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Yesterday I noted a spike in word count in 1-2 Corinthians. Here as well. Both of these posts need to be investigated in context. I am just recognizing repeated words as I read devotionally this week.

I have been reading 1-2 Corinthians for noon devotions the last few days. I noticed how often Paul uses and ἔχω cognates. No doubt the uses are diverse but makes sense that a word in the semantic range of Possession and Ownership would be of use to Paul here. The chart below is from Logos, ἔχω as root in Pauline Epistles.

My Advent sermon series this year is in 1 John. Having just finished the Gospel of Luke, completed in two years, I did not want to return to the infancy narratives of the Gospels. So onto John’s longest letter for the hopes of offering the church some of John’s reflections on what we celebrate at Christmas. I think 1 John is one of the final New Testament books to be written. The aged apostle writes to set out Christianity as it is—and always will be.

What kind of grammatical forms might an author use to connote the structural stability of their subject matter? In 1 John 2-3, John writes twenty-six substantival participles, all articular. John writes a total of fifty-eight participles in 1 John, forty-nine of them substantival (Köstenberger, Merkle, and Plummer, 326 n. 13). Participles are supplementary and at times ambiguous forms of communication (Buth, 289). But when an author substanizes a participle, it becomes a concretizes an idea, emphasizing the structural stability of its referent. Stanley E. Porter writes, “The (substantival) participle adds the semantic features of its respective verb tense-form, which must be considered in appreciating the full force of the phrase or clause” (Porter, 183). In other words, a normal participle is like a compact sedan, supplementing family travel by carrying one, two, three people comfortably on errands. The articular substantival participle is like a Chevy Suburban, people and gear for a specific trip.

Below, the twenty-six articular substantival participles in 1 John 2-3 are marked with bold font. The English phrases in the NASB (1995) that translate these participles are also marked with bold font.

1John 2:4 ὁ λέγων ὅτι ἔγνωκα αὐτὸν καὶ τὰς ἐντολὰς αὐτοῦ μὴ τηρῶν ψεύστης ἐστίν, καὶ ἐν τούτῳ ἡ ἀλήθεια οὐκ ἔστιν·

1John 2:4 The one who says, “aI have come to bknow Him,” and does not keep His commandments, is a cliar, and dthe truth is not in him;

1John2:6 the one who says he abides i nHim ought himself to walk in the same manner as He walked.

1John 2:6 ὁ λέγων ἐν αὐτῷ μένειν ὀφείλει, καθὼς ἐκεῖνος περιεπάτησεν, καὶ αὐτὸς οὕτως περιπατεῖν.

1John 2:9 Ὁ λέγων ἐν τῷ φωτὶ εἶναι καὶ τὸν ἀδελφὸν αὐτοῦ μισῶν ἐν τῇ σκοτίᾳ ἐστὶν ἕως ἄρτι. 10 ὁ ἀγαπῶν τὸν ἀδελφὸν αὐτοῦ ἐν τῷ φωτὶ μένει, καὶ σκάνδαλον ἐν αὐτῷ οὐκ ἔστιν· 11 ὁ δὲ μισῶν τὸν ἀδελφὸν αὐτοῦ ἐν τῇ σκοτίᾳ ἐστὶν καὶ ἐν τῇ σκοτίᾳ περιπατεῖ καὶ οὐκ οἶδεν ποῦ ὑπάγει, ὅτι ἡ σκοτία ἐτύφλωσεν τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς αὐτοῦ.

1John2:9 The one who says he isin the Light and yet hates hisbbrotheris in the darkness until now. 10 The one who loves his brother abides in the Light and there is no cause for stumbling in him. 11 But the one who hateshis brother is in the darkness and bwalks in the darkness, and does not know where he is going because the darkness has blinded his eyes.

1John 2:17 καὶ ὁ κόσμος παράγεται καὶ ἡ ἐπιθυμία αὐτοῦ, ὁ δὲ ποιῶν τὸ θέλημα τοῦ θεοῦ μένει εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα.

 1John 2:17 aThe world is passing away, and also its lusts; but the one who bdoes the will of God lives forever.

1John 2:22     Τίς ἐστιν ὁ ψεύστης εἰ μὴ ὁ ἀρνούμενος ὅτι Ἰησοῦς οὐκ ἔστιν ὁ Χριστός; οὗτός ἐστιν ὁ ἀντίχριστος, ὁ ἀρνούμενος τὸν πατέρα καὶ τὸν υἱόν. 23 πᾶς ὁ ἀρνούμενος τὸν υἱὸν οὐδὲ τὸν πατέρα ἔχει, ὁ ὁμολογῶν τὸν υἱὸν καὶ τὸν πατέρα ἔχει.

1John 2:22 Who is the liar but athe one who denies that Jesus is the 1Christ? This is bthe antichrist, the one who denies the Father and the Son. 23 aWhoever denies the Son does not have the Father; the one who confesses the Son has the Father also.

1John 2:26     Ταῦτα ἔγραψα ὑμῖν περὶ τῶν πλανώντων ὑμᾶς.

1John 2:26   These things I have written to you concerning those who are trying to adeceive you.

1John 2:29 ἐὰν εἰδῆτε ὅτι δίκαιός ἐστιν, γινώσκετε ὅτι καὶ πᾶς ὁ ποιῶν τὴν δικαιοσύνην ἐξ αὐτοῦ γεγέννηται.

1John 2:29 If you know that aHe is righteous, you know that everyone also who practices righteousness bis 1born of Him.

1John 3:3 καὶ πᾶς ὁ ἔχων τὴν ἐλπίδα ταύτην ἐπ᾿ αὐτῷ ἁγνίζει ἑαυτόν, καθὼς ἐκεῖνος ἁγνός ἐστιν.

1John 3:3 And everyone who has this ahope fixed on Him bpurifies himself, just as He is pure.

1John 3:4       Πᾶς ὁ ποιῶν τὴν ἁμαρτίαν καὶ τὴν ἀνομίαν ποιεῖ, καὶ ἡ ἁμαρτία ἐστὶν ἡ ἀνομία.

1John 3:4   Everyone who practices sin also practices lawlessness; and asin is lawlessness.

1John 3:6 πᾶς ὁ ἐν αὐτῷ μένων οὐχ ἁμαρτάνει· πᾶς ὁ ἁμαρτάνων οὐχ ἑώρακεν αὐτὸν οὐδὲ ἔγνωκεν αὐτόν.

1John 3:7       Παιδία, μηδεὶς πλανάτω ὑμᾶς· ὁ ποιῶν τὴν δικαιοσύνην δίκαιός ἐστιν, καθὼς ἐκεῖνος δίκαιός ἐστιν· 8 ὁ ποιῶν τὴν ἁμαρτίαν ἐκ τοῦ διαβόλου ἐστίν, ὅτι ἀπ᾿ ἀρχῆς ὁ διάβολος ἁμαρτάνει. εἰς τοῦτο ἐφανερώθη ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ, ἵνα λύσῃ τὰ ἔργα τοῦ διαβόλου. 9 Πᾶς ὁ γεγεννημένος ἐκ τοῦ θεοῦ ἁμαρτίαν οὐ ποιεῖ, ὅτι σπέρμα αὐτοῦ ἐν αὐτῷ μένει, καὶ οὐ δύναται ἁμαρτάνειν, ὅτι ἐκ τοῦ θεοῦ γεγέννηται. 10 ἐν τούτῳ φανερά ἐστιν τὰ τέκνα τοῦ θεοῦ καὶ τὰ τέκνα τοῦ διαβόλου· πᾶς ὁ μὴ ποιῶν δικαιοσύνην οὐκ ἔστιν ἐκ τοῦ θεοῦ καὶ ὁ μὴ ἀγαπῶν τὸν ἀδελφὸν αὐτοῦ.

1John 3:6 No one who abides in Him asins; no one who sins has seen Him or 1bknows Him. 7 aLittle children, make sure no one bdeceives you; cthe one who practices righteousness is righteous, just as He is righteous; 8 the one who practices sin is aof the devil; for the devil 1has sinned from the beginning. bThe Son of God cappeared for this purpose, dto destroy the works of the devil. 9 No one who is 1aborn of God bpractices sin, because His seed abides in him; and he cannot sin, because he is 1born of God. 10 By this the achildren of God and the bchildren of the devil are obvious: 1anyone who does not practice righteousness is not of God, nor the one who cdoes not love his dbrother.

1John 3:14 ἡμεῖς οἴδαμεν ὅτι μεταβεβήκαμεν ἐκ τοῦ θανάτου εἰς τὴν ζωήν, ὅτι ἀγαπῶμεν τοὺς ἀδελφούς· ὁ μὴ ἀγαπῶν μένει ἐν τῷ θανάτῳ. 15 πᾶς ὁ μισῶν τὸν ἀδελφὸν αὐτοῦ ἀνθρωποκτόνος ἐστίν, καὶ οἴδατε ὅτι πᾶς ἀνθρωποκτόνος οὐκ ἔχει ζωὴν αἰώνιον ἐν αὐτῷ μένουσαν.

1John 3:14 We know that we have apassed out of death into life, bbecause we love the brethren. He who does not love abides in death. 15 Everyone who ahates his brother is a murderer; and you know that bno murderer has eternal life abiding in him.

1John 3:24 καὶ ὁ τηρῶν τὰς ἐντολὰς αὐτοῦ ἐν αὐτῷ μένει καὶ αὐτὸς ἐν αὐτῷ· καὶ ἐν τούτῳ γινώσκομεν ὅτι μένει ἐν ἡμῖν, ἐκ τοῦ πνεύματος οὗ ἡμῖν ἔδωκεν.

1John 3:24 The one who akeeps His commandments babides in Him, and He in him. cWe know by this that dHe abides in us, by the Spirit whom He has given us.

As you can see, in 1John 2-3 John substantizes verbs of speech and action. Verbs like ἀρνέομαι(2:22[2], 23), λέγω (2:4, 6, 9), and ὁμολογέω (2:23) note the importance of theChristian confession and speaking forth a committement to walk in the steps ofChrist. With these verbs, John coordinates substantival participles connotingactions. Words like ἀγαπάω (2:10: 3:10, 14), ἁμαρτάνω (3:6), μένω (3:6 ), μισέω(2:9, 11; 3:15), ποιέω (2:17, 29; 3:4, 7, 8, 10), and τηρέω (2:4; 3:24) aresubstanized with the article to emphasize the concrete, structural nature ofthe need for believers to practice their confession.

That is why 1 John reads like molasses. It is slow, dense. John writes so that his readers have lots of time to think as they hear or listen to his letter. He wants no member of his audience to be confused about the nature of the Christian message. Despite those who have gone out (2:18-19), the Christian message and the lifestyle of its adherants will never change.

On a broader discourse level, John’s substantizing of these verbs serves to fill in the ideational framework he establishes in 1 John 1. The series of “if/then” conditional statements in 1 John 1:6-10 initiates categories of thought regarding the Christian confession and the need for Christian behavior. By means of articular substantival participles, in 1 John 2-3, John elaborates on these categories, reinforcing the need for Christian integrity in his audience.

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Köstenberger, Andreas J., Benjamin L. Merkle, and Robert L. Plummer. Going Deeper with New Testament Greek: An Intermediate Study of the Grammar and Syntax of the New Testament. Nashville: B&H Academic, 2016.

Porter, Stanley E. Idioms of the Greek New Testament. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1994.

Runge, Steven E. and Christopher J. Fresch, eds. The Greek Verb Revisited: A Fresh Approach for Biblical Exegesis. Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2016.

Whitlark, Jason A. “Resisting Imperial Claims: Jesus’ Defeat of the Devil.” Pages 122-41 in Resisting Empire: Rethinking the Purpose of the Letter to “the Hebrews.” Library of New Testament Studies 484. London: T & T Clark, 2014.

Investigating Jesus’ defeat of the devil in Heb 2:14, Jason A Whitlark argues that “Jesus’ triumphant enthronement following his victory over the devil in Hebrews represents a figured critique of Roman imperial authority” (123). Whitlark suggests that Hebrews’ reference to the defeat of the devil in Heb 2:14 could be understood as a metaphor for conquering Rome and its authoritative grip on humanity (124). Because Rome was understood to carry the power of death—and Hebrews describes the devil as the being holding the power of death—Whitlark infers that the author of Hebrews may have been trying to covertly undercut Roman imperial power (124-25). Whitlark builds his case by investigating NT passages outside of Hebrews, church fathers, and Roman legal precedent.

1. According to Whitlark, Paul’s autobiographical note in 1 Thess 2:18, that Satan prevented him from visiting the Thessalonians, should be read in light of the threats Roman authorities made toward him as an apostle of Christ (125). Similarly, Paul’s promise to the Romans that God would soon crush Satan under their feet (Rom 16:20), “Might be a cryptic reference to Roman imperial authorities or the imperial culture that acclaimed Rome’s authority and afflicted the Christian communities in Rome” (126).
2. Whitlark offers martyrdom texts of the Church Fathers, like the Martyrdom of Polycarp 2.4-3.1 and Justin’s first and second apologies, as evidence that the early church attributed Rome’s authoritarian rule to the devil (129). Applying his paradigm of imperial Criticism to Hebrews, Whtilark states that “The audience of Hebrews would likely have heard in the mention of the devil in Heb 2:14 a reference to Roman imperial authority at whose hands they were suffering” (130).
3. Surveying Roman law, Whitlark finds in Patria potestas—the statute providing a Roman father the authority of life and death in his family in order to maintain the honor of Rome via the fidelity of his own household—a framework that applied even outside of the family unit (132-33). Whitlark argues that emperors like Vespasian enjoyed the highest rung on a scaffolding of Patria potestas-like authority in Rome, wielding absolute sway over all families and peoples in the empire (132-33). Since Christians were thought to compromise Rome’s honor by their worship practices, the Roman authorites held Christians in fear of death all their lives—the exact characteristic Hebrews attributes to the devil (138). “The audience of Hebrews living in or around Rome would have been reminded daily of the fearsome messages of Roman power that were supremely embodied in the emperor” (138).

Whitlark infers that Jesus’ victory over death would have emboldened Christians hearing Hebrews to resist imperial threats to conform to Roman paganism (139). Because Jesus was faithful in His suffering (Heb 5:5-10; 12:1-2) at the hand of Roman authorities, He is able to aid Christians as they endure the results of their resistance to Roman threats (139). Whitlark argues that the threat of Rome was so strong that Christians, including the author of Hebrews, cast it in apocalyptic language: “The goal of Christians in identifying imperial culture and power with the devil or Satan was to portray their conflict as an apocalyptic one” (139). This paradigm in place, Christians would understand that their ultimate battle was not with Roman authorities—who were simply the devil’s tool for suffocating Christian testimony and eternal hope (140). Jesus’ victorious death, Whitlark maintains, provides Hebrews’ audience a rationale for resisting Rome without insurrection: by faithfully maintaining their allegiance even unto death they would obtain their hope in eternity (Heb 11:35, 13:20) (140).

Whitlark’s case may suffer from being too persuasive. His analysis so intertwines the work of the devil and the power of Rome that I wonder if—in the condition that the latter would have been suspended for a time—Hebrews’ audience would have understood the former to also have no hold on them? My concern is that Whitlark describes a spiritual archenemy void of some of the characteristics and practices of the devil in scripture—motifs that explain the author’s matrix for Jesus’ defeat of the devil in Heb 2:14. In scripture, the devil makes humanity fear death not only by external powers like the Roman imperium but also through the internal power of unforgiven sin. I argue that at the cross Jesus acts as a faithful high priest to atone for the sins of those who believe in Him (Heb 2:16-17; cf. Job 2:1-10; Zech 3:1-5; Col 2:13-15), rendering the devil impotent in his scheme to condemn humanity to eternal punishment. Humanity is not threatened only in this life by national forces that come and go but by the enduring human condition of propensity to sin. Sin—not national or geopolitical threats—incur guilt before God. And in the author’s frame of thought, God’s wrath is of greater consequence than that of any Roman emperor (Heb 10:31). The author thus describes Jesus’ death as, yes, defeating the devil, but also the means by which Jesus forgives sin as mediating high priest of the new covenant. In Hebrews’ logic, Jesus’ victorious death necessitates the devil’s demise because it robs the devil of his power to condemn sinners before God—the result of which would be eternal death (Heb 2:14-17).

The Craft of Research, Third Edition. By Wayne C. Booth (deceased), Gregory G. Colomb, and Joseph M. Williams. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008, v-xvii + 317 pp.

The authors propose two aims for their work: “This book will help you create and execute a plan for doing your research and another for reporting it in ways that not only encourage your best thinking, but help your readers see its value” (6).  They believe that The Craft of Research differs from other research manuals in that they have attempted to synthesize the research process, pointing up the way various phases of the work influence not only each other, but especially the reader.  In some ways the argument of this volume is that researchers should work backward—considering the reader/target audience early and regularly in the research process and then pursue their work with this in mind; they write, “Central in every chapter is our advice to side with your readers, to imagine how they will judge what you have written” (xii).  The authors have arranged this volume in four main parts: “Research, Researchers, and Readers” (1-27), “Asking Questions, Finding Answers” (29-101), “Making a Claim and Supporting It” (103-170), and “Planning, Drafting, and Revising” (171-269).

In Part 1, “Research, Researchers, and Readers” (1-27), the authors use chapter 2, “Connecting with Your Reader: (Re-)Creating Yourself and Your Readers” (16-25), to argue that research only matters if it is read.  Thus, they propose that one should write his research, even formal research, in ‘story’ form.  This does not mean creating narrative literature, but recognizing that the reader has a role to play, and writing in such a way that the reader is engaged in conversation over the subject matter at hand.  Further, the relevance of this subject matter must be expressed clearly; the authors write: “When you do research, you learn something that others don’t know.  So when you report it, you must think of your reader as someone who doesn’t know it but needs to and yourself as someone who will give her reasons to want to know it.  You must imagine a relationship that goes beyond Here are some facts…” (18-19, italics original).  They note that in reporting information a researcher mush offer the reader some practical measure of help, either in attempting to solve a problem, or in understanding an issue.  By offering these, the reader naturally assumes an active, personal role in the research process.

While it is the case that throughout The Craft of Research the authors maintain their thesis that researchers must write with a view to the reader, in Part 2, “Asking Questions, Finding Answers” (29-101), they deal with the means which will help the researcher attain that end. In chapter 3, “From Topics to Questions” (35-50), the authors write: “The best way to begin working on your specific topic is not to find all the data you can on your general topic, but to formulate questions that point you to just those data that you need to answer them” (41).  One can discover these questions by considering: the history of the issue (e.g., “What have been significant points of development over the last___years?”), its structure and category within academia (e.g., “Is this issue a subset of another bigger issue? Related directly to something more well-known?”), its significance to daily life in his culture, (e.g., “How would things be different if your topic never existed, disappeared, or were put into a new context?” [42]), and finally finding points of disagreement within the issue (e.g, “If ‘x’ disagrees with ‘y’ concerning this matter, why?”).

In chapter 4, “From Questions to a Problem” (51-65), the authors provide an effective schema for the research process, urging the researcher to move through three stages of thought. First the researcher needs to choose an issue/topic for investigation, stating in a phrase: “I am studying_______” (51). Next researchers need to state their rationale: “…because I want to find out what/why/how ___________” (51). Third, researchers should set out the significance of their work, stating: “…in order to help my reader understand _________” (51). To this tripartite formula of topic-question-significance the authors add a fourth element, which they name “potential practical application” (61), stated in the phrase, “…so that readers might _________” (61). Here one finds again the emphasis of The Craft of Research, namely, that researchers must seek to engage the reader in reporting their findings; the authors write: “you create a stronger relationship with readers because you promise something in return for their interest in your report—deeper understanding of something that matters to them” (51-52).

In Part 3, “Making a Claim and Supporting It” (103-170), the authors propose that reporting one’s research is “a conversation in which you and your imagined readers cooperatively explore an issue that you both think is important to resolve” (106).  In chapter 8, “Making Claims” (120-126), the authors advocate a pragmatic approach to research when it comes to the relationship between one’s research and the reader.  They cite that the most devastating question an audience might put to a researcher is not, “Why should I believe this?” but, “Why should I care?” (126, italics original).  If the researcher’s claim is not significant enough to challenge the reader’s related views, they propose that it may need to be reworked.  The authors do not argue for boldness necessarily, but rather importance—hedged with modesty.

In chapter 9, “Assembling Reasons and Evidence” (130-138), the authors note that this conversation between researcher and reader is not just a personal relationship; rather, it is conceived only by a mutual interest in the topic under consideration, including the specific data of the research and especially its significance.  Thus the researcher needs to present the reader with “a bedrock of uncontested facts” (132); anything less will not arouse the reader’s natural skepticism, nor show that the researcher’s argument is significant enough to be taken seriously.  The authors note: “They (the readers) want evidence to be accurate, precise, sufficient, representative, and authoritative” (136).  Thus researchers need to test their argument as the reader would—and then refine claims, acknowledge shortcomings, and synthesize the argument in light of the data.

In Part 4, “Planning, Drafting, and Revising” (171-269), the authors again emphasize their thesis concerning ‘reader-oriented’ research in chapter 14, “Revising Your Organization and Argument” (203-210).  Here they propose that: “Readers do not read word by word, sentence by sentence…they want to begin with a sense of the whole, its structure, and, most important, why they should read your report in the first place…It thus makes sense to start revising your overall organization, then its parts, then the clarity of your sentences, and last, matters of spelling and punctuation” (204).

The authors titled chapter 17, “Revising Style: Telling Your Story Clearly” (249-267), showing their concern that in every phase of research the reader be kept in mind.  The authors propose that researchers can present their findings to the reader most clearly if they will use the first six to seven words of each sentence to connect the main idea/character of that sentence with what has been said in the previous sentence, and then use the final four to five words to introduce new or more complex information.  This, ‘old-to-new,’ and ‘simple-to-complex,’ format will give the reader a sense of flow and wholeness about the research report.

The argument of The Craft of Research is substantive for students learning to write and speak persuasively.  This is so because of the author’s continual emphasis on how the information reported will impact the reader/listener.

How to Read a Book. By Mortimer J. Adler and Charles Van Doren. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1972, v-xiii + 426 pp.

How to Read a Book is a learning manual written to help students see the value of books (or written resources in general) for gaining understanding of themselves and life.  The authors propose that real thinking is the result of reading—as opposed to the assimilation of information through the various media outlets of our day.  Thus, their aim is to assist the reader in the use of books, articles, etc. to acquire knowledge of himself and his world, or stated another way, to “make books teach us well” (p. 15).

In Part I: The Dimensions of Reading, the authors propose that a certain manner of reading must be undertaken for success with books, namely active reading.  The goal of this style of reading is to gain information and understanding.  In this first part, the authors propose the first two of four levels of reading: Elementary (described in ten pages) and Inspectional (given fourteen pages) reading.

In Part II, the authors devote 140 pages to the third level of reading: Analytical reading.  Ultimately the analytic reader is looking to answer the question “What of it?” (pp. 137-38). According to Adler and Van Doren analytical reading allows one to successfully reach for books beyond him—and understand their arguments.  All this is accomplished through examining a book in part and in whole, coming to terms with the author, determining his message, and then criticizing his work.  Finally, Part II contains reading rules one through fifteen—much of the substance of the book.

Part III: Approaches to Different Kinds of Reading Matter, takes up these various rules for reading and providing nuances where appropriate.  It is in Part III where we find a further treatment of the authors’ thesis: every book should be read according to its merit (p. 67).

Thus, the authors propose that different books should be read appropriate to, among other things, their genre and aim.

Part IV: The Ultimate Goals of Reading, is an especially helpful section for the student engaged in research.  Here the reader is instructed of how the four levels of reading come together to help readers dialogue with various authors and gain understanding.  Toward the end of this section the authors also provide insight for the difficulties of Syntopical reading.

Adler and Van Doren advance the main thrust of their argument by proposing that authors use their books to try to solve problems.  Thus students are challenged to ask, “What problem is the author trying to solve?”  This may be another way of asking the question, “Why did the author write this book—What were his issues?”  Further still, once we see where the author is at in the larger chain of conversation about which he is writing, then we can begin to enjoy the goal of How to Read a Book—understanding.

Further, How to Read a Book provides the student with a sequence of specific questions to ask of an author’s work (book, article, etc.).  The four questions: “What is the book (article) about as a whole?” “What is being said in detail, and how?” “Is the book true, in whole or part?” and “What of it?” (pp. 46-47) are extremely helpful for one desiring to analyze and synthesize a written discourse.  The first question, “What is the book (article) about as a whole?” is answered by examining the front and back covers of the book (or the resource containing the article), and identifying its date, genre and general aims.  The second question, “What is being said in detail, and how?” may be addressed by investigating the table of contents/structure of the resource, the last chapter or conclusion of the book/article, and the first chapter or introduction of the book/article.  The table of contents reveals the goals of the resource and the structure by which the author(s) attempt to achieve those goals; the conclusion or last chapter provides a basis for evaluating if the author(s) met said goals, and the first chapter or introduction provides a quick analysis of the entire work.  By reading these various sections in the order prescribed here, readers can quickly access the argument of the book and begin to come to terms with the author(s).  This is active reading: knowing the problem the resource is seeking to address and how it goes about offering a solution.  The third question, “Is the book true, in whole or part?” requires readers to engage key chapters of the book, identified already when analyzing the table of contents.  By skimming key chapters, readers are able to identify core components in the author(s)’ argument, and evaluate the author(s)’ solution to the problem the resource is trying to address.  The reader would then need to skim the entire resource, reading more closely the introduction and conclusion sections of each chapter or article section.  The final question, “What of it?” requires comparing the resource with other resources dealing with the same issue.  Here Adler and Van Doren suggest that the reader place himself around a large table, seated beside the authors he has read, and comparing and evaluating their ideas and providing his own thoughts, joining the conversation.   As one answers these four questions, he is then prepared to write and/or speak persuasively on the issue at hand, making his own contribution to the discussion.

To answer these questions as one reads a book, the authors provide some helpful ideas for note taking.  While much of this comes naturally—and is personalized over time—their suggestions provide a framework to be used in reading any number of books.  As one adopts a uniformity in active reading, he is perhaps more able to do Syntopic reading with greater efficiency.

The student gains wisdom from Adler and Van Doren’s reading rule five: Find the important words and through them come to terms with the author (p. 98). Certainly as one masters this discipline, he will be much more effective at Syntopical reading—perhaps this rule could even be considered the foundation upon which Syntopical reading can occur.

Along the same lines, one is challenged by Adler and Van Doren’s command to find propositions of an author’s argument and attempt to state them in his own words.  This proves beneficial in coming to terms with the author and initiating Syntopic reading.  As the authors state, “The reader who cannot see through the language to the terms and propositions will never be able to compare such related works” (p. 127).

How to Read a Book is an extremely helpful resource for the student engaged in the research process.  The principles written by Adler and Van Doren are especially helpful for students completing annotated bibliographies—a fundamental responsibility of one working to read and write persuasively.

In sum, How to Read a Book challenges students toward reading books that can make them better readers.  Adler and Van Doren help the student to discern what books are actually valuable to help their thinking and reading.  As one accepts this challenge, he will reap an improved reading level, and an education about the world and about himself, becoming wiser in the sense that he is more deeply aware of the great and enduring truths of human life (pp. 340-41).

Geoffrey Horrocks provides one of the most lucid concluding chapters of an academic volume I have read in recent memory so I wanted to provide a brief summary in hopes that readers might pick it up and attend to the essays in The Greek Verb Revisited (pages 626-35 in The Greek Verb Revisited: A Fresh Approach for Biblical Exegesis; eds. Steven E. Runge and Christopher J. Fresch;Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2016). This volume is a collection of papers presented at Cambridge University’s 2015 Linguistics and Greek Verb Conference. There several presenters addressed the current paradigm of the Greek verb, rooting in the Porter/Fanning debate. The key issue of the conference and this volume might be stated in the form of a question: To what degree is verbal aspect related to the subjective portray of temporality of the action from the viewpoint of the speaker? To get at the idea another way, the question might be stated: What weight should interpreters of texts place on an author/speaker’s choice of aspectual grammaticalization, aware that the idea in view could have been expressed by at least one other aspectual frame?

Horrocks notes that for Greek authors/speakers, being forced to make a choice between oppositional tense forms is not the same as being able to make such choices; not every verbal expression is the hard and fast choice of the author/speaker (627). Nonetheless each choice of aspect should be investigated as such, yet not without at least some reference to subjective time. Horrocks writes that “While viewpoint aspect is indeed an essentially ‘temporal’ category, it is one that has little or nothing to do with the actual temporal properties of the situation described, whether in terms of its location in time or of its duration/punctuality” (630). Horrocks suggests that lexical aspectuality more precisely expresses viewpoint than does grammaticalized aspectual opposition, the latter being vague and abstract (630). But oppositional choice still matters, a notion reinforced by the fact the Greek augment corresponds to secondary endings and the expression of past time (often framing the action from a perfective viewpoint) (631). Horrocks observes that oppositional grammatical aspect is so vague that when an aorist or present is out of its normal character (futuristic aorists and historical presents), “There is always a contextual cue for the listener/reader to suppress the unwanted component of meaning” (632).

What about the perfect tense form, the focus of several essays in the volume and perhaps the crux of grammatical aspect studies in Greek verbs? In what seems a bit of a sarcasm, Horrocks writes, “But if we simply understand the Greek perfect to require an eventuality to be understood as homogeneous, non terminative, and continuing at least up to a temporal reference point (usually the present), and then allow any further characterization of that eventuality, together with the exact nature of the subject’s participation in it, to be determined by lexical factors, this definition could indeed apply equally well to the perfects of all verbs” (633). It is thus complexive. Horrocks notes that this matrix of ideas results in the perfect tense-form, on occasion, communicating a passive nuance such that the subject is the carrier of the property in view even when the subject is in the active voice (634). The perfect is thus “a facultative option that may be deployed for clarity and explicitness rather than a true third choice in the grammaticalized system of viewpoint aspect” (634).

In How to Read a Book Mortimer Adler and Charles Van Doren state that when evaluating a book, the reviewer must understand the aims of the books author(s). Did the author(s) accomplish what they set out to do? serves as the point of departure. The same criterion might hold true for evaluating the work of editors.

What do Peter Williams and Dirk Jongkind set out to do in The Tyndale House Greek New Testament? Their goal is to employ conservative, minimalistic editorial practices to produce a readable, children’s version of the Greek text. Yes, a children’s version, quips Peter Williams.

That statement caught my attention too. In what follows I will briefly survey the rationale Williams and Jongkind employ, observe some of the initial results of the publication of the THGNT and with childlike faith make a few predictions about what is to come. Dan Wallace, Todd Scacewater, Peter Gurry and others have written thorough reviews before the release. My brief thoughts here are based upon presentations by Williams and Jongkind at Crossway’s official release of the THGNT on Wednesday, Nov 15 and papers each read on Thursday, Nov 16 at the annual meeting of the Evangelical Theological Society.

A Children’s Greek New Testament

I am playing a bit on Williams’ hyperbole but his statement frames one of the initial, albeit ironic coming from a scholarly institution like Tyndale House, goals. Willaims and Jongkind want the THGNT to be read for pleasure, enjoyed no less than a bookish child grabs his favorite volume whenever the occasion would allow (think the boy C. S. Lewis at his childhood home, Little Lea). What means have the editors employed to accomplish this end? This may be the wrong question to ask. Better, What do the editors remove or restrict of elements standard in a critical edition of the Greek New Testament (cf. NA28) in order to facilitate a childlike reading experience? They:

1. Remove all symbols from the body of the text. There are no sigla indicating when witnesses disagree in some way with the wording adopted in the THGNT; no font changes marking Old Testament citations; no cross-reference listings.
2. Provide a limited critical apparatus (and corresponding list of witnesses provided in the Introduction). For instance, pages 386-87(facing) listing 2 Cor 5:4-7:3, have no critical apparatus. This is indeed remarkable. NA28 averages more than 10 lines of critical apparatus per page, and no page lacks an apparatus listing. Williams and Jongkind argue that freeing the wording from excessive text critical clutter facilitates a more pleasurable reading experience, implicitly fostering a love for the Greek New Testament scriptures. And, they offer, a basic Appendix of witnesses (with no gothic letters) proves more accessible for readers.
3. Following the table of contents, begin the book with the Gospel of Matthew and place the Introduction at the end. Williams and Jongkind suggest that a lengthy, symbol laden Introduction intimidates some readers and impedes the free, enthusiastic experience they wish to supply.

Conservative, Minimalistic Editorial Practices

Williams and Jongkind use as their base text Samuel Prideaux Tregelles’s 1872 edition of the Greek New Testament. They note that Tregelles’s text influenced Westcott and Hort’s influential 1881 critical text and thus the Nestle-Aland tradition of texts (505). Tregelles’s text provides an apt basis for two other reasons: it is based on documents noted for their antiquity, and as such provides a basis for comparison with papyri witnesses discovered after to 1872. So what text critical editorial practices do Williams and Jongkind employ to produce a children’s Greek New Testament? It turns out, some highly sophisticated and restrained steps. Here I survey just a few that the editors note in their launch and ETS presentations (see further the Introduction of the THGNT and their blog [http://www.tyndale.cam.ac.uk/thgnt_blog/]). The editors:

1. Require a reading to be attested by two or more Biblical witnesses dating to the fifth century or earlier. This step prioritizes majuscules like Vaticanus, Sinaiticus and Alexandrinus—along with many papyri—and eliminates the citation of church fathers or the versions of the Biblical text in other languages. Fewer than ten minuscules are cited in the list of witnesses.
2. Employ the textual features of these witnesses in both the wording and presentation of the text in the THGNT. This is where Williams and Jongkind’s work is not child’s play. Upon looking at the Table of Contents the reader will note that the order of the Epistles does not match the order followed in most English or Greek texts. Following the order of many ancient witnesses, the editors place the Catholic Epistles immediately after Acts, followed by the traditional Pauline Epistles, Hebrews and Revelation. Combing the witnesses cited, the editors have placed paragraph divisions where two or more of their source texts agree. What will capture the reader’s eye immediately is the way paragraphs have reverse indentation (ekthesis) such that the first line is moved left and the following lines of the paragraph appear indented (though they are flush with normal margins). Much more could be said about where these breaks occur and how these will affect the reading (and exegesis and preaching) of the New Testament. Among the more noteworthy are new paragraphs beginning at John 1:18 (not 1:19), Rom 3:19 (not 3:21), Gal 5:2 (not 5:1). The editors note also that in many places in 1 Peter breaks are often consistent with an elited εἰμί. But the editors are not content to display just the macro features of the witnesses. By identifying where (especially Vaticanus) distinguishes the long ει from ι, the THGNT at times preserves ει where ι might be expected (and represent the lexical form of the word). Though this is not done consistently throughout the books, γίνομαι, for example, as γείνομαι captures the readers eye.
3. Account for (unconscious) scribal habits to explain variants. Over the last several decades, scribal habits have been looked upon pejoratively, the editors argue, such that scribes are often thought to be theologically motivated in adjusting the text this way or that. But Williams and Jongkind bring a grown-up and mature perspective to their editorial work, identifying scribal habits in the pre-sixth century witnesses and allowing these an opportunity to explain the variants as well. For instance, I asked Jongkind the rationale for including φόνοι (murder) in Paul’s list of fleshly acts in Gal 5:21. This is a peculiar choice on the part of the editors because its inclusion makes it a longer reading (when generally a shorter is preferred) and goes against the united witness of three esteemed pre-sixth century witnesses, P46, Sinaiticus and Vaticanus. Jongkind noted that the scribal habit in lists differs from other sections of text: in lists, scribes would likely omit rather than add, making the addition the more difficult reading—especially since φόνοι in Gal 5:21 follows the similarly pronounced φθόνοι (envy).

Millions of Readers: Prospects by Faith

Williams states that he hopes the THGNT will provide such a pleasurable reading experience that in the years to come a reformation of reading the Greek New Testament will ensue. Crossway fulfills their role, producing a beautiful, durable book that provides an enjoyable reading experience. It is noteworthy that Crossway has produced the THGNT in such a way that not one place does a word split on two lines and require a hyphen(!). Likewise, the text of the THGNT is placed online free of charge and can thus be used globally for not only reading but a basis of Bible translation.

The editors note that at present they are aware of a few errors in the apparatus of the THGNT, and I predict that further evaluation will lead to the production of what might be called the THGNT2 within the next five to ten years. I further predict that the forthcoming commentary on textual decisions will be a landmark event, providing new windows for evaluating especially the paragraph marking features of the ancient witnesses and the scribal habits therein. Because the THGNT does not take into account the use of the scriptures by the Church Fathers or the versions—and limits its textual base to pre-sixth century texts—it will not soon replace the Nestle-Aland tradition as the standard critical edition. But at the moment that is not the intent of the editors. Over time, however, with the forthcoming commentary and revisions, I predict it will doubtless provide scholars a base for pursuing the original wordings of the New Testament and become a necessary tool for both beginning and advanced students of the Greek text. The THGNT will quickly move from the children’s section and begin to traverse the entire bookstore.

Dr. Jason Duesing, Provost of Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and College, invited a few faculty members to participate in a panel discussion regarding doctoral studies. I enjoyed the questions from students and wish to summarize my thoughts here.

I suggest four factors might compel a student to pursue a PhD:
1. Content. The PhD allows students to devote their time to a specific area of interest, mastering its content. The PhD curriculum becomes an all-you-can eat buffet. Some dishes are tasty and some will not get a second helping, but the student makes the choices and discovers the tastes for himself. And there is joy here. For the student who, after completing the Master’s degree, yet finds himself wandering the library, combing the bibliographies of his favorite books, the PhD is for him.

2. Context. And as a student engages the content specific to his area of research, be becomes aware that all literature–not just the New or Old Testament–has a context. In the PhD program, seminars and directed studies aim to help the student engage a content domain with a view to understanding the broad scope of that literature: why it was written, when it was written; specific authors and texts in conversation with other specific authors and texts. Investigating the context of a specific content domain often launches the student to his dissertation issue but can also equip the student to engage a number of issues related to that sphere of literature. For instance, my dissertation is an investigation of the background and worldview that might explain the Epistle to the Hebrews. Studying the background of Hebrews specifically required me to study the literature of the ancient world, both Greco-Roman and Jewish, generally. I learned to read through–as opposed to skipping around in– many of the Dead Sea Scrolls and Roman historians. One of the more famous historians is Suetonius and his Lives of the Caesars, biographies of twelve Roman Emperors from Julius Caesar to Domitian. Suetonius provides much of what we know about these Roman leaders; like any good biographer Suetonius sketches their greatness and weaknesses.

This kind of background knowledge, sensitivity to context of literature, equips the student to disarm arguments that might skew these background sources. In How Jesus Became God (HarperOne, 2014), Bart Ehrman suggests that Jesus’s incarnation should be understood in light of ancient divine birth stories like that of Augustus (Octavian), Julius Caesar’s nephew who succeeded him upon the throne (p. 29). Ehrman offers Suetonius as his source for Augustus’s divine status. Suetonius reports that he had read that Augustus’s mother had been impregnated by Apollo via a serpent as she slept in his temple. The context of Suetonius’s account is vitally important. The Roman historian does not offer this account at the beginning of his record of Augustus’s life, like Matthew and Luke, but 80% of the way through his account of Augustus’s life (Divius Augustus, XCIV). This legend of Augustus’s birth follows several pages of Augustus’s attitude toward religion (superstition), a section that reads like an appendix. Here Suetonius notes that Augustus carried a seal skin with him in hopes it would protect him from lightening and thunder–of which he was severely afraid (Divius Augustus, XC). In the same section Suetonius records that when Augustus began to speak he was at his grandfather’s country estate, suffering from a blight of noisy frogs. When Augustus spoke his first words the frogs were silenced “and they say that since then no frog has ever croaked there” (Divius Augustus, XCIV). This is the stuff of folklore, offered with a wink. The context of Suetonius’s account of the birth of Augustus differs widely from the literary context–not to mention the logic–of the Gospel accounts of Jesus’s birth.

3.Conviction. Here I speak personally. For me, engaging the Dead Sea Scrolls, apocryphal and pseudepigraphal texts, and Greco-Roman historians–while meditating on Hebrews in Greek–settled in my mind that the authors of the New Testament distinguished themselves from authors of other literature: they understood the answers to life’s quest to have arrived in Jesus. Jesus’s death and resurrection fulfilled humanity’s great longing for liberation–a theme common to nearly all background texts. As God in the flesh, Jesus defeated the great enemy of humanity, the devil, and assured eternal life with God for His followers. The quest of the ages had been fulfilled in Jesus Christ

4. Confidence. In my case, Content led to Context, and Context to Conviction. And Conviction was followed by Confidence. I shared in an MBTS chapel sermon (http://www.mbts.edu/video-speaker/dr-todd-chipman/) that completing the PhD made me a better pastor because I now enjoy greater confidence in the New Testament. I am able to deal more aptly with those who doubt its integrity; I can disarm the skeptics because I understand the world of the New Testament and its literary background. Because I know Content and Context I am equipped to explain the message of the New Testament. In my mind, the burden of proof has been shifted from me to those who opposed the New Testament and the message of Jesus. It is in this sense that the PhD is widely valuable. Few are the jobs to teach professionally in a Christian college or seminary. But if the PhD is done well, the student will not worry about getting a job because he will be useful in whatever capacity God has him. See MBTS PhD graduate Rusty Osborne’s article for further thoughts along this line (https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/phds-build-character-more-than-careers).

But there are a few factors that should give potential PhD students pause:

1. Family. If a student’s spouse is not well and supportive, his marriage will take a hit. The PhD demands extra time and long hours and personal discipline that can escalate the tensions of life. If the student is a man and is not leading wife and children spirituality then the PhD will be of little value.

2. Fellowship. Most PhD students enrolling in an Evangelical institution are serving in a church in some capacity. And the PhD curriculum will infringe upon time and energy the church might be expecting to be theirs. Thus the student must be open with the church about his desires and help the leaders around him to understand the value the PhD will bring to the church as a whole. I do not suggest that a student begin the PhD after just a few years of service in a church nor do I advocate completing the PhD and resigning hastily to take up a position accessible only with a PhD. Best to sell the PhD to a church and then let them enjoy the fruit of it.

3. Finances. Tuition is costly, and books and materials will need to be purchased as well. If the student is not financially sound, the bills can cause tensions on (1) and (2) above. God provides but the student must be wise to discern the costs involved in higher education.

More could be said, but these factors provide a frame for discerning God’s direction. For further consideration, the student may wish to engage resources like Adler and VanDoren’s classic How to Read a Book, The Craft of Research by Booth and Colomb, et. al., and How to Get a PhD by Phillips and Pugh. A few weeks ago, upon the publication of volume one of The Lost Sermons of C. H. Spurgeon, President Jason Allen asked Dr. Christian George to retrace his journey with Spurgeon from his PhD studies to the present. Dr. George commented, “my doctorate was the most spiritual time of my life.” May it be so for the next generation of doctoral students at MBTS or wherever God would take them.