak of vaticinium ex eventu, or prophecy after the fact (i.e., history written as though it were prophecy).  This, of course, is in keeping with the old Chinese proverb:  “It is very difficult to prophesy, especially about the future.”  One of the arguments used has to do with the supposition that Daniel is not mentioned by name in any Jewish literature until 140 BCE (in the Sybilline Oracles {3:397-400}). 

As a sidenote, it is interesting to observe that the pseudepigraphical approach wants to have its cake and eat it too.  The reason for pseudepigraphy, it is claimed, is to employ some famous person’s name for the sake of one’s own views.  But if Daniel is not mentioned in any Jewish literature until 140 BCE, then how famous could he be? 

There is substantial evidence that Daniel is mentioned prior to this date, however.  In Ezekiel 14:14, 20; and 28:3 one “Danel” is found.  But the traditional date of Ezekiel is hardly disputed.  Could it be that this Danel is the same as Daniel in the book that bears his name?

Until the 1930s the standard view that the Danel of Ezekiel was an ancient mythical hero.1  But in the early 1930s the Ras Shamra (Ugaritic) texts were published which included, inter alia, a description of a certain Dnil.  Several scholars have since found that by a rather ingenious interpretation of the evidence they can claim enough parallels in the Ugaritic Dnil with Ezekiel’s Danel to make a positive identification of the latter with the former.  The argument has been persuasive enough that the NIV has a note on Ezek. 14:14, 20, and 28:3 to the effect that “the Hebrew spelling {of Daniel} may suggest a person other than the prophet Daniel.”

More recently, two articles have appeared in Vetus Testamentum, dealing with the identification of Ezekiel’s Danel.  The first article, written by Harold H. P. Dressler and published in 1979,2 argues against the identification of Ezekiel’s Daniel with the Ugaritic Daniel3 and at least leans in favor of an identification with Daniel’s Daniel.  The second article, written by John Day and published in 1980,4 is a rejoinder to Dressler’s article, arguing for the new “traditional” view, that of equating Ezekiel’s Daniel with the Dnil of the Ras Shamra texts.

Our goal in this paper is to survey Dressler’s and Day’s arguments and then to propose some solutions. 

Dressler’s Article

Harold Dressler is well qualified to discuss the Dnil of the Ras Shamra texts since he wrote his doctoral dissertation on that very topic.5  He outlines four arguments which “have been advanced for denying that the Daniel of Ezekiel xiv and xxviii is to be identified with the Biblical Daniel” (p. 155).

A. Linguistic Considerations

“Most commentators point out that the spelling of the name Daniel in Ezekiel (daniel) differs consistently from its occurrence in the book of Daniel (daniyyel).  Since the Ugaritic Aqht Text has the same spelling as in Ezekiel (dnil), scholars have argued for the probability of a connection.  However, it is noteworthy that, in the words of Albright, the ‘name Danilu, Danel is well attested (in different writings and perhaps with different meanings attributed to it) in Old Assyrian, Old Babylonian, Northwest Semitic . . .’ and that ‘Danil is the Babylonian pronunciation of non-Accadkian Semitic Danil, “Daniel” . . .’  Gibson suggests that ‘Ezekiel simply uses the traditional spelling of the name without the internal mater lectionis. . .’  No doubt, the Ugaritic dnil could correspond to either Hebrew vocalization” (pp. 155-56).

B. The Middle Position of the Name as an Argument for Antiquity

“ . . . it is generally agreed nowadays that the mention of Daniel between two figures from antiquity must imply that Daniel, too, cannot be a person contemporary with the prophet Ezekiel.  Older commentaries present a different point of view and postulate either a climactic order or an order of elevation.  However, it must be noted that the Book of Ezekiel does not attach much importance to exact patterns of enumeration. . . .  Hence we must assume that the position of the name does not allow any clear-cut deductions.” (p. 156).

C. Non-Israelite Emphasis

“Not only the fact that Job was extra-Israelite and Noah pre-Israelite but also the mention of Daniel in Ez. xxviii 3 in connection with the Prince of Tyre, a Phoenician stronghold, suggested to scholars that a Syro-Phoenician ancient personage was in view. . . .  However, one needs no particularly fertile imagination to view an Israelite Daniel flanked by a pre-Israelite and a non-Israelite to arrive at an equally satisfying theological construction.” (pp. 156-57).

D. Chronological Difficulties

“It is generally considered that the identification of the Daniel mentioned by Ezekiel with the hero of the book of Daniel runs into chronological difficulties since Daniel would have been a youth whose reputation, if he had one at the time, was certainly of only a local nature.

“However, several arguments can be advanced for the opposite point of view  . . . .  {his fourth argument is as follows:} d)  If Ezekiel’s authorship and the unity of the book is maintained, it may be pointed out that, by the time the book was published (app. 570-567 BC according to Howie), approximately thirty-six years had elapsed, enough time to establish the fame of the Daniel of the Babylonian golah” (pp. 157-58).

After a brief discussion of other points ancillary to our discussion, Dressler summarizes his article:

With regard to the Daniel-figure in Ezekiel no compelling reason was found for rejecting the identification of the Daniel mentioned by Ezekiel with the Biblical Daniel. . . .  Perhaps most important has been the investigation into the meaning of sedaqah in Ez. xiv where this term is used as an antonym to “unfaithfulness” in the sense of idolatry, i.e. the worship of Baal.  Thus, it is especially inappropriate to suggest a Baal-devotee, the Ugaritic Dnil, as an exemplary “righteous” man.  (pp. 160-61)

Day’s Article

(N.B. For sake of ease of discussion, we will organize Day’s comments according to Dressler’s four main points, even though Day has them ordered differently.)

A. Linguistic Considerations

Even though the translators of the NIV cite the linguistic argument as the only evidence necessary to dissuade them from positively identifying Ezekiel’s Daniel with Daniel’s Daniel, Day agrees with Dressler that this argument is invalid.  “Dressler, pp. 155-6, however, is right in his observations that there are no linguistic objections to the equation of the Daniel of Ezekiel xiv 14, 20 and the hero of the book of Daniel.  Ezekiel simply spells the name without the vowel letter yodh” (p. 181, n. 18).

B. The Middle Position of the Name as an Argument for Antiquity

. . . it is only natural to assume that Daniel is likewise a figure of hoary antiquity.  This alone makes it improbable that Ezekiel was referring to a contemporary, the hero of the book of Daniel, but is fully consonant with the Daniel of the Aqhat epic, the extant text of which dates from the 14th century B. C.  Surprisingly, on this crucial point, Dressler (p. 156) has no argument at all.  Instead, he criticizes a different point, namely the view of some older commentators that the three names are listed in a climactic order or an order of elevation, but this is irrelevant to the point at issue.6

C. Non-Israelite Emphasis

. . . the two notables mentioned alongside Daniel, Noah and Job, are both non-Israelites, suggesting that Daniel too is a non-Israelite, and therefore not the hero of the book of Daniel. . . .  With disregard to the non-Israelite emphasis of Ezek. xiv 14, 20, Dressler states, “one needs no particularly fertile imagination to view an Israelite Daniel flanked by a pre-Israelite and a non-Israelite to arrive at an equally satisfying theological construction” (p. 157).  However, this ignores the fact that Noah is not only a pre-Israelite, but also a non-Israelite, so that this is most naturally the case also with Daniel . . . .7

D. Chronological Difficulties

Day really does not argue over this point, but simply asserts that if there were a biblical Daniel, he would be a contemporary of Ezekiel and would not fit the picture painted in Ezekiel 14:14.

Day also presents some positive evidence for the identification of the Ugaritic Dnil with Ezekiel’s Daniel which will be dealt with in the final section of this paper below.

Some Possible Solutions:
A Surrejoinder to Day’s Article

In this final section, our goal is to discuss the four points raised by Dressler and challenged by Day and examine some of their other arguments briefly, suggesting additional considerations for the debate.

A. Consideration of the Four Arguments

1. Linguistic Considerations

Both Day and Dressler agree that the spelling of the name Daniel is insignificant in terms of denying an identification of Ezekiel’s Daniel with the biblical Daniel.  Part of the reason that the spelling is different might be that the yodh used in the name in the book of Daniel may indeed by a yodh compaginis, or a mere connective rather than the first person infix.  Or, if the yodh was intended by the author to be a personal infix as a constant reminder of his relation to YHWH, then one could easily understand why such would be missing in Ezekiel’s spelling of the name.  In other words, Daniel’s spelling reminds him of his own responsibility before God and of his own humility.  Ezekiel’s spelling leaves the yodh out, broadening the scope of God as judge.

2. The Middle Position of the Name as an Argument for Antiquity

Although Day asserts that Dressler did not answer this argument, suggesting that Dressler’s comments are entirely irrelevant, it should be pointed out that Day partially missed the point.  Dressler was simply being honest with the text of Ezekiel, pointing out that any arguments about lists fly in the face of Ezekiel’s tendencies.  In other words, when Ezekiel penned “Noah, Daniel, and Job” his intention was to list these three men, though the order of their names probably had to with the order of his recollection.  Dressler did, then, answer the charge--he just did not give the answer Day was expecting.  We might add further that it is quite possible that Ezekiel intended to write something of an inferential foreword to the book of Daniel by his threefold reference to his prophetic colleague.  There are many indications within the book of Daniel that suggest that he anticipated hesitation on the part of his audience to accept him as a true prophet of YHWH, in particular because of his status in the political machinery of a foreign regime.8  In other words, even back then, people had serious doubts about whether “honest” and “politician” could be juxtaposed!  Hence, a few casual but well-placed notations to Daniel’s wisdom and righteousness by Ezekiel could well function as a foreword to Daniel, defusing to some degree any possible opposition to the book.

3. Non-Israelite Emphasis

Day makes a good point that “Noah is not only a pre-Israelite, but also a non-Israelite. . .”9  However, two counter-points can be made.  First, if Ezekiel is simply thinking of three righteous men that the nation would know about either from the Scriptures or from their national history, is he necessarily trying to single out non-Israelites?  If he is singling out anything, it may well be that three men who did not live in the promised land nevertheless were faithful to YHWH--and Daniel, of course, fits well with this point (as well as with the focus of Ezekiel).  Second, in Day’s statement that Noah, too, was a non-Israelite, he is really making a linguistic-logical equation.  A simple relabeling of the categories changes everything.  If the categories are (a) pre-distinction man (Noah), (b) post-distinction Gentile (Job), and (c) post-distinction Jew, we can see how none of them could be interchanged with the others.  Furthermore, Noah is a pre-Israelite (as Dressler asserted), and not just a non-Israelite, for Abraham was a direct descendant of his.  The logical fallacy of Day is that of creating a label, then assuming that that label is the only one that fits.  Ezekiel’s language will not easily yield to such manipulation.

4. Chronological Difficulties

Day does not deal with Dressler’s arguments, as already noted.  Thus, we can allow Dressler’s arguments to stand.

B. Additional Considerations: A Critique of Day’s Positive Evidence

In dealing with the positive evidence of an identification of Ezekiel’s Daniel with the Dnil of the Ugaritic texts, Day has some rather incisive comments to make about Dressler’s views.  However, in spite of the positive evidence he has amassed, I believe that there are two Achilles’ heels in his arguments.  It is my view that his error in these two points is serious enough to invalidate the identification he is proposing.

1. Daniel’s Wisdom

First, in dealing with the last mention of Daniel in Ezekiel, Day says that the words of Ezek. xxviii 3, “no secret is hidden from you,” suggest that Daniel’s wisdom is of the type referred to by H. P. Müller as mantic or magical-mantic wisdon, a feature certainly prominent in the hero of the book of Daniel. . . .  Although a number of Müller’s attempts to discern magical-mantic wisdom in the Ugaritic Daniel are not particularly convincing, it does seem that certain elements of it are present . . . .”10

The texts which Day refers to all have to do with incantations.  Now again, Day has tied his logic too closely to his linguistic description.  In effect, what he is saying is that A (biblical Daniel’s wisdom) is a subset of B (mantic wisdom) and C (Ugaritic Dnil’s incantation wisdom) is also a subset of B; therefore, A = C!  The error of such a logical equation can be seen if we replace our letters other known quantities which also fit the description.  For example, if B = bodies of water, A = Winona Lake (a subset of B), and C = the Pacific Ocean (a subset of B), does this imply that A = C (Winona Lake = Pacific Ocean)?!  Day seems to recognize the fallacy of this view, for he adds that “It is possible that other Ugaritic or Canaanite texts may have spoken more explicitly of Daniel’s wisdom; alternatively, one might suppose that the tradition of Daniel’s wisdom was gradually extended over the centuries. . . .”11  In other words, he himself recognizes the weakness of his arguments and can only hope that an appeal to silence will salvage his point.  As one scholar noted, however, “an ounce of evidence is worth a pound of presumption.”  The silence in this case is deafening.

Now we might add two points to this discussion: (1) the specific type of wisdom Ezekiel speaks of in 28:3 is the same specific type referred to in Daniel, namely, the ability to expose secrets (cf. Dan 2:29-45, etc.), though this specific type of wisdom (if incantations can be called ‘wisdom’) is not mentioned with reference to Dnil in the Ras Shamra text; and (2) Day concedes that “It must be admitted that in the extant Aqhat epic Daniel is not explicitly referred to as a wise man.”12  His attempt on this point is most ingenious, though it seems to fall short of logical demonstration.

2. Daniel’s Righteousness

Second, Day’s least convincing point comes in his discussion of Dressler’s strongest point.  Dressler himself felt that perhaps the most important {argument} has been the investigation into the meaning of sedaqah in Ez. xiv where this term is used as an antonym to “unfaithfulness” in the sense of idolatry, i.e. the worship of Baal.  Thus, it is especially inappropriate to suggest a Baal-devotee, the Ugaritic Dnil, as an exemplary “righteous” man.13

One would expect, in light of this concluding statement, that Day would spend some time attempting to refute this point which Dressler considered so weighty.  Day does, indeed, log a bit of time on it, though, in my view, he paints himself in a corner in the process:

That the expression mt. rpi indicates him to have been the devotee of a particular deity is clear from personal names of the type mt. + divine name. . . .  Which particular deity is this?  Dressler assumes that Baal is intended. . . .  That Baal is denoted by rpu is, however, specifically excluded by R. S. 24.252, obverse, lines 1-3 where the two deities are clearly distinguished.14

In response to this, we might first point out that Dressler did not deny that rpu could be somewhat distinguished from Baal.  In a footnote, he points out that “The word rp has been identified . . . with Baal,  i.e. his chthonic counterpart” (italics added).  But Day goes on:

A careful study of the Aqhat text leads to the same conclusion, for there Daniel is specifically called El’s servant. . . .  Accordingly, it may be maintained that Daniel was a pious devotee of the god El.  This is significant, since the Old Testament idenitifies El with Yahweh, and did not have the scruples about so doing which it had with regard to Baal.15

But Day has made a logical fallacy here: he says that rpu and Baal cannot be the same god (even though Dressler uses the word “counterpart” to describe their relationship) because their names occur in the same text as separate entities, but the text he cites to demonstrate that rpu is El makes no such identification (“El took his servant, he blessed {Daniel?} man of Rp’u”--CT A 17.1.35-6).  In other words, the basis on which Day denies the identity of rpu with Baal is the same basis on which he affirms his identity with El.  Furthermore, according to his presuppositions, the Old Testament identifies El with YHWH, though he seems to consider them as two distinct gods.  Yet, the Old Testament never treats El and YHWH as different from one another.  Although it might be granted that rpu is not Baal (a point which even Dressler conceded, calling him his earthly counterpart), to suggest that he is El on the same basis is inconsistent at best.

The error of Day’s argument is seen in the following paragraph because he recognizes that even if it were asserted that Dnil of Ugarit were an El-devotee, he was still a polytheist and, therefore, not able to meet the requirements of Ezekiel’s “righteousness” which is ascribed to Daniel in 14:14.  So Day brings in an analogy which fails to hold water upon close scrutiny: “It is true that Baal and other deities also figure in the Aqhat text, but this is clearly no insuperable obstacle to Daniel’s having become venerated as a righteous man by the time of Ezekiel. . . .”16  On this point it should be noted that Day’s euphemistic “also figure in” really means “Dnil worshiped Baal and other deities.”  In other words, no matter how the text is sliced, this man from Ugarit was no monotheist.  But Day goes on: “That this is no special pleading is indicated by the example of Noah, mentioned alongside Daniel as a righteous man in Ezekiel xiv 14, 20, whose name, according to some experts, is that of a Mesopotamian deity”17 (italics added).  The fact that Day assumes the reader might see his case as special pleading at least points to the fact that he was aware of how weak his case appeared.  Then, to relate Ugaritic Dnil’s beliefs to the supposed etymology of Noah’s name, is, of course, a non sequitur.  Furthermore, the reason Lamech gives the name Noah to his son (Gen 5:29) has to do with the hope that Noah would somehow remove the curse brought into the world by Adam.  It is suggested that if we have to conjecture an etymology for Noah’s name, it should at least take into account the account of Lamech’s statement.

Finally, Day brings in his analogy: “Similarly, one might cite the example of Balaam, whom the dominant strand of Old Testament tradition regards as a true prophet (Num. xxii-xxiv), but who is revealed by a recently discovered Aramaic text from Deir Alla to have been a polytheist.”18  The fallacies of this analogy are several.  First, Day looks at a very thin slice of the Old Testament which deals with Balaam and calls this “the dominant strand of Old Testament tradition.”  Such an ambiguous statements seems to imply that, in Day’s opinion at least, Numbers 22-24 (the only text he cites with reference to Balaam) presents Balaam in a good light and that the rest of the Old Testament is errant or secondary in its description of Balaam.  In other words, the only part of the Old Testament we should trust with reference to Balaam is Numbers 22-24 and yet we find that such a portion of Scripture is wrong in light of recent findings on Balaam.  He is clearly setting up a straw man here.

Second, Balaam is notrevealed by a recently discovered Aramaic text . . . to have been a polytheist {italics added}” for he was already revealed to be such in the Old Testament.

Third, by calling Balaam a “true prophet” Day is attempting to make an implicit connection between this description and “righteous.”  But such will not work.  Balaam is a true prophet only in the sense that he could not resist the word which God put in his mouth.  When he attempted to curse Israel, he blessed israel.  He clearly recognized that irresistible grace working in his life (on behalf of the nation), though this hardly qualifies him as a true prophet.  Furthermore, he is not called a prophet by the author of Numbers, but rather one who seeks omens (Num 24:1), a method clearly condemned (cf. Deut 18:10) for “true prophets.”  Thus, even within this “dominant strand of Old Testament tradition” Balaam is not presented as a true prophet.  Again, we see that Balaam is other than a true prophet within this dominant strand, for in Numbers 23:10, after Balaam’s first oracle, he cries out, “Let my soul die the death of the upright, and let my end be like his!”  Now, this was a plea in the presence of Balak who was expecting a curse.  As J. J. Edwards so aptly put it, with reference to this verse, “Balaam could not curse--he could only envy!”19  Finally, we again read in Numbers that Balaam was anything by a righteous man.  In Numbers 31:8 the author makes a specific point of Balaam’s death when Israel attacked Midian.  And in 31:16, the author points further to Moses’ war policies, declaring that the Midianite women were to be killed because “these caused the sons of Israel, through the counsel of Balaam, to trespass against the Lord.”  Clearly, Balaam is not a true prophet, nor a righteous man a la the biblical Daniel.  Edwards’ opinion of the picture of Balaam of Numbers is certainly more accurate: “His teaching involved the most contemptible action ever conceived in an unregenerate heart.  Corrupt a people you cannot curse and God will have to chasten them.”20

In one respect, then, Day is right: there is an analogy between Balaam and the Ugaritic Dnil because both were idolaters and certainly neither was a righteous man!

To sum up, especially with reference to this second of Day’s Achilles’ heels, Dressler’s judgment still stands: “Is it conceivable that the same prophet {i.e., Ezekiel} would choose a Phoenician-Canaanite devotee of Baal as his outstanding example of righteousness?  Within the context of Ezekiel this seems to be a preposterous suggestion.”21

Conclusion

We have looked at four standard arguments used to support the identification of Ezekiel’s Daniel with the Ugaritic Dnil.  Of the four, John Day virtually conceded the linguistic consideration and the chronological difficulties.  His point about the non-Israelite emphasis was good at first glance, but upon closer scrutiny we saw that his logic was too closely tied to his linguistic formulations.  Ezekiel’s logic, however, was not so restricted.  Finally, although Day did not bring out the force of this point very forcefully, the middle position of the name as an argument for antiquity seemed to me to be the strongest line of reasoning for the Ugaritic equation.  However, not only are Ezekiel’s lists not so neat and tidy as we might have expected them to be, but the possibility that Ezekiel intentionally placed a contemporary righteous man in the middle of the list as a kind of foreword to the book of Daniel is intriguing to say the least.  It would certainly catch the reader’s eye as it has ours!  Finally, Day’s further evidence about the Ugaritic Dnil’s wisdom and righteousness as an attempt to fit him into Ezekiel’s picture seemed to be a brilliant stoke of eisegesis!  That such a connection has eluded most is instructive: they have missed it because the raw data do not naturally present such a connection; only an ingenius interpretation of the data can make the square peg of Dnil fit the round hole of Ezeiel’s wise and righteous Daniel!

We conclude, then, that Ezekiel’s Daniel is Daniel’s Daniel and that on this strand of evidence at least the sixth century date of Daniel still remains intact.


1 Cf., e.g., J. A. Montgomery, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Daniel, (in ICC) 2-3.

2 H. H. P. Dressler, “The Identification of the Ugaritic DNIL with the Daniel of Ezekiel,” VT 29 (1979) 152-61.

3 We are using “Daniel” rather loosely, so as to accommodate the various arguments and viewpoints without prejudice.

4 J. Day, “The Daniel of Ugarit and Ezekiel and the Hero of the Book of Daniel,” VT 30 (1980) 174-84.

5 “The Aqht-Text: A New Transcription, Translation, Commentary, and Introduction” (Cambridge, 1976).

6 Day, 175.

7 Ibid.

8 Just two of the indications within Daniel are: (1) the many parallels with Joseph (some of them on a conceptual level, others on even a verbal level), the son of Jacob the patriarch, in chapters 1 and 2, creating a positive, though largely sub-conscious deja vu experience in the minds of the readers, and (2) the interweaving of Daniel’s personal history with prophecy, emphasizing his own piety.  In large measure, such a view argues for a sixth century date of the book, for by the second century BCE such a connection would no longer need to be made (since the Jews by this time had accepted Daniel as a true prophet from God).

9 Day, 175.

10 Ibid., 181.

11 Ibid.

12 Ibid., 180.

13 Dressler, 161.

14 Day, 176-77.

15 Ibid., 177.

16 Ibid., 178.

17 Ibid.

18 Ibid.

19 J. J. Edwards, “Balaam,” ZPEB, 1:454.

20 Ibid.

21 Dressler, 159.

Related Topics: Character Study, Introductions, Arguments, Outlines

Family Devotions for the Young and the Restless

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Preface: The following is an essay originally written for delivery on the radio over a decade ago, when my children were still quite young.

James Dobson was wrong. In his book, The Strong-Willed Child, Dobson creates the distinct impression that no man will sire more than one strong-willed child (at least, that's how I read the book). My wife and I clung to this false hope soon after the birth of our first-born son.

Though we had never met James Dobson, he most certainly witnessed Noah's grand entrance into the world eighteen years ago. Otherwise, how could he have described in such intricate detail the birth of our son when he wrote about the strong-willed child:

Just as surely as some children are naturally compliant, there are others who seem to be defiant upon exit from the womb. They come into the world smoking a cigar and complaining about the temperature in the delivery room and the incompetence of the nursing staff and the way things are run by the administrator of the hospital. They expect meals to be served the instant they are ordered, and they demand every moment of mother's time. As the months unfold, their expression of willfulness becomes even more apparent, the winds reaching hurricane force during toddlerhood.1

We were relieved to know that we had "gotten out of the way" our one trouble-maker; now we would relax, blissfully assuming that we could create two or three normal offspring with which to fill our quiver.

Then came Ben. Minutes after his birth, I pondered the depressing thought that Dobson had drawn a composite picture of my two sons in his description of the strong-willed child. Though bearing the marks of a different personality, Ben's volition was a faithful reproduction of the original.

In light of statistical probabilities, Pati and I felt quite confident that we could bring a third child into the world without creating another monster. But we did not plan on begetting a litter! Apparently, nine months of in-house fighting is sufficient time to strengthen anyone's will. (I suppose we'll never know which one would have been 'normal.') Though classified as fraternal twins physically, Andy and Zachary resemble Siamese twins when it comes to nastiness. Each boy pulls the other's hair, back-bites (literally), and uses lethal weapons in an all-out campaign to annihilate his womb-mate. 'Sibling rivalry' is a ridiculously euphemistic expression which does no justice to their overt antagonism. This is World War III!

There is little one can do to console the parents of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse (though it would be nice if James Dobson would try!). Somewhere out there are three couples who have beaten the odds--they are providentially 'lucky' to have begotten one more normal child than they deserved. If you know who you are, thank us.

The Shema

As Pati and I began to close one chapter of our lives and open another, the sobering reality of parenthood started sinking in. My romantic idealism was abruptly brought to its knees by the sight and smell of two babies (who were supposed to be napping) finger-painting on the walls with their own 'bi-products' (to put it politely). I have since become convinced that the only perfect parents on this globe are those who have yet to bear progeny.

Initially, I felt that begetting four sons in four years was no meager accomplishment (even if we did cheat a little). Rearing them, however, is quite obviously becoming the acid test. As I read the Scriptures, I come face-to-face with the mega-responsibilities which God has given to me as head of my house. One passage in particular has constantly gnawed at my conscience since our first-born opened the womb:

"And these words, which I am commanding you today, shall be on your heart; and you shall teach them diligently to your sons and shall talk of them when you sit in your house and when you walk by the way and when you lie down and when you rise up" (Deut. 6:6-7, NASB).

These two verses are wedged in the middle of a paragraph, Deuteronomy 6:4-9, known as the Shema (due to the first word of the Hebrew text). From the earliest times to the present day, this passage has been recited daily by orthodox Jews. It comprises the core of Judaism. Jesus quoted verse 5, calling it "the great commandment" (Matt 22:37), thus indicating his estimation of this portion of the Word of God. There are three elements to the Shema: (1) the doctrinal foundation--"Yahweh is One" (v. 4)--which stresses the unity of simplicity (or, indivisibility) of God; (2) the responsibility of people to love God in a wholehearted way (because God is indivisible, man's love for God should be, too); and (3) the primary sphere of application in which one trains others about God and his ways--namely, the family (vv. 6-9).

This text makes its point much the way a charging rhinoceros would! It is a seismic catalyst for every father's soul--it should cause us all to tremble before God! What awesome responsibilities we have! Unfortunately, like so many Christian fathers, I too have flip-flopped my biblical priorities. I desire so desperately to have an impact for Jesus Christ in my little niche on this planet. Often I have run around, 'doing' ministry, while my children flounder in a sea of paternal neglect. But as I read the Shema, I realize that if I succeed in the ministry, but fail at home, then I fail. Period. God holds me accountable for my family first, ministry second. When a man reverses the order, he inevitably spells disaster for both.

'Acting It Out'

How then should a man rear his children? Again, the Shema lays out a tidy agenda for fathers. The head of the family is not merely a sergeant-at-arms who wields a big stick. His duty is not solely to rescue his wife from certain insanity every evening by becoming a surrogate screamer as his hoarsey spouse recoupes in the kitchen. Biblical fatherhood is more than yelling and swatting. In fact, it is quite different from that. We are to have a positive influence on our children by training them, in words and behavior, in the ways of God. Even teaching them good morals is hardly adequate. The Shema reminds us that we are to teach our children good theology--we are to teach them about God.

For the past several years I have taken this responsibility quite seriously. At times, too seriously. We started in Mark's Gospel and after dinner every evening I would read a full chapter to two squirming children (both preschoolers) and one impatient wife. The troops were then quizzed on the contents. Pudding- or cookies-rights would be conferred on those who passed the exam. Once, when my mother-in-law came to visit, no one was allowed to rise from the table until all twelve apostles had taken up permanent residence in their craniums. The Inquisition would have been pleasant fare compared to such paternal sanctimony!

At least, I was trying. And, as Howard Hendricks has pointed out, it's easier to steer a moving car than a parked one! Joshua was our next assignment. I began to adapt a little more to my boys' attention span. Swallowing my seminary-trained pride, I read only one paragraph at a time--and from a paraphrased edition no less! (I am still in the process of realizing that we must not treat Scripture as so 'sacred' that it becomes untouchable. What a paradox! That which is capable of touching our lives in the most profound way we too often 'revere' by speaking of it in a spiritual jargon and a stain-glassed voice! But this Book is alive! If it is unpalatable to our children, the fault too often lies within us. The Word of God is a feast for all who hunger after righteousness.)

Back to Joshua. One particularly restless evening, I decided to let the boys burn off their excess energy (though, in reality, we have yet to plumb the depths of Ben's energy source; if it could only be harnessed, America could thumb its collective nose at OPEC!). We were in chapter six. It struck me that role-playing might help to wear down these offspring of mine. So, for no more spiritual a reason than that I was physically drained, we 'acted out' the text. We built a small city out of blocks and then marched around the coffee table seven times in silence (a grade 'b' miracle in itself). On the last lap, the boys shouted and stamped and clanged and clapped. Needless to say, Jericho fell.

That was just over three years ago.2 To this day, Noah and Ben remember the story of Jericho well because they not only heard it-- they marched it and shouted it and stamped it, too. The 'Battle of Jericho,' for us, became a turning point in this family's walk with God. "Do you want to walk it out?" has since become a standard line in the Wallace household to evoke squeals of delight from now four precious little men.

Goliath meets the Karate Kid
or
Parting the Red Jello

To date, we have acted out large portions of the following 'scripts': Joshua, Genesis, Exodus, Esther, and Daniel. Usually devotions require little in the way of props. But sometimes we need a day or two of planning in order to pull off a memorable event.

Daniel and the lions' den was a snap. We simply put a few chairs together and threw several stuffed animals in the middle (including one large lion which Pati had created). Noah insisted on playing Daniel, though I personally felt that I was the more logical choice. Ben and the dynamic duo represented the one hundred and twenty satraps. I played Darius. Pati was the audience (her favorite after enduring a day with four chattering, clattering munchkins!). The satraps saw Daniel praying and fingered him before Darius. I had no choice but to throw him into the pit with Winnie the Pooh and the Cookie Monster. It was easy enough to keep the ferocious beasts away from devouring the boy--the trick was in getting them later to crush the satraps' bones! As I recall, Noah accommodated us by doubling as a half-starved lion. If I didn't know better, I'd say he rather enjoyed pouncing on those satraps.

David and Goliath was also easy to stage. We didn't use real stones, of course, though Ben came close to a temper tantrum as he reflected on the missed opportunity to really harm his older brother! The biggest hurdle to overcome was that Goliath refused to die. But when 'David' placed a couple of well-placed karate kicks at Goliath's torso, he went down like a rock! Sadly, David missed another opportunity when a plastic spoon, instead of a broad sword, was used to cut off Goliath's head.

Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac also required little planning. Shortly after we had gained two new tax deductions, we found ourselves in Genesis 22. Clearly Ben was in the throes of an identity crisis. And had I reflected on the situation, it should have occurred to me that Noah might like having one less sibling rival around. Nevertheless, we marched on. As Abraham, I took my only son (Ben) on a camping trip. He carried some wood (pipe cleaners) for a weenie roast. Then suddenly, I tied him up, placed him on an altar (bed), brought out a knife (knife!), and stood over a bewildered little boy. In retrospect, I should have told him the whole story before we began acting it out. In fact, as I held the knife overhead and waited for the angel of the Lord to appear, there was a long enough pause to devastate any notions of blood being thicker than water! Then, as the knife began its descent, the angel leaped up from behind the bed and shouted, "Daddy! Don't do it!" Though Noah had forgotten his lines, this was one time I was actually grateful. . .

Other family 'altars' have required some fairly serious planning. The classic example was Jacob and Esau fighting in the Rebeccah's womb. This one took months of preparation, plus an extra blessing from the Lord! On this occasion Pati supplied all the props. . .

Parting the red sea also took a little effort. Pati made a bowl of Jello (red, of course). After it jelled, the Lord parted it (with a serving spoon). G. I. Joe led his troops through on dry ground. But when Pharaoh and his Indians followed in hot pursuit, they found themselves buried under an avalanche of hot, liquid gelatin.

Through such devotions, we have discovered that a child's imagination is incredibly elastic. Our boys have no trouble seeing a hungry lion in the eyes of Winnie the Pooh, or Moses waving an M-16 in army-issue khakis. And they have equal facility in comprehending the spiritual lessons derived from these biblical events. They have learned lessons of faith, love, courage, compassion. And always they have learned that God is in control and that he cares for his children.

But most importantly, they have learned the good news of salvation in Jesus Christ. One evening in Exodus brought this home most effectively. We were in chapter 12. Pati fixed a four-course dinner at my request (including bitter herbs and grape juice) while the boys and I were painting some butcher paper blood-red. As we read the passage, we ate. Then we 'slit' Pooh's throat and taped his 'blood' over the doorpost. As the angel passed over our house, our first-born son, Noah, sighed in relief. But then we switched roles and played the part of an Egyptian family. We took the blood off the doorpost, Pooh was restored to life, and Noah bought the farm! That one evening has become a springboard for illustrating grace, justice, faith, salvation--even a burden for the lost. Noah and Ben both trusted Christ at age four and now openly share their faith. God has certainly been gracious to make the gospel clear to them and to bring them to faith in him at such an early age. We are praying that he will do the same for Andy and Zach.3

No Infallible Methods

Now I do not wish to foist our method for family devotions on others as though it were some ex cathedra approach. In fact, we do not always 'act out' Scripture. We employ a variety of means to teach our children about the Word of God and the God of the Word--not all of which are entertaining, either. We memorize Scripture, interpret life as it comes at us through a theological grid, read passages quietly in the few still parts of the day, and speak often of and to our Lord. But 'acting out' Scripture is frequently the best medium to utilize the God-given energies of four little Indians who might burn Daddy at the stake if they were forced simply to hear a Bible story.

The bottom line is that I am beginning to face the gigantic responsibilities that I, as a father, must bear. The what is clearly prescribed in Scripture. I am to teach my children about God. That is the unvarnished, inflexible objective of every man who would be a Christian father. But the how is not so rigid. We as fathers have incredible latitude to dovetail the biblical precepts with our own God-stamped personalities. For those with strong-willed children, the task may seem too much. But the challenge is to carve out our own method (one which neither alienates your children nor dilutes the objective) as you diligently pursue training your children about their Creator and Redeemer. After all, what can be more rewarding than seeing your own children face the challenges of life in communion with the Savior?


1 James Dobson, The Strong-Willed Child (Wheaton: Tyndale House, 1978) 20.

2 That is, when this message was originally given in 1986. The boys were, at that time, seven, five, two, and two.

3 Andy and Zach also came to faith in Christ, at age five.

Related Topics: Parent Resources, Christian Home, Devotionals, Fathers, Men's Articles, Parenting, Spiritual Life, Teaching the Bible

Fishing in the New Testament: A Misunderstood Analogy for Evangelism

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4:18 As he was walking by the Sea of Galilee he saw two brothers, Simon (called Peter) and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea (for they were fishermen). 4:19 He said to them, “Follow me, and I will turn you into fishers of people.” 4:20 They left their nets immediately and followed him. 4:21 Going on from there he saw two other brothers, James the son of Zebedee and John his brother, in a boat with Zebedee their father, mending their nets. Then Jesus called them. 4:22 They immediately left the boat and their father and followed him.

—Matthew 4:18-22 in the NET Bible

It’s strange how we read the Bible: we filter everything through our own worldview, our own culture, our own life-setting. Then, when we discover that our perspective is not that of the Bible’s, we resist the truth. This even happens over simple interpretive issues—such as Jesus’ analogy of fishing. Even though passages like Matthew 4:18-22 are plain enough, we still often have blinders on our eyes. Many a preacher has elaborated on the analogy along the lines of a fishing pole, reel, line, and hook.

The kind of fishing envisioned in this text, however, was not line-fishing, but net-fishing. Notice “casting a net into the sea (for they were fishermen)” (v. 18), “they left their nets” (v. 20), “mending their nets” (v. 21). Now, to be sure, the ancient world knew of line-fishing as well (cf. Matt 17:24-27). But that is not what was envisioned in the imagery of “fishing for men.”

The standard Greek lexicon by Bauer-Arndt-Gingrich-Danker speaks of the net as circular, having heavy weights around its perimeter (BAGD 47 s.v. ἀμφίβληστρον, ἀμφιβάλλω). Fishermen would either stand on the shore and repeatedly cast their nets into the water, or drop their nets from a boat. In Matthew 4, the nets used were those tossed from the shoreline. The occupation of fisherman was rather labor-intensive.

The imagery of using a lure and a line (and waiting for the fish to strike!) is thus foreign to this text. Jesus is not speaking about finesse (as in fly fishing), or using the right kind of bait. The imagery has nothing to do with “hooking” the unbeliever with the gospel. Further, the picture is not individualistic: the point is not one person being reeled in at a time. All of this has to do with line-fishing, but this is not the picture seen in this text.

Rather, the imagery of a fisherman involved much strain, long hours, and often little results. Now, we ought to be careful not to make the analogy walk on all fours. And, to be sure, it is not always easy to tell exactly the point that needs to be stressed. But, in the least, if there is no correspondence between fishing for fish and fishing for people, then we ought not to see such. This is the problem with the line-fishing view: so much of it is based on non-correspondence.

Jesus’ point may have been one or more of the following:

  • the strenuousness of evangelism (unlike line-fishing, which is often caricatured as a means to get a good nap, net-fishing is very labor-intensive)
  • the work ethic that it required more than a focus on the skill involved
  • persistence and dedication to the task (often in spite of minimal results)
  • the infinite value of the new “catch” (viz., people)
  • perhaps an eschatological theme of snatching people from judgment (cf. William Lane, Mark [NICNT] 67). If this last motif is in view, then catching people is the opposite of catching fish: the fish would be caught, killed, cooked, and eaten; people would be caught so as to remove them from the eternal flames of hell and to give them new life. The correspondence, in this instance, involves an implied antonym.

Now all of this is not to say that the Bible denies some of the imagery that line-fishing conjures up. After all, we are told that our words needs to be seasoned with salt, so as to attract unbelievers to the truth and power and grace of the gospel (cf. Col 4:6; similarly, Matt 5:13-16). Thus, the concept of using bait—something to attract people to the gospel—is a biblical concept. The question is whether it is taught in Matt 4:18-22 and with the imagery fishing for men. At bottom, we must first be accurate in our interpretation of a given text before we can construct a biblical theology.

Biblical imagery is rather rich—but it often is different from what our preconceived notions are. This brief essay simply points up the need to read the Bible carefully and think through the correspondences in the figurative language embedded in the text. This, of course, requires an understanding of the historical context. A good Bible dictionary will often be very useful in this endeavor. When we study the scriptures this way, it will often be like reading the Bible for the first time.

Related Topics: Discipleship, Evangelism, Soteriology (Salvation)

Should a Christian Set Goals?

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Years ago I had a friend who made no plans, set no goals, aimed at nothing. His reason? He wanted always to be open to the leading of the Holy Spirit. Before he decided anything, he prayed. He asked the Lord whether he should go to work that day, brush his teeth, use deodorant. (I wish he had asked me!) Needless to say, he didn't keep a job very long.

My friend made three faulty assumptions in determining God's will:

(1) He thought that his feelings were an infallible guide for sensing the leading of the Spirit. But even Jesus did not take this attitude, for when he prayed in the garden, "If it is possible, let this cup pass from me" (Matt 26:39), he was clearly indicating (among other things) that emotionally he would prefer not to face the cross.

(2) My friend believed that the Holy Spirit leads people only in a spontaneous way. That is, he does not move them to make plans. But Paul made plans (see, for example, Acts 15:36; Rom 1:13), the apostles made plans (Acts 6:1-3), and even Jesus himself made plans (Matt 10:5-15; 16:21; 26:17-19). Surely we cannot claim that these men were not Spirit-led in their planning.

(3) My friend subconsciously rejected the idea that he could hear the Spirit's voice through the Scriptures. But by abandoning the Word of God as his normative guide, he was assuming that the Holy Spirit usually circumvents the Word when he speaks to men. This is hardly the view of the Spirit-led men of the past (see, for example, Ps 119:9-16; Matt 4:4; 5:17; 2 Tim 3:15-17).

On the other hand, some Christian businessmen are so rigid in their schedules that any little 'crisis' ruins their day. Sometimes they stick to their plans even when the only reason for doing so is to save face. But the apostle Paul did not share this rigidity. On more than one occasion in his missionary travels, Paul planned to invade a region with the gospel but the Spirit of God prevented him (Acts 16:6-7). Herein is balance: although Paul planned, he was sensitive to the Lord altering his plans.

Such people approach goal-setting from opposite ends of the spectrum: the first fellow, though humble, does not really use his God-given intellect to make decisions. He does not love God with his mind (Matt 22:37). The second fellow, however, though using his mind, neglects his heart. In his rigid long-range planning, he assumes omniscience. But he does not really know everything. Even when his plans go awry, he arrogantly clings to his objectives. Often his anxiety about the future underlies his desire to control all aspects of his life (but see Matt 6:34).

Two passages especially address these extremes. In Proverbs 6, the author rebukes the man who prepares for nothing, calling him a "sluggard." He implores the sluggard to observe the ant which "prepares her food in the summer, and gathers her provision in the harvest" (v. 8). According to the Scriptures, the wise person in business will establish objectives and prepare for the future.

But that is not all. The wise businessman will recognize his finiteness and subject his plans to the Lord. In James 4, the author specifically addresses the one who sets his goals in concrete: "Come now, you who say, 'Today or tomorrow, we shall go to such and such a city, and spend a year there and engage in business and make a profit.' Yet you do not know what your life will be like tomorrow. You are just a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away" (vv. 13-14).

James calls such rigidity arrogance ( v. 16). But he does not say that we should not set goals. Rather, we should make plans, but submit them to the Lord: "Instead, you ought to to say, 'If the Lord wills, we shall live and also do this or that'" (v. 15).

In reality, James 4:15 balances out both extremes. We should use our minds and set goals, but we must do so in humility, recognizing that God alone controls our destiny.

How Can We Apply These Truths?

Three specific areas come to mind:

(1) With reference to business, our "yea" ought to be "yea" and our "nay" ought to be "nay," yet we need to learn to make contingent promises. That is, concerning a matter outside of our control, we may need to add certain qualifications to those kinds of projections. Although a client may not like this approach, he would like much less an absolute promise that was later broken due to "unforeseen circumstances." And in these cases, if we are able to improve on such a projected (not promised) deadline, we might gain additional respect and some repeat business by our honesty.

(2) With reference to our family, we also need to learn to make contingent promises. However, if we are not running on a "do or die" schedule at the office, then our work will not be one of the contingencies. If I tell my son that I will take him fishing next Saturday, I'd better add, "If the car works and it's not snowing." But if I repeatedly add, "if I am caught up at work," then my son will soon come to believe that he is not as important to me as my job. You see, contingent promises in business and family work together!

(3) Finally, with reference to one's financial stewardship, again contingent promises need to be made. Very few people have both the means and the knowledge of the future to say honestly, "I pledge X amount of dollars to this missionary for the next year." It is far wiser to say, "If the Lord enables me, I will give so much." Though missionaries, churches, seminaries, etc., might feel uncomfortable with such a "pledge," they ought not. For in reality all of us are daily dependent upon the Lord for the provisions of life (Matt 6:11).

In stating these three applications, I fear that some will see in them an excuse for not meeting obligations. But the businessman who repeatedly fails to meet even his projected deadlines will soon be out of work; the father who repeatedly fails to spend time with his children will be the catalyst for rebellion in his own home; and the steward who neglects the work of the Lord will not be a cheerful giver in whom the Lord delights.

Setting goals is serious business. We ought not to be so anxious about life that we make rigid plans which are beyond our capacity to keep, nor should we be so lazy as to make no plans at all. Rather, with all humility, let us submit our plans to the Lord, and work for his glory.

Related Topics: Spiritual Life

The Secret of the Greek Door - A Christmas Story

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Editor’s note: The following story was written by my son, Benjamin, quite some time ago. We have enjoyed reading it for our family at Christmastime on occasion. If you enjoy mystery and fiction, I think you’ll like this story, too. The whole story has six short chapters.

Daniel B. Wallace

Chapter One

The Surprising News

The cold winds blew through the ragged red overcoat of Charlie Harris, as he stood on the street corner of 45th and Main in downtown Chicago. He was dutifully ringing his bell, donned in white beard, red garb, and black boots. On this particular night in early December Charlie was raking in the money, mostly because of pity. His rosy red cheeks—due to the frosty winds from the north—reminded so many people of old Saint Nick that they couldn’t help but throw a coin or two into his pail.

The year was 1892, and just like the previous four years Charlie was passing himself off as a Salvation Army volunteer. He had made a relatively decent living under this hoax, though this particular winter was the best yet. When Charlie had lost his wife to the influenza epidemic of 1885 his life began to go downhill. Charlie and Elizabeth had been married for almost twenty-one years. She was his whole reason for living even though she bore him no children. When she died that fateful spring Charlie was so despondent that he lost all concentration and drive. He would show up late for work at Huffman Clothing, Inc. on the south side of Chicago, and even when he was on time he would frequently stand and daydream. It didn’t take very long before he lost his job, too. The year 1885 was one that Charlie would like to forget.

The only benefit Charlie got from his early “retirement” was the few items of clothing he pilfered as he left the building. Little did he know that those few items would begin to make him money some three years later.

The year after his double loss saw another tragedy of Charlie’s own making. He was penniless, lonely, and had no family. Nearly fifty years old, he was graying fast. The tragedies of the past and the poor prospects for the future drove Charlie to drink. He drowned his grief and he abandoned his hopes in a bottle every night.

By the summer of 1886 he started to steal in order to feed his belly. At first it was little things: a loaf of bread here, an apple there. But his face became too familiar to the workers on Market Street and its environs and he was forced to become innovative. After a couple years of trickery and deception, he hit upon the Salvation Army disguise. In the winter of 1888 Charlie pulled out that old black overcoat and the brown boots he had stolen from Huffman Clothing, dyed them the appropriate Christmas colors, and peddled himself off as Santa Claus. His by-now naturally white hair and beard, coupled with a belly constantly full of cheap wine, gave Charlie a realistic look of the old Saint.

As I was saying, this particular evening in 1892 was especially profitable for Charlie. But more than even he realized, because this night his life would change forever. As he left 45th and Main shortly after 9 P.M. (when the shoppers had quit for the day), he briskly marched back to his little shack near the stockyards. And there, much to Charlie’s surprise, was a well-dressed, distinguished-looking man with an envelope in his gloved hands. He spoke, “Charles Bauer Harris?”

Charlie had not been called that in a long time. He answered cautiously, “It depends.” (He feared that the envelope was a warrant for his arrest. But he was too tired and too cold to run and figured he could finagle his way out of whatever trouble this man wanted to bring.)

The man said, “My name is Walter Beck. I am an attorney for the Helge F. Ahmanson Company, which has branches both in Europe and America. I just received the news three days ago that one of our biggest clients has passed away. That client was Count Friederich Reissdorf, your great uncle. If your name is Charles Harris, you have just become a wealthy man.”

“How? Why?” Charlie was grasping for words. He stood speechless as Mr. Beck continued.

“Count Reissdorf had no heirs. His only sister, Anna, sailed for America soon after she reached her twenty-first birthday. They kept in touch over the years and he learned of her marriage to Paul Masterson and of the Mastersons’ children, James, Suzanne, and Theodore. James died from a childhood disease, and Theodore, as you know, was never in his right mind for all of his thirty-eight years of life. Suzanne grew up and married your father, Noah Harris. The count provided in his will that any of his sister’s descendants who were alive when he died would equally split his fortune. But since you were an only child and since your parents died several years ago, our records indicate that you, Mr. Harris, are the sole survivor. And it has taken me three days and unspeakable inconveniences to find you.”

Charlie just stood there. He didn’t know what to think. Had the wine tricked his mind again? Was he seeing things, hearing things that were not real? When Mr. Beck handed him the envelope and Charlie nervously opened it, he cut his finger and began to bleed. Dreaming men don’t bleed. Charlie knew this was real.

There was a copy of the will inside (conveniently translated into English), a first-class ticket for a ship, two train tickets, and $500 in cash.

Mr. Beck explained, “The money is for food and other necessities while you are on your trip. In the morning a carriage will meet you here at 9 A.M. to take you to the train station. You will then use your pass and board the train to New York. From there you will sail on the Katarina Baldor to Hamburg, Germany. When you dock in Hamburg a carriage will be waiting for you to escort you to the train station. And there you will board the train to Tuebingen near the Black Forest. Your great uncle’s castle is not far fro...”

“My great uncle’s WHAT?!” Charlie interrupted.

“Your great uncle’s castle, Mr. Harris. It is not far from Tuebingen. A carriage will be awaiting your arrival in Tuebingen to take you on the final leg of your journey, to Count Reissdorf’s castle in Nekartailfingen.”

“Nefer-tie-flinger?” Charlie said, with his tongue in a knot.

“Nekartailfingen. It’s a tiny German village that your great uncle’s castle overlooks. Castle Reissdorf sits atop a small hill—about 3000 feet above the village below.”

Charlie’s head started buzzing. He had all sorts of questions and didn’t even know how to begin. So he meekly shook Mr. Beck’s hand, turned away without saying a word, and went inside his little hovel for the last time.

Chapter Two

The Secret Message

For the first night in as long as he could remember, Charlie did not finish off the day with his liquid demon. This allowed his mind to think clearly about what had transpired. At first he doubted that he really had a great uncle and he thought this whole thing was one elaborate scheme. But by whom? And for what reason? It couldn’t be the police, because Mr. Beck could have arrested him on the spot. Besides, he gave him real money and walked away. Charlie decided this had to be real. And even if his great uncle didn’t have that much money, a free trip to Europe with $500 cash was certainly better than his present circumstances. In the least, he could live in his great uncle’s castle for the remainder of his days. Even if it was a castle more in name than in fact, it had to be a far cry from his present shanty.

Charlie rose early the next morning. He put on his red coat and black boots, for these not only were his bread and butter but they also were his best clothes. He also brought out the $17 that were stored in a box under his bed, besides the $500 and the other items given to him by Mr. Beck. The carriage was there promptly at 9 A.M. And, just as Mr. Beck had told him, the whole trip went exactly as planned. (I’ll not bore you with the details, because I know you want to hear about the castle.)

Charlie arrived at Tuebingen in early spring. He had, along the way, picked up a fresh set of clothes and a few other necessities. (But he still kept his Saint Nick outfit, for sentimental reasons.) Over half his money had been spent when he arrived at the castle. The trip from Tuebingen to Nekartailfingen was, like the two train trips and the ship ride, relatively uneventful. Except for the last few miles. As the carriage rounded a corner in the thick of the Black Forest, it came to an opening. Directly in front of the road was a steep mountain with a castle perched on top. The day was sunny, though quite chilly. As they drove up, the castle was crowned by the late afternoon sun, looking almost as if it were wearing a halo. This castle was not at all like what Charlie expected it to be—and to his relief! He really believed it would be dark and gloomy, housing werewolves, vampires, and crazed scientists who were busily creating hideous monsters to be unleashed on the unsuspecting villagers below.

As they drove through the village, many people came out of their homes and shops, shouting in German, “It’s the Count’s heir! It’s the Count’s heir!” They seemed genuinely eager to meet him. That was a wonderful moment for Charlie. After the death of Elizabeth, no one had cared for him—until today.

As they drove on to the base of the mountain, the winding road looked quite dangerous. But as they curled upward and upward around this massive cone, it became evident to Charlie that the path was rather safe. When they finally reached the castle, Charlie was struck with its colossal size. Before he had a chance to take in the vision in front of him, thirteen servants came out to greet their new master. There were two chefs, two gardeners, one chauffeur, five maids (one for each floor of the castle), two handymen, and a butler. The butler introduced himself. “Welcome to Castle Reissdorf. My name is Albrecht Koschmieder, your faithful servant.”

Charlie said, “That’s alot for me to remember. How about if I call you ‘Al’?”

“If that is your wish, mein Herr,” responded Albrecht, although he seemed insincere about it. Charlie never did call him Al.

Albrecht showed Charlie the castle. He led him into the immense kitchen with its six ovens and endless pots and pans, the dining room almost as long as the clothing factory Charlie used to work in, the pantry larger than Charlie’s shack in Chicago, the library with its thousands of volumes, the Great Hall large enough to play a decent game of football in. All this was on the first floor, and there were still thirteen rooms to go—on the first floor! After painstakingly showing Charlie each of the eighty-one rooms, and explaining a little of each one’s history, they arrived at the fifth floor of the castle. “And this is the eighty-second room of Castle Reissdorf,” Albrecht beamed. One room occupied the entire floor… Count Reissdorf’s bedroom. This would be Charlie’s bedroom now.

As Charlie sat down on the ponderous oval bed, he was thinking more about the flights of steps he would have to scale daily just to find some sleep than he was about his new-found fortune. Albrecht seemed to have read his mind: “The Count died at age one hundred and three. He insisted on maintaining his quarters at the top of the castle to make sure he didn’t slip into old age too easily. The count was a remarkable man.”

That evening Charlie ate the biggest and best meal of his life. He sat at one end of the dining table—a table which more resembled a bowling alley than any table Charlie had ever seen. The chefs and maids kept bringing in breads and soups and cheeses, followed by roast beef and roast pork and white fish from the Black Sea. He ate mushrooms and wilted cabbage and stuffed sausages and small steamed potatoes. The lavish meal was served with a dark ale in a large lidded mug. The taste of alcohol reminded him of what he had become in America, though he quickly put that depressing thought out of his mind. The best part of the meal was dessert: there were a dozen different desserts to choose from and almost all of them were chocolate-something. Charlie tried one piece of cake, a small pastry, and some kind of custard. All this was more food than he had remembered ever seeing at one time—and it was all for him. None of the servants joined him at the table; he sat alone. But Charlie couldn’t help noticing that there were thirteen seats around the table that were well worn.

As he waddled up the five flights of stairs, Charlie began to ponder for the first time what good fortune had come his way. He was rich beyond his wildest dreams! He had servants, a gigantic castle, food and clothing to last several lifetimes. He fell asleep that night happy and content.

Over the next few weeks Charlie explored his new home. All the servants were quite helpful and friendly, though only Albrecht knew English well enough to communicate in more than broken sentences. Charlie decided to learn the native tongue since there were more of them than there were of him. He began going into the village (Hans, the chauffeur, would drive him) once or twice a week and learn as much as he could.  He soon learned more than German. All the villagers spoke highly of Charlie’s great uncle, the count. He had made their little village a happy, prosperous place. On many occasions, the count would bring the poorer folk from in and around the village to his castle. Rather than merely feed them, he would have them follow one of his servants and learn a skill from them. Each servant had many talents. For example, two of the maids were skilled in making various crafts, one of the chefs wrote poetry, and the butler was an incredible harpsichordist. But most of the poor folk who came to the castle learned from the gardeners. They would leave the castle able to feed themselves, with their dignity intact. Charlie learned much about the compassion and wisdom of his great uncle on these visits. There was still much for him to learn, however. Charlie would not know until quite some time later the best gift his great uncle gave these villagers.

Late in the summer of 1893 a man from Goettingen arrived at the castle, claiming that he was Count Reissdorf’s grandnephew. He demanded half the inheritance and wanted Charlie to leave the castle and go back to America. Because he had no proof of what he claimed, Albrecht insisted that the man stay in the village until he could look into this matter. That evening Charlie opened the safe in his bedroom—the safe whose combination only Albrecht and Charlie knew. He began rustling through some old documents, trying to find any clues to the man’s bizarre claims. While looking for any record of this grandnephew, Charlie spotted the original draft of the will. The will—written in German—specifically mentioned only the count’s sister, Anna, and her descendants as heirs of the fortune. As weak as Charlie’s German was, he at least could figure this part out. By now, he knew the family history well and, convinced that all was safe, he blew out the lamp and crawled into bed. As he lay there, second thoughts entered his mind; worry was not far behind. What if Anna had been married before she came to America? If so, the man in the village might be Charlie’s cousin and heir to half his fortune.

Immediately Charlie grabbed the will from the nightstand and without bothering to light the wick tried to read it once again, half thinking that it might address this new concern. The moon was full and bright and Charlie could almost make out the words written on the paper. But as he held up the will to the moon’s light, he saw some other letters, embedded in the paper itself. The letters were not written on either side of the paper—they seemed to be sandwiched between both sides. He quickly lit the wick, hoping to read the words more clearly. But as he held the will up to the lamp’s light, these sandwiched words disappeared.

So Charlie once again blew out the light and strained at the words that only the moon revealed. After a few seconds the words came into focus:

MEIN FESTE BERG HAT EIN SUI GENERIS TUER.

It was a half-magical moment. It was as if Charlie had discovered some cure without knowing what disease it was for. He quickly memorized the words, even though they were not in English. So much was at stake that it was easy for him to get locked into his head, “Mein feste Berg hat ein sui generis Tuer.” Charlie went to sleep, half singing this cryptic note to himself.

Chapter Three

The Mysterious Stranger

The next morning Charlie temporarily forgot about the would-be heir down in Nekartailfingen. He grabbed the will and, once more, attempted to read the embedded writing—only this time in daylight. It was not to be seen. He twisted the paper around, tried various angles. Still he could see nothing. Apparently this secret message could only be read by the light of the full moon. He was not sure why the count would have put in such a message which almost surely would have gone unnoticed under normal circumstances. In fact, did the count do this? Was it even meant for Charlie? Without pondering such things too long, he figured that whoever put the message in there and for whom, Charlie saw it and, by golly, he was going to find out what it meant.

As he mulled the words over and over again in his mind, a melody subconsciously sprang forth. He began to hum the tune that he fell asleep with the night before, but with slightly different words: “Ein feste Berg ist unserer Gott.”

“No, those aren’t the words!” Charlie thought. “‘Mein feste Berg hat…’ but wait!” he shouted. “Ein feste Berg” is the name of a German hymn my grandmother Anna used to sing to me as a child. How is it translated? “A mighty fortress is our God!”

Charlie knew he was on to something. His German was better than to translate the words so loosely. “‘Ein feste Berg’ means ‘a great mountain,’ or something like that,” Charlie exclaimed. “‘Mein feste Berg’ must therefore mean ‘my great mountain.’ The secret note is about this castle! And—my great uncle must have written it because this is his great mountain.”

“In the hymn ‘ist unserer Gott’ means ‘is our God.’ But the message in the will says ‘hat ein sui generis Tuer.’ This means, uh, ‘has a something-something door.’ My great mountain has a something-something door. That’s it! That’s it!” Charlie shouted. “No, that’s not it. What in the world does THAT mean?”

Charlie knew that the part of the puzzle that must be solved was the meaning of “sui generis.” And he also knew that he would have to solve it without the aid of anyone else.

“Tap! Tap! Tap!”

Charlie almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the knock at the door. “Come in,” he squeaked out.

It was Marie, the maid. “Breakfast is served, mein Herr.”

Charlie almost galloped the five flights of stairs down to the breakfast room. His mind was spinning with ideas, plans, schemes. At first he thought he would go into the village and simply ask what “sui generis” meant. But if his great uncle had taken such pains to make this message so secret, Charlie didn’t want anyone else even hearing a part of it. Could he talk to the servants at the castle? No, he didn’t know if he could trust them, even though they were the kindest people he had ever met.

Charlie got up from the breakfast table, took a stroll through the garden, and thought about “sui generis.” Although his German was not very good, he soon realized that these words did not sound German at all. Going into the village or talking to the servants would be of no help anyway.

Charlie decided to spend the day in the library. He figured that his great uncle would have left the clue somewhere in his castle. And since this was fundamentally a puzzle of words, what better place to find the answer than in the library?

As he was ready to walk into the library, he suddenly realized something: “Gadzooks! The will! I left it on the nightstand!”

Charlie immediately ran upstairs, grabbed the will, and locked it up in the safe. Then, he just as quickly ran downstairs, eagerly anticipating the treasures awaiting him in the library.

As he trotted down the Great Hall toward the library, Albrecht came up to him. “Mein Herr, the man in the village is here to speak with you.” Charlie had almost forgotten about him. Charlie asked Albrecht to show him in. They met in the sitting room, far away from the library. Charlie was still out of breath from the cursed stairs.

“Mister Harris, my name is S. G. Bergfeste,” proclaimed the tall, elderly, bearded stranger. The man seemed completely at peace with himself, and not at all the kind who would crave someone else’s fortune. Charlie instantly felt relaxed in his presence.

“S. G. Bergfeste,” Charlie repeated. “That name sounds famil— ”

All of a sudden Charlie gasped in horror. Of course the name sounded familiar! “Feste Berg” was part of the secret message and “S.G.” were the same initials for “sui generis”! Who was this stranger who seemed to know the very contents of the secret message?

The man immediately took Charlie’s hand, and whispered, “So you DO know. Excellent. Excellent. The second part of your journey has begun.”

Charlie sat there dumbfounded. This was more mysterious—and more wonderful—than when he had met Mr. Beck back in Chicago.

The stranger continued. “Mr. Harris, I am not really Count Reissdorf’s grandnephew. I have been sent here to help you fulfill your destiny. You are on the right path. Do what you planned to do today. You will be rewarded for your efforts.”

“But Mr. Bergfeste,” Charlie pleaded, “if you know so much, why don't you tell me what the mysterious words mean?”

“Mr. Harris, do you own a Bible?”

“Uh, no…” Charlie confessed. He had not even looked at a Bible since Elizabeth had died.

“You will find one in the library. In fact, you can find one on every floor of this castle. Your great uncle was a very pious man.”

“But my German is not that good yet. How can I read a German Bible? Besides, why are you asking me this?” Charlie impatiently asked.

“In the library you will find over thirty different translations of the Scriptures. I will leave you with two clues: Proverbs 25:2 and John 3:16. Aufwiedersehen.” The stranger shook Charlie’s hand, turned, and left the room. And Charlie sat, more perplexed than ever.

Chapter Four

The Magical Door

Charlie sat stunned for a few moments. His good fortune was not in jeopardy after all. But there was work to be done. An intriguing mystery needed to be solved. There was more to this castle than meets the eye!

“Proverbs 25:2 and John 3:16. Proverbs 25:2 and John 3:16. I had better look them up,” Charlie muttered.

He entered the massive library and began to notice its contents for the first time. There were thousands and thousands of books. Dark oak shelves were affixed to all four walls, and were at least two stories tall. A gigantic ladder was hooked on the top to a brass rail which encircled the entire room.

Charlie felt overwhelmed. How would he ever find the answer to the puzzle? “Albrecht! Albrecht! Help, I need you!”

Albrecht soon arrived. Charlie asked him if he could explain the arrangement of books.

“Yes, mein Herr. On the south wall are books on philosophy, art, music, languages, and the humanities. On the east wall are the works of history and biography. The west wall contains volumes on a variety of topics including fiction, literature, mathematics, and science. The north wall is dedicated to religion. The books on each wall are arranged alphabetically.”

“Ahh, so the north wall would have Bibles?” Charlie asked.

“Yes, and so would the east, west, and south walls” Albrecht responded. “The fourth shelf from the bottom on each wall has Count Reissdorf’s favorite books. All his Bibles will be located here.”

“Thank you, Albrecht. You have been very helpful.”

Albrecht had unwittingly given Charlie many clues. Charlie hastily decided to spend his day looking at the several hundred volumes on the fourth shelf.

First, he went to the south wall and found the section on languages. Here he noticed four Bibles in English, three in French, and several others in a variety of languages. He grabbed one of the English Bibles and found Proverbs 25:2: “It is the glory of God to conceal a matter; it is the glory of kings to dig it out.”

“Ahh hah!” Charlie exclaimed, “that’s why Mr. Bergfeste would not tell me more. He wanted me to work hard for the answer because I am king of this mountain.” Charlie was half right. 

“Now, let’s find John 3:16… Here it is. ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son that everyone who believes in him should not perish but should have eternal life.’” The expression “one and only” was underlined in red ink. In the margin there were handwritten words, also in red: “one-of-a-kind, unique.”

Charlie brushed it off. “This verse is a dead end,” he sighed. “Maybe I should try another English version.” He opened the next English Bible and found a slightly different translation for John 3:16. For “one and only” this version had “only begotten”: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” But the words were underlined in red. And, once again, there was a marginal note: “one-of-a-kind, unique.” Charlie looked at the other two English versions and found exactly the same marginal note, written neatly in red ink.

He was stumped. “What does that have to do with anything?” Charlie said in a frustrated tone. After much fruitless thought, Charlie rose and began randomly opening different books throughout the library. “No clue in here,” he repeated as he went through book after book. Rather than carefully put each book back in its place, Charlie threw them on the floor in disgust. After several hours of wasted time, hundreds of tomes were strewn all over the floor as if scattered by a Texas tornado.

Charlie sat discouraged in the middle of the room. It was late afternoon by now. After he had sat there for a few minutes, a beam of light came through a small window high up on the west wall of the library. It landed on the first book Charlie had opened, the Bible, almost as if to remind him of Proverbs 25:2: “It is the glory of God to conceal a matter; it is the glory of kings to dig it out.”

Just then, Charlie got an idea. “Why should I expect the clue to be found in an English Bible? There are several Bibles on the fourth shelf—maybe it’s in one of them.”

Charlie didn’t even bother to look in the German Bible, Die Heilige Schrift. He figured that since the words “sui generis” were not in German, the clue wouldn’t be either.

Charlie found John 3:16 (with some trouble) in the French Bible. Nothing made any sense.  But, just as with the English Bibles, there were certain words in the verse that were underlined in red. And in the margin were some comments in red, too—and these also made no sense because they were written, he supposed, in French.

He figured that he would go through every Bible in an attempt to find a clue. After some time, Charlie came to a volume with a handwritten label on the spine, “Vulgata, ex Hieronome.” Since it was surrounded by La Santa Biblia, The Holy Bible, and other similar titles, he figured that this, too, must be a Bible. With a little effort, Charlie found John 3:16. And, as he expected, he found some words in the text underlined in red. In the margin he found the red handwritten words “sui generis.”

“That’s it! That’s it!” Charlie shouted. “‘Sui generis’ means ‘one-of-a-kind, unique.’”

“Now, how does the secret message go… ‘Mein feste Berg hat ein sui generis Tür.’ ‘My great mountain has a one-of-a-kind door!’”

Charlie’s heart was pumping fast now. He reasoned that there must be a very special door in the castle somewhere. But where? “This is an enormous castle. That special door could be any place,” sighed Charlie. “Tomorrow I shall ask Albrecht to give me another tour of this place. And this time I'll take good mental notes.”

The next day was spent with Albrecht. This butler seemed to know the castle inside and out. He was a walking encyclopedia when it came to Castle Reissdorf. The rich history of the place made Charlie awestruck about his heritage, but after an entire day of learning about his new home, Charlie had no leads. No leads at all…except, perhaps, one.

On the second floor was a tiny room that contained only information about the castle. There were a couple of books and three copies of the original drawings or blueprints. Besides these items, the room had only a desk (large enough to hold one blueprint), a chair, and a lamp. As Charlie rifled through the two books, he soon realized that Albrecht had memorized just about every word in them! Therefore, they contained nothing new. But the blueprints held out more promise.

As he began to study a blueprint, he noticed that the master bedroom seemed to be a bit larger originally than it was now. It was hard to tell, because the drawings were so old that measurements were not even used to describe the rooms’ sizes. In fact, Charlie would never have noticed the apparent discrepancy between the drawing and his bedroom had it not been for the proportional distances between the fifth window and the wall. The drawing showed the distance between the wall and the window to be the same as between the fifth and fourth window. But in his room the wall seemed a little bit closer. It was not the kind of thing anyone would have caught, however, unless he was looking for it.

“The secret door must be in my bedroom, near the fifth window,” Charlie whispered eagerly. He quickly rolled up the drawing and ran upstairs. He probed around the wood-paneled wall where he thought the secret door might be, but all he found was wall. He looked behind the pictures, twisted the bed knobs, looked under the bed, even tried to lift up the carpet. But he found nothing. At last Charlie thought, “If the first clue was in the safe, I wonder if the second clue might be here also.”

Just then, Marie knocked on the door. “Dinner is served, mein Herr.”

After a quick meal, Charlie marched back up the stairs once again, “These cursed stairs. Five flights! I need to put in one of those newfangled contraptions called an elevator one of these days… Or should I? I’d have to ruin part of the beauty of this old place to do it. Um, maybe not. Maybe I should just keep going up the stairs without complaining so much. But gee whiz! Five flights is a bit much! Is it really worth it?”

By the time Charlie finished grumbling, he was in his room. Once there, he opened the safe. After more than two hours looking at the papers, he became quite discouraged. None seemed to have any clues. The last document he came to was one sheet of paper, carefully rolled up inside a leather pouch. “This one must be important!” Charlie exclaimed.

When he unraveled the leather container, in front of him was a blank piece of paper. “A blank piece of paper! There's nothing in this safe!”

But Charlie thought for a moment. “Holy moly, that's it!” he announced to himself. “It's not blank! It's more moon-writing!” Charlie blew out the lamp and held it up to the moon, which was full and bright once again. (He didn’t even realize how fortunate he was to have a full moon that night.) He could make out the words “Daniel 3,17. 18. 21. 27.” He had to stop for a moment. “Why are there commas here and periods here?” he asked himself. Then, after pondering the activities of the day, he realized that in German Bibles the comma was used where a colon would be used in an English Bible. And a period was used where a comma would be used in English. Quickly Charlie lit the lamp once again and found the Bible in the nightstand. But it was in German.

“Arrgh! Another trip downstairs!” Charlie trudged down the five flights of stairs to the library, found one of the English Bibles, and laboriously marched back to his room.

“Let's see. Daniel 3:17, 18, 21 and 27. Here it is:

“If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace; and he will deliver us out of your hand, O king. But if not, be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the golden image which you have set up.”

Then these men were bound in their mantles, their tunics, their hats, and other garments, and they were cast into the burning fiery furnace. And the satraps, the prefects, the governors, and the king’s counselors gathered together and saw that the fire had not had any power over the bodies of those men; the hair of their heads was not singed, their mantles were not harmed, and no smell of fire had come upon them.

Charlie was astounded. He looked at the fireplace in his room.  It was almost five feet tall, just as wide, and was on the west wall, next to the fifth window. “Do you think that this is it? That the secret is in that fireplace?” he muttered to himself. Although he didn’t want to believe it, he knew that a great secret lay just beyond this hearth. “You mean I’ve got to light the fire in that monstrous box and walk through it? Come on, Uncle Friederich, you've got to be kidding!” But he was too involved in the mystery now to quit at this point.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Charlie muttered as he lit the fire in the cavernous fireplace. “Well, here goes nothing,” he sighed, and, crouching down, he took one step into the furnace, just in front of the burning wood. Just then he heard a faint click at the rear of the fireplace, on the right. Charlie saw a brass ring drop down about four inches. But before he could reach for it, the blaze got too hot for him.

He stepped back out of the box and threw the quilt from his bed on to the fire. The flames were quickly extinguished. “Now I know the secret. I’ll just step on that spot again.” Charlie stepped on the same place, but nothing happened. No click. No brass ring.

“Oh good grief! I guess the thing must be lit if it’s going to work,” he groaned. He dutifully relit the fire—this time with the quilt still on top of the wood. (He was so involved in his mystery-solving that Charlie didn’t even think about what he was doing.)

Once the fire was barely going, Charlie deftly stepped on the right spot, and, with a gloved hand, grabbed the brass ring as it dropped down from the right side. A deep groan bellowed out from behind and above the furnace, as if to protest Charlie’s act. And immediately the fireplace with its hearth began to rotate 180 degrees. Charlie was inside the secret compartment!

Chapter Five

The Greek Door

Charlie stepped out from the hearth and found himself enclosed in a small, long and narrow room. It was really more a hallway than a room. This hallway went from north to south and seemed to be as long as the west wall in his bedroom. It was only about three feet wide. There were three lamps high up on the wall, lining the path. Each was already lit, as if someone had anticipated Charlie’s arrival. Next to each lamp was a door with some writing on it. But none of the words made any sense.

“Oh great,” he huffed, “more letters to decipher.” The first door had words in Latin, the second in Hebrew, and the third in Greek. They all looked Greek to Charlie.

The lamp next to the third door was at first burning brightly, then flickering, then burning brightly, then flickering—as if to beckon Charlie inside. He decided that this would be the door he would attempt to enter first. As he approached, he noticed the letters more distinctly. There were three lines of text which read:

ΕΙΣΕΡΧΟΥ ΔΙΑ ΤΟΥ ΘΥΡΟΥ ΤΟΥΤΟΥ

ΤΗ ΝΥΚΤΙ ΠΡΟ ΤΗΣ ΓΕΝΕΣΕΩΣ

ΤΟΥ ΧΡΙΣΤΟΥ.

Charlie grabbed a charred piece of wood from the fire, and wrote down the letters on his handkerchief. He knew that he had more work cut out for him and the words of Proverbs 25:2 began ringing in his ears.

Just before he left the hallway, he realized that he had not even tried to open any of the doors. He attempted the knob on the first, then the second, then the third door. Not one budged at all. Frustrated that his secret passageway contained secrets still beyond his grasp, he walked back to the fireplace. This time, without having to step in the furnace itself, the fireplace rotated as he stepped on the hearth. Back in his room, more puzzled and discouraged than ever, Charlie went to sleep.

The next day Charlie Harris returned to the library. He figured that the best clues would still be in here. When he opened the door, all the books stared at him from the shelves, neatly stacked and in order.

“What happened? Have these last two days been one long dream?” he wondered. Just then, he heard a sound coming from behind one of the chairs. It was Ursula, the second story maid.

“Guten Morgen, mein Herr,” she declared.

“Why are you here?” asked Charlie. Remembering that she knew little English, he asked again, “Warum bist du hier?”

Ursula’s response was sheepish and a bit muffled. Rather than ask her to repeat it (he thought he might not understand her German any better the second time around anyway), Charlie simply smiled. He figured that he had made such an enormous mess of the library that Bertha (the first floor maid) must have asked Ursula for help.

“Danke, danke sehr!” Charlie declared.

Ursula smiled, then left quickly and closed the doors behind her. Charlie pulled the handkerchief out of his pocket, unfolded it, and gently placed it on the desk. Then he systematically grabbed Bible after Bible, opening them at random, trying to see if any of the letters matched. He was not really hoping for a magical cure to his dilemma—like some kind of celestial sign which dropped into his lap. Mr. Bergfeste was right: Charlie would have to work to find the clues. But he thought that if one or two of the words on his handkerchief matched something in one of the Bibles, he would at least know which language he was trying to decipher.

After going through dozens of Bibles, Charlie chanced upon one which had letters on the spine much like the words on the secret door: Η ΚΑΙΝΗ ΔΙΑΘΗΚΗ. He opened it and found the words ΔΙΑ and ΠΡΟ. “This must be it!” Charlie cheered.

“Albrecht! Albrecht!” Charlie yelled. In a few minutes, Albrecht was in the doorway of the library.

“How may I assist you, mein Herr?”

Charlie asked him if he knew what language this particular Bible was written in.

“That, I believe, is Greek, mein Herr,” Albrecht responded.

“Do you know Greek?” Charlie asked.

“Count Reissdorf began to instruct me in that most beautiful and ancient of languages. But, alas, my memory of it has faded away in these past few months.”

Charlie at first thought he might try to get him to decipher as much of the handkerchief as Albrecht could. But this would cause more problems for Charlie than it was worth. Why would Charlie have Greek words, scrawled in charcoal, on a handkerchief? It was too risky.

Charlie inquired, “Do you know anyone who could teach me Greek? I’ve always wanted to learn the language.”

The butler stated that the village had no scholars, but that the count used to speak highly of Tübingen University. Surely Charlie could find someone there to teach him Greek.

No sooner had Albrecht relayed this suggestion than Charlie had run upstairs to his room. He was packing his bags to go to Tübingen! He put the handkerchief in the safe. That morning Hans drove him to the city.

Housing arrangements were swiftly made and Charlie found himself signed up for a course on the basics of ancient Greek, taught at Tübingen University. He soon discovered that not only was he the oldest student in the class, but the instruction was in German.

Charlie spent an entire semester at Tübingen learning as much as he could about the language of the gods. For the first few weeks, Hans would pick him up on the weekends and bring him back to the castle. But more often than not, Charlie would simply hole up in the library and study, rather than socialize with the help. His visits to Castle Reissdorf were both unproductive for him and disappointing for the servants. By late October, Charlie asked Hans not to return until the semester was over, on December 23rd.

Although quite discouraged at times at learning this tough language—especially through a German instructor—Charlie was determined to get down the basics. He got so involved in his studies that he almost forgot the real reason he came to Tübingen in the first place. In the evenings, just before he retired, Charlie would read some book outside of his field, just to spurr him on. His instructor recommended that he read a book entitled, John Brown of Haddington. This happened to be in English, for it was originally written in English. (The University library also had a German translation, but Charlie declined that version.)

John Brown of Haddington was a shepherd boy from the hills of Scotland, who lived quite some time before Charlie’s day. As a teenager John Brown taught himself Greek without any instructor at all! He became one of Great Britain’s greatest theologians.

Charlie was so motivated by this story that he finished the semester at the top of his class. On December 23rd, Hans brought Charlie home. That whole day was spent with the servants, in joyful interaction over Charlie’s feats.

He went to bed that night, content that he was making something out of his life. The next morning Charlie woke up, startled at the realization that he had not even looked at the handkerchief since his homecoming. He quickly opened the safe and pulled out the handkerchief. With some work, he was able to decipher its contents:

“ENTER THROUGH THIS DOOR ON THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRIST’S BIRTH.”

“Amazing! Eureka! The door will open on Christmas Eve.” Charlie was so excited about his discovery that it took him till after breakfast before he realized that today was the day before Christmas.

All day long, Charlie paced back and forth. First, in the Great Hall, then in the drawing room on the third floor, then in the conservatory out by the garden. All the servants thought that Charlie was just a sentimental old fool when it came to Christmas. But they didn’t mind, for they figured that Charlie’s sentimentality would produce a great number of presents in their stockings the next day.

But Charlie was not thinking about them, or Christmas, or stockings. He had long ago abandoned the magic of Christmas when he donned his Saint Nick outfit in the Windy City, hoping only to use this guise to cheat some honest folks out of their hard-earned money. For Charlie, Christmas had become the symbol of his former chicanery.

When, however, he thought about the “Greek Door,” Charlie’s mind was more on adventure and solving a great mystery than on deception. That evening he went to his room shortly after dinner. He prepared a small fire and walked into another realm that lay beyond the hearth. As he came to the third door in the hallway, he noticed that the lamp was once again flickering, burning brightly, flickering, burning brightly. He approached the door somberly, his heart pounding fast. Almost six months ago, Mr. Bergfeste had said that the second part of his journey had begun; Charlie knew that it was now almost over.

He hesitated for a second before touching the doorknob. He read the Greek once again, suspecting for a brief moment that he might have copied it down wrong and that the past few months’ effort had come to naught. But it read as he hoped it would. This was the night to fulfill his destiny.

As he grabbed the knob, it turned without any effort on Charlie’s part. The door swung open without a sound. A bright light from beyond the door flooded the hallway, momentarily blinding Charlie. After a few seconds of silence, the sound of a rushing wind filled the doorway. Charlie was literally swept off his feet and sucked into the room.

Chapter Six

Back through Time

Charlie found himself floating in mid-air, spiraling upward. All he could see around him was bright light. He felt nothing, smelled nothing, and heard only the great wind that was hurling him through space to an unknown destination. In a few moments he was gently caressed to a soft landing in the middle of a village square. Dazed from this most unusual journey, Charlie noticed the new moon in the late evening sky.

“That’s not right,” he grunted. “It’s almost a full moon tonight.”

As he glanced around the village, he quickly noticed how peculiar it looked. There were no horse-drawn carriages, no brick houses, no steepled churches. The road was not even paved. There were just small houses, a few shops, and a few camels kneeling at a post.

“This is not Nekartailfingen, this is not Germany. This is not Chicago, nor America. Where in the world am I?” Charlie cried.

Just then he spotted a small, rotund fellow standing on the roof of one of the houses. He was dropping something down the chimney. As the man stealthily climbed down the roof, Charlie approached him.

“Alright, what’s going on here?” Charlie demanded, tapping him on the shoulder.

The man turned around and faced Charlie. It was like looking in a mirror! Both men had white hair, white beards, and were, to put it mildly, pleasantly plump.

“Charlie Harris! It’s about time you showed up!” the man declared.

“Huh? How’d you know my name? And what are you talking about? And who are you, anyway?” Charlie half-snarled, though in a befuddled sort of way.

“Charlie, I know that you must be quite confused right now. Permit me clear matters up a bit. My name is Nicholas. This is the village of Myra in the country of Anatolia. In your century this village will be called Kale, and the country, Turkey.”

“In MY century?” Charlie asked, disbelievingly.

“Yes, in your century, the nineteenth. It is the fourth century here in Myra. This is 343 in the year of our Lord, to be precise.”

“This is too much to believe,” Charlie snapped.

“Actually, you haven’t even heard the half of it, Charlie,” asserted the man. “You see, history will know me as Saint Nicholas, Saint Nick, Sinter Klaas, Santa Claus, Kris Kringle…”

“Kris Kringle?” Charlie asked.

“Yes, but that’s another story how I got that name,” the man stated.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Charlie sighed. “Just one story at a time, please.”

“That’s fine with me. Charlie, I sent for you by way of your great uncle’s will. He and I planned on you taking over the work. It’s been a family business for a long time, you see. Frankly, I had my doubts that you would make it back when you did. You were a little slow on your Greek lessons at first, as you may recall.”

Charlie just stared. All his hard work at Greek just to meet Santa Claus! Why, he didn’t even believe in the old fool!

Nicholas continued. “Charlie, your destiny is to be Santa Claus for as long as you live. Through your servants at Castle Reissdorf you will spend every year finding out about the helpless and downtrodden, the misfortunate and weak throughout the world. You will help these precious children with gifts, food, and special encouragement. The world is already overcrowded with bitter and unhappy adults. Do what you can to keep these little children from joining their ranks.”

“What do you mean, ‘Do what you can?’” Charlie asked cynically. “Aren’t you going to wave a magic wand and give me a pack of flying reindeer or something?”

“You’ve been watching too much television, Charlie.”

“What’s television?” Charlie inquired.

“Oh, that’s right. Television comes after your time. It’s hard to keep all the centuries straight, you know. Anyway, I don’t work like that. I don’t have reindeer, couldn’t possibly fit down a chimney, and certainly don’t even get to every home every Christmas season. I’m only human, you know.”

The frailty, charm, and sincerity of this old man began to win Charlie over. As Nicholas talked on, he related to Charlie how the legend of Santa Claus grew. Nicholas was a wealthy man who saw certain needs in the village of Myra. Every year he would pick two or three needy families as recipients of a special gift. Some folks just needed an extra boost, he figured. On the evening before Christ’s birth was to be celebrated, he would scale the roofs of the chosen houses and drop a small bag of goods through the chimney. He would have to do this late at night, when the fires had died down. The Christmas Eve of 341 was one of Nicholas’ favorites. He dropped three bags of gold through the same chimney in order that the three daughters of a poor, aging man might each have a dowry. All three girls were married the following spring, fulfilling their dear father’s dreams.

When Charlie heard all this, he fell to his knees and wept. “I never knew, I never knew,” he lamented. “After Elizabeth died, my life took a bitter turn. I became a thief and a drunkard. Even after I came to the castle, I was more interested in what I could get out of the deal than in helping anyone. Now I understand why everyone in the village and the servants at the castle have been so kind—they all know that I am destined to be the next Santa Claus.”

“No, not quite. Only the servants know your secret identity. The villagers have been nice to you for another reason.”

“Oh, I know,” Charlie responded. They expect me to treat them the same way my great uncle did.”

Again, Charlie was only half right.

“Well, of course they couldn’t help rejoicing to see you that first day you drove through Nekartailfingen. They figured that you must somehow be very much like the count—after all, you look remarkably like him.

“You see, Charlie, the count took possession of the castle at a young age. It was willed to him by his great-great uncle, Heinrich Debrunner.”

“Yes, yes. I know all that,” Charlie interrupted. “Get to the point.”

“Charlie, you only know part of the story. And I am getting to the point. What’s your hurry, anyway? You’ve got a few hundred years to hear this story, don’t you?”

Nicholas continued. “As I was saying, Heinrich Debrunner was the count’s great-great grandmother’s brother. When Friederich Reissdorf came to the castle he was not unlike yourself. He brought with him many bitter memories. His family lived in a tiny village near the Rhineland. His mother died in 1792 while she was giving birth to his sister, Anna. Four years later, when Friederich was only seven years old, his father died from pneumonia. Friederich raised Anna by himself, since he did not know of any other relatives who could care for her. Both of them nearly starved to death so often that they viewed dire hunger as a normal mode of existence. Friederich broke one of his legs when he was just twelve. He set the leg himself—and did a rather poor job of it. He walked with a rather pronounced limp until his death.”

“Wait a minute! You mean that old coot walked up those five flights of stairs at the castle with a limp! He really was a remarkable man!” interjected Charlie.

“Yes, he was. But you don’t know the half of it, Charlie. Friederich did not know how to read until he was twenty-four years old. And when he did learn, it took him a long time before he was very interested in it. Anna never did learn, I’m afraid.”

“But what about that great library at the castle—all those books?” Charlie asked.

“Friederich had a remarkable experience which changed his life and caused him to see the value of books. I’ll get to that part. But first—” Nicholas at first hesitated, then gave a sigh of resignation before continuing.

“In time, Friederich began to steal food and clothing from his neighbors. He even taught Anna how to pilfer money from the local church without getting caught. Your grandmother Anna learned some of the great hymns of the faith while waiting to steal from the offering plate.”

“When he was twenty-four his great-great uncle died and he inherited the castle. It was there that he went through an experience similar to yours. That is, similar to the adventure which brought you to me.”

“So you’re the reason my great uncle began to read, and why he became so well-liked in the village,” Charlie suggested.

“Not exactly, Charlie. When I met him I told him that I could not use him. The pain and bitterness in his life were so deep that he would only foul the job up. He really didn’t have the spirit of Christmas.”

“You mean he didn’t believe in you?” Charlie inquired.

“Heavens no!” declared Nicholas. “I wouldn’t be offended if someone didn’t believe in me. Besides, there’s much more myth about me going around than there is truth. And it’s getting worse every century. I’m only a servant.”

“You’ve got me real confused, now, old man. I thought you were going to zap me back to my time and I was going to be the next Saint Nick. And I would bring presents to all the good little girls and boys every Christmas.”

“You haven’t been listening very well, Charlie. How do you expect to bring presents to all the good children? I’m only human, you’re only human. The most you’ll be able to do is set an example of kindness and justice. Your wealth is limited; so use it wisely. If you can get to a few homes every year, that’ll be enough to spur others on to imitate you. But quite frankly,” Nicholas hesitated, “I can’t use you either.”

“WHAT?” Charlie shouted, almost waking some of the good folks of Myra.

“Like your great uncle, you don’t yet understand the true meaning of Christmas,” Nicholas patiently explained.

“O.K. You brought me back here. I’m all ears. Tell me the true meaning of Christmas,” demanded Charlie, cynically. He really didn’t want to listen any more to Nicholas, but he figured he would have to if he ever wanted to get back to his own time.

“My friend,” Nicholas began, “Christmas is a celebration of the birth of God’s Son. That Babe in Bethlehem was born for one purpose: that he might die to pay the penalty for sinners, like you and me. When he rose from the dead, this proved that God accepted his payment. If you, Charlie, put your trust in him, your sins, too, will be forgiven.”

Charlie was silent, stunned. He had heard the Christmas story of course. But even as a child he didn’t really believe it. He thought both Saint Nick and Jesus were fairy tales—although the story about Saint Nick was a juicier one. And for the REAL Nicholas to bring in religion seemed, well, out of place.

“Charlie, I’m a bit surprised you didn’t pick up on your great uncle’s clues,” Nicholas probed.

“What do you mean?” asked Charlie.

“You know—John 3:16, sui generis, the unique door, and all that,” the old saint affirmed.

“I still don’t get your point,” Charlie stated, once again in a befuddled sort of way.

“Charlie, Jesus of Nazareth is the one-of-a-kind door to heaven. He is sui generis! He’s the only way to God,” Nicholas declared. “He changed your great uncle’s life, Charlie. The day Friederich met Jesus he began to read everything he could. He taught himself thirteen different languages, and learned seventeen more with the help of tutors. He began to exercise, as painful as it was for his leg. He became fit in mind and body and then poured out his compassion on the downtrodden. His vast knowledge of history, psychology, ethics, science, music, art, and especially the Bible made him extremely well-suited to discern those who truly needed help and to figure out the best ways to help them. And his excellent health gave him the energy to accomplish the goals he set for himself.”

“All this because of meeting this baby from Bethlehem?” Charlie asked, skeptically.

“Quite frankly, yes. When a man meets God—truly meets God—his life has to change for the better. And in ways that go far beyond his greatest aspirations.

“And now, Charlie, what about you? Would you like to meet this Babe from Bethlehem?”

When Nicholas asked this question, so pointedly yet so gently, something wonderful came over Charlie. All of his bitterness, all his selfishness vanished. His arguments, his skepticism, all his doubt disappeared. He knelt there, in the snow, with Saint Nicholas, and placed his trust in the Son of God.

As he rose to thank Nicholas for introducing him to the real meaning of Christmas, Charlie was whisked away to another time and another place. He found himself standing in the secret passageway, in front of the Greek door. He couldn’t help but wonder what lay beyond the other two doors, and he was determined to find out in due time. But now, there was work to be done.

Before he retired that evening, Charlie found Hans and asked him to drive him into the village. “Stay here, Hans. This will only take a few minutes,” he whispered. Charlie got out of the carriage with three small bags in his hands. A few minutes later he returned, empty-handed, humming a Christmas carol. The new Santa Claus was in business.


1With a little help from his dad.

Related Topics: Christmas, Spiritual Life

Granville Sharp: A Model of Evangelical Scholarship and Social Activism

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Granville Sharp is widely known in evangelical circles for his famous Greek rule which has been used to defend the deity of Christ in various NT passages.1 Outside of evangelical circles, Sharp is better known as the man who did for England what Abraham Lincoln did for America. He was the prime mover in the abolition of slavery in England; one might even say that he was the force behind Wilberforce. But these two foci are only the tip of the iceberg in this man’s remarkable life. He launched a Bible society, saved a denomination from annihilation, and even founded a nation. Such activities were matched only by his literary efforts. His writings covered a vast array of topics—from philology and textual criticism to theology, music, and social causes, especially the cause of freedom for the black slave. At all times, Sharp’s views of human dignity and freedom were grounded in scripture. Consequently, his writings gave theological articulation to the causes of liberty in three American wars: the Revolutionary War, the War of 1812, and the Civil War.

Why is this paper needed? For three reasons: (1) Granville Sharp’s name is well known in our circles, yet little is known about the man. (2) Indeed, very little is known about his famous rule—a rule which has been almost universally abused and misunderstood by grammarians and exegetes alike. (3) Further, while many evangelicals who wish to have an impact on society have difficulty finding a role model, Granville Sharp readily supplies one. His story begs to be told afresh.

The essay will therefore attempt three things: (1) a brief biographical sketch of one of orthodoxy’s forgotten heroes; (2) a sketch of his writings (including almost seventy books and pamphlets); and (3) an overview and (brief) defense of his rule of Greek grammar.

A Short Life of Granville Sharp

Granville Sharp2 is one of the great forgotten “heroes”3 of history. His biographers sing his praises at every turn. His chief biographer, Prince Hoare (who penned a two-volume, 900-page work on Sharp’s life), goes so far as to say that at the outset of his investigations he intended, out of respect for the dead, to “draw a veil over some peculiarities of Mr. Sharp’s character.” When he finished his well-researched and comprehensive biography, he happily found Sharp’s “character to be of that high and dignified nature, to leave no necessity for such a precaution.…  I see nothing to veil … ”4 Granville Sharp was one of a rare breed of men whose life was characterized by a blend of piety, social conscience, scholarship, and Christian grace. Although that which has primarily concerned evangelicals—his Remarks on the Uses of the Definitive Article (and the famous rule found in that work)—is but a small chapter in his own life5 (as it is only one of scores of works published by the man), it may be helpful to see this slender tome in the broader context of Sharp’s life and achievements.

Granville Sharp was born on 10 November 1735 in Durham, England to a heritage of Christian piety and scholarship. He was the youngest of numerous children6 born to Dr. Thomas Sharp and Judith Sharp (née Wheler). Thomas Sharp, a prolific religious writer,7 the Archdeacon of Northumberland, was the youngest son born to Dr. John Sharp, Dean of Canterbury (1689-91) and Archbishop of York (1691-1714).8 Thomas’ eldest son, John, was to become the trustee of Bamburgh Castle in Northumberland9 and later take a part in the financial well-being of Granville. But the surgeon, William, and the engineer-inventor, James,10 both becoming quite affluent, were to figure most prominently in their younger sibling’s adult life.

As the youngest child, Granville received a negligible stipend for his education, the bulk of his father’s designated funds going to the training of the two eldest sons. He became an apprentice for a London linen-draper at the age of fourteen after receiving a minimal education which did not include even “the first rudiments of the learned languages … ”11 Over the next three years Sharp acquired some knowledge of both Greek and Hebrew, in response to the challenges of a Socinian and a Jew—both of whom claimed that his interpretations of scripture were faulty because they were not based on the original tongues. By 1758 both parents had died, leaving Sharp with a measure of freedom about his occupation. He obtained an appointment in the ordnance office, gaining the status of clerk seven years later. By 1765 Sharp had, without tutor or formal instruction,12 honed his skills in both Greek and Hebrew, though at the sacrifice of sleep and social life.13

In that same year he published what was thought to be his first book,14 a slender volume dealing with OT textual criticism.15 It was a critique of a paper written by Dr. Benjamin Kennicott who had outlined plans for introducing textual variants into the text of his forthcoming Hebrew Bible.16 Sharp’s critique, followed by correspondence and visits with Kennicott, persuaded the Oxford scholar to leave the text intact and place the variants culled from over six hundred MSS in an apparatus criticus at the bottom of each page.17 Sharp’s acumen in biblical studies was such that he assumed no pretense about the infallibility of the MT;18 but he thought it imprudent to bury the readings of the MT in the apparatus when the science of OT textual criticism was still in its infant stages. Thus, part of the reason that the Hebrew Bible has continued, even to the present, to be a diplomatic text (based on a single MS)—as opposed to an eclectic text—is due to the influence that an untrained clerk had on the great Hebraist of the day, Benjamin Kennicott.

In the same year the course of Sharp’s life took a dramatic turn that was to mark the rest of his days. A young African slave by the name of Jonathan Strong had been pistol-whipped by his master almost to the point of death. Abandoned, Strong somehow made his way to Dr. William Sharp’s house where he was nursed back to health. During this time Granville found out about the boy. Once Strong was healthy, the master demanded his return. What followed was a two-year legal battle in which Sharp prepared his case by studying English law,19 culminating in his third book, On the Injustice of tolerating Slavery in England.20 Without protracting this section beyond the purposes of our inquiry, suffice it to say here that Sharp’s antagonists were intimidated sufficiently never to bring the case to trial. Sharp had won: Jonathan Strong was a free man.21

Sharp’s brilliance in both biblical studies and English law, motivated by compassion and truth, prompted his uncle, the Rev. Granville Wheler, to encourage him to enter the ministry. Sharp turned down the offer, feeling both inadequate intellectually to take up the course of study required of a minister, and sensing that he could do the Church more good as a layman.22 This decision would come back to haunt him thirty-one years later, when his Remarks on the Uses of the Definitive Article was published.23

Over the next several years Sharp gained notoriety in the cause of abolition. He was called on to help in the cases of John Hylas (1768) and Thomas Lewis (1770-71), both of which came to the desired verdicts.24 But these were only individual victories; something on a larger scale needed to be accomplished. The case of James Somerset (1772) was carefully chosen by Sharp to set a precedent in England. Somerset had been a slave in Virginia. When brought to England on the business of his master, he was still a slave. Somerset’s lawyers argued that either none of the laws of Virginia applied in England or else all of them did.25 After a lengthy trial, the judgment was declared on 22 June 1772 by Lord Mansfield: “As soon as any slave sets his foot on English ground, he becomes free.”26 Ironically, since Sharp was not a lawyer, he was not openly involved in the proceedings: “although Granville directed the whole of the prosecution in behalf of Somerset, he did not profess, nor even acknowledge, his concern in it, to any but those who acted immediately with himself.”27

In spite of his largely low-key efforts, Sharp’s name became so strongly attached to the cause of abolition that his opinions were respected by important figures on both sides of the Atlantic. Over many years, he heavily influenced, through frequent correspondence and personal contact, Anthony Benezet (a major abolitionist in Philadelphia), Benjamin Rush, John Jay, Benjamin Franklin, and John Adams in America; John Wesley, William Wilberforce, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Dukes of Richmond and Gloucester in England; General Lafayette of France, and many others.28

Sharp’s involvement with many influential people in the Colonies at this time contributed to their fight for freedom from the British Crown. He “became unintentionally, though not unconsciously, an instrument in the great work of American Independence.”29 As his political involvement was always on the side of liberty, in 1774 Sharp published A Declaration of the People’s natural Rights to a Share in the Legislature, which is the fundamental Principle of the British Constitution. When Benjamin Franklin was in England that summer, Sharp gave him 250 copies of the tract. Franklin dispatched them to America the same day. Once in America several presses throughout the Colonies immediately reprinted the book. A press in Boston alone turned out 7000 copies.30

Incidentally, there is some evidence that this slender volume may have influenced Thomas Jefferson, both verbally and conceptually. A cursory look at Sharp’s work suggests some remarkable similarities with the Declaration of Independence.31 Nevertheless, establishing literary dependence in a case such as this is notoriously difficult and quite beyond the scope of this paper.32

When news that war had broken out reached Sharp the next year, he took leave of his duties in the ordnance office, not wishing to have anything to do with the war. The letter to his employer reveals his reason: “I cannot return to my ordnance duty whilst a bloody war is carried on, unjustly as I conceive, against my fellow-subjects … ”33 When it became clear that the war would be protracted, Sharp resigned his post on 10 April 1777. Since he had no means of support, his brothers mutually agreed to take on the burden of his financial needs.34 Being now freed from the long and taxing hours at the ordnance office, Sharp began to devote himself more thoroughly to his studies and to religious and social causes.35

One such cause was taking shape because of America’s new independence. Up until America severed political ties with England, Episcopal clergy had sworn allegiance to the throne. Now that that was impossible, there was, de jure, no Episcopal church in America.36 Sharp began to work for an independent Episcopal church as soon as he realized the Colonies could not be brought back under England’s rule.37 As with the abolition issue, Sharp worked strenuously behind the scenes. He was the principal liaison between the Archbishop of Canterbury and the American church.38 On 4 August 1784, when the Archbishop had authorized the ordination of priests, Sharp was not satisfied; he wanted the ordination of bishops as well. He continued to argue with the Archbishop, in writing and in person, on the justice and necessity of such a measure. And he continued to encourage the Americans not to give up the fight. Finally, in 1787, “In consequence of the repeated assurances, which Mr. Sharp had been thus authorised to give to the Convention of the Episcopal clergy at Philadelphia, of the readiness on the part of the English Church to consecrate proper persons, two Bishops were elected, Dr. White for Pennsylvania, and Dr. Provost for New York … ”39 When they arrived in England Granville Sharp thus presented them to the Archbishop of Canterbury to be consecrated on 4 February 1787.40 His hoped-for satisfaction of “being the first mover and promoter”41 of an independent Episcopacy in America had come to fruition.

Sharp’s connection with America was continuing to grow. Esteem for him had risen to the point that in the space of five years (1786-91) Sharp had been granted honorary membership in two abolition societies and had received three honorary doctorates.42 His affection for the United States was displayed by his numerous and substantial donations to college and public libraries, as well as to one black church.43 Further, not a few of his books and pamphlets were specifically directed to politics and religion in America.44

Sharp’s influence and magnanimity stretched both west and south. Before the chapter on American Episcopacy had been closed, Sharp’s attention turned toward Africa. After the American Revolution many former slaves who had fought on the side of the British were now homeless in the streets of London. A Mr. Smeathman suggested to them the possibility of establishing a colony of freed slaves on the west coast of Africa. Eager but cautious, they came to Sharp for advice. After careful investigation about the feasibility, Smeathman and Sharp together laid plans for a free colony in Sierra Leone. At the very inception of the undertaking, Smeathman died (c. 15 April 1786),45 leaving Sharp with the burden of adding flesh to the plan.46 Over a quarter million acres of land, including an excellent harbor (St. George’s Bay), were purchased from a native chief. Four hundred former slaves and about sixty Europeans, mostly women, took the maiden voyage to the new colony in April 1787. Sharp was able to procure both ships and funds from the British government for those who chose to relocate.47 Out of gratitude for “their original protector and friend” the colonists named their first settlement Granvilletown.48 The name was later changed to Freetown and “Granvilletown” was the name given to the second settlement.49 In spite of many struggles with slave-traders, the French, and disease, the little colony grew and became established.50 Throughout the nineteenth century Sierra Leone became “the center of Western intellectual life in … West Africa.”51 Its borders expanded through acquisitions from local chiefs. In 1961 it became an independent state; ten years later, a republic. The census of 1991 records over four million inhabitants.

Concurrent with the establishing of Sierra Leone and because of the high visibility of this colony and Sharp’s relationship to it, the fight for abolition was able to reach a new plane. Although Sharp had won the freedom of slaves in England, the British Empire still allowed the slave trade. A committee met on 22 May 1787 for the expressed purpose of abolishing this trade. The designation given to the group was the Committee for the Abolition of the Slave Trade. All members of the committee approved of this name except Sharp. He wanted “slavery” to be part of the title as his intention was to eradicate both the trade and its results from the British Empire.52 The majority won out for the time being; even though its name never changed, Sharp, the idealist, won out in the end (when slavery was abolished in 1833).

Granville Sharp was elected to chair the committee, being recognized as the “father of the cause in England”;53 William Wilberforce was its main spokesman. Beginning in 1789 Wilberforce addressed the Parliament with a series of bills which would ultimately ban slavery. The proposals were tabled until the following year; when renewed, they were defeated. Thus began a battle both within Parliament and among the populace over the slave-trade issue. Almost annually Wilberforce made his proposals. Though frequently passing in the House of Commons, they were always defeated in the House of Lords. While Wilberforce was eloquently arguing his case before the politicians, Sharp and the committee were disseminating information to the people of England.54 Finally, in March 1807 a bill banning the trade passed both houses.55

When the fight for abolition was drawing to a close, Sharp divided his attentions among other concerns. In 1804 he was unanimously elected (by about three hundred individuals) the first chairman of the newly formed British and Foreign Bible Society.56 He remained in this role until his death in 1813. From the first report of the Society one gains an insight into Sharp’s linguistic capacity. One of his first acts was to donate almost forty different versions of the Bible and NT from his own library in modern and ancient Greek, Hebrew, Arabic, Coptic, Latin, Ethiopic, Gothic, Syriac, French, German, Dutch, Irish, Scotch Gaelic, Mohawk, Hungarian, Italian, Polish, and Spanish, as well as another half dozen languages.57 Although it would be gratuitous to assume that Sharp was well accquainted with all of these languages, it would be equally gratuitous to assume that his knowledge of even some of them was nonexistent.58

Sharp also served on many other committees and societies in the last years of his life. Chief among them was the African Institution (founded in April 1807, one month after the slave-trade had been outlawed). The African Institution jointly owned, with his family, Sharp’s literary effects. Hoare’s Memoirs were commissioned under their auspices. Other groups of which Sharp was a member (and usually a director, sometimes chairman) included the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, the London Society for promoting Christianity among the Jews, Protestant Union, African Association, Refuge for the Destitute, Hibernian Society, Society for the Protection of Young Women, etc.59

He thus remained true to his multifaceted calling of philanthropist, promoter of Christianity, and scholar. Though Sharp traveled extensively within England, he apparently never ventured outside his homeland (an interesting irony in light of his tremendous influence overseas). His life, which ended on 6 July 1813, was commemorated by many notable statesmen and churchmen. He was buried in the family vault in Fulham. A memorial was erected for him in the Poets’ Corner in Westminster Abbey. The Rev. John Owen, Rector of Paglesham in Essex, wrote his epitaph.60 In 1816 the African Institution added a monument, next to the epitaph, in which many of his accomplishments were declared. As if to anticipate a response of incredulity, a note was added to the monument: “IF, ON PERUSING THIS TRIBUTE TO A PRIVATE INDIVIDUAL, THOU SHOULDEST BE DISPOSED TO SUSPECT IT AS PARTIAL, OR TO CENSURE IT AS DIFFUSE, KNOW THAT IT IS NOT PANEGYRIC, BUT HISTORY.” The memorials did not stop at his graveside, however. In 1824 a bust of Sharp was erected in the Council Chamber at the Court of Common Council in Guildhall, London, inscribed with the following: “GRANVILLE SHARP, TO WHOM ENGLAND OWES THE GLORIOUS VERDICT OF HER HIGHEST COURT OF LAW, THAT THE SLAVE WHO SETS HIS FOOT ON BRITISH GROUND BECOMES AT THAT INSTANT FREE.”61

In sum, the man after whom a rule of Greek grammar was named was known more for his heart than his mind. Philanthropist, abolitionist, scholar62 and linguist, Sharp’s legacy was to live on in the lives he touched. Though a lifelong bachelor, Sharp was a father of many causes,63 the bulk of which he could claim no vested interest in. As one friend put it, Sharp was “a churchman in faith, in charity a universalist.”64

The Writings of Granville Sharp

By any account Granville Sharp’s literary fruits were as profound as they were versatile, as scholarly as they were passionate. In his close to seventy volumes,65 he addressed topics from abolition to the pronunciation of biblical Hebrew, from agriculture to lessons in reading music. Some works were mere pamphlets, comprising as few as two or three pages; others were substantial and scholarly pieces, involving several hundred pages. Most were written in English, though three were in French.66 He was productive even in his early years (1765-1777) while virtually enslaved (as he put it)67 to his job at the ordnance office, completing his first eighteen books and pamphlets in his rather limited spare time.68

A topical breakdown of Sharp’s works reveals something of his general interests.69

Social Concerns, Government, English Law—41

Abolition—14

Against Duelling—2

Against Impressing Seamen70—2

Agriculture—3

Military Defense—7

Relief for the Poor—2

Right of Representation, Principles of Democracy—10

Other—1

Religious Issues—22

Biblical Studies—(16)

Old Testament:

Textual Criticism—1

Grammar—2

Exegesis and Theology—3

New Testament:

Translation Principles—1

Grammar—1

Exegesis—2

Theology (especially on prophecy—5

Miscellaneous—1

Applied Ecclesiology
(Episcopalianism, Quakerism, Roman Catholicism)—(6)

English Language—3

Pronunciation—2

Reading Primer for Children—1

Music—1

In spite of his complete lack of formal training in biblical criticism, English law, linguistics, and philology, Sharp was regarded as an expert in them all. The accolades pronounced upon his works were not from generalists and laymen, but from some of the best scholars of the day. The response to his work in the law is documented in the courts of England: the slave-trade and ultimately slavery were abolished because of the catalyst Sharp provided. In biblical criticism71 and philology, we merely note the following. Christopher Wordsworth, who would later become Master of Trinity College, Cambridge University, extensively praised Sharp’s work on the Greek article, even penning a book defending the rule in patristic Greek. Thomas Fanshaw Middleton (whose grammar on the article in Greek is still regarded as the finest treatment ever done) devoted fifteen pages to a discussion and defense of Sharp’s rule.72 Dr. Henry Lloyd, Regius Professor of Hebrew at Cambridge, lauded Sharp for his insights into the pronunciation of Hebrew,73 as did Bishop Horsley on Sharp’s new insights on Hebrew syntax—especially on the waw-consecutive.74 A refrain seen in many reviews, regardless of the nature of the topic, was that Sharp’s treatment was the finest in print, the ablest defense of a view, a great insight which would stand the test of time.

Letters from those who knew him only through his writings frequently addressed him as “Rev[erend],”75 a designation that implied, in the least, a recognition of formal training in biblical and classical languages and biblical studies. When his Remarks on the Uses of the Definitive Article was published, Sharp’s Socinian adversaries, however, seized his Achilles’ heel in this matter. Their frequent ad hominem attacks often unmasked a lack of substance in argument.

Sharp’s
Remarks on the Uses of the Definitive Article

Remarks and the Granville Sharp Rule

The only tome Sharp wrote on any aspect of NT grammar was a monograph on the Greek article, appearing in 1798 and bearing the title, Remarks on the Uses of the Definitive Article in the Greek Text of the New Testament: Containing many New Proofs of the Divinity of Christ, from Passages which are wrongly Translated in the Common English Version.76 The slender volume (which, when originally published, contained less than sixty pages) had actually been written twenty years earlier,77 but remained dormant until a friend and scholar urged Sharp to get it published.78 Most likely an outgrowth of his extensive treatise on the Trinity published in 1777,79 this little book was destined to become the center of a linguistic and theological storm and the only piece in biblical studies for which Sharp is remembered.

The Remarks on the Uses of the Definitive Article went through four editions in ten years.80 What may be of interest to note here is that the second and subsequent editions include excerpts from a lengthy rebuttal of Sharp’s Remarks by one pseudonymously named Gregory Blunt.81 The pun was not missed by Sharp: his last edition (1807) adds a twenty-six page preface (ix-xxxiv) in which he interacts with Blunt. Several exchanges were more rhetorical than substantive, dealing with the word-play between Sharp and Blunt.

In this work Sharp articulated six principles of syntax involving the Greek article, though what has commonly become known as “Sharp’s rule” is the first of these. It is the only rule which directly impacts the christologically significant passages and hence, “it is of much more consequence than the rest … ”82 As the weapon by which Sharp made his theological jabs against Socinians, it is this rule which has been largely debated, misunderstood, and abused. Sharp’s definition of it is as follows.

When the copulative και connects two nouns of the same case, [viz. nouns (either substantive or adjective, or participles) of personal description, respecting office, dignity, affinity, or connexion, and attributes, properties, or qualities, good or ill], if the article , or any of its cases, precedes the first of the said nouns or participles, and is not repeated before the second noun or participle, the latter always relates to the same person that is expressed or described by the first noun or participle: i.e. it denotes a farther description of the first-named person … 83

In the statement of this rule, Sharp only discussed substantives (i.e., nouns, substantival adjectives, substantival participles) of personal description, not those which referred to things, and only in the singular, not the plural. But whether he intended the rule to apply to impersonal nouns and/or plurals can hardly be determined from this definition. As well, he did not clearly exclude proper names from the rule’s application. However, a perusal of his monograph reveals that he felt the rule could be applied absolutely only to personal, singular, non-proper nouns. For example, two pages later he points out that “there is no exception or instance of the like mode of expression, that I know of, which necessarily requires a construction different from what is here laid down, EXCEPT the nouns be proper names, or in the plural number; in which case there are many exceptions … ”84 Later on he explicitly states that impersonal constructions are within the purview of his second, third, fifth, and sixth rules, but not the first.85 In an appendix Sharp refutes Blunt for bringing in impersonal constructions as exceptions to the rule.86

In other words, in the construction article-noun-καί-noun, Sharp delineated four requirements which he felt needed to be met if the two nouns were necessarily to be seen as having the same referent:87 both nouns must be (1) personal—i.e., they must refer to a person, not a thing; (2) common epithets—i.e., not proper names; (3) in the same case;88 and (4) singular in number.89 The significance of these requirements can hardly be overestimated, for those who have misunderstood Sharp’s rule have done so almost without exception because they were unaware of the restrictions that Sharp set forth.

The bulk of Sharp’s Remarks was a discussion of eight christologically significant texts (Acts 20:28; Eph 5:5; 2 Thess 1:12; 1 Tim 5:21; 2 Tim 4:1; Titus 2:13; 2 Pet 1:1; Jude 4), encompassing more than two-thirds of the body of the work.90 Thus, for example, Sharp regarded τοῦ μεγάλου θεοῦ καὶ σωτῆρος ἡμῶν ᾿Ιησοῦ Χριστοῦ in Titus 2:13 to refer to one person: “of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ.” Sharp backed up the validity of his arguments with twenty-five non-christologically significant examples which he believed were undisputed in their semantic force.91 Included in his disquisition are the following illustrations.92

2 Cor 1:3 (bis)

Εὐλογητὸς ὁ θεὸς καὶ πατὴρ τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν ᾿Ιησοῦ Χριστοῦ, ὁ πατὴρ τῶν οἰκτιρμῶν καὶ θεός

Blessed is the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and God

Eph 6:21

Τυχικὸς ἀγαπητὸς ἀδελφὸς καὶ πιστὸς διάκονος

Tychicus, the beloved brother and faithful servant

Heb 3:1

τὸν ἀπόστολον καὶ ἀρχιερέα τῆς ὁμολογίας ἡμῶν ᾿Ιησοῦν

the apostle and high priest of our confession, Jesus

Jas 3:9

ἐν αὐτῇ εὐλογοῦμεν τὸν κύριον καὶ πατέρα

in him we confess the Lord and Father

2 Pet 2:20

ἐν ἐπιγνώσει τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν καὶ σωτῆρος ᾿Ιησοῦ Χριστοῦ

in the knowledge of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ

Rev 16:15

μακάριος ὁ γρηγορῶν καὶ τηρῶν τὰ ἱμάτια αὐτοῦ

blessed is the one who is awake and who keeps his garments …

Sharp’s judgment was that in these texts “the sense is so plain that there can be no controversy.”93 As is evident even without a context, his assessment was correct. None of the rest of Sharp’s examples required any discussion either, as is obvious from the reactions to his work: no one disputed the validity of these examples. A number of other things were disputed, however, especially the validity of such texts for the christologically pregnant passages.

Nearly Two Centuries of Abuse

The reactions to Sharp’s rule over the next two centuries cannot be easily summarized.94 Our discussion will be necessarily truncated. Not one of Sharp’s critics ever demonstrated an invalid example within the pages of the New Testament. Calvin Winstanley, however, was able to produce four classes of exceptions to Sharp’s rule in Greek literature outside the NT.95 Nevertheless, none of these exceptions impacted in any way the christologically pregnant texts that Sharp’s rule was aimed at.96

Three years after Winstanley’s book appeared, a volume dedicated to the usage of the Greek article was published. The Doctrine of the Greek Article Applied to the Criticism and Illustration of the New Testament, written by the first Bishop of Calcutta, Thomas Fanshaw Middleton,97—a work still highly regarded among NT grammarians today98—gave an extensive treatment on the use of the article in classical Greek, followed by hundreds of pages of exegetical discussions of the article in the NT. Middleton clearly felt the force of Sharp’s rule and lent it credibility from the circle of philology. He believed that Sharp’s canon was valid both for the NT and classical Greek. In addition, he understood the restrictions of the rule to personal, singular, non-proper names.

After Middleton, the next major player was Georg Benedict Winer, the great Greek grammarian of the nineteenth century. Winer’s assessment of Titus 2:13 is as follows:

In Tit. ii. 13… considerations derived from Paul’s system of doctrine lead me to believe that σωτῆρος is not a second predicate, co-ordinate with θεοῦ

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

[In n 2 at the bottom of the same page] In the above remarks it was not my intention to deny that, in point of grammar, σωτῆρος ἡμῶν may be regarded as a second predicate, jointly depending on the article τοῦ; but the dogmatic conviction derived from Paul’s writings that this apostle cannot have called Christ the great God induced me to show that there is no grammatical obstacle to our taking the clause καὶ σωτ.… Χριστοῦ by itself, as referring to a second subject.99

What is most interesting about Winer’s comments on this text is that though he advances no real grammatical arguments, because he was a highly regarded grammarian he was apparently able to cancel out, by the intimidation of his own opinion, the use of Sharp’s rule in these passages. This statement virtually sounded the death knell to Sharp’s rule. Ironically, what Winstanley could not do in a tightly argued, compact book of fifty-five pages (all in eight-point type), Winer did in a single footnote!

Proof of this is readily available. For example, J. H. Moulton is strongly influenced by Winer’s comment on Titus 2:13, reading it as though borne from a sober grammatical judgment. In his Prolegomena he writes: “We cannot discuss here the problem of Tit 213, for we must, as grammarians, leave the matter open: see WM 162, 156n.”100 Other scholars have followed suit. Some scholars explicitly cite Winer as their authority for doubting the grammatical perspicuity of the construction;101 others, though not mentioning Winer by name, consider the grammar to be vague.102

Winer’s influence, then, seems sufficiently to account for the neglect of Sharp’s rule in discussions of christologically significant passages where it would otherwise be applied. But what about the abuse of the rule? Almost without exception, those who seem to be acquainted with Sharp’s rule and agree with its validity misunderstand it and abuse it. This widespread misunderstanding shows no partiality—grammarians, exegetes, and theologians alike are culpable. Typically, the rule is usually perceived to extend to plural and impersonal constructions—in spite of the fact that Sharp restricted the rule to personal singular nouns. What are the reasons for such abuse? For one thing, as we have seen, the statement of Sharp’s rule is not clear—only an examination of his monograph explicitly reveals his requirement of personal singular nouns. Secondly, the last clear statement of the limitations of Sharp’s canon in any major work was published over one hundred and fifty years ago—in Thomas Fanshaw Middleton’s Doctrine of the Greek Article.103

For whatever reason, modern grammarians have perpetuated the ambiguity of the original statement, bypassing Middleton’s clear articulation of the rule altogether. To take but three examples: A. T. Robertson, in his large grammar, discusses the article-noun-καί-noun construction quite extensively. He was well acquainted with Sharp’s rule—in fact, he was an adamant defender of its validity.104 However, without interacting with either Sharp or Middleton on the point, he felt that the rule applied to impersonal nouns as well as personal.105 Second, Dana and Mantey—on whose grammar many American students have been weaned—actually reproduce (almost) verbatim Sharp’s rule, but neglect to specify more clearly the limitations.106 And third, in his recent intermediate grammar, Stanley Porter states, “Unfortunately, this rule has been widely misunderstood.”107 But Porter both misstates the rule (ignoring the restriction to personal substantives) and, consequently, applies Sharp's canon to an impersonal construction (Eph 3:18).108 Robertson, Dana and Mantey, and Porter are simply the tip of the iceberg of grammarians’ misunderstanding of Sharp’s canon.109

The reason, therefore, for the abuse of the rule seems to be that few have taken the time to read Sharp’s Remarks or Middleton’s Doctrine of the Greek Article—in spite of the fact that “Sharp’s rule” is still, here and there, mentioned with approbation. And the reason that few have actually read Sharp or Middleton,110 it seems, is either inaccessibility or the natural tendency in biblical studies to think that only the most recent literature makes much of a contribution.111

The upshot of the present-day imprecise knowledge of Sharp’s limitations is that those who invoke his canon on behalf of the argument for Christ’s deity in Titus 2:13, etc., since they include plurals and impersonals in the rule, are unable to regard the rule as absolute. Since these same scholars find exceptions to what they perceive to be the rule, they can only regard it as a general principle. For example, Murray J. Harris, in his otherwise excellent and detailed article, “Titus 2:13 and the Deity of Christ” (in F. F. Bruce’s second Festschrift), makes much of the argument that “two co-ordinate nouns referring to the same person are customarily linked by a single article.”112 Yet he gives in defense of this proposition three proof texts—two of which involve nouns in the plural (which even he concedes do not speak of identity and thus they contradict his version of Sharp’s rule)!113 Harris is hardly alone in his misunderstanding of Sharp’s rule; indeed, he simply follows in a long train of exegetes who have been unaware of the restrictions laid down by Sharp.114

To sum up, the validity of Sharp’s canon was called into question, on theological grounds, by the great grammarian of the nineteenth century, Georg Benedict Winer. His stature as a grammarian, even though he spoke in this instance outside his realm, has apparently brought about the neglect of the rule in the vast majority of studies of these passages in this century. Consequently, and certainly related to this, the rule has been abused even by those who agree with its validity,115 because the limitations which Sharp laid down are almost never observed (in large measure because they have not been printed in any major work in the last one hundred and fifty years).

Nevertheless, when properly understood, Sharp’s canon is clearly valid for the NT. And the exceptions to the rule that Winstanley articulated in no way impinge on the christologically significant texts.116 As Robertson quipped, “Winer did not make out a sound case against Sharp’s principle as applied to 2 Peter i. 1 and Titus ii. 13. Sharp stands vindicated after all the dust has settled.”117

Conclusion

If this essay were to lack a conclusion, the inattentive might think that we have been discussing three different men. Indeed, it is perhaps most surprising to find that Sharp, the thoroughly orthodox NT scholar, was a layman, and was far better known for abolishing slavery than for his rule of Greek grammar.

If I may be permitted a pastoral reflection: there is a temptation for those in academia to think that to excel—to make a real contribution in our field—we must never venture outside this realm. Further, evangelical scholars often question the doctrinal convictions of those who are social activists. Granville Sharp shows that that is a false dichotomy. But lest we think that the world has changed, that no Granville Sharps could be found in today’s society, it may be helpful to note some similarities between his age and ours.

J. C. D. Clark, perhaps the leading authority on eighteenth-century English history, wrote: “The correlation between theological heterodoxy and a preference for political reform was strong, but not exclusive. Exceptions stood out, however. One was Granville Sharp … a Trinitarian … ”118

And John Adams, when he was American ambassador in London, in a letter to the Marquis de Lafayette (31 January 1786), stated that Granville Sharp was “very amiable & benevolent in his dispositions, and a voluminous writer, but as Zealously attached to the Episcopacy & and the Athanasian Creed as he is to civil and religious Liberty—a mixture which in this country is not common.”119

Even in his day, Sharp stood against the tide. Precisely because of this, he is a model for us today as well.


1 Quite coincidentally, this draft was completed on 10 November 1995, the 260th anniversary of Granville Sharp’s birth. It is equally coincidental that this paper was originally delivered in Philadelphia, the American city with which Sharp had the strongest connections.

2There are numerous secondary sources for Sharp’s life, although with many discrepancies and errors of fact—cf., e.g., Cyclopaedia of Biblical, Theological, and Ecclesiastical Literature, ed. by J. McClintock and J. Strong (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1880) 9.620-21; Encyclopedia Britannica, 11th ed. (Cambridge: University Press, 1911) 24. 809-810; Encyclopedia Americana (Danbury, CN: Grolier, 1988) 24.673. (Surprisingly, Collier’s Encyclopedia has no entry on Sharp, either in the 1974 edition [New York: Macmillan] or in the 1921 edition [New York: P. F. Collier & Son]).

The primary materials, however, are few and not readily available. The most accurate sources are the following: (1) Two authoritative biographies: Prince Hoare, Memoirs of Granville Sharp, Esq. composed from his own Manuscripts and other Authentic Documents in the Possession of his Family and of the African Institution, 2d ed. (London: Henry Colburn, 1828) 2 vols. (consisting of 438 and 482 pages respectively); and Charles Stuart, A Memoir of Granville Sharp (New York: American Anti-Slavery Society, 1836). Stuart’s biography is substantially briefer (only 156 pages, 67 of which are two of Sharp’s own writings included as an appendix) and is highly selective, dealing almost exclusively with Sharp’s role in the abolition of slavery. (2) Sharp’s own published writings which are quite extensive. See the following section on Sharp’s writings for a brief discussion. (3) Correspondence between Sharp and others, journal entries, and memoranda. These include “twelve large boxes of MSS” (Hoare, Memoirs, 1.258), only a small fraction of which are accessible in the United States (and hence have been at least cursorily examined for this paper). (4) Thomas Clarkson, History of the Abolition of the Slave Trade (London: J. W. Parker, 1839). (5) A collection of materials by and about Sharp belonging to the British and Foreign Bible Societies, now housed in the Bradshaw Room of the Cambridge University Library, Cambridge, England. The brief sketch that follows is based for the most part on Hoare’s Memoirs (as the Stuart memoir was derived almost in its entirety from Hoare [Stuart, Memoir, 70], published to incite the cause of abolition in the United States), supplemented occasionally by a few of Sharp’s letters, manuscripts, and books, as well as some materials authored by others.

3Hoare, Memoirs, 1.xxvii: “although the Memoirs of Granville Sharp do not furnish the history of a hero, in the ordinary acceptation of that name, I am persuaded, by my own feelings, that there are few who will not find him to have been one … ” In particular, William Wilberforce referred to him as such.

4Ibid., 1.xxix.

5Stuart gives it only half a sentence, and then only implicitly (“Collision with a Socinian, who boasted that the original language of the New Testament favored his views, led Sharp to study the Greek … ” [Memoir, 1]) while Hoare devotes eight pages to this topic (Memoirs, 2.360-67), less than one percent of the two-volume biography.

6Eight of whom reached adulthood (Hoare, Memoirs, 1.24, 41).

7Among other works, he wrote Concio ad Clerum for his doctor’s degree at Trinity College, Cambridge (1729), The Rubric in the Book of Common Prayer (1753), and Two Dissertations on the Hebrew Words Elohim and Berith (1751). Cf. Cyclopedia, 9.621; Hoare, Memoirs, 1.23-24.

8Sharp was Archbishop till his death, though there is some doubt as to its date: 2 February 1713 or 2 February 1714 (see Hoare, Memoirs, 1.19). He was the last Archbishop of York to be buried at Yorkminster.

9Ibid., 1.26.

10James is the man to whom England “is indebted for the first establishment of its inland navigation” (Hoare, Memoirs, 1.34).

11Ibid., 1.41.

12Ibid., 2.234.

13Ibid., 1.45-46, 192-93. After several years of working for the government, Sharp explained his inconsistent and tardy correspondences. To Dr. Rutherford (24 August 1774) he wrote: “We keep no holidays in the Ordnance, as in other public offices, and I am stationed in the most laborious post in the whole office; so that, as my time is not my own, I profess myself entirely incapable of holding a literary correspondence. What little time I have been able to save from sleep at night, and early in a morning, has been necessarily employed in the examination of some points of law …” And to Anthony Benezet (7 July 1773) he penned, “I am really a sort of slave myself,” a somber and telltale note which by this time revealed the empathetic motives that were to characterize his life.

14Although Hoare calls this his first book (Memoirs, 1.194), in Sharp’s handwritten catalog of his published works he lists A short Account of that Part of Africa inhabited by Negroes, stating that it was “first printed at Philadelphia in 1762” (catalog transcribed by Hoare, Memoirs, 2.343). This work stands fifth in the list of his published works because its first British publication date was 1768.

15Remarks on a printed Paper lately handed about, intituled, “A Catalogue of the Sacred Vessels restored by Cyrus, and of the Chief Jews who returned at first from the Captivity; together with the Names of the returning Families, and the Number of the Persons at that Time in each Family: Disposed in such a Manner, as to shew most clearly the great Corruption of Proper Names and Numbers in the present Text of the Old-Testament” (London: B. White, 1765). A second edition appeared in 1775.

16This became a two-volume work, published in Oxford 1776-80, based on the MT of E. van der Hooght, Vetus Testamentum Hebraicum cum variis lectionibus (1705). Kennicott’s work is still valuable today.

17Hoare, Memoirs, 1.194-203, 2. 341-42. Cf. also E. Würthwein, Text of the Old Testament, 4th ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1979) 38. Hoare effervesces over the David vs. Goliath proportions of Sharp’s accomplishment (Memoirs, 1.195): “The singularity of the subject, the confidence with which his enterprise was supported, and the success with which it was finally attended, form one of the most remarkable incidents in literary annals.”

18Hoare, Memoirs, 1.200, quoting Sharp’s letter to the Rev. Mr. Percy (23 March 1768): “I never contended for the absolute integrity of the printed Hebrew Bibles … ”

19Some secondary sources state that Sharp had been educated for the bar (e.g., Cyclopaedia 9.620). This was not the case. This false belief was promoted even by those who worked closely with Sharp. In the collection of papers belonging to the British and Foreign Bible Societies, now housed in the Bradshaw Room of the Cambridge University Library, Cambridge, England, is a beautifully handwritten MS entitled “Granville Sharp (Philanthropist).” Apparently this document is a eulogy commissioned by the General Committee of the BFBS on August 6, 1813. In this short piece we are told that Sharp was “educated for the bar, but never practised.”

Sharp’s interest in the law was borne out of the sufferings of the black man, Jonathan Strong. As Hoare remarks, “his extraordinary action in behalf of the African race did not take its rise in theory, but was elicited by the occurrence of natural circumstances” (Memoirs, 1.51-52). Sharp himself admits that he “had never once opened a law book, to consult it, till on occasion of the present cause” (Hoare, Memoirs, 1.55, quoting an unspecified MS from Sharp’s remains). His biographer adds that “In his difficult task of legal inquiry, he had no instructor; no assistant, except his own diligence; no encourager, except his own conscience” (ibid., 59). This is the more remarkable since his adversary, the master of the slave, was himself a lawyer, David Lisle.

20Sharp had circulated a MS to Lisle and his attorneys. This MS was to become the book two years later (1769).

21The tenacity and genius of Sharp with reference to this case are well documented in Hoare, Memoirs, 1.47-68. Sharp’s accomplishment was celebrated early on in orthodox circles: among the collection of papers in the Bradshaw Room of Cambridge University is an illustrated gospel tract that uses this story to promote the gospel.

22Letter to Granville Wheler, 26 November 1767 (recorded in Hoare, Memoirs, 1.69-70).

23In particular he felt that one advantage he had over a minister in the areas of apologetics and interpretation was that he would not be expected to have studied an issue thoroughly. It was precisely because of his lack of formal training and partial preparation that his Remarks on the Uses of the Definitive Article would be ridiculed.

24Hoare, Memoirs, 1.71-92.

25Part of the defense’s argument was that the American colonies were not under Parliamentary law because “no Parliament can have a just right to enact laws for places which it does not represent” (Hoare, Memoirs, 1.118). It was this firm conviction that led Sharp to another major turning point in his life two years later.

26Cf. ibid., 1.93-141. Sharp’s handwritten minutes of the verdict record his own convictions well, for he underlined the refrain constantly used, viz. “that England was too pure an Air for Slaves to breathe in … ” (Granville Sharp, minutes of the case involving James Somerset, [c. 22 June 1772 or later]).

27Hoare, Memoirs, 1.108.

28Hoare notes that “His reputation stood high in America, in consequence of his extraordinary acts of philanthropy; and the esteem of his general character had there become established on a far more extensive scale than in his own country” (Memoirs, 1.256). Besides Hoare, Memoirs passim, cf. especially correspondence from Anthony Benezet to Sharp (14 May 1772, 8 November 1772 et al.); correspondence between Benjamin Franklin and Granville Sharp in the Library of Congress’ Miscellaneous Manuscripts collection, and in Collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Series 1, vol. 3 (New York: Johnson Reprint Corp., 1968) 162-66; correspondence from John Adams to Sharp (8 March 1786); M. D. Kennedy, Lafayette and Slavery: From his Letters to Thomas Clarkson and Granville Sharp (Easton, PA: American Friends of Lafayette, 1950); G. Sharp, Letter from Granville Sharp Esq., of London, to the Maryland Society for Promoting the Abolition of Slavery, and the Relief of Free Negroes and others, unlawfully held in Bondage (Baltimore: Graham, Lundt, and Patton, 1793); G. Sharp, Extract of a Letter to a Gentleman in Maryland; wherein is Demonstrated the extreme Wickedness of Tolerating the Slave Trade, 4th ed. (London: Phillips and Fardon, 1806).

29Hoare, Memoirs, 1.257.

30Ibid., 1.182-83, 257.

31Only the first 46 pages of text dealt with America; the second half of the book is concerned with Ireland (the 40-page preface is essentially theological in nature). But even here there are many verbal and conceptual similarities with the American document. Note, for example, the following excerpts from Sharp’s volume (all italics in the original): “natural rights … plain conclusions … common sense” (1); “there can be no legal appearance of Assent without some degree of Representation” (4); “inequality … corrupt … natural Liberty … Tyrants, Traitors … ” (6); “It is manifest, therefore, that the constitutional government of England, even with all its defects, is infinitely better than any other form of government whereby the people are deprived of their just share in the legislature” (7); “Law, to bind all, must be assented to by all” (9); “no Tax can be levied, without manifest Robbery and Injustice, where this legal and constitutional Representation is wanting” (10); “contrary to the eternalLaws of God, which are supreme” (11); “without their participation and assent … ” (11); “taxing the American Subjects without their Consent” (24); “Equity, Justice, and Liberty” (27); “their [Americans’] unalienable right to the same happy privileges by which the liberties of the mother-country have hitherto been maintained … by the people” (35); “disunion” (40); “treasonable” (41 and passim). There are hints here and there as well of impact on the Constitution, including the Bill of Rights (cf. especially 2-3, 4-5, 7-8, 10-15).

32Still, four points are worth pondering: (1) Sharp’s tract reached America almost eighteen months before Thomas Paine’s Common Sense was published; (2) Jefferson admitted that his ideas were not original, but borrowed heavily from previous written sources (in a letter from Jefferson to James Madison, 30 August 1823); (3) Sharp’s volume circulated widely in the Colonies and was known by influential dignitaries such as Benjamin Franklin and John Adams, both of whom were originally assigned to help write the Declaration; (3) Sharp was an Englishman on the side of the Americans, a fact which would enhance the credibility of their cause, and almost certainly impact the wording and thinking of several American statesmen.

33Quoted in Hoare, Memoirs, 1.185.

34“He had expended the remains of his paternal inheritance and the fruits of his employment in acts of bounty; and the protector of the helpless stood himself without the means of sustenance. But the cordial attachment of his brothers (all now prosperous) brought them instantly around him” (ibid., 1.188-89).

35Among other works produced at this time was a tract decrying the practice of impressing seamen entitled, An Address to the People of England, being the Protest of a private Person against every Suspension of Law that is liable to injure or endanger Personal Security. Though not listed in the catalog of works that he acknowledged writing, Remarks on Impressing Seamen (1777) was generally attributed to Sharp as well (Hoare, Memoirs, 1.247). This little pamphlet was reprinted in 1810 (n.p., n.p.) on the verge of the War of 1812. (Sharp thus twice became a catalyst on the side of the Americans—once with reference to the American Revolution and now with reference to the War of 1812.)

36Cf. Hoare, Memoirs, 1.313; C. E. Olmstead, History of Religion in the United States (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1960) 221-24.

37In his journal entry for 31 August 1779 he wrote that he had taken steps “for more than two years past, to persuade the Americans here in London of the necessity of adopting and introducing Episcopacy into America … ” (quoted in Hoare, Memoirs, 1.310).

38Remarkably, as thorough as Olmstead’s History of Religion in the United States is, he fails to mention Sharp at all for the part he played. The account in Hoare is not to be discounted, for many of the very details of the story, including dates, principals, and motivations are identical. Further, Hoare’s account is far more comprehensive than Olmstead’s and the latter’s is slow to mention any of the English principals, including the Archbishop himself! Cf. Hoare, 1.314-342 with Olmstead, 221-24. (It is no less remarkable that Sharp does not merit the attention of Charles J. Abbey, The English Church and Its Bishops 1700-1800, 2 vols. [LondonL Longmans, Green, & Co., 1887] 2.184-90, in his discussion of the consecration of White and Provost [spelled “Provoost” in Abbey] or other incidents leading up to this event.)

39Hoare, Memoirs, 1.331-32. Olmstead spells the second delegate’s name “Provoost.”

40Hoare, Memoirs, 1.342. Once this was accomplished, Sharp then began to persuade the Archbishop about the Episcopacy in Canada (ibid., 1.347).

41Letter to his brother, Dr. John Sharp, c. 1779 (mentioned in Hoare, Memoirs, 1.310-11).

42The Pennsylvania Society for promoting the Abolition of Slavery and the Relief of free Negroes (Sharp’s membership was conveyed in a letter by Benjamin Franklin, 9 June 1787); The New York Society for Abolition of Slavery (communicated to Sharp by John Jay, 1 September 1788); Doctor of Laws conferred by the College of Providence, Rhode Island (September 1786), University of Cambridge, Massachusetts (9 November 1790); University of Williamsburg, Virginia (c. 1791). Cf. Hoare, Memoirs, 1.374-81.

43Sharp contributed to public libraries in New York, Philadelphia, and Virginia; college libraries at Harvard, Dartmouth, Yale, Princeton as well as several others (Hoare, Memoirs, 1.348-51). I have possession of a copy of one of Sharp’s letters (one that is not mentioned in Hoare) to the public library in Philadelphia (7 February 1785). In it he catalogs the titles which were donated by himself and his brother William. On this occasion William donated twenty-three books, all written by relatives (especially his grandfather and father); Granville donated eighteen books, all of which were versions of or aids for the Bible (such as concordances, Latin Vulgate, Stephanus text, etc.) and patristic works. The nature of the gift to the black church is unknown, as Sharp kept no record of his own letter. But a grateful reply for his recent “humane donation to our church” is mentioned (letter from the African Church of Philadelphia to Granville Sharp, 25 November 1793, mentioned in Hoare, Memoirs, 1.380-81).

44See next section for a discussion.

45Hoare, Memoirs, 2.16.

46It is important to note that although Sharp did not initiate the plans for this colony he had contemplated such a colony three years before he and Smeathman were in contact (as noted in his journal entry of 1 August 1783, given in Hoare, Memoirs, 2.11-15). And once he collaborated with Smeathman, Sharp apparently authored the constitution by which the colony would govern itself (ibid., 2.15). He is thus justly considered as the father of Sierra Leone (ibid., 2.269).

47Sharp’s principal contact was William Wilberforce. The friendly association of these two would play a large role in the annals of British abolition over the next three decades.

48Hoare, Memoirs, 2.25. The name is variously spelled in Hoare: Granville Town, Granville-town, Granville Town, etc. Stuart spells it as we have it above (Memoir, 42).

49Hoare, Memoirs, 2.131.

50See a detailed history up until 1828 in Hoare, Memoirs, 2.1-182. The growth of the colony got its greatest momentum from the abolition of slavery in England in 1807.

51Collier's Encyclopedia (1974 ed.) 21.14, s.v. “Sierra Leone.”

52Hoare, Memoirs, 2.233-36; cf. also Stuart, Memoir, 54-56, for insights on the committee’s debate.

53Hoare, Memoirs, 2.230. In over seven hundred meetings of the committee, Sharp never sat in the chairman’s seat, but rather preferred the least conspicuous chair at the opposite end of the table (Hoare, Memoirs, 2.231).

54One pamphlet, written by John Newton, had a rather significant impact. Since Newton had been a slave-trader himself (Thoughts upon the African Slave Trade [London: Buckland, 1788] 40), there was immediate credibility to his opinions. As a sidenote, one of the interesting comments in the treatise was Newton’s preference for the designation “Black” as opposed to “Negroe,” for those enslaved, calling the latter a “contemptuous” designation (ibid., 8).

55For a detailed account of the committee’s work, cf. Hoare, Memoirs, 2.183-254.

56Ibid., 2.256-60; John Owen, The History of the Origins and First Ten Years of the British and Foreign Bible Society (New York: James Easburn, 1817), 22. Elsewhere Owen gives the reasons why Sharp was chosen (83): “Perhaps it would not have been possible to find, throughout the British dominions, a man in whom the qualities requisite for the first Chairman of the British and Foreign Bible Society were so completely united as they were in this venerable philanthropist. A churchman in faith, in charity a universalist, he stamped upon the institution, while it was yet tender, those characters which suited its constitution and its end … ”

57Hoare, Memoirs, 2.260-63. A letter of thanks on behalf of the Committee of the Bible Society, dated 9 January 1805, was penned by Lord Teignmouth (unpublished, in the possession of the BFBS Collection). Upon Sharp’s death, the Society noted that he was “the earliest and largest benefactor to their library” (resolution quoted in Hoare, Memoirs, 2.317). Alan F. Jesson, now curator of the “British and Foreign Bible Society’s Collection,” located in the Bradshaw Room of Cambridge University Library, has ably documented the early history of the Society in his “The Libraries of the British and Foreign Bible Society and the American Bible Society, New York: A Comparison” (M. L. S. dissertation, Loughborough University of Technology, 1977). He notes that not only was Sharp the first to respond to a public appeal for Bibles, but that Sharp also contributed in the second round of donations. This second round included a total of thirty-six books by twenty-two donors, showing how remarkable was Sharp’s first gift (Jesson, “Libraries,” 15).

58In Sharp’s own hand is the list of Bibles he donated to the BFBS, recorded in the manuscript British & Foreign Bible Society Miscellaneous Book Commencing 1804, 1-4 (unpublished document in the British and Foreign Bible Society’s Collection). A look at this annotated list, together with a firsthand examination of the Bibles, did not reveal as much as I had hoped. But four points deserve mention: (1) A few of the Bibles were given to Sharp, but most were apparently gained by purchase. Not once does the name of his father or grandfather appear in them, suggesting that he bought them himself (thus, indicating that they were not kept as mere heirlooms, but probably served some utilitarian purpose). (2) He made few marks in the Bibles, even in the bilingual and trilingual Bibles and those which involve languages that Sharp had demonstrated a knowledge of (e.g., French, English, Latin, Greek). Thus, the absence of markings is no proof of a linguistic handicap. (3) Most of the Bibles were handsome folio or quarto editions, rendering them probably too expensive both to mark in and to have purchased on impulse. (The only Bible with extensive markings is the smallest in the collection, an octavo Spanish Testament from 1556). (4) A few of the Bibles do, however, have notes in Sharp’s handwriting, usually concerning the morphology and syntax of the language (e.g., Syriac, Gothic, Malaya, Hungarian/Magyar, Caledonian/Scotch Ga[e]lic, modern Greek, and Italian).

59Cf. Hoare, Memoirs, 2.255-82.

60Three years later Owen wrote to Hoare about Sharp’s character and accomplishments. Among other things he noted that “He had, in a measure, the spirit and power of Elijah” and that he had acquired, on his own, a good grasp of “French, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and the Syriac and Chaldee dialects” (25 March 1816, cited in Hoare, Memoirs, 2.333-35, quotations from 334).

61Cited in Hoare, Memoirs, 1.xxxix.

62Though almost universally regarded as a scholar—most notably by the scholars of the day, Sharp adopted the opinion of some of his Socinian adversaries. When he was requested to peruse a biographical sketch of himself written up for a periodical, he objected to the glowing expressions of his academic prowess. In the margin he wrote the comment, “G. S. is by no means entitled to the character of ‘a good scholar, well read, &c.’ for he never read or studied more than what was unavoidably necessary on those few subjects which from time to time seemed to demand his unexperienced endeavors, on each particular occasion which excited his attention” (cited in Hoare, Memoirs, 2.355). His biographer poignantly noted, “Under the influence of this principle [of humility], he seems almost to have trespassed on veracity.”

63He almost surely considered himself a father of the many he helped. The men and women of Sierra Leone, for example, he called “his ‘orphans’ and showed all a father’s spirit towards them” (Stuart, Memoir, 35).

64Owen, British and Foreign Bible Society, 83.

65Among Sharp’s remains was a catalog in his own hand of his published works, comprising sixty-three books or pamphlets (for a transcript of the catalog see Hoare, Memoirs, 2.341-54.) This catalog includes sixty-one numbered items. The discrepancy between these two numbers is to be accounted for as follows. Two of the items were each a seven-part series of pamphlets, later bound in one volume. Two items were counted twice, one for each edition. Eight items were documents written by others in reponse to Sharp’s works. This brings the total to sixty-three.

This does not account for all of his writings, however. It is believed that he wrote at least one more book anonymously (Hoare, Memoirs, 1.247). Further, even Sharp’s own records are not exhaustive. Not listed are An Essay on Slavery, Proving from Scripture its Inconsistency with Humanity and Religion (Burlington: Isaac Collins, 1772), and An Account of the Ancient Division of the English Nation into Hundreds and Tithings (London: Galabin and Baker, 1784). There may be others that could be added to this list, but which are unknown in the United States. In addition, he wrote a few other treatises which were not published because his adversaries recanted of their views before such tomes went to press, thus satisfying Sharp.

Hence, we have firm evidence of at least sixty-five published works from Sharp, a probable suspicion of at least one more work, knowledge of a few manuscripts which Sharp refrained from publishing, and a suspicion that some works though published are not catalogued in the libraries of the United States. The number seventy is thus a conservative figure.

66E.g., Necessité et Moyens d’etablir la Force publique sur la Rotation continuelle du Service militaire, et la Representation nationale sur la Proportion exacte du Nombre des Citoyens (Paris: n.p., 1792), the most substantial of the three, dealt with the right of the populace to be organized according to frankpledge as a means of self-defense against a despotic government.

67Correspondence to Anthony Benezet, 7 July 1773.

68Some of these works were rather substantial (e.g., A Tract on the Law of Nature, and Principles of Action in Man [London: B. White, 1777], principally an exegetical-theological work which argued for evidence of the Trinity in the OT, comprising almost 450 pages). Sharp took a leave of absence from his duties in 1775, and although he did not resign his post until two years later, his time was his own beginning in 1775. Still, his first eleven works were published before he took his leave (1765-1774).

69Many of his works overlap in their themes. Such works are listed by their main emphasis. Although we believe that Sharp wrote at least seventy published volumes, only sixty-six are listed here (for explanation, see note 65).

70 The number for this category includes an anonymous work attributed to Sharp.

71One of the best evidences that Sharp had far more than a layman’s understanding of biblical studies can be seen in his views on textual criticism. As we have already noted, he recognized early on that the Masoretic Text did not always replicate the original (cf. above discussion of his first work, a book on OT textual criticism). And although he did not write any work on NT textual criticism per se, he was well acquainted with the apparatus critici of various editions, as well as with several MSS first-hand. Most remarkably in this regard, Sharp felt neither allegiance to the King James Bible nor to the Textus Receptus. And although his text-critical views were hardly as sophisticated as those of a Griesbach or Lachmann (he defends, for example, the authenticity of θεός in 1 Tim 3:16 [A Tract on the Law of Nature, 252-53]), Sharp’s treatments give further testimony that although the TR was the only printed text until 1831, this situation was hardly due to consensus of its authority.

72See discussion below.

73Correspondence from Lloyd to Sharp, 15 January 1798, cited in Hoare, Memoirs, 2.374.

74Correspondence from Horsley to Sharp, 5 July 1805, cited in ibid., 2.373-4. Horsley’s praise was in reference to some refinements on the use of waw that Sharp had introduced in his Three Tracts on the Syntax and Pronunciation of the Hebrew Tongue, with an Appendix, addressed to the Hebrew Nation (4 vols. in one; London: Vernor and Hood, 1804). Horsley was sufficiently impressed with Sharp’s insights that he began translating Sharp’s comments into Latin in order that they might thereby gain recognition in the rest of Europe. Horsley’s untimely death prevented the completion of the translation (Hoare, Memoirs, 2.367-71).

75Hoare, Memoirs, 2.376.

76This is the title of the first American edition. There are slight differences in earlier editions. Unless otherwise noted, the edition used in this paper is the latest, the first American edition (a clone of the third British edition), published in Philadelphia by B. B. Hopkins in 1807.

77The first twenty-four pages (twenty-six in the 2d edition) of his Remarks on the Uses of the Definitive Article are, in fact, a duplication of that letter to an unnamed minister friend (dated 10 June 1778). All six rules are laid down, with several examples. Sharp’s usual practice was to make an ἀντίγραφον of his letters. On this occasion, however, Sharp “had not leisure to copy the original letter” and, after repeated attempts to retrieve it over a span of several years, was able to obtain only a part of it (Remarks on the Uses of the Definitive Article, 24).

78T. Burgess, Lord Bishop of St. David’s, editor of the first and second editions of Sharp’s work, apparently examined many of Sharp’s unpublished MSS, selecting this one for publication. He saw it apparently for the first time in 1792 (correspondence from Burgess to Sharp, 15 December 1792 [quoted in Hoare, Memoirs, 2.372]). The essay was not originally intended by Sharp for publication (cf. Sharp, Remarks, iv; Hoare, Memoirs, 2.300-301, citing a memorandum by Sharp on this work).

79A Tract on the Law of Nature. One might note the cautious stance that Sharp took on his own work. In the scripture index to this tract, there is no mention of Eph 5:5; 1 Tim 5:21; 2 Tim 4:1; Titus 2:13; or 2 Pet 1:1—all passages which Sharp would later argue fit his rule and thus bore testimony to Christ’s deity. A year after it was published, however, Sharp wrote to a friend about his rule on the article (which letter is reproduced at the beginning of his Remarks on the Uses of the Definitive Article). There he alludes to his having worked on the article-noun-καί-noun construction for some time and that he had, in fact, sent a preliminary draft of his views to “a very learned friend” who found several exceptions to Sharp’s first rule as he had at the time stated it (Remarks 1-2). Although the many time references are not precise (e.g., “I have so long neglected” to write; “I had written,” “I was willing to wait”), it is possible, even likely, that Sharp had worked up a rough sketch of his rule while writing his Tract on the Law of Nature. If so, he most likely would have hesitated to include the rule in the tract because it had not yet been processed through sober reflection by himself or judicious examination by others. Hence, he does not mention the christologically significant texts involving the construction in his Tract on the Law of Nature.

80The first and second editions were published in Durham by L. Pennington in 1798 and 1802. The third edition was published in London by Vernor and Hood in 1803. The fourth, known as the first American edition, was merely a reprint of the third with a few typographical and spelling changes; it was published in Philadelphia by B. B. Hopkins in 1807.

81Blunt’s work was originally published as a 218 page book entitled, Six More Letters to Granville Sharp, Esq., on his Remarks upon the Uses of the Article in the Greek Testament. London: J. Johnston, 1803. Blunt’s real name was apparently Thomas Pearne.

82Sharp, Remarks on the Uses of the Definitive Article 2. The rest of the rules were intended “to illustrate the particularity of the several sentences which fall under the first rule … ” (ibid., 7).

83Sharp, Remarks on the Uses of the Definitive Article 3 (italics in the original).

84Ibid., 5-6.

85Ibid., 120. Sharp also notes that the fourth rule embraces impersonal substantives exclusively (ibid., 121).

86Ibid., 140-42.

87It is not enough to say that both nouns have equal referents (as some have misunderstood Sharp to mean), nor that the single article simply unites them somehow: the point of Sharp’s rule is that both noun A and noun B refer to the same person (thus an identical referent).

88Sharp did not specify that it must have complete grammatical concord, e.g., by also having the same gender. Thus whether Sharp would have applied his rule to 1 John 5:20 is not known.

89These criteria can also be seen from Sharp’s examples. He produces twenty-five undisputed examples (i.e., those which do not impact the deity of Christ) from the NT. Every one involves singular, non-proper, personal substantives, in grammatical concord with the article.

90Ibid., 25-62. He also discussed Phil 3:3 as a pneumatologically significant text, according to the reading of Alexandrinus and other ancient authorities (29-31).

91Ibid., 3-7. He further recognized that these twenty-five examples were not all the passages that came under the rubric of his rule (“There are several other texts wherein the mode of expression is exactly similar, and which therefore do necessarily require a construction agreeable to the same rule … ” (ibid.). On the other hand, Sharp did not know explicitly of any other texts (cf. his response to one Calvin Winstanley, A Dissertation on the Supreme Divine Dignity of the Messiah: in reply to a Tract, entitled, “A Vindication of certain Passages in the common English Version of the New Testament” [London: B. Edwards, 1806] 4).

92Some of his examples involved readings found in the TR which have little claim to authenticity (e.g., τὸν τύφλον καὶ κώφον in Matt 12:22, Sharp’s lone example from the Gospels).

93Ibid., 6.

94For a detailed treatment, see D. B. Wallace, “The Article with Multiple Substantives Connected by Καί in the New Testament: Semantics and Significance” (Ph.D. dissertation, Dallas Theological Seminary, 1995) 50-80. This dissertation is to be published (under a different title) by Peter Lang. This article is, in fact, essentially an expansion of a part of the dissertation and contraction of another.

95C. Winstanley, A Vindication of Certain Passages in the Common English Version of the New Testament. Addressed to Granvile Sharp, Esq. (Cambridge: University Press—Hilliard and Metcalf, 1819). The first edition was published in 1805, still during Sharp’s lifetime (Liverpool: W. Jones).

96For a detailed discussion, see Wallace, “The Article with Multiple Substantives,” 56-57, 59-61, 64-66, 122-32, 258-59, 267-71.

97Originally published in 1808. The edition (“new edition”) used in this essay was published in 1841, incorporating notes by H. J. Rose (London: J. G. F. & J. Rivington, 1841). The latest edition (1855) is merely a reprint of the 1841 edition.

98Note especially C. F. D. Moule, An Idiom Book of New Testament Greek, 2d ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1959) 94, 94 (n. 1), 109 (n. 3), 113 (n. 2), 114, 115, 116, 117, 122. S. E. Porter, Idioms of the Greek New Testament (Sheffield: JSOT, 1992) 103, n. 1, acknowledges that Middleton’s tome is the “most thorough treatment of the Greek article to date …”

99 G. B. Winer, A Treatise on the Grammar of New Testament Greek, trans. and rev. W. F. Moulton, 3d ed., rev. (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1882) 162.

100J. H. Moulton, A Grammar of New Testament Greek, vol. 1: Prolegomena, 3d ed. (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1908) 84 (italics added).

101Cf., e.g., C. J. Ellicott, A Critical and Grammatical Commentary on the Pastoral Epistles (Andover: Draper, 1897) 207; H. Alford, “The Epistle to Titus,” in The Greek Testament with a Critically Revised Text, a Digest of Various Readings, Marginal References to Verbal and Idiomatic Usage, Prolegomena, and a Critical and Exegetical Commentary, rev. E. F. Harrison (Chicago: Moody, 1958) 421; R. M. Pope, The Epistles of Paul the Apostle to Timothy and Titus (London: C. H. Kelly. 1901) 157; H. Windisch, “Zur Christologie der Pastoralbriefe,” ZNW 34 [1935] 226; Taylor, The Person of Christ, 132; R. W. Funk, “The Syntax of the Greek Article: Its Importance for Critical Pauline Problems” (Ph.D. dissertation, Vanderbilt University, 1953) 68. In passing, it should be noted that Funk’s appeal to Winer-Moulton for ambiguity contradicts his earlier (on the same page) approbation of Blass-Debrunner’s citing of Titus 2:13 as an example of identical referent.

102Cf., e.g., N. J. D. White, “The Epistle to Titus” in The Expositor’s Greek Testament (New York: Dodd, Mead & Co., 1897) 195; J. H. Bernard, The Pastoral Epistles in the Cambridge Greek Testament (Cambridge: University Press, 1899) 171; A. Plummer, “The Pastoral Epistles” in The Expositor’s Bible, ed. W. R. Nicoll (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1894) 269; E. F. Scott, The Pastoral Epistles (New York: Harper and Brothers, n.d.) 169-70; N. Brox, Die Pastoralbriefe, in the Regensburger Neues Testament (4th ed.; Regensburg: Friedrich Pustet, 1969) 300; M. Dibelius and H. Conzelmann, The Pastoral Letters (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1972) 143; C. Spain, The Letters of Paul to Timothy and Titus (Austin, TX: R. B. Sweet, 1970) 183; E. Stock, Plain Talks on the Pastoral Epistles (London: Robert Scott, 1914) 89.

Among grammarians, note W. H. Simcox (The Language of the New Testament [London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1890]): “… in Tit. ii. 13, 2 Peter i. 1, we regard θεοῦ and σωτῆρος as indicating two Persons, though only the former word has the article” (50); A. Buttmann (A Grammar of the New Testament Greek [Andover: Warren F. Draper, 1873]), who heavily relies on Winer throughout his grammar, argues that “it is very hazardous in particular cases to draw important inferences, affecting the sense or even of a doctrinal nature, from the single circumstance of the use or the omission of the article; see e.g. Tit. ii. 13; Jude 4; 2 Pet. i. 1 … ” (97); and M. Zerwick (Biblical Greek Illustrated by Examples [Rome: Pontificii Instituti Biblici, 1963]) states that the rule is only suggestive, “since the unity of article would be sufficiently accounted for by any conjunction, in the writer’s mind, of the notions expressed” (60).

103The 1841 edition. The 1855 edition was merely a reprint.

104“The Greek Article and the Deity of Christ,” The Expositor, 8th series, 21 (1921) 182-88. He concludes his discussion of Winer’s influence by saying that “Winer did not make out a sound case against Sharp’s principle as applied to 2 Peter i. 1 and Titus ii. 13. Sharp stands vindicated after all the dust has settled” (187).

105A. T. Robertson, A Grammar of the Greek New Testament in the Light of Historical Research, 4th ed. (New York: Hodder & Stoughton, 1923) 785-89. The title of the first section is “Several Epithets Applied to the Same Person or Thing” (785-86).

106H. E. Dana and J. R. Mantey, A Manual Grammar of the Greek New Testament (New York: Macmillan, 1927) 147 (as well, they give but three examples, two of which are among the exegetical cruces which concern this paper!). Dana-Mantey modify the statement of the rule in several minor points, however.

107S. E. Porter, Idioms of the Greek New Testament (Sheffield: JSOT, 1992) 110. The error is repeated in the second edition (1994).

108Ibid.

109For example, K. Wuest (“The Greek Article in New Testament Interpretation,” BSac 118 [1961]) alleges that “Another function of the Greek article is in the construction called Granville Sharp’s rule, where two nouns in the same case are connected by kai, the first noun, articular, the second, anarthrous, the second referring to the same person or thing expressed by the first noun and being further description of it” (29). Here, he assumes that impersonal nouns fit the rule and further argues that “Sharp’s rule makes the words [in Titus 2:13] ‘the hope’ and ‘the appearing’ refer to the same thing, and ‘God’ and ‘Saviour’ to be the same individual” (ibid.). Wuest also thinks that plural nouns fit the rule: “The same rule identifies the ‘pastors and teachers’ of Ephesians 4:11 (AV) as one individual” (ibid.). L. Radermacher (Neutestamentliche Grammatik, 2d ed. [Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1925]), though not mentioning Sharp, seems to imply that a single article uniting two substantives joined by καί speaks of an identical referent: “Wenn mehrere Substantiva [sic] in der Aufzählung miteinander verbunden werden, genügt oft der Artikel beim ersten Wort und zwar nicht allein bei gleichem Genus” (115). He lists τὰ ἐντάλματα καὶ διδασκαλίας (Col 2:22) as evidence. He goes on to say that the same phenomenon occurs in hellenistic Greek, citing ὁ ἥλιος καὶ σελήνη as an example (ibid.). His two examples are both impersonal, one being singular and the other plural. A case could almost be made for the first example expressing identity, but certainly not the second. Similarly, S. G. Green (Handbook to the Grammar of the Greek Testament, rev. ed. [London: Religious Tract Society, 1912]) has both impersonal and plural constructions and speaks of such constructions “as forming one object of thought” (198; 232), a comment which equals Radermacher’s in its ambiguity. W. D. Chamberlain (An Exegetical Grammar of the Greek New Testament [New York: Macmillan, 1941]) apparently has a clear understanding as to when the rule applies and when it does not, but he does not clearly articulate this to the reader (55). BDF seem to support the rule in Titus 2:13 and 2 Pet 1:1 (they enlist the support of Robertson’s essay, “The Greek Article and the Deity of Christ”), but also apply it to proper, impersonal (geographical) names (145; §276.3), citing Acts 19:21 (τὴν Μακεδονίαν καὶ ᾿Αχαί>αν)! They make no comment about the plural. C. F. D. Moule (Idiom Book) has a sober treatment of the rule, seeing its application in the singular and questioning it in the plural (109-110). But he sides with Radermacher by allowing it with impersonal nouns. N. Turner (A Grammar of New Testament Greek, vol. 3: Syntax, by N. Turner [Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1963] and Grammatical Insights into the New Testament [Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1965]) seems to vacillate in his discussion, for he apparently allows the rule to stand with the singular nouns (Syntax, 181; Insights, 15-16), but also applies it to the plural at his discretion (Syntax, 181). Thus he speaks of a “unified whole” with reference to Eph 2:20; Luke 22:4, and Acts 15:2, but then declares that this same construction may “indeed indicate that two distinct subjects are involved [italics mine]” (ibid.), citing the common phrase οἱ Φαρισαῖοι καὶ Σαδδουκαῖοι as an illustration. It is doubtful that the construction indicates two antithetical ideas/groups; it is rather better to say that it allows for it. Nevertheless, Turner has not shown an understanding of Sharp’s rule in his discussions. J. H. Greenlee (A Concise Exegetical Grammar of New Testament Greek, 3d ed. [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1963]) is very unclear when he applies the rule to impersonal constructions (Eph 3:18) and plurals (John 7:45) (50). C. Vaughan and V. E. Gideon (A Greek Grammar of the New Testament [Nashville: Broadman, 1979]) apply the rule to both impersonal and personal constructions, making no comment about the plurals (83). They do note, however, that there are exceptions with the impersonal constructions (ibid., n. 8). J. A. Brooks and C. L. Winbery (Syntax of New Testament Greek [Washington: University Press of America, 1979]) apply the rule to personal, impersonal, and plural constructions explicitly (70-71). B. W. Blackwelder (Light from the Greek New Testament [Anderson, IN: Warner, 1958]), after quoting Sharp’s rule via Robertson, argues that “there are many illustrations of this rule in the New Testament” (146). He then lists four passages, including one which involves plural nouns (Eph 4:11) and two of the christologically significant—and, hence, debatable—texts (Titus 2:13; 2 Pet 1:1) (ibid.). Finally, and most curiously, D. A. Carson (Exegetical Fallacies [Grand Rapids: Baker, 1984]) quotes Sharp’s rule as given in Brooks and Winbery’s Syntax, then argues that “The fallacy is in taking this rule too absolutely … ” (84). He then gives several illustrations of impersonal and plural constructions which do not fit the rule (85). Yet nowhere does Carson evidence a clear understanding of the rule; he is simply dissatisfied with the form of it he cites, justifiably arguing that in such a form the rule only suggests unity, not identity.

110Even a scholar the stature of Ezra Abbot, though interacting explicitly with Sharp and Middleton (“Titus II. 13”), failed on two counts in his understanding of Sharp’s rule: (1) he suggests that τοὺς πωλοῦντας καὶ ἀγοράζοντας in Matt 21:12 proves Sharp’s rule wrong (“No one can reasonably suppose that the same persons are here described as both selling and buying,” 452), even though plural substantives are involved; and (2) he argues that English syntax is wholly analogous to Greek with reference to Sharp’s rule (451-52). Yet, as we have seen, in his appendix, Sharp rightly takes G. Blunt to task for just such a supposition (Remarks on the Uses of the Definitive Article, 126, 147). We might also note that Longenecker, whose scholarship is unquestionably of the highest caliber, quotes Sharp’s rule in exactly the same form as is found in Dana-Mantey’s grammar (except for changing “farther” to “further” to conform with modern practice). Longenecker remarks that the rule is “usually attributed to Granville Sharp” (The Christology of Early Jewish Christianity, 138). Similarly, P. S. Berge only quotes Dana-Mantey’s definition of Sharp’s canon (with credit given) in his dissertation, “‘Our Great God and Savior’: A Study of Soter as a Christological Title in Titus 2:11-14” (Th.D. dissertation, Union Theological Seminary, Richmond, Virginia, 1973) 49. Perhaps most remarkably, in R. W. Funk’s dissertation on the article in Paul (“The Syntax of the Greek Article”), Sharp’s monograph is not only not listed in the bibliography, but Sharp’s rule is nowhere mentioned by name.

111I am reminded here of C. S. Lewis’ delightful essay, “On the Reading of Old Books,” in God in the Dock: Essays on Theology and Ethics (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1970) 200-207, in which he quips, “if the average student wants to find out something about Platonism, the very last thing he thinks of doing is to take a translation of Plato off the library shelf and read the Symposium” (200). Much of what he has to say in this essay, it seems, is applicable to our present concern.

112In Pauline Studies: Essays presented to Professor F. F. Bruce on his 70th Birthday, ed. D. A. Hagner and M. J. Harris (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980) 267. This particular argument is given more space than any other in Harris’ article (267-69).

113The passages he cites are Acts 15:2 (τοὺς ἀποστόλους καὶ πρεσβυτέρους); 16:4 (τῶν ἀποστόλων καὶ πρεσβυτέρων); and 2 Cor 1:3 (ὁ θεὸς καὶ πατὴρ). Harris himself admits that elsewhere in Acts “the repeated article in the phrase οἱ ἀπόστολοι καὶ πρεσβύτεροι (Acts 15:4, 6, 22) shows that the apostles of the Jerusalem church were a group distinct from the elders” (ibid.). He sees the single article constructions of Acts 15:2 and 16:4 as indicating “a single administrative unit … ” But if true, even this does not conform to his statement of the rule, for though elder + apostle might = a unit, that is much different from saying that elder = apostle, which is the very point of Sharp’s rule, even as Harris has expressed it. Elsewhere in his essay Harris indicates that he views impersonal nouns also to fall within the purview of the rule: “If the parallelism is intentional, ὁ μέγας θεός is the σωτήρ, just as ἡ μακαρία ἐλπίς is the ἐπιφάνεια” (270).

114This can be illustrated by reference to two passages: Eph 4:11 and Titus 2:13. In Eph 4:11 the plural construction is used (τοὺς δὲ ποιμένας καὶ διδασκάλους) while in Titus 2:13 there are two constructions, one impersonal (τὴν μακαρίαν ἐλπίδα καὶ ἐπιφάνειαν) and one which Sharp believed fit his rule (τοῦ μεγάλου θεοῦ καὶ σωτῆρος ἡμῶν). As we have mentioned earlier, Sharp restricted the rule to personal singular nouns. Yet the plural construction in Eph 4:11 and the impersonal construction in Titus 2:13 are usually, or at least frequently, seen as fitting the rule, though with no proof that the rule could be expanded to include either construction.

With reference to Eph 4:11, most commentators are agreed that one group is in view in this construction (but cf. G. H. P. Thompson, The Letters of Paul to the Ephesians, to the Colossians and to Philemon [CBC; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1969] 69; and C. J. Ellicott, A Critical and Grammatical Commentary on St. Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians [Andover: Warren F. Draper, 1885] 94. Thompson simply asserts that “teachers were holders of another office” without giving any evidence. Ellicott argues solely from scanty lexical evidence.) Yet those who affirm that one group is identified by the phrase have little syntactical evidence on their side as well. H. Alford (The Epistle to the Ephesians) argues that “from these latter not being distinguished from the pastors by the τοὺς δέ, it would seem that the offices were held by the same persons” (117). But he gives no cross-references nor does he demonstrate that this is the normal usage of the plural construction. B. F. Westcott (Saint Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians [New York: Macmillan, 1906]) argues for one class “not from a necessary combination of the two functions but from their connexion with a congregation” (62). C. Hodge (A Commentary on the Epistle to the Ephesians [New York: Robert Carter and Brothers, 1856]) boldly states that “The absence of the article before διδασκάλους proves that the apostle intended to designate the same persons as at once pastors and teachers [italics added]” (226). But then he curiously backs off from such grammatical dogma by adding that “It is true the article is at times omitted between two substantives referring to different classes … ” (227), citing Mark 15:1 as evidence. Finally, he reverts to his initial certitude by concluding, “But in such an enumeration as that contained in this verse … the laws of language require τοὺς δὲ διδασκάλους, had the apostle intended to distinguish the διδάσκαλοι from the ποιμένες [italics added]” (ibid.). No evidence is given to support this contention. It is significant, in fact, that of the commentaries surveyed, only Hodge mentioned any other text in which the plural construction occurred—a text which would not support his conclusions! Eadie, Abbott, Salmond, Lenski, Hendriksen, Erdman, Kent, Barclay, Wuest, and Barth (to name but a few) also see the two terms referring to one group, though their arguments are either not based on syntax or make unwarranted and faulty assumptions about the syntax. Some would insist that the article-noun-καί-noun plural construction requires that the second group is to be identified with the first. Wuest articulates this assumption most clearly: “The words ‘pastors’ and ‘teachers’ are in a construction called Granvill [sic] Sharp’s rule which indicates that they refer to one individual” (K. Wuest, Wuest’s Word Studies from the Greek New Testament: Ephesians and Colossians [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1953] 101).

With reference to Titus 2:13, several scholars see the rule applying to “the blessed hope and appearing,” an impersonal construction. E.g., R. St. John Parry (The Pastoral Epistles [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1920]) argues that τὴν μακαρίαν ἐλπίδα καὶ ἐπιφάνειαν means “that manifestation which is our hope” (81). Some scholars explicitly invoke Sharp’s name when they discuss “the blessed hope and appearing” (e.g., E. K. Simpson, The Pastoral Epistles [London: Tyndale, 1954] 108); others do so implicitly (e.g., W. Hendriksen, Exposition of the Pastoral Epistles in New Testament Commentary [Grand Rapids: Baker, 1957] 372-73; R. C. H. Lenski, The Interpretation of St. Paul’s Epistle to Titus [Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1961] 922-23; F. F. Bruce, “‘Our God and Saviour’: A Recurring Biblical Pattern” [in The Saviour God: Comparative Studies in the Concept of Salvation Presented to Edwin Oliver James, ed. by S. G. F. Brandon; New York: Barnes & Noble, 1963] 51-52; R. O. Yeager, “Titus 1:1-3:15” in The Renaissance New Testament [Gretna: Pelican, 1985] 35-36).

Some scholars regard (without further comment on the syntactical principle they are invoking), that the single article with “God and Savior” is sufficient evidence that only one person is in view. Note, e.g., P. Schepens, “De demonstratione divinitatis Christi ex epistula ad Titum II. 13,” Greg 7 (1926) 243; F. Ogara, “Apparuit gratia Dei Salvatoris nostri,” VD 15 (1935) 365- 66; C. Spicq, Les Epitres Pastorales (Paris: Lecoffre, 1947) 264-65; P. Dornier, Les Epitres Pastorales (Paris: Lecoffre, 1969) 144; R. Schnackenburg in R. Schnackenburg and P. Smulders, La christologie dans le Nouveau Testament et le dogme (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1974) 190. Finally, we should mention R. H. Countess (The Jehovah’s Witnesses’ New Testament: A Critical Analysis of the New World Translation of the Christian Greek Scriptures [Philipsburg, NJ: Presbyterian and Reformed, 1982]) who, after quoting Sharp’s canon via Dana-Mantey, cautions that “Granville Sharp’s dogmatic ‘always’ certainly invites a search for exceptions and Matthew 17:1 may be one” (69). But this lone “exception” which Countess gives involves proper names (τὸν Πέτρον καὶΙάκωβον καὶΙωάννην)!

These few examples of scholars’ misunderstanding of Sharp’s principle could be reproduced manifold. These are given to show that it is hardly an exaggeration to say that almost without exception, those who seem to be acquainted with Sharp’s rule and agree with its validity, misunderstand it and abuse it.

115In passing, three other studies should be mentioned. R. D. Durham, “Granville Sharp’s Rule” (unpublished doctoral paper, Grace Theological Seminary, Winona Lake, Indiana, 1972), acknowledges that Sharp’s canon did not cover plural nouns or proper names, but he thinks that Sharp meant to include impersonal nouns as meeting the requirements (7). M. L. Johnson, “A Reconsideration of the Role of Sharp’s Rule in Interpreting the Greek New Testament” (M.A. thesis, University of Mississippi, 1986), assumes that Sharp’s rule only dealt with conceptual unity, even going so far as to say that Sharp’s “principle gained general acceptance by both Classical and New Testament grammarians” (54). He lists among the article-noun-καί-noun constructions which fit Sharp’s canon plurals, impersonals, and abstracts (70-71, 73). G. W. Rider, “An Investigation of the Granville Sharp Phenomenon and Plurals” (Th.M. thesis, Grace Theological Seminary, Winona Lake, Indiana, 1980), sides with Durham in treating plurals and proper nouns as exceptions, but impersonal nouns as fitting the rule (23-25). It may be fairly said that in each of these studies there was a confusion between unity of referents and identity of referents.

116For a comprehensive treatment of the semantics of both Sharp’s rule and the article-noun-καί-noun construction in the NT, see Wallace, “The Article with Multiple Substantives.”

117“The Greek Article,” 187.

118J. C. D. Clark, The Language of Liberty 1660-1832 (Cambridge: CUP, 1994) 37.

119The letter is quoted in Colin Bonwick, English Radicals and the American Revolution (Chapel Hill, 1977) 7.

Related Topics: Grammar, History

The Meaning Of ἁρπαγμός In Philippians 2:6 - An Overlooked Datum For Functional Inequality Within The Godhead

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Editor's Note:
Denny Burk was one of my interns for the 1999-2000 school year. This paper (with slight revisions both by Denny and me) is what he presented at the southwestern regional meeting of the Evangelical Theological Society in spring 2000. Denny also wrote a Th.M. thesis that incorporated much of this material.
Daniel B. Wallace


INTRODUCTION TO THE PROBLEM

The Problem

The precise meaning of the enigmatic term ἁρπαγμός in Phil 2:6 is a question that has been the subject of much debate in New Testament studies. Whereas much ink has been spilled over the lexical issues involved in interpreting this term, some of the most important grammatical issues at stake have not received much discussion at all. Indeed, in many cases, the grammatical concerns that would contribute to our understanding of the meaning of this term have been largely either assumed or ignored.

One notable exception to this general observation is N. T. Wright's important analysis of this term. In his article titled “ἁρπαγμός and the Meaning of Philippians 2:5-11,” Wright proposes that the article in the articular infinitive τὸ εἶναι has a semantic force. Specifically, he contends that this articular infinitive carries with it an anaphoric significance. He writes,

A further reason, not usually noticed, for taking τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῷ in close connection with ὃς ἐν μορφῇ θεοῦ ὑπάρχων is the regular usage of the articular infinitive (here, τὸ εἶναι) to refer 'to something previously mentioned or otherwise well known.'1

Thus, on grammatical grounds, Wright anaphorically links Christ's equality with God (τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῷ) to His preexisting in the form of God (μορφῇ θεοῦ).2 Wright's interpretation has exerted considerable influence on subsequent interpretations of this passage. Ever since Wright, many other commentators have linked equality with God and form of God on the basis of this supposed anaphoric reference.3 To this end, Kenneth Grayston even goes so far as to say that τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῷ and μορφῇ θεοῦ are “equivalent phrases.”4 If this assumption about the significance of the articular infinitive is valid, then at least one interpretive implication emerges—equality with God and the form of God are phrases that denote the same reality. Such an interpretation has profound theological implications and must be examined critically from a grammatical standpoint.

Some Assumptions

Before we turn to the grammatical analysis of Wright's thesis, I need to set forth some of my assumptions that I bring to this text. First of all, I will assume a certain meaning for the form of God (μορφῇ θεοῦ). Namely, I take it that this phrase refers to Christ's existence in his essence as true deity. Secondly, because I see verse seven as referring to Christ’s coming in the incarnation, I understand all of verse six to be referring to events that took place before the Son’s arrival on Earth. Therefore, Christ's existing in the form of God refers to His preexistent unity of essence with God the Father before the incarnation. In other words, Philippians 2:6 refers to events and realities that took place in eternity past.

The most significant assumption that I will make regards the lexical signification of ἁρπαγμός. I regard ἁρπαγμός to be concrete and passive.5 Thus I translate the term a thing to be grasped for. In other words, the Son did not want to or try to grasp for equality with God. Even though I am assuming a certain meaning here, it needs to be said that the following grammatical analysis will affect one's interpretation no matter what lexical sense is adopted. With that being said, we will now move into the grammatical analysis.

EXAMINATION OF WRIGHT'S APPROACH TO THE ARTICULAR INFINITIVE

Problems in N. T. Wright's Analysis

Wright briefly argues that the article bears an anaphoric significance in two ways: (1) by citing Blass, Debrunner, and Funk's article on the semantic significance of the articular infinitive6 and (2) by citing two New Testament texts in which the articular infinitives clearly denote anaphora.7 I want to point out at least two reasons why these two arguments fall short. First of all, Wright only cites a portion of BDF's definition of the significance of the article in articular infinitives.8 BDF actually says a bit more:

In general the anaphoric significance of the article, i.e. its reference to something previously mentioned or otherwise well known, is more or less evident. Without this anaphoric reference, an infinitive as subject or object is usually anarthrous.9

The word usually is key here. Because BDF indicates that non-anaphoric infinitives are usually anarthrous, it follows that non-anaphoric infinitives are sometimes articular. In this way, BDF indicates that there are some instances of the articular infinitive that do not in fact denote anaphora.10 Therefore, because BDF does not mean to say that anaphora is a feature of every articular infinitive, we cannot build a case for taking τὸ εἶναι as such on the basis of BDF's article alone.11 If Wright is to establish this point, he must argue on the basis of features within the context which promote the article’s anaphoric sense.

Secondly, citing two verses (Rom. 7:18; 2 Cor. 7:11) in which the articular infinitives clearly have anaphoric significance does not establish the same significance for the articular infinitive in Philippians 2:6. The main reason for this is because of the critical lack of analogy between Philippians 2:6 and the two verses that Wright cites. The articular infinitives in Romans 7:18 and 2 Corinthians 7:11 each have identical lexemes as referents in their preceding contexts—a phenomenon which appears in every clear anaphoric use of the articular infinitive.12 The same cannot be said of the articular infinitive in Philippians 2:6.13 There are no clear cognate parallels between τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῷ and the μορφῇ θεοῦ. When there are no identical lexemes as referents in the preceding context, a case must be made from context in order to attribute an anaphoric sense to the articular infinitive. For instance, in Philippians 1:24 the remaining on in the body (τὸ δὲ ἐπιμένειν ἐν τῇ σαρκὶ) could be taken as an anaphoric reference to the living in the body (τὸ ζῆν ἐν σαρκί) in verse 1:22. Although the infinitives themselves do not comprise identical lexemes, it is clear enough that Paul's remaining in the body refers back to his living in the body. The context and the similar phraseology make this link clear.

However, it is more difficult to posit a similar link between equality with God (τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῷ) and form of God (μορφῇ θεοῦ) where neither context nor similar lexemes/phraseology make this anaphoric connection clear. One might argue that there is a strong conceptual parallel between τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῷ and μορφῇ θεοῦ and on that basis propose an anaphoric use of the article. In that case, one would be assuming a certain meaning for equality with God (τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῷ)—namely, that it means the same thing as the form of God (μορφῇ θεοῦ). However, if one assumes a conceptual parallel between the two phrases, one would be assuming what he is setting out to prove on the basis of anaphora—namely, the synonymy of the phrases. This is circular reasoning. Without an adequate explanation as to why equality with God should be taken as synonymous to form of God, one cannot argue for the anaphoric link. Anaphora does not establish a synonymous link between phrases; rather, anaphora follows when such a link is already manifestly clear. Therefore, one cannot consider the two phrases in Philippians 2:6 as synonymous based on a supposed anaphoric reference. This reasoning stands out as a critical weakness in Wright's remarks concerning the significance of the articular infinitive.

Non-anaphoric Instances of the Articular Infinitive14

Because Wright links Christ's equaltiy with God (τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῷ) to His being in the form of God (μορφῇ θεοῦ) on the assumption that the articular infinitive regularly denotes anaphora, it is necessary to examine whether or not articular infinitives indeed regularly denote anaphora. I believe that the evidence clearly demonstrates that not all articular infinitives denote anaphora and thus that one cannot argue that every articular infinitive carries this semantic nuance.15 For instance, the articular infinitive when used after a preposition never denotes anaphora, and there are about two hundred such infinitives in the New Testament.16 The same can be said for virtually all genitive17 and dative18 articular infinitives that do not follow prepositions; these account for about another eighty-three articular infinitives.19 In all these cases, the article serves syntactically as a function marker. This is the thrust of BDF's remarks in its introduction to the articular infinitive,

The infinitive, however, has no case endings so that wherever it is necessary to express the case of the infinitive, especially in the gen. and dat. and after prepositions, the article is used with no other significance than to make the case and substantivization clear.20

Virtually all of the genitive and dative articular infinitives fall into this category and so do accusative infinitives that follow prepositions; therefore, the article in such instances bears no semantic weight at all. Daniel B. Wallace makes a similar observation concerning the use of the article in general. He says, “When the article is used as a grammatical function marker, it may or may not also bear a semantic force. But even when it does bear such a force, the grammatical (structural) use is usually prominent.”21 If this is the case with the use of the article in general, it is even more so in the above mentioned articular infinitives where BDF says that the article “has no other significance” but the syntactical one.22

With that being said, we are left with the nominative/accusative examples of this construction (that are not governed by a preposition). These account for about fifty of the overall instances of this construction. But even here, we find that there are numerous examples of nominative/accusative infinitives that do not function anaphorically. Although some nominative/accusative articular infinitives are anaphoric, it is clear that many are not. Briefly, I would like to point out some non-anaphoric examples from both the nominative and accusative cases. Although the nominative examples of this construction usually denote anaphora, at least four of them clearly do not.23 Three of these four nominative articular infinitives function as the subject of the sentence (1 Cor 7:26; 2 Cor 9:1; Heb 10:31). In these three instances, the subject is related to an anarthrous pre-verbal predicate adjective. Although the article is not needed to distinguish the subject, it nonetheless serves a syntactical function in relationship to the subject. Concerning this use of the article as a function marker, Wallace observes, “Normally a subject will have the article (unless it is a pronoun or proper name).”24 The fourth non-anaphoric nominative articular infinitive, which is found in Philippians 1:29, has a similar syntactical function as the former three. If there is a semantic force in view at all, it is kataphoric. Hence the suffering (τὸπάσχειν) points forward to Paul's own sufferings in the following verse—Philippians 1:30. In each of these four instances, the nominative infinitive does not have an anaphoric semantic force.

There are many non-anaphoric examples of the articular infinitive in the accusative case as well—indeed, many more than in the nominative case. In fact, it is difficult to construe an anaphoric reference for the majority of the accusative examples of this construction.25 At least fifteen of the accusative articular infinitives are clearly non-anaphoric (Acts 4:18; 4:18; Rom 13:8; 14:13; 2 Cor 2:1; 8:10; 8:10; 10:2; Phil 2:13; 2:13; 4:10; 1 Thes 3:3; 4:4; 4:6; 4:6). However, we should note that, although none of these articular infinitives are anaphoric, some of them yet possess a semantic force if not an anaphoric one.

In eight of these accusative articular infinitive constructions (Acts 4:18; 4:18; Rom 14:13; 2 Cor 2:1; 10:2; 1 Thes 3:3; 4:6; 4:6), the negative particle μή follows the article. BDF says that in this construction, “τὸ μή …is the equivalent of a ι῞vνα μή-clause and is to be compared with classical τὸ μή after verbs of hindering.”26 Classical grammarian Herbert Weir Smyth says of this construction, “[it] is either an accusative of respect or a simple object infinitive.”27 In either case, the articular infinitive does not imply an anaphoric reference; the article serves a purely syntactical function, marking the infinitive phrase as the grammatical object. I will illustrate this use with one example from 2 Corinthians 10:2. The Greek text reads, δέομαι δὲ τὸ μὴ παρὼν θαρρῆσαι τῇ πεποιθήσει ᾗ λογίζομαι τολμῆσαι ἐπί τινας, “I ask that when I am present I may not be bold with the confidence with which I propose to be courageous against some.” In this sentence, the accusative article τό marks the infinitive phrase as the grammatical object.

Of the seven accusative infinitives that remain, two of them probably bear a “well-known” semantic force (Rom 13:8; Phil 4:10). The articular infinitive to love one another (τὸ α᾿λλήλους ἀγαπᾶν) in Romans 13:8 is probably referring to the well-known commandment that one should love his neighbor (Matt 22:39). Likewise, in Philippians 4:10, the Philippian church's concern (τὸ ὑπὲρ ἐμοῦ φρονεῖν) for Paul was probably well known. Even though BDF considers the well-known use of the article as a subset of the anaphoric use,28 we should make one distinction here—namely, that in these two instances there is no previous reference in the immediate preceding context to which the article refers. Therefore, these two are not anaphoric in the strict sense. The other five articular infinitives (2 Cor 8:10; 8:10; Phil 2:13; 2:13; 1 Thes 4:4) have a purely syntactical function. The article in these instances seems to bear no semantic force whatsoever but functions to mark the infinitive as the grammatical object. None of these last five makes a reference to something previously mentioned in the immediate context.

AN ALTERNATIVE APPROACH TO UNDERSTANDING THE ARTICULAR INFINITIVE

The Article as a Function Marker

Having thus established that most articular infinitives indeed do not denote anaphora, we may now consider an alternative approach to understanding the significance of the articular infinitive in Philippians 2:6. Three things are certainly clear concerning the significance of the articular infinitive based on the preceding analysis. First of all, we cannot simply assume that every articular infinitive (even nominative and accusative ones) refers anaphorically to some element in the preceding context. Second, we must affirm that the article in the articular infinitive most often serves as a grammatical function marker. Third, we must observe that, even when the article does bear a semantic force, the grammatical/syntactical function is most often prominent.29

Therefore, in approaching the articular infinitive in Philippians 2:6 we should expect to see the article bearing more of a grammatical/syntactical function than of some supposed semantic force. As a matter of fact, the grammatical context of the sentence requires the presence of the article in this particular infinitive phrase. If the article were not present in Philippians 2:6, the sentence would make little if any grammatical sense. For this reason, Wallace disagrees with N. T. Wright's analysis of the article's significance. He says,

Wright argues that the article is anaphoric, referring back to μορφῇ θεοῦ. As attractive as this view may be theologically, it has a weak basis grammatically. The infinitive is the object and the anarthrous term, ἁρπαγμός, is the complement. The most natural reason for the article with the infinitive is simply to mark it out as the object.30

The implication of Wallace's remark is that the article is required in this context as a function marker to distinguish the accusative object from the accusative complement. In order to illuminate exactly what is at stake here grammatically, we must examine briefly the semantics of the object-complement construction.

The Semantics of the Object-Complement Construction

The two accusatives in Philippians 2:6 comprise an example of the object-complement construction.

An object-complement double accusative is a construction in which one accusative substantive is the direct object of the verb and the other accusative (either noun, adjective, participle, or infinitive) complements the object in that it predicates something about it.31

The presence of this particular grammatical category is widely known and even has a counterpart in English grammar. However, what is not so widely known is the criteria by which one might distinguish the accusative object from the accusative complement. In English usage, where nouns are not inflected for case, word order is usually the key. However, in Greek usage, substantives are inflected for case, and word order is not nearly so determinative. Wallace notes that “Although normally the object comes first, about twenty percent of the examples reverse this order.”32 Because the object-complement construction shows up in the New Testament in various syntactical arrangements, word order is by no means an accurate criterion by which to distinguish the direct object from the complement in Greek.33

Therefore, in 1984 Wallace addressed this grammatical lacuna by demonstrating the semantic equivalence of the subject-predicate nominative construction and the object-complement construction.34 His thesis is as follows:

the object-complement construction is semantically equivalent to the subject-predicate nominative construction. Thus, any principles which apply to subject-predicate nominative constructions (e.g., “Colwell's Rule”) are equally applicable to object-complement constructions.35

In demonstrating the analogy between these two constructions,36 Wallace opened up a way by which we can identify the components of the object-complement construction.37 In short, the principles that are used to distinguish the subject from the predicate nominative can be used to distinguish the object from the complement. Wallace sets them forth as follows:

  • If one of the two is a pronoun, it will be the object;
  • If one of the two is a proper name, it will be the object;
  • If one of the two is articular, it will be the object.38

These rules are particularly helpful in sorting out the object from the complement when the normal word order is reversed. Indeed, when the object and complement are in a reversed order, these three rules are the only way to distinguish the object from the complement. In such reversed order situations where neither of the accusatives is a proper name or a pronoun, the presence of the article is syntactically required in order to indicate which accusative is functioning as the object. Such is the case in Philippians 2:6.

To demonstrate this point, we should observe that, in every instance of a reversed order object-complement construction39 in which neither of the accusatives is a pronoun or a proper name, the article is present as a function marker to distinguish the grammatical object from the complement. For instance, in 1 Timothy 6:5 the complement comes before the object (νομιζόντων πορισμὸν εἶναι τὴν εὐσέβειαν, considering godliness as gain). In this sentence, the only way to distinguish the object from the complement is by the presence of the article in connection with godliness (εὐσέβειαν). Likewise, in James 5:10 the presence of the article is the only way to distinguish the prophets as the grammatical object (ὑπόδειγμα λάβετετῆς κακοπαθίας καὶ τῆς μακροθυμίας τοὺς προφήτας, receive the prophets as an example of suffering and patience). In 2 Peter 2:13, the article also appears as a function marker to distinguish the object from the complement (ἡδονὴν ἡγούμενοι τὴν ἐν ἡμέρᾳ τρυφήν, counting their self-indulgence in the daytime as a pleasure). Without the article in this case, we would be altogether unsure as to which accusative substantive is the object and which is the complement. Without the article, the sentence would most likely be translated as follows, counting pleasure as self-indulgence in the daytime. However, the presence of the article clears up any potential confusion in translation.

Application of the Principle to Philippians 2:6

Likewise, the article in the articular infinitive in Philippians 2:6 functions to distinguish the grammatical object from the accusative complement. Indeed, the article is required in this case in order for the clause to be grammatically intelligible. Notice the word order in Philippians 2:6, οὐχ ἁρπαγμὸν ἡγήσατο τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῷ. Without the article, by virtue of word order we would naturally be more inclined to consider ἁρπαγμόν as the grammatical object instead of the infinitive. In such a scenario, there would be some confusion as to how to view the object ἁρπαγμόν in relationship to the infinitive. The infinitive would not be the complement, but the neuter plural ἴσα would. Of course this would make almost no grammatical sense as ἁρπαγμόν is singular and ἴσα is plural. The syntactical confusion that would accompany the absence of the article in such a hypothetical situation illustrates the necessity of the article's presence in this clause. In Phil 2:6 we have an example of a reversed order object-complement construction. Therefore, the article serves to mark the accusative infinitive phrase (τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῶ'/) as the grammatical object of the finite verb (ἡγήσατο), thereby distinguishing it from the accusative complement (ἁρπαγμόν).

For this reason, the syntactical use of the article as a function marker is the primary reason for the article's presence in Philippians 2:6. Indeed it is a necessity. Thus, certainly in this situation it is clear enough that the grammatical/structural significance of the article is far more prominent than any supposed semantic significance. Whereas there is really no evidence to attribute a semantic force to the article, there is every reason to attribute a syntactical one to it. This being said, we should not equate equality with God (τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῶ'/) with form of God (μορφῇ θεοῦ) simply because of the presence of the article. If one is going to equate these two phrases, he/she must argue for this identification on other grounds. The presence of the accusative article simply does not support equating the two phrases.

CONCLUSION AND IMPLICATIONS

Exegetical Conclusions

I propose that if the author had intended to equate the two phrases he could have simply stated, although He existed in the form of God, He did not regard being in the form of God as a thing to be grasped for (ἐν μορφῇ θεοῦ ὑπάρχων οὐχ ἁρπαγμὸν ἡγήσατο τὸ εἶναι ἐν μορφῇ θεοῦ/). However, the very fact that the author chose to use different phraseology indicates that he wishes to denote differing realities, not synonymous ones.

The question arises then as to how this phrase can be theologically intelligible; how can this interpretation make sense given that μορφῇ θεοῦ refers to the Christ's preexistent essence as deity? Should not Christ's equality with God (τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῶ'/) be considered just another way of referring to his preexistent essence as deity (μορφῇ θεοῦ)? The answer to the last question is “no” if we consider the possibility that μορφῇ θεοῦ refers to essence while τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῶ'/ refers to function. “If this is the meaning of the text, then the two are not synonymous: although Christ was true deity, he did not usurp the role of the Father.”40

If ἁρπαγμός be understood according to the above analysis, then Christ is said not to have snatched at or grasped for equality with God. Though he was himself true deity existing in the form of God, he did not try to grasp for this other aspect which he himself did not possess—namely, equality with God. On the contrary, Christ emptied himself. This emptying consisted in taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men (v. 7). Therefore, the contrast between verses six and seven is made very clear. Christ, the second Person of the Trinity, did not try to snatch at an equality with God which properly belongs only to the first Person of the Trinity. On the contrary, Christ embraced those duties which were appointed for the second Person—taking the form of a servant and being made in the likeness of men. In this way, Christ did not attempt to usurp the peculiar role of the first Person of the Trinity, but in submission he joyfully embraced his own in the incarnation.

Theological Implications

I think this interpretation opens the way for us to see an orthodox subordinationism within the Godhead.41 Although the Father and Son are one in their essence (that is, both of them existing in the form of God), they are distinct in their persons (that is, they each respectively fulfill certain roles and functions that are peculiar to their own Person).42 The character of this intra-Trinitarian relationship is what makes redemption possible. According to the Father's predetermined plan (Acts 2:23), the Father sends the Son into the world as a man and as a servant.43 The Son does not try to abdicate his role by grasping for functional equality with the Father (Phil 2:6). On the contrary, the Son obeys the Father and enters onto the stage of human history (Phil 2:7). In this sequence of events, we see that the Son not only obeys the Father in his incarnation but that he also obeys the Father from all eternity. For this reason, if the Son were not obedient to the Father's sending him into the world and if he were not distinct from the Father in his Person (and thus in his role and function), then redemption would have been impossible, for the Son never would have obeyed the Father, and there never would have been an incarnation.

There are some ecclesiological ramifications that emerge from this view of the Trinity. First of all, it is neither unbiblical nor disrespectful to say that men and women fulfill different roles in the church and in the home. Because the great apostle has said elsewhere that the relationship of God the Father to God the Son is the paradigm for the relationships that exists between husband and wife in the home and men and women in the church (1 Cor 11:3), there is a great dignity in fulfilling the role that God has appointed for each individual. Just as the Father and Son are One in essence but distinct in their Persons, so there is a corresponding reality in earthly relationships between men and women. For instance, though wives are commanded to fulfill a role of obedience to their husbands (1 Pet 3:1), redeemed husbands and wives are one in their standing before God; they are fellow heirs of the grace of life (1 Pet 3:7). There is no essential inequality here, only a functional one. In this understanding, the man is no more superior in worth or significance over his wife than the Father is over Christ. On the contrary, the fulfilling of the roles appointed by God is ultimately a very glorious thing (Phil 2:11).

Whatever we conclude about this text, we must agree that Phil 2:6 stands as one of the most sublime statements of Christology in all of the New Testament. In it we see the self-humiliated love of the Son of God manifested in pre-incarnate submission to his Father. Herein is set forth the great paradigm of subservience to God the Father. Here is Christ, in all of his exalted lowliness, showing forth the demure obedience that would characterize his entire earthly life and work. And here we see that his magnificent obedience was not one that was born in a manger two thousand years ago, but was one that was born in eternity within the glorious intra-Trinitarian mystery. In love, the Father appointed His Son to do His bidding in the incarnation. The Son's obedience, born in eternity, accomplished not only the redemption of sinners but also the very manifestation of the love of God. Jesus said, “I glorified Thee on the earth, having accomplished the work which Thou hast given Me to do. And now, glorify Thou Me together with Thyself, Father, with the glory which I had with Thee before the world was” (John 17:4-5). Amen.


1 N. T. Wright, “ἁρπαγμός and the Meaning of Philippians 2:5-11.” The Journal of Theological Studies NS 37 (October 1986): 344.

2 In linking these two phrases, N. T. Wright is attempting to strengthen R. W. Hoover’s argument that equality with God already belonged to Christ, “it should be observed that this understanding of the ἁρπαγμός statement carries with it the assumption that τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῷ represents a status which belonged to the preexistent Christ” (R. W. Hoover, “The Harpagmos Enigma: A Philological Solution,” HTR 64 [1971]: 118; cf. Wright, “ἁρπαγμός,” 344).

3 “On grammatical grounds τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῷ is to be taken in close connection with ὃς ἐν μορφῇ θεοῦ ὑπάρχων and might be rendered 'this divine equality'“ (Peter T. O‘Brien, The Epistle to the Philippians, NIGTC [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991], 216).

“The definite article in τὸ εἶναι implies that this second expression is closely connected with the first, for the function of the definite article here is to point back to something previously mentioned (BDF 399, 1). Therefore τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῷ should be understood thus: 'the equality with God of which we have just spoken equivalently by saying ἐν μορφῇ θεοῦ ὑπάρχων'“ (Gerald F. Hawthorne, Philippians, WBC, vol. 43 [Waco, TX: Nelson, 1983], 84).

“This, then, is what it means for Christ to be 'in the “form” of God'; it means 'to be equal with God,' not in the sense that the two phrases are identical, but that both point to the same reality” (Gordan D. Fee, Paul's Letter to the Philippians, NICNT, ed. Gordon D. Fee [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995], 207). “…the definite article…is probably anaphoric, pointing to 'something previously mentioned or otherwise well known'“ (Ibid, note 62).

4 Kenneth Grayston, The Letters of Paul to the Philippians and the Thessalonians, Cambridge Bible commentary: New English Bible (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967), 27.

5 See pages 20 through 38 in my master’s thesis for an argument for this meaning (Dennis Burk, “The Meaning of Harpagmos in Phillippians 2:6” [Th. M. Thesis, Dallas Theological Seminary, 2000], 20-38).Regarding the terminology “concrete and passive,” a few words are in order. Four Latin terms have emerged as labels for the various interpretations of ἁρπαγμός: raptus, res rapta, res rapienda, and res retinenda.

Scholarly discussion has arranged these four terms under two interpretive rubrics: active and passive. Raptus is generally associated with what is known as the active translation of ἁρπαγμός. Even though raptus itself is passive, it is employed as the active label because it emphasizes the action of the verb as abstracted from any concrete object. For this reason, res is not included in the label, but raptus stands alone. Generally speaking, those who translate ἁρπαγμός as raptus do so with an active nuance—for instance snatching, seizing, or even perhaps robbery. However, raptus can be understood to denote a passive nuance, in which case α῾ρπαγμός is suggested to mean rapture. In both of these, no concrete object is in view, and the abstract, verbal character of the noun comes through.

Res rapta, res rapienda, and res retinenda have come to be known as the passive interpretations. These three labels are considered passive because each of them translates ἁρπαγμός as denoting a concrete object that receives the passive action of the respective Latin verbal. Therefore, res (“thing”) appears in each of these three passive labels. Thus, the translations properly indicated by the passive labels are as follows: “a thing having been seized” (res rapta), “a thing yet to be seized” (res rapienda), and “a thing yet to be retained” (res retinenda) [Dennis Burk, “The Meaning of Harpagmos,” 13-14].

6 Friedrich Blass, and Albert Debrunner, A Greek Grammar of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, translated and revised by Robert W. Funk (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961) §399. [BDF]

7 The usage of these texts could be construed as fallacious argumentation because it is an “appeal to selective evidence.” The two references cited hardly constitute an adequate sampling of NT instances of the construction in question. I will demonstrate that anaphora is not a semantic nuance that is attached to every articular infinitive (D. A. Carson, Exegetical Fallacies, 2nd edition [Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 1996], 93-94).

8 “A further reason, not usually noticed, for taking τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῷ in close connection with ὃς ἐν μορφῇ θεοῦ ὑπάρχων is the regular usage of the articular infinitive (here τὸ εἶναι) to refer 'to something previously mentioned or otherwise well known'“ (Wright, “ἁρπαγμός,” 344; cf. BDF §399).

9 BDF §399 (italics mine).

10 In fact, some of the verses put forward as anaphoric are labelled “Less clearly anaphoric.” In this way, even Blass-Debrunner shows caution in ascribing this semantic nuance to every context (Ibid.).

11 I should mention that BDF counts the articular infinitive in Philippians 2:6 as anaphoric (BDF §399[1]). I think this is mistaken and will demonstrate why later.

12 Compare “τὸ ...θέλειν “(Ro. 7:18) with “ θέλω “(Ro. 7:15). Also compare “τὸλυπηθῆναι”(2 Cor. 7:11) to “ λύπη “(2 Cor. 7:10). See also Mt. 15:20; 20:23; Mk. 9:10; 10:40; 12:33; 1 Cor. 11:6; Phil. 1:21.

13 At this point it will be useful to say another word about the helpful grammatical distinction between affected and unaffected meanings. “By 'unaffected' is meant the meaning of the construction in a vacuum—apart from contextual, lexical, or other grammatical intrusions. By 'affected' is meant the meaning of the construction in its environment—i.e., 'real life' instances…Since the unaffected or ontological meaning is an abstraction that can only be derived from observed phenomena, it is imperative that any deduction about ontology be made on the basis of carefully scrutinized and representative phenomena” (Daniel B. Wallace, Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics: An Exegetical Syntax of the New Testament [Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1996], 2-3). Anaphora seems to be a function of the articular infinitive's affected meaning. For this reason, one must not take any one meaning of the form in context and force that meaning onto the same form in other contexts. This fact is especially relevant to our understanding of the articular infinitive in Phil 2:6. Just because articular infinitives denote anaphora in some contexts does not mean that they will do the same in every context.

14 The search results contained in this section come from my own search of every articular infinitive in the New Testament. I used GRAMCORD's database for this (The GRAMCORD Greek New Testament Morphological Database & Research System. The GRAMCORD Institute, 1999). Appendices A and B in my master's thesis contain the lists and tables that resulted from my own search (using GRAMCORD's database and search engine) of every articular infinitive in the New. In Appendix A of my master's thesis, my search results are set against that of Clyde W. Votaw and James L. Boyer (James L. Boyer, Supplemental manual of information: infinitive verbs, [Winona Lake, Indiana: Boyer, 1986], 35-42; Burk, “The Meaning of Harpagmos”; Clyde W. Votaw, “The Use of the Infinitive in Biblical Greek,” [Ph.D. diss., University of Chicago, 1896], [Text-fiche]; 30-40, 47). I did this to show the relative consistency among our respective searches and to refine my own. The slight difference in some of the numbers can be accounted for by disagreement over some of the examples. For instance, Boyer incorrectly tagged some of his examples (See 1Cor. 14:39 which Boyer classified as anarthrous but which are clearly articular [Boyer, Supplement; 24]). I also disagree with Boyer concerning whether or not one particular articular infinitive is governed by a preposition (See Acts 8:40 which I say is not governed by a preposition).

15 See Appendix F in my master's thesis for a brief overview of previous grammatical analyses of the articular infinitive (Burk, “The Meaning of Harpagmos”).

16 Matt 5:28; 6:1; 6:8; 13:4, 5, 6, 25, 30; 20:19, 19, 19; 23:5; 24:12; 26:2, 12, 32; 27:12, 31; Mark 1:14; 4:4, 5, 6; 5:4, 4, 4; 6:48; 13:22; 14:28, 55; 16:19; Luke 1:8, 21; 2:4, 6, 21, 27, 43; 3:21; 5:1, 1, 12, 17; 6:48; 8:5, 6, 40, 42; 9:7, 18, 29, 33, 34, 36, 51; 10:35, 38; 11:1, 8, 27, 37; 12:5, 15; 14:1; 17:11, 14; 18:1, 5, 35; 19:11, 11, 15; 22:15, 20; 23:8; 24:4, 15, 15, 30, 51; John 1:48; 2:24; 13:19; 17:5; Acts 1:3; 2:1; 3:19, 26; 4:2, 2, 30, 30; 7:4, 19; 8:6, 6, 11; 9:3; 10:41; 11:15; 12:20; 15:13; 18:2, 3; 19:1, 21; 20:1; 23:15; 27:4, 9; 28:18; Rom 1:11, 20; 3:4, 26; 4:11, 11, 16, 18; 6:12; 7:4, 5; 8:29; 11:11; 12:2, 3; 15:8, 13, 13, 16; 1 Cor 8:10; 9:18; 10:6; 11:21, 22, 22, 25, 33; 2 Cor 1:4; 3:13; 4:4; 7:3, 3, 12; 8:6, 11; Gal 2:12; 3:17, 23; 4:18; Eph 1:12, 18; 6:11; Phil 1:7, 10, 23, 23; 1 The 2:9, 12, 16; 3:2, 2, 5, 10, 10, 13; 4:9; 2 The 1:5: 2:2, 2, 6, 10, 11, 3:8, 9; Heb 2:8, 17; 3:12, 15; 7:23, 24, 25; 8:3, 13; 9: 14, 28; 10:2, 15, 26; 11:3; 12:10; 13:21; Jas 1:18, 19, 19; 3:3; 4:2, 15; 1 Pet 3:7; 4:2. Also, see appendices A and B in my master's thesis. For an extended discussion of this construction, see Appendix E (Ibid., 73-76; 88-91).

17 2 Cor 8:11 contains perhaps the only exception to this observation. The genitive τοῦ θέλειν may anaphorically refer to τὸ θέλειν in verse 8:10. The other genitive articular infinitives not governed by a preposition are as follows: Matt 2:13; 3:13; 11:1 13:3; 21:32; 24:45; Luke 1:9, 57, 73, 77, 79; 2:6, 21, 24, 27; 4:10, 42; 5:7; 8:5; 9:51; 10:19; 12:42; 17:1; 21:22; 22: 6, 31; 24:16, 25, 29, 45; Acts 3:2, 12; 5:31; 7:19; 8:40; 9:15; 10:25, 47; 13:47; 14:9, 18; 15:20; 18:10; 20:3, 20, 27, 30; 21:12; 23:15, 20; 26:18; 27:1, 20; Rom 1:24; 6:6; 7:3; 8:12; 11:8, 10; 15:22, 23; 1 Cor 9:10; 10:13; 16:4; 2 Cor 1:8; 7:12; 8:11; Gal 3:10; Phil 3:10, 21; Heb 2:15; 5:12; 10:7, 9; 11:5; Jas 5:17; 1 Pet 3:10; 4:17; Rev 12:7. See Appendix D in my master's thesis for a printing of the verses containing genitive articular infinitives not governed by a preposition (Ibid., 80-87).

18 I found but one example of a dative articular infinitive not governed by a preposition—2 Cor 2:13. οὐκ ἔσχηκα ἄνεσιν τῷ πνεύματί μου τῷ μὴ εὑρεῖν με Τίτον τὸν ἀδελφόν μου (I still had no peace of mind, because I did not find my brother Titus there, NIV). Thus the dative articular infinitive as a causal nuance. There is no anaphoric referent in view.

19 See Appendices A and B in my master's thesis for a count and listing of verses which contain articular infinitives that are not governed by a preposition (Burk, “The Meaning of Harpagmos”).

20 BDF §398.

21 Wallace, Exegetical Syntax, 238.

22 BDF §398.

23 Here is the list of verses containing nominative articular infinitives not governed by a preposition: Matt 15:20; 20:23; Mk 9:10; 12:33; Rom 7:18; 14:21; 1 Cor 7:26; 11:6; 2 Cor 7:11; 8:11; 9:1; Phil 1:21, 22, 24, 29; 10:31. See Appendix C in my master's thesis for a printing of these verses in parallel with an English translation (Burk, “The Meaning of Harpagmos,” 77-78).

24 Wallace, Exegetical Syntax, 242.

25 Here is the list of verses containing accusative articular infinitives not governed by a preposition: Acts 4:18; 25:11; Rom 13:8; 14:13; 15:5; 1 Cor 14:39; 2 Cor 2:1; 8:10, 11; 10:2; Phil 2:6, 13; 4:2, 10; 1 The 3:3; 4:6. See Appendix C in my master's thesis for a printing of these verses in parallel with an English translation (Burk, “The Meaning of Harpagmos,” 78-79).

26 BDF §399 (3).

27 Herbert Weir Smyth, Greek Grammar, Revised by Gordon M. Messing (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1956; Original edition, 1920), 623.

28 BDF lists several of the well-known instances of the accusative articular infinitive under the anaphoric heading (BDF §399 [1]).

29 See once again Wallace's remark to this effect (Wallace, Exegetical Syntax, 238).

30 Ibid., 220.

31 Wallace, Exegetical Syntax, 182. See Appendix G in my master's thesis for a summary explanation of the object-complement construction (Burk, “The Meaning of Harpagmos”).

32 Wallace, Exegetical Syntax, 184.

33 “With reference to the identification of the components of an object-complement construction, it has already been pointed out that word order is not an infallible guide. Therefore, some other criteria must be used to supplement if not supplant the principle of word order” (Daniel B. Wallace, “The Semantics and Exegetical Significance of the Object-Complement Construction in the New Testament,” Grace Theological Journal 6 [1985]: 101).

34 Wallace, “Object-Complement Construction,” 91-112.

35 Ibid., 91.

36 Ibid., 102-103.

37 Actually, as Wallace notes, Eugene Van Ness Goetchius first suggested the analogy between the two constructions. On this basis, he proposes five criteria for distinguishing the object from the complement (Eugene Van Ness Goetchius, The Language of the New Testament [New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1965], 46; 142-44). However, Wallace puts some needed refinements to Goetchius' rules, so the present analysis will focus on Wallace's formulation (Wallace, “Object-Complement Construction,” 103-105).

38 Wallace, Exegetical Syntax, 184.

39 Dr. Daniel B. Wallace was kind enough to grant me access to his unpublished notes which contain the raw data that provided the empirical basis for his article “The Semantics and Exegetical Significance of the Object-Complement Construction in the New Testament.” From these notes I counted fifty-nine verses that contain examples of reversed order object-complement constructions. Twenty-five of the examples had a participle or an adjective as a complement. In such cases the object was easily distinguished from the accusative complement (Matt 3:3; 12:16; 20:12; 26:73; Mark 1:10; Luke 3:4; 8:35; 22:45; 24:33; John 5:18; 16:2; Acts 10:27; 10:28; 13:46; 28:4; 1 Cor 9:18; Eph 5:27; 1 Tim 1:12; Heb 6:5; 7:24; Heb 11:23; 11:26; 2 Pet 1:10; 1:13; Rev 21:5). The other thirty-four references all have substantives for both object and complement (Matt 3:9; 16:13; 16:15; Mark 1:3; 8:27; Mark 8:29; 10:6; Luke 3:8; 9:20; 18:19; John 5:18; 8:41; 8:53; 19:12; 19:17; Acts 2:36; 5:36; 8:9; 13:23; 17:7; Rom 4:17; 10:9; Gal 2:18; Phil 2:11; 3:17; 1 Tim 6:5; James 5:10; 1 Pet 1:17; 3:6; 2 Pet 2:13; 1 John 1:10; 5:10; Rev 2:9; 9:11). In these cases, the rules that Wallace set forth for distinguishing the object from the complement hold true.

40 Wallace, Exegetical Syntax, 220.

41 Although he reached his conclusion through an exegesis different than my own, in 1875 Heinrich August Wilhem Meyer arrived at a theological conclusion that is very similar to mine, “in this pre-existence the Son appears as subordinate to the Father, as He does throughout the entire New Testament, although this is not …at variance with the Trinitarian equality of essence in the Biblical sense. By the ἁρπαγμὸν ἡγεῖσθαι κ.τ.λ., if it had taken place, He would have wished to relieve Himself from his subordination” (H. A. W. Meyer, Critical and Exegetical handbook to the Epistles to the Philippians and Colossians, Translated from the fourth edition of the German by John C. Moore, Translation revised and edited by William P. Dickson [Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1875], 83-84).

42 This statement is contrary to Bilezikian's claim that all Subordinationism must be rejected as Arianism (Gilbert Bilezikian, “Hermeneutical Bungee-Jumping: Subordination in the Godhead,” JETS 40 [1997]: 64-68). Indeed, this kind of Subordinationism has a long history in orthodox Christian faith. I will mention two prominent examples from the Reformed tradition. “there is a kind of distribution or economy in God which has no effect on the unity of essence…The subordination of the incarnate Word to the Father is no counterevidence [to his deity]” (John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, ed. John T. McNeil, translated and indexed by Ford Lewis Battles, The Library of Christian Classics, vol. XX, ed. John Baillie, John T. McNeill, Henry P. Van Dusen [Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1960], 128, 154). Charles Hodge agrees, “The creeds are nothing more than a well-ordered arrangement of the facts of Scripture which concern the doctrine of the Trinity. They assert the distinct personality of the Father, Son, and Spirit; their mutual relation as expressed by those terms; their absolute unity as to substance or essence, and their consequent perfect equality; and the subordination of the Son to the Father, and of the Spirit to the Father and the Son, as to the mode of subsistence and operation” (Charles Hodge, Systematic Theology, vol. 1 [U.S.A.: Hendrickson, 1999; Original Edition, 1871], 462).

43 It was the Father's sending that resulted in the Son's coming to the world in the incarnation. The Gospel of John is replete with this language that speaks of the Father's sending His Son into the world (John 4:34; 5:23, 24, 30, 37; 6:38, 39, 44; 7:16, 18, 28, 33; 8:16, 18, 26, 29; 9:4; 12:44, 45, 49; 13:20; 14:24, 15:21; 16:5; 20:21).

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Review of Peter M. Head, “Some Recently Published NT Papyri from Oxyrhynchus: An Overview and Preliminary Assessment,” Tyndale Bulletin 51.1 (2000) 1-16.

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In the last three years, our fund of New Testament papyri has increased dramatically. The latest volumes of the Oxyrhynchus Papyri—64, 65, and 66 (the last of which is not yet available in the States)—have yielded seventeen NT papyri, bringing the total NT papyri officially to 115 (although some of these fragments are part of other extant papyri, bringing the actual total to about 111). These latest fragments range in date from the second to the sixth century, and contain portions of texts from Matthew, Luke, John, Acts, Romans, Hebrews, James, and Revelation. In particular, the dates of these MSS should be underscored: three from as early as the second century (P77 [new portion], P103, 104), eleven from as early as the third century (P100, 101, 102, 106, 107, 108, 109, 111, 113, 114, 115), and only one dated as late as the sixth century (P105 [dated by the editors at V/VI). In addition, several of the papyri have punctuation marks, rough breathings, or even paragraph notations.

Head notes that the longest of these fragments is P100, having portions of about twenty verses. He surmises that the fragmentary nature of the Oxyrhynchus NT papyri (including virtually all of the forty-seven that have been discovered there) has kept textual critics from giving this material more attention.

In his analysis, Head notes the popularity of Matthew and John at Oxyrhynchus (seven of the papyri are from Matthew, four are from John). In addition, he notes that P100, which contains portions of James 3:13-4:4, 4:9-5:1, has page numbers in the upper margins, beginning with page 6. This is significant because this third-fourth century fragment probably indicates that James headed up a codex of several catholic letters, perhaps even all of them.

Among the more interesting readings found in these papyri, two are especially noteworthy. P106 (III century) reads ὁ ἐκλεκτός at John 1:34, in agreement with P5vid א* itb, e, ff2* syrs,c. Although the UBSGNT4 committee rejects this reading in favor of ὁ υἱός (giving the latter a B rating), that decision will surely have to be revisited in light of now clear Greek testimony from the third century1 for ὁ ἐκλεκτός. As Head notes (11), “This early support in Greek, Latin and Syriac indicates a geographical diversity behind this reading.” P115 (III/IV century) is now apparently our earliest witness to the AC text of the Apocalypse. This MS includes twenty-six fragments of Revelation, covering portions of chapters 2 through 15. Not only is it an early witness to the AC text (the most important textual strand for the Apocalypse), but it also is the earliest witness to the reading “616” at Rev 13:18.

Head concludes his study by noting the popularity of the “codex format in early Christian book production” (16), as well as the popularity of Matthew and John in the early period. Although Head had noted earlier (13-14) that P100 shares two readings with the Byzantine text, he concludes that “In general terms these manuscripts confirm the text of the great uncials which forms the basis of the modern critical editions” (16).

All in all, this is a carefully done essay on recently discovered papyri. There are no real surprises here; rather, we have in these latest finds confirmation that Hort was on the right track after all.


1 The witness of P5vid has been omitted in NA27, most likely because the papyrus has a lacuna at the point of the wording. However, since ἐκλεκτός is not a known nomen sacrum, and υἱός is, the only possible wording on this line—between these two variants—is ἐκλεκτός.

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