Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics [1 — 2012] 9781620327340, 1620327341

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Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics Volume 1 — 2012 Contents WALLY V. CIRAFESI e1xein pi/stin in Hellenistic Greek and its Contribution to the pi/stij Xristou= Debate

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GREGORY P. FEWSTER Testing the Intertextuality of mataio/thj in the New Testament

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HUGHSON ONG Language Choice in Ancient Palestine: A Sociolinguistic Study of Jesus’ Language Use Based on Four “I Have Come” Sayings

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STEVEN E. RUNGE Relative Saliency and Information Structure in Mark’s Parable of the Sower

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Ancient Sources Index Modern Authors Index

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Senior Editors Professor Dr. Stanley E. Porter Dr. Matthew Brook O’Donnell Assistant Editors Gregory P. Fewster Wally V. Cirafesi Editorial Board Dr. Martin Culy (Briercrest College and Seminary, Canada) Dr. Paul Danove (Villanova University, USA) Dr. Matthew Brook O’Donnell (University of Michigan, USA | McMaster Divinity College, Canada) Professor Dr. Stanley E. Porter (McMaster Divinity College, Canada) Dr. Catherine Smith (University of Birmingham, UK) Dr. Jonathan Watt (Geneva College, USA) Dr. Cynthia Long Westfall (McMaster Divinity College, Canada) Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics (BAGL) is an international journal that exists to further the application of modern linguistics to the study of Ancient and Biblical Greek, with a particular focus on the analysis of texts, including but not restricted to the Greek New Testament. The journal is hosted by McMaster Divinity College and works in conjunction with its Centre for Biblical Linguistics, Translation and Exegesis and the OpenText.org organization (www.opentext.org) in the sponsoring of conferences and symposia open to scholars and students researching in Greek linguistics who are interested in contributing to advancing the discussion and methods of the field of research. BAGL is a refereed on-line and print journal dedicated to distributing the results of significant research in the area of linguistic theory and application to biblical and ancient Greek,

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and is open to all scholars, not just those connected to the Centre and the OpenText.org project. Accepted pieces are in the first instance posted on-line in page-consistent pdf format, and then (except for reviews) are published in print form each volume year. This format ensures timely posting of the most recent work in Greek linguistics with consistently referencable articles then available in permanent print form. Submissions to BAGL BAGL accepts submissions in five categories, and manuscripts are to be labeled as such at the time of submission: Articles Explorations Notes Responses Reviews/Review articles

Submissions should follow the BAGL style-guide which can be found at http://bagl.org, and should include an abstract, not longer than 100 words, two to six keywords, and identification of the type of article (which will be noted at the time of posting and publication). Submissions not following the style-guide will be returned to the author for revision before being considered by the editors. Submissions should be sent in electronic form (Word or RTF) to Stanley E. Porter at [email protected]. Assessment and response will be made within approximately two months of submission. Accepted submissions should be posted online within two months of acceptance. The online form of BAGL is found at http://bagl.org. Copyright © 2012 Wipf and Stock Publishers. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical publications or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publisher. Write: Permissions, Wipf and Stock, 199 W. 8th Ave., Eugene, OR 97401. ISBN 13: 978-1-62032-734-0 www.wipfandstock.com Manufactured in the U.S.A.

[BAGL 1 (2012) 5–37]

e1xein pi/stin IN HELLENISTIC GREEK AND ITS CONTRIBUTION TO THE pi/stij Xristou= DEBATE* Wally V. Cirafesi McMaster Divinity College, Hamilton, ON, Canada Abstract: This article argues that the construction e1xein pi/stin in Hellenistic Greek is a nominalized ideational metaphor that is semantically related to the finite verb pisteu/ein. Therefore, when the construction possesses a genitive modifier, the function of the genitive is disambiguated as denoting the object of pi/stin. This understanding of e1xein pi/stin + the genitive has significant implications for interpreting the construction in Mark 11:22, Jas 2:1, and Hippolytus’s De Antichristo 61:26. (Article) Keywords: pi/stij Xristou=, Greek linguistics, nominalization, grammatical metaphor, Mark 11:22, Jas 2:1, Hippolytus

This article will address a specific linguistic issue that has direct relevance for the pi/stij Xristou= debate but lies outside of the Pauline corpus. It will examine the semantics of the construction e1xein pi/stin + a genitive modifier in Hellenistic Greek, including the New Testament,1 and consider how this construction informs an understanding of pi/stij Xristou= in early Christian literature. In doing this, a theory of grammatical metaphor will be employed from the perspective of Systemic Functional Linguistics (SFL) to argue two points: (1) that e1xein pi/stin is a * I wish to thank Professor Gerald W. Peterman for introducing me to the significance of the e1xein pi/stin construction in the New Testament. I also wish to thank my colleague, Gregory Fewster, for bringing to my attention the theory of grammatical metaphor and for his many helpful comments during the writing of this paper. 1. I.e., in Mark 11:22: e1xete pi/stin qeou=; and Jas 2:1: e1xete th\n pi/stin tou= kuri/ou h9mw~n I)hsou= Xristou= th=j do/chj.

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nominalized ideational metaphor2 that is semantically related to its congruent paradigmatic variant pisteu/ein, and (2) that e1xein pi/stin disambiguates the function of a genitive modifier as the object of its head term. Furthermore, it will be demonstrated that while the expressions e1xein pi/stin and pisteu/ein are semantically related, the difference between them is primarily a functional one. Before entering this theoretical discussion in more detail, a very brief survey will be given of the current status of linguistics in the pi/stij Xristou= debate. The Role of Linguistics in the pi/stij Xristou= Debate3 Debate over the meaning of pi/stij Xristou= in the New Testament shows no sign of diminishing. Within the last fifty years or so, objectivists (“faith in Christ”) and subjectivists (“the faith[fulness] of Christ”) alike have published extensively, arguing for their particular view on the genitive case, the meaning of pi/stij and why their view fits best within the scope of Pauline theology.4 More recently, a “third view” has emerged, proposing alternate adjectival renderings for the construction

2. Although they are broadly related, this sort of metaphorical expression needs to be distinguished from lexical metaphor, which primarily deals with the meaning potential of individual words. Grammatical metaphor, on the other hand, primarily deals with the meaning potential inherent in lexicogrammatical structures. 3. For a more comprehensive review of recent research, see Easter, “The Pistis Christou Debate,” 33–47. 4. See, for example, Peterman, “Notes”; Harrisville, “Witness of the Fathers”; Howard, “Notes”; Williams, “Again Pistis Christou”; Johnson, “Rom 3:21–26”; Campbell, “Romans 1:17”; Choi, “pi/stij in Galatians 5:5–6”; Hultgren, “Pistis Christou”; Foster, “Ephesians 3.12”; Pollard, “The ‘Faith of Christ’”; Taylor, “pi/stij Xristou= in Galatians”; Matlock, “Detheologizing the pi/stij Xristou= Debate”; Matlock, “Even the Demons Believe”; Matlock, “The Rhetoric of pi/stij in Paul”; Lee, “Against Hays”; Bird and Sprinkle (eds.), The Faith of Jesus Christ; Dunn, “Once More, pi/stij Xristou=”; and Easter, “The Pistis Christou Debate.”

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(the “Christic-faith” or “faith from Christ”).5 Additionally, while the discussion has primarily remained within the Pauline corpus (e.g., Rom 3:22; Gal 2:16; 3:22; Phil 3:9), several studies have included the broader scope of the New Testament and other early Christian texts.6 Yet as one becomes familiar with the literature, one will recognize that, at their core, all three views have been primarily motivated by hermeneutical and theological concerns.7 This is rather unsettling, since in the end what is being judged in the debate is a question of language. The imposition of a theological paradigm in order to determine Paul’s linguistic intentions runs the risk of misrepresenting Paul’s own communicative processes. Nevertheless, it appears that many scholars, if not most, have abandoned the notion of solving the pi/stij Xristou= conundrum on linguistic grounds alone. In a 1989 article, Morna Hooker made the now well-known statement that the debate “cannot be settled on the basis of appeals to grammatical construction alone,” and that it “can be settled only by exegesis.”8 There are some who have disagreed with Hooker’s sentiments and so have continued to pursue various linguistic routes in an attempt to solve the problem. The recent works of Matlock,9 Lee,10 and

5. See Williams, “Righteousness of God,” 241–90; Sprinkle, “pi/stij Xristou= as an Eschatological Event,” 165–84. 6. Wallis, The Faith of Jesus Christ; Harrisville, “Witness of the Fathers”; Lowe, “James 2:1”; Bird and Whitenton, “Overlooked Patristic Evidence.” 7. Easter has noted this as well (“Pistis Christou,” 42–44). See also Hays, “pi/stij and Pauline Christology,” 35–60. 8. Hooker, “pi/stij Xristou=,” 321. Peterman echoes this sentiment in his recent article: “As most agree, its ambiguity calls the exegete to search for arguments beyond mere syntax in order to establish the nuance of the phrase” (“Notes,” 163). 9. Matlock, “Detheologizing the pi/stij Xristou= Debate,” 1–23; Matlock, “Even the Demons Believe,” 300–318; Matlock, “The Rhetoric of pi/stij in Paul,” 173–203. 10. Lee, “Against Hays,” 51–80.

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Porter and Pitts11 are good examples of linguistically oriented approaches to pi/stij Xristou=, particularly as found in Paul.12 In light of this trend, the present work will align more with the work of Matlock, Lee, and Porter and Pitts insofar as they approach the conversation from a linguistic point of view. The uniqueness of this paper, however, lies in its scope, that is, in specifically addressing the meaning of the construction e1xein pi/stin + genitive modifier as it occurs in Mark 11:22, Jas 2:1, and De Antichristo 61:26—all of which have been used in the pi/stij Xristou= debate. To this end, the following section sets forth a theory of grammatical metaphor, which will be applied in the analysis of these texts. Grammatical Metaphor and Nominalization Grammatical metaphor theory finds its origins in SFL. The notion of “system” refers to the network of available semantic options within a language from which a speaker or writer can make meaningful choices.13 Language users possess sets of semantic paradigms that are realized in the use of linguistic forms.14 Language is “functional” inasmuch as it is used by individuals (or communities) to do or accomplish certain things. This understanding of functionality has two components. First, it takes into consideration the semantic function that a grammatical form has in an instance of language use. The focus here is what the form, via its meaning, is doing in its co-text.15 Second,

11. Porter and Pitts, “pi/stij with a Preposition and Genitive Modifier,” 33–53, although even Porter and Pitts concede that the debate will not be solved by grammar alone given the fact that there are other issues at stake in the debate (53). 12. Interestingly, each of these studies concludes in support of an objective reading of the genitive. 13. Berry, Introduction to Systemic Linguistics, 1:142–92. 14. Reed, Philippians, 36. 15. Berry, Introduction to Systemic Linguistics, 1:22–23; Butler, Systemic Linguistics, 148–49. “Co-text” is here defined as “linguistic units that are part

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functionality concerns the idea that the semantic roles encoded in linguistic forms relate to definite social scenarios.16 According to Halliday, the relationship between social context and language is expressed via three metafunctions of language: the ideational, interpersonal, and textual. Here, the discussion must be limited to the first and last of these functions. The ideational metafunction refers to the use of language for the purpose of understanding the environment of one’s human experience, focusing on a language’s ability to relate the different “processes, events, states, actions, ideas, participants, and circumstances of our experience, including both phenomena of the external world and those of one’s consciousness.”17 In Greek, as well as in English, verbs are the primary carrier of ideational meaning,18 and so it is here within the ideational metafunction that the most time will be spent with reference to grammatical metaphor and nominalization. The textual metafunction deals with the semantic and grammatical continuity and the thematic element of a discourse in such a way as to provide the discourse with linguistic cohesion.19 Moreover, textual meanings are directly influenced by their particular social scenario; how a text is organized—semantically and grammatically—is directly influenced by its contextual situation and mode of lexico-grammatical realization.20 Thompson gives a concise yet helpful definition of grammatical metaphor. He defines the concept as the “possibility of a discourse and, more specifically, linguistic units that surround a particular point in the discourse” (Reed, Philippians, 42). 16. See Brown and Yule, Discourse Analysis, 245–46. Halliday calls this notion the “context of situation.” See also Melrose’s discussion on register, although it is based on Fawcett’s approach to systemic linguistics, not Halliday’s (Melrose, “Systemic Linguistics,” 78–93 [81]). 17. Reed, Philippians, 59. Cf. Halliday, Functional Grammar, xiii; Halliday and Hasan, Cohesion in English, 238. 18. Thompson, Functional Grammar, 87; Ravelli, “Grammatical Metaphor,” 134. 19. Halliday and Hasan, Cohesion in English, 27. See also Reed, Philippians, 60. 20. Halliday and Hasan, “Text and Context,” 6–91 (12).

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of re-setting the relationships between meanings and wordings, which is a central resource for expanding the meaning potential of language.”21 For example, when the semantic choice [+PROCESS] is realized in its typical manner, as a verb, then the realization is congruent.22 However, metaphor occurs when a choice is realized in a non-typical manner, for example, when the choice [+PROCESS] is made but is expressed in the grammar as [+THING], that is, as a noun.23 An example from English may be helpful here.24 (1) Congruent realization of [+PROCESS]: He decided to go on vacation last week. (2) Choice of [+PROCESS] realized metaphorically as [+THING]: His decision to go on vacation was made last week.

In this example, the two expressions are semantically related; both realize a process meaning, yet example (1) construes experience congruently through the use of a verb while example (2) construes experience metaphorically through the use of a

21. Thompson, Functional Grammar, 220. 22. Ravelli helps to clarify what I mean here by using the term “typical.” She says it “refers to the expected flow-on of choices between the various linguistic levels and ranks” (“Grammatical Metaphor,” 134). Also helpful is her comment regarding the relationship between congruent and metaphorical forms: “Further it should be emphasized that metaphorical forms are not permutations of congruent forms: one does not ‘become’ the other; there is no ‘base form.’ Each is a lexicogrammatical form arrived at by a pass through the system network: they are independent realizations, but share a certain core meaning” (“Grammatical Metaphor,” 135). 23. Since I am concerned with the semantic category of PROCESS, this example of metaphor can be specifically labeled as ideational metaphor. On the notion of interpersonal metaphor, see Halliday, Functional Grammar, 626–35; Thompson, Functional Grammar, 231–35. Thompson also includes a section on textual metaphors (235–36), whereas Halliday does not. Halliday seems to believe that ideational and interpersonal metaphors have implications for the textual metafunction, rather than there being a separate category of textual metaphor. 24. The example is borrowed from Halliday, “Language and Knowledge,” 170–71.

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noun. Thus, in (2) the verb has undergone a nominalization.25 Therefore, it can be said that the verb decide and the noun decision are agnates of one another.26 They are paradigmatic variants that, although semantically related, differ in that the noun decision combines both a “process” meaning and a “thing” meaning. This is what Halliday has termed “semantic junction.”27 At this point, a brief comment is needed with regard to the proposal that e1xein pi/stin represents a nominalization. It is suggested here that it grammaticalizes a specific kind of nominalized expression, that being, a PROCESS + RANGE structure. In these sorts of expressions “the process is reconstrued as a participant and is combined with a new process with the general sense of ‘perform.’”28 Nominalization occurs in the realization of the RANGE (i.e., pi/stin), which enters into syntagmatic relationship with a process verb that takes a “performance” meaning. However, such verbs are essentially “semantically empty,” with the bulk of the clausal meaning being carried by the noun.29 Examples from English of PROCESS + RANGE expressions are abundant: “take a shower,” “have a nap,” “make a mistake.” All of these examples are PROCESS + RANGE ideational metaphors that represent verbal processes that have been 25. See Halliday, Functional Grammar, 656–58; Ravelli, “Grammatical Metaphor,” 13–35; Thompson, Functional Grammar, 225–27; Heyvaert, “Nominalization as Grammatical Metaphor,” 19. 26. Ravelli, “Grammatical Metaphor,” 141; Heyvaert, “Nominalization as Grammatical Metaphor,” 71–72. 27. Halliday, Functional Grammar, 637–38; Halliday, “On Language,” 419; cf. Halliday, “On the ‘Architechture,’” 22. Thus, in the construction e1xein pi/stin, the choice of [+PROCESS] realized as [+THING] also qualifies as a semantic junction. 28. Halliday, Functional Grammar, 651. 29. Halliday, “Grammatical Metaphor,” 10. Thompson likewise notes concerning the PROCESS+RANGE nominalization, “In other cases, the process contributes relatively little to the meaning of the clause. It may be a lexically empty verb that combines with the following nominalization (functioning as SCOPE [what Halliday calls RANGE]) to express the process” (Functional Grammar, 227). See also Ravelli, “Grammatical Metaphor,” 142.

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nominalized.30 e1xein pi/stin can be seen to fit this category since it metaphorically realizes the verbal process “believe” as a nominalization in a PROCESS+RANGE construction.31 Criteria, Motivation, and e1xein pi/stin as Ideational Metaphor In this section, several questions need to be answered. First, how does one determine whether a form is congruent or metaphorical? That is, what makes pisteu/ein the congruent mode and e1xein pi/stin the metaphorical mode? Second, what motivates the use of ideational metaphor and what difference does it make when a speaker/writer chooses to employ a metaphorical form? Third, is the proposal that e1xein pi/stin is an ideational metaphor a valid one in Hellenistic Greek? In establishing a method for evaluating congruence and metaphor, Halliday’s comments are helpful concerning the “continuum of concretization” in which various shifts take place when grammatical metaphors are used. He says: The general drift is, in fact, a drift towards the concrete, whereby each element is reconstructed in the guise of one that lies further towards the pole of stability and persistence through time. Thus, entities are more stable than qualities, and qualities than processes. 32

According to Halliday, there is a continuum of metaphorical usage that starts with the less concrete and moves toward the more concrete. For him, since processes are less concrete than 30. Somewhat similar to the concept of PROCESS+RANGE is Fawcett’s discussion on main verb extensions (see Fawcett, Systemic Functional Linguistics, 183–88). Outside of SFL, these constructions are often referred to as “light verbs.” Napoli, Syntax, 98, gives the example “She took care of them” (italics mine), in which the verb take “tells us the actual activity that occurred or state that existed. The entire string, then, is the predicate […]. For this reason, verbs like take, when used as in [this example] are often called LIGHT VERBS. They are semantically lightweight.” See also Butt, “The Light Verb Jungle.” 31. Halliday, “Grammatical Metaphor,” 10, and Ravelli, “Grammatical Metaphor,” 142. 32. Halliday, “Language and Knowledge,” 169.

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entities, a speaker/writer is more likely to realize a process metaphorically as a thing rather than the other way around. The chief reason a speaker/writer chooses to employ metaphorical language in the first place is to bring what is abstract into a more concrete experience for his or her recipients.33 This is precisely what occurs with the use of ideational metaphors—a more abstract process is realized as a more concrete thing for the purpose of increased tangibility. In this way, nominalization is a primary criterion for determining an occurrence of ideational metaphor: if it can be said that the choice [+PROCESS] has been realized in the grammar as a noun, then the nominal expression represents an ideational metaphor and is thus semantically related to its verbal congruent agnate. Further, as Halliday notes, an ideational metaphor can be interpreted against the backdrop of its congruent variant.34 His point here is significant, since there are several instances in Greek literature where the congruent expression pisteu/ein is used along side of the metaphorical e1xein pi/stin. To address the second question, there are at least two motivating factors for the use of ideational metaphor. One lies in the manner in which a speaker/writer wishes to re-construe reality for his or her listener/reader.35 Since the ideational metafunction is concerned with how language is used to express the realm of human experience, ideational metaphors are likewise concerned with the construal of human experience. However, this concern is expressed through transcategorization, that is, through the semantic category [+PROCESS] being realized in the lexicogrammar as [+THING].36 Thus, ideational metaphors 33. See also Halliday and Matthiessen, Construing Experience through Meaning, 233. 34. Halliday, Functional Grammar, 637. See also Ravelli, “Grammatical Metaphor,” 138, where she mentions the usefulness of transitivity analyses in revealing ideational metaphors. 35. Halliday, “On the ‘Architecture,’” 20–22; Halliday, “On Language,” 420–22. 36. The concept of transcategorization is similar to that of semantic junction.

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allow a reader/listener to experience less tangible processes as more concrete things.37 The second motivation for the use of ideational metaphor concerns its implications for the textual metafunction. Here, two points can be made. First, when a process is realized metaphorically as a thing, it can then be treated textually as a participant in the discourse similar to other things/entities.38 Second, ideational metaphor provides the language user with a resource to modify processes in such a way that may be more difficult for congruent expressions.39 Halliday himself gives an example of this using the English words believe and belief. Whereas belief can be assigned an Epithet such as firmly entrenched (thus, a firmly entrenched belief) such an Epithet cannot be assigned to the verb believe; modification would have to come through another semantic choice such as [+CIRCUMSTANCE] [+MANNER] and realized grammatically by an adverb: “he believed strongly.” Below it will be argued that these two points on the textual functions of ideational metaphor can be seen in the use of the construction e1xein pi/stin + genitive modifier. The answer to the third question—is the concept of ideational metaphor applicable to ancient Greek?—is yes. The following analysis of e1xein pi/stin in Hellenistic literature provides support for this assertion.40 There are two goals in conducting this analysis. First, the relation between the semantic choice realized in the metaphorical expression as compared to its congruent expression will be highlighted. The focus here will be to show that e1xein pi/stin is used as an expression of one’s “belief,” “confidence,” or “trust,” and not one’s “faithfulness.” 37. See Halliday, “On Language,” 422. 38. Halliday, Functional Grammar, 638. 39. Halliday, “Grammatical Metaphor,” 10. 40. Although O’Donnell defines Hellenistic Greek as “the extant Greek written by native and non-native language users throughout the Hellenistic and Roman worlds from approximately the fourth century BCE to the fourth century CE” (Corpus Linguistics, 2–3), I will include authors who wrote up to the sixth century CE (e.g., Vita Nicolai Sionitae).

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The second goal of the analysis is to identify the typical function of a genitive modifier of pi/stij when one is present.41 e1xein pi/stin in Hellenistic Greek The following examples demonstrate the criteria, motivation, and semantics of e1xein pi/stin as an ideational metaphor. Examples of e1xein pi/stin without a genitive modifier are: (1) Plutarch, Praec Ger Reipub 812:F:6 e0painou=si de\ kai\ to\n 0Anaflu/stion Eu!boulon, o3ti pi/stin e1xwn e0n toi=j ma/lista kai\ du/namin ou0de\n tw~n 0Ellhnikw~n e1pracen ou0d’ e0pi\ strathgi/an h}lqen (Now, they praised Anaphlustius Euboulus, because, although he had confidence among those who were greatest, and strength too, he practiced nothing of the Greeks’ affairs, nor came upon a commanding post).42 (2) Polybius, Hist. 32:6:5 o3 te ga\r Ma/rkoj, a)rxiereu\j w@n kai\ prw~toj th=j sugklh/tou grafo/menoj, o3 te Leu/kioj o9 to\n Perse/a nikh/saj, megi/sthn e1xwn pi/stin kai\ du/namin, punqano/menoi ta\ pepragme/na tw~| Xa/ropi (For both Markus, who was chief-priest as well as the first who was written about of the Senate, and Lukius, who overcame Per-seus, while having the greatest confidence and strength, learned about the things which had been done to Charops). (3) Diog. Laert., Vit. Phil. 1:78:6 fi/lon mh\ le/gein kakw~j, a)lla\ mhde\ e0xqro/n. eu0se/beian a)skei=n. swfrosu/nhn filei=n. a)lh/qeian e1xein pi/stin, e0mpeiri/an, e0pidecio/thta, e9tairi/an, e0pime/leian (not to speak badly about a friend

41. As will be seen in the analysis, although I am mostly concerned with instances when the construction occurs with an anarthrous use of pi/stij, the paper does not exclude instances where pi/stij occurs with the article. So, for example, in my treatment of Jas 2:1, I will argue that when the construction occurs with the article, it allows pi/stij to enter the system of DETERMINATION, which marks pi/stij as a specific discourse referent that is able to be tracked by the recipient as the discourse unfolds. 42. All translations are mine. Two other examples from Plutarch are: Theseus 1:4:1 and De Capienda 91:A:8.

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Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1 nor an enemy. To practice piety. To love prudence. To have truth, faith, experience, cleverness, unity, [and] diligence). (4) Gregory of Nazianzus, Carmina Moralia 913:13 u3brij pi/stin e1xein e0n xrw&masi, mh\ kardi/h|si43 (arrogance has faith in the surface of the skin, not in the heart). (5) Nonnus, Par Sancti Ev. Joannei 1:206 pi/stin e1xeij e3na mou=non a0qambe/a mu=qon a0kou/saj o3tti se mou=non e1eipon i0dei=n u9po\ puqme/na sukh=j (You have faith because you heard a bold story when I said I saw you under the branch of the fig tree).44

Examples with of e1xein pi/stin with a genitive modifier are: (6) Josephus, Ant. 19:16:1 a!llwj te e0peidh\ kai\ pollh\n e1xei pi/stin tou= qeou= th=j duna/mewj kai\ paramuqi/an toi=j e0n tu/xaij keime/noij (Because it has much faith in the God of power and great encouragement for those who happen to be laid with affliction). (7) Hermas, Pastor 43:9:2 o3tan ou]n e1lqh| o9 a1nqrwpoj o9 e1xwn to\ pneu=ma to\ qei=on ei0j sunagwgh\n a0ndrw~n dikai/wn tw~n e0xo/ntwn pi/stin qei/ou pneu/matoj (Therefore, whenever a person who has the Divine Spirit should come to a gathering of righteous men, who have faith in the divine Spirit). (8) Plutarch, Fab. Max. 5:5:1 tw=| d’ h9 me\n kri/sij pi/stin e1xonti tou= sumfe/rontoj e0n au9th=| be/baioj ei9sthkei kai\ a0meta/ptwtoj (But the decision, for the one who has confidence in a beneficial outcome because of it, stood certain and unchangeable).

43. This spelling and any other unorthodox spellings are according to the TLG text. 44. e1xein pi/stin without a genitive modifier also occurs ten times in the New Testament: Matt 17:20; 21:21; Mark 4:40; Luke 17:6; Acts 14:9; Rom 14:22; 1 Cor 13:2; 1 Tim 1:19; Jas 2:14; Phlm 5.

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(9) Athanasius, De Incarnatione Verbi 29:4:15 poiw~n e0n e9ka/stw| tw~n au0tou= th\n pi/stin e0xo/ntwn kai\ to\ shmei=on tou= staurou= forou/ntwn (Making [death] become quite weak in each of those who have faith in him and who bear the sign of the cross).45 (10) Epiphanius, Panarion 3:351:7 o9 kai\ a0po\ tw~n a0nqrw/pwn tou\j tro/pouj kai\ th\n dia/noian parektre/yaj tw~n th\n su/nesin tou= qeou= kekthme/nwn kai\ th\n pi/stin e0xo/ntwn th=j a0lhqei/aj (And the one among people who perverted the ways and the mind of those who have acquired the knowledge of God and those who have confidence in the truth). (11) Vitae Nicolai Sionitae 59:16–17 kai\ e0gw_ a9martwlo/j ei0mi a1nqrwpoj, e0a\n de\ e1xhte pi/stin qeou=, o9 ku/rioj u9mi=n dou=nai e1xei u9pe\r tw~n e0tw~n w{n e0kopw/qhte (I myself am also a sinful person, but if you should have faith in God, the Lord has the ability to give back to you on behalf of the years for which you have been troubled).46

45. This example is quite interesting for two reasons: (1) the broader context of Athanasius’s discourse is centered on Christ’s victory over death via the cross event, being similar to the message of the Hippolytus text that will be considered later in this paper, and (2) within the same passage, and in close proximity, there are two occurrences of an unambiguous pi/stij word group + Xristo/j construction: th=| pi/stei th=| ei0j Xristo\n and the congruent expression u9po\ tw~n ei0j Xristo\n pisteuo/ntwn. The two unambiguous constructions in the context should help clarify the more ambiguous construction (see a similar argument made in Matlock, “Saving Faith,” 73–89). 46. For other similar examples of the construction, see Acta Pauli et Theclae 17:10; Sophronius, Narratio Miraculorum Sanctorum Cyri et Joannis 7:15; Antiochus, Pandecta Scripturae Sacrae 102:80; Rhetorius, Capitula Selecta (ex Rhetorii Thesauris) (e cod. Paris.gr.2425, fol. 88v) 152:19; Galen, De Compositione Medicamentorum per Genera Libri viii 12:997:16; PseudoJustin Martyr, Quaestiones et Responsiones ad Orthodoxos 491:A:3; Basilius Seleuciensis, Sermones xli 456:29; Aelius Aristides, pro\j pla&twna u9pe\r tw~n tetta&rwn 158:32; Athanasius, Disputatio contra Arium 28:500:23; Labanius, Orationes 1–64 1:70:8; Michael Gabras, Epistulae 20:35; Cyrillus, Collectio Dictorum Veteris Testamenti [Sp] 77:1225:32; Sophronius, Narratio Miraculorum Sanctorum Cyri et Joannis 64:37; Joannes, Adversus Iconoclastas 96:1357:38; Basilius Caesariensis, Adversus Eunomium 29:509:27; Gregorius Acindynus, Refutatio Magna 4:12:52; Maximus Confessor, Ambigua ad

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Each text above illustrates the semantic junction of “process construed as thing,” with the mental process “believe” being expressed in the lexicogrammar as “having belief (or faith or confidence).” This is most clearly seen in examples (5), (6), (7), and (11). The text of Nonnus comes from his Paraphrase of the Gospel of John. Here, he is paraphrasing John 1:50, which recounts the latter part of Jesus’ interaction with Nathaniel. The text as found in the New Testament reads, a0pekri/qh I)hsou=j kai\ ei]pen au0tw~,| o3ti ei]po/n soi o3ti ei]do/n se u9poka/tw th=j sukh=j, pisteu/eij. Interestingly, Nonnus has chosen to grammaticalize the semantics of pisteu/eij in John 1:50 as pi/stin e1xeij in his own text. It can be deduced, then, that for Nonnus the two lexicogrammatical constructions realized very similar semantic choices. This does not mean that they are synonymous, but it does mean that they have significant semantic overlap: they both realize [+PROCESS], but pi/stin e1xeij is a nominalization that construes the process as [+THING]. While the example from Josephus does not have specific cotextual evidence of the congruent mode against which to interpret e1xei pi/stin, the flow of the discourse suggests that one ought to read the construction as a metaphorical realization of the congruent pisteu/ein. Josephus’s text is found within a larger passage that recounts the actions of Caius, a Roman official, who appears to have caused quite a bit of trouble for both Rome and the Jewish nation (Ant. 19:11–16). According to Josephus, it was a very good thing for both the Roman public and the Jews when Caius was killed (Ant. 19:15). In light of this, Josephus is determined to give a thorough history of the turbulent and miserable affairs surrounding Caius and his death (Ant. 19:14– 16), because his account has “much faith in the God of power and encouragement for those who happened to be laid with Thomam 5:175; Athanasius, Orationes tres contra Arianos 26:17:39; Contra gentes 45:14; Didymus Caecus, Fragmenta in Psalmos 1081:6; 1:1:3:42:24; Eusebius, Commentarius in Isaiam 2:57:65; Theodorus Mopsuestenus, Commentarius in xxi Prophetas Minores Am.pr.1:95; Palladius, Dialogus de vita Joannis Chrysostomi 132:27; and Dionysius Halicarnassensis, Antiquitates Romanae 2:75.

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affliction.” Thus, Josephus’s record of the events was meant to spur his readers on to “faith in God” and encourage those impacted by Caius’s actions, and to provide “wisdom for those who think worldly success is eternal” (19:16). Josephus has nominalized the would-be verbal process of “believing strongly in God” by realizing it as a PROCESS+RANGE expression— “having much faith in God.” Examples (7) and (11) provide solid co-textual evidence for reading e1xei pi/stin as an ideational metaphor, since both the congruent and the metaphorical expressions are used in close proximity to one another. The text from Hermas’s Pastor is found in a section that contrasts the “Divine Spirit” with the “Spirit of the earth,” and gives commands for how one might discern between a true prophet and a false prophet (43:5–7). It is said that those who doubt (tw~n diyu/xwn) are those that the false prophet destroys (43:2). It is the doubters (oi9 diyu/xoi) who consult diviners (manteu/ontai) with the result of bringing greater sin upon themselves by committing idolatry (kai\ e9autoi=j mei/zona a(marti/an e0pife/rousin ei0dwlolatrou=ntej, 43:4). In contrast, believers (pistoi/) are not affected by the false prophet, and those who are “strong with faith in the Lord” (i0sxuroi/ ei0sin e0n th=| pi/stei tou= kuri/ou) stay clear of such false spirits (43:4). Further, a true prophet can be identified by the manner in which he interacts with “an assembly of righteous people who have faith in the Divine Spirit” (sunagwgh\n a0ndrw~n dikai/wn tw~n e0xo/ntwn pi/stin qei/ou pneu/matoj). That is, his quality is made known as the assembly prays to God and as the prophet speaks what the Lord wishes (43:9–10). The false prophet, on the other hand, exalts himself (u9yoi= e9auto\n, 43:12) and avoids the assembly of righteous men (ei0j sunagwgh\n a0ndrw~n dikai/wn ou0k e0ggi/zei, a0ll’ a0pofeu/gei au0tou/v, 43:13). In view of this contrast between the true and false prophets, Hermas himself is commanded to believe in the Spirit that comes from God (su\ de\ pi/steue tw~| pneu/mati tw~| e0rxome/nw| a0po\ tou= qeou=, 43:17) and to identify himself with the “assembly of the righteous who have faith in the Divine Spirit,” that is, those who are able to discern between the true and false prophets and between the Divine and earthly spirits. Thus, the expressions

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“having faith in the Divine Spirit” (43:9) and “believe in the Spirit who comes from God” (43:17) can be read in light of one another. The first expression has realized the process of “believing” as an ideational metaphor, as a nominalization of the congruent verb pisteu/ein found a few lines later. In Vitae Nicolai Sionitae, Nicolas, the servant of God, is approached by a man and his wife who are in desperate need of divine help due to a severe famine that has struck their land (59:5–8, 13). The couple has come to Nicolas’s monastery “to worship God, holy Zion, and [Nicolas’s] holiness” (59:9–10), hoping that Nicolas might intercede for them before God. Nicolas shows his piety by first affirming his limitations because of his own sinfulness (kai\ e0gw\ a(martwlo/j ei0mi a1nqrwpoj, 59:16), and then by encouraging the couple to “have faith in God” rather than in him (e0a\n de\ e1xhte pi/stin qeou=, o9 ku/rioj u9mi=n dou=nai e1xei u9pe\r tw~n e0tw~n w{n e0kopw/qhte, 59:16–17). However, most interesting is the couple’s response to Nicolas: dou=le tou= qeou=, h9mei=j pisteu/omen tw~| qew~| kai\ tw~| a0gge/lw| au0tou= (59:18–19). The couple responds to Nicolas’s exhortation (e1xhte pi/stin qeou=) by declaring their belief in God, using the congruent verbal expression pisteu/omen. This response only makes sense if Nicolas had exhorted them earlier to “have faith in God.” e1xein pi/stin and the Disambiguation of the Genitive Case If e1xein pi/stin represents an expression that is semantically related to pisteu/ein, what does this mean for how one understands instances when the construction is modified by a word or phrase in the genitive case? So far, I have assumed in my translations that when a genitive modifies the construction the genitive is “objective.” To justify this assumption, an understanding is needed of (1) the semantics of the genitive case, and (2) how the function of a case is influenced by lexis. In their contribution to the pi/stij Xristou= debate, Porter and Pitts offer helpful treatment of the semantics of the Greek

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case system.47 In doing so, their goal is to elucidate the semantic contribution of the genitive case by establishing a systemic network through which to view it in relation to the other four cases.48 They identify the essential semantic feature of the genitive as [+SPECIFICATION]: “The genitive grammaticalizes a restricting relation with the semantic feature specification in that it specifies, for example, a possessor or a part (partitive), a kind (apposition, epexegetical), or a time (temporal).”49 Thus, a genitive modifier restricts the meaning of a head term via its semantic feature of SPECIFICATION; yet the precise manner in which the genitive does this is determined by context and the genitive’s relationship with the lexical content of the head term.50 This last point is crucial, as it brings the discussion of ideational metaphor into dialogue with case disambiguation. If the metaphorical expression e1xein pi/stin is understood to contain the same essential lexical content as the congruent expression pisteu/ein, then this provides a significant clue as to what the genitive specifies in the larger construction e1xein pi/stin + genitive modifier, that being the “realm” or “object” of “faith.”51 This assertion is further supported by the observation that the two expressions seem to occur in their own unique syntactical frames.52 That is, whereas the relation between the congruent expression pisteu/ein and its object (when there is one present) tends to be marked by a word or word group in the dative (cf. Hermas, Pastor 43:17; Nicolai Sionitae 59:18–19), the object of 47. See Porter and Pitts, “pi/stij with a Preposition and Genitive Modifier,” 38–46. 48. Porter and Pitts, “pi/stij with a Preposition and Genitive Modifier,” 42. 49. Porter and Pitts, “pi/stij with a Preposition and Genitive Modifier,” 44. 50. Porter and Pitts, “pi/stij with a Preposition and Genitive Modifier,” 45. 51. Porter and Pitts, “pi/stij with a Preposition and Genitive Modifier,” 51. See also their discussion of how the functions of the cases are determined by the lexical and syntactic contexts in which they occur (45–46). 52. See Porter and Pitts, “pi/stij with a Preposition and Genitive Modifier,” 37.

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the metaphorical expression e1xein pi/stin tends to be marked by the genitive, though this is not always the case. I suggest, then, that in each of the examples given above, the lexical content of e1xein pi/stin functions in tandem with the semantics of the genitive case, which itself restricts the meaning of the head term pi/stin and specifies the “object” of “faith.” Having treated a number of examples from the broader corpus of Hellenistic Greek, I will now examine three examples of e1xein pi/stin + a genitive modifier in early Christian texts: Mark 11:22, Jas 2:1, and Hippolytus’s De Antichristo 61:26. I will show that the grammatical decisions made by at least several biblical scholars on these verses rest on a quite precarious foundation, having little or no guidance from a set of criteria or an informed linguistic methodology. Mark 11:22 To my knowledge, no modern English translation renders Mark 11:22 in any other way than, “Have faith in God,”53 with the construction marking “God” as the object of pi/stin. Yet at least three commentators have argued that Mark has used the construction to mean “you have God’s faithfulness.”54 This reading has been used in the pi/stij Xristou= debate to support the claim that, when pi/stij is followed by “God” or “Christ” in the genitive, it is never unambiguously objective, thus a subjective genitive is more likely.55 Unfortunately, advocates for 53. See, for example, KJV, NIV, NASB, ESV, NRSV, NET, CEB, NLT. 54. Robinson, “The ‘Faith of Jesus Christ,’” 71–81; Wallis, The Faith of Jesus Christ, 53–54, 71; and Lane, Mark, 409–410. 55. For example, Wallis writes: “It should also be noted that apart from Paul, there are no unambiguous cases in the New Testament where pi/stij followed by Christ or God in the genitive case must be interpreted objectively” (The Faith of Jesus Christ, 71, citing Robinson’s work). However, it is interesting to contrast this statement with what Hays says about the pi/stij qeou= construction in Mark 11:22, although he himself is a subjective genitivist: “For what it is worth, D.W.B Robinson contributes the observation that the ninth edition of Liddell and Scott cites no instance of pi/stij followed by an objective genitive. Against this sort of evidence, however, it may be argued that

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this view have offered no linguistic support for their claims. However, objectivists have likewise offered no linguistic data to qualify their position.56 The method proposed in this article provides a sound theoretical and empirical basis for understanding e1xete pi/stin qeou= in Mark 11:22 as “have faith in God.” Mark realizes the verb pisteu/ein metaphorically by using the PROCESS+RANGE nominalization, e1xete pi/stin. The nominalized construction has entered into a syntagmatic relationship with a genitive modifier (qeou=), which restricts the lexical content of pi/stin to “faith/ belief,” and specifies the realm in which it operates as “God.” Notably, the congruent verb is used twice in the immediate co-text of Mark 11:23–24. After telling his disciples to “have faith in God,” Jesus teaches them in v. 23 that anyone will be able to do great things if that person mh\ diakriqh=| e0n th=| kardi/a| au0tou= a0lla\ pisteu/h| o3ti o4 lalei= gi/netai. In the next verse, Jesus proceeds to teach about prayer: pa/nta o3sa proseu/xesqe kai\ ai0tei=sqe, pisteu/ete o3ti e0la&bete, kai\ e1stai u9mi=n. Whereas the Matthean parallel juxtaposes the metaphorical phrase e1xhte pi/stin with mh\ diakriqh=te, Mark juxtaposes mh\ diakriqh=| with the congruent expression pisteu/h|. Three points can be made on the basis of this observation. First, the verses in Mark and Matthew demonstrate that e1xein pi/stin and pisteu/ein are semantically related; both are options within the Greek language system for realizing the process of “believing.” Second, in Mark, the New Testament itself supplies a few instances of pi/stij with an objective genitive, the clearest of which is probably Mark 11:22: e1xete pi/stin qeou=. Robinson attempts to explain this usage away, but it is probably wisest to accept that the objective genitive construction after pi/stij is possible, though rare” (Hays, The Faith of Jesus Christ, 164). 56. For examples, see Gould, Mark, 215; Cranfield, Mark, 361; Collins, Mark, 534; Stein, Mark, 519; and France, Mark, 448. Interesting for the present study are France’s remarks: “e1xete pi/stin qeou=...is a more arresting expression for pisteu/ete tw~| qew~|, but does not differ in meaning. (The suggestion that pi/stij qeou= means God’s faithfulness, which the disciples are either exhorted to ‘take hold of’ or assured that they already ‘have,’ is surely forced).” Here, France demonstrates that he is on the right track with regard to his understanding of the relation between e1xein pi/stin and pisteu/ein, but he lacks the appropriate methodology to elucidate the connection any further.

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the PROCESS+RANGE nominalization restricts the lexical meaning of pi/stin to “faith/belief” and disambiguates the function of the genitive, marking qeou= as the object realm of pi/stin. Third, and consequently, this suggests that previous commentators who have proposed the reading “you have/hold to God’s faithfulness” are likely wrong. Furthermore, there are two probable factors that motivate Mark’s choice of the ideational metaphor. First, the primary incentive for its use seems to be the construal of experience. Mark has construed the verb process of “believing” for its readers in a more concrete way—as a thing or entity. Second, the metaphor’s impact on the textual level is clear: the nominalization aids in the organization of information in the text, with pi/stij now being read as a discourse participant along with other nominal entities, for example, h9 sukh= (v. 21), tw|~ o1rei (v. 23) and th\n qa/lassan (v. 23). Likewise, the congruent forms, pisteu/h| (v. 23) and pisteu/ete (v. 24), seem to be organized around other verb processes such as diakriqh=| (v. 23), proseu/xesqe and ai0tei=sqe (v. 24). James 2:1 Jas 2:1 has been invoked in debate over pi/stij Xristou= more than Mark 11:22.57 The verse is found in a section of the letter that has received a noticeable amount of attention concerning its role in the letter’s theology and supposed “socio-rhetorical” structure (2:1–13).58 Further, the question of how to translate 2:1

57. See especially Wachob, The Voice of Jesus, 64–65; Wachob, “‘Household’ and ‘Kingdom,’” 151–68; Dunn, “Once More,” 64–65; and JacksonMcCabe, Logos and Law, 246 n. 13. See also McKnight’s discussion in James, 176–77. 58. See the studies by Edgar, Has God Not Chosen the Poor?; Wachob, The Voice of Jesus; Wachob “‘Household’ and ‘Kingdom’”; and Lowe, “James 2:1.” As Allison has pointed out, there are also significant text-critical issues involved; for example, whether I)hsou= Xristou= and th=j do/chj should be omitted or not (see his “The Fiction of James,” 529–70).

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has long been an issue within Jacobean scholarship.59 Even so, the debate over the function of 2:1–13 as a whole has led commentators either to simply presuppose the meaning of pi/stij and an understanding of the genitive in 2:1, or to force a reading of 2:1 into an already established exegetical framework. 60 While many have attempted to treat the syntax of 2:1 and have recognized the importance of the e1xein th\n pi/stin construction, these treatments appear to be quite limited and lack a rigorous linguistic method for answering how and why the construction should be understood in a particular way.61 Thus for the sake of 59. See Davids, James, 90. For a recent treatment, see Assaël and Cuvillier, “À propos de la traduction,” 145–51, who propose an entirely new translation for the verse. They say, “Au terme de notre analyse, nous proposons de traduire Jc 2.1 ainsi: ‘Mes frères, ne trouvez pas dans des masques (ou: des signes extérieurs) la preuve fiable de la gloire accordée par notre Seigneur JésusChrist.’” Further, to illustrate the inherent difficulty of translating Jas 2:1 note the diverse renderings of various English Bibles: “My brethren, have not the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, [the Lord] of glory, with respect of persons” (KJV; cf. RSV, ASV); “My brothers, as believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ, don’t show favoritism” (NIV); “My brothers, show no partiality as you hold the faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory” (ESV; cf. NASB); “My brothers and sisters, when you show favoritism you deny the faithfulness of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has been resurrected in glory” (CEB). 60. For example, Wachob simply asserts that th\n pi/stin I)hsou= Xristou= “is a ‘global allusion’ to Jesus’s own faith, what he believed, said and did” (“‘Household’ and ‘Kingdom,’” 167). Just as presumptuous are Wachob’s comments in The Voice of Jesus, 65: “[the objective genitive reading of Jas 2:1], I think is incorrect. The genitive appears to be subjective, and the phrase should be translated ‘the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ.’ If this is the correct sense of the genitive here, then a satisfactory understanding of what the theme entails would seem to require that we at least allow the possibility that the audience is admonished to hold (e1xein) a faith that in quality is like the faithobedience of Jesus Christ.” 61. For example, Moo, James, 100–101 and Davids, James, 106–107. The best treatment, in my opinion, is McCartney’s. First, he acknowledges that e1xein pi/stin and pisteu/ein are “generally equivalent.” Second, he recognizes the structural parallel between Jas 2:1 and Mark 11:22 concerning e1xein pi/stin + genitive. Third, he concludes in favor of the objective genitive reading “have faith in Jesus Christ” (see his James, 135–36). But, while I am in agreement with him, McCartney provides no solid evidence for his assertions. Wallace’s

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clarity, while the aim here is not to engage the broader structural and theological issues at stake, such issues may be affected. The goal is to consider the linguistic evidence for understanding e1xete th\n pi/stin tou= kuri/ou h9mw~n I)hsou= Xristou= as an ideational metaphor, with pi/stin having the added element of [+DETERMINATION] in light of the presence of the article. e1xein pi/stin occurs in two other places in James besides 2:1—in 2:14, e0a\n pi/stin le/gh| tij e1xein e1rga de\ mh\ e1xh|, and several verses later in v. 18, su\ pi/stin e1xeij, ka0gw_ e1rga e1xw. Interestingly, the very next verse begins with the statement su\ pisteu/eij o3ti ei[j e0stin o9 qeo/j. Further, v. 23, being a quotation from Gen 15:6, reads e0pi/steusen de\ Abraa\m tw|~ qew|~. This suggests that the metaphorical e1xein pi/stin structures are best read in light of the congruent pisteu/ein structures; the former represents a semantic junction, while the latter is a congruent expression. Since metaphor and congruence appear throughout James 2, it is likely that the surrounding co-text is meant to restrict the semantics of e1xete th\n pi/stin tou= kuri/ou h9mw~n 0Ihsou= Xristou= in 2:1 to its (hypothetical) congruent expression pisteu/ete tw~| kuri/w| I)hsou= Xristw~|.62 The nominalized structure, carrying the lexical semantic sense of “believe,” has entered into syntagmatic relationship with tou= kuri/ou h9mw~n I)hsou= Xristou=. As a result, two things have happened: (1) the nominalization has disambiguated the function of the genitive modifier in its co-text, and (2) the genitive modifier itself has specified the realm in which pi/stin operates. The fact that pi/stin possesses the article needs attention. While it appears that some have used the presence of the article

treatment also lies in the realm of simple assertion: “There are two or three clear instances of pi/stij + objective personal gen. in the New Testament (Mark 11:22; Jas 2:1; Rev 2:13), as well as two clear instances involving an impersonal gen. noun (Col 2:12; 2 Thess 2:13). Nevertheless, the predominant usage in the New Testament is with a subjective gen.” (Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics, 116). Wallace gives no evidence or criteria for these judgments. 62. Whether or not the verb is an imperative or indicative is not a concern here.

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to suggest that Jas 2:1 refers to “the Christian faith,”63 a theory of grammatical metaphor provides a better option for understanding the article’s function. Note what Halliday writes: In addition, such a figure, realized metaphorically by a nominal group rather than congruently by a clause, gains access to the textual systems of the nominal group—most significantly, the system DETERMINATION. This means that it can be treated textually as a discourse referent/participant. It is marked either as “non-specific” or as “specific” in which case its identity is presented as recoverable to the addressee.64

When a verb process has been nominalized, it can then enter into another aspect of the system network that verbs (at least finite ones) cannot, that of DETERMINATION. “Determination” refers to an entity’s specificity. This is why some functional grammarians will label the article as a “Specifier,”65 although specificity can also be expressed by the use of other items, such as demonstrative pronouns. Therefore, the article in Jas 2:1 assigns a level of specificity to the nominal form, pi/stij. This would mean that James is exhorting his readers to exercise a specific kind of “believing,” that is, a believing that has Jesus as its object. In this sense, the article can be seen as working in tandem with the genitive case—both perform specifying functions, but one specifies pi/stij and the other specifies the word’s syntagmatic relationship to tou= kuri/ou h9mw~n I)hsou= Xristou=. If accurate, then this also explains why the article drops out in the two other metaphorical expressions in 2:14, 18. In these verses, since it is in a nominalized structure, unspecified pi/stij can be used to effectively contrast general “belief” with 63. See Hays, The Faith of Jesus Christ, 187, who, by appealing to the work of Robinson, says, “In Jas 2:1, Rev 2:13, 14:12, however, pi/stij, as in Gal 1:23, means ‘the (Christian) faith,’ and the genitive is, as Robinson rightly judges (“Faith of Jesus Christ,” 79), ‘broadly adjectival’.” Unfortunately, however, the reader is left wondering what has led both Robinson and Hays to their conclusions. 64. Halliday, Functional Grammar, 644. 65. See the introduction to the annotation model of the OpenText.org project at www.opentext.org.

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“works”—two discourse participants that occupy key roles in James’ exposition in 2:14–26. Thus, the central point that James seems to be making in this section is that a “believing” void of “doing” is inconsistent with the specified “belief” referred to in 2:1—a belief that has “our Lord Jesus Christ” as its object.66 Hippolytus’s De Antichristo 61:26 Hippolytus’s De Antichristo 61:26 has recently been used to provide evidence in support of a subjective reading of the pi/stij Xristou= construction, and in support of identifying the semantic content of pi/stij as Jesus’ specific act of obedience in going to the cross.67 The portion of text that is most relevant to this study is De Antichristo 61:23–31: [o( tu/rannoj] diw&kwn th\n e0kklhsi/an feu/gousan a0po\ po/lewj ei0j po/lin kai\ e0n e0rhmi/a| kruptome/nhn e0n toi=j o1resin e1xousan meq’ e9auth=j ou0de\n e3teron ei0 mh\ ta\j du/o pte/rugaj tou= a0etou= tou= mega/lou toute/stin I)hsou= Xristou= pi/stin o4j e0ktei/naj ta\j a)gi/aj xei=raj e0n a(gi/w| cu/lw| h3plwse du/o pte/rugaj decia_n kai\ eu0w&numon proskalou/menoj pa/ntaj tou\j ei0j au0to\n pisteu/ontaj kai\ skepa/zwn w(j o1rnij neossou/j. kai\ ga_r dia_ Malaxi/ou fhsi\n kai\ u9mi=n toi=j foboume/noij to\ o1noma\ mou a0natelei= h3lioj dikaiosu/nhj kai\ i1asij e0n tai=j pte/rucin au0tou=. ([The Tyrant] persecuting the church that flees from city to city and is hidden in the desert among the mountains, having with herself no other thing except the two wings of the great eagle, that is, [she has] faith in Jesus Christ, who, having stretched out the holy hands on the holy tree, spread out two wings, right and left, summoning those who believe in him, and protecting [her] “like a hen does chicks.” For through Malachi he says, “And among you who fear my name, the sun will dawn with righteousness and healing in his wings.”)

Since there are two intervening phrases between e1xousan and I)hsou= Xristou= pi/stin, their relationship may not be clear at first sight. However, their connection becomes identifiable in light of two grammatical observations. First, e1xousan is one of 66. See Kamell, “The Soteriology of James,” 152, although her entire work is devoted to the theme of “faith” and “works” in James. 67. Bird and Whitenton, “Overlooked Patristic Evidence,” 552, 559.

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three participles that modify th\n e0kklhsi/an, the other two being feu/gousan and kruptome/nhn. Second, e1xousan has three objects: ou0de\n e3teron, ta\j du/o pte/rugaj, and pi/stin. The issue becomes the function of toute/stin and the manner in which it adds pi/stin to the list of the “things” that the church “has” as protection from the Tyrant. Bird and Whitenton understand toute/stin to function as an appositional marker that identifies “the two wings of the great eagle” as Jesus’ own “faithfulness” in going to the cross.68 However, I suggest there is a more helpful way to read toute/stin. toute/stin (including its disjointed form tou=t’ e1stin) does not always function as an indicator of apposition. There are instances where it operates as a marker of further explanation by implicitly reintroducing the verbal component of the preceding clause, and by signaling the addition of new information in what follows it.69 For example, in Rom 7:18 Paul says oi]da ga\r o3ti ou0k oi0kei= e0n e0moi/, tou=t’ e1stin e0n th|~ sarki/ mou, a0gaqo/n. Here oi0kei= is ellided in the latter half of the verse so that Paul can more effectively describe “good does not live in me” as “good does not live in my flesh.” The important thing to note is that the verbal component of oi0kei= is reintroduced after tou=t’ e1stin, although the verb itself is not present.70 With regard to De Antichristo 61:24, 26, toute/stin reintroduces the verbal component of e1xousan and so further describes what the Church has in her possession as protection from the Tyrant— “she has nothing in her possession other than the two wings of the great eagle, that is, [she has] faith in Jesus Christ.” In any case, what does seem clear is that pi/stin, taking the accusative case, is one of the grammatical objects of e1xousan, which allows for the strong possibility of reading the phrase as e1xousan I)hsou= Xristou= pi/stin. 68. Bird and Whitenton, “Overlooked Patristic Evidence,” 552, 559. 69. This could be labeled the “epexegetical” use of the set phrase tou=t’ e1stin (see, e.g., Robertson, Greek Grammar, 411–12). 70. For other examples in the New Testament, see also Acts 19:4; Rom 10:6; Phlm 12; Heb 2:14. Outside the New Testament, see Diogenes, Vitae Philosophorum 10:127:2; Plutarch, De Cupiditate Divitiarum 524:D:3; Plutarch, De Facie in Orbe Lunae 926:F:4; Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae 10:70:13.

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The evidence for seeing the construction as an ideational metaphor is two-fold. First, e1xousan. . . I)hsou= Xristou= pi/stin is a nominalization of pisteu/ein; Hippolytus has construed the Church’s “believing” metaphorically by means of a PROCESS+ RANGE structure. Identifying the construction as a metaphor is confirmed on the basis of the use of its congruent agnate in 61:28: tou\j ei0j au0to\n pisteu/ontaj. Hippolytus has drawn upon both the metaphorical and the congruent expressions as he moves in his exposition from what the Church has as its protection (faith in Jesus Christ) to how the Church experiences that protection (by “believing in him”). Further, if e1xousan...I)hsou= Xristou= pi/stin is in fact an ideational metaphor, then the nominalized structure disambiguates the function of the genitive modifier; the lexical content of pi/stin is restricted to “belief/trust” and specifies “Jesus Christ” as its object. In this way e1xousan...I)hsou= Xristou= pi/stin can be read directly in light of tou\j ei0j au0to\n pisteu/ontaj. The second element that establishes e1xousan...I)hsou= Xristou= pi/stin as an ideational metaphor concerns the textual motivations lying behind its use.71 In discussing the Tyrant’s persecution and the Church’s flight into the desert, Hippolytus wishes to construe the Church’s experience of “believing” as a concrete thing that protects and defends her in the face of danger. This is why pi/stin is used alongside of ou0de\n e3teron and ta\j du/o pte/rugaj: it is a fellow discourse participant along with these other entities and is represented nominally in order for it to be more tangible, concrete and experiential. On the other hand, the congruent expression tou\j ei0j au0to\n pisteu/ontaj is used when Hippolytus begins to describe the actions (understood as processes) of Jesus, which are introduced by the relative pronoun o3j. That is, Hippolytus uses tou\j ei0j au0to\n pisteu/ontaj where he does because the section is dominated by other verbal 71. Bird and Whitenton think it unlikely that two semantically related phrases would be used in such close proximity, and thus make the point that the phrase tou\j ei0j au0to\n pisteu/ontaj is semantically distinct from I)hsou= Xristou= pi/stin (“Overlooked Patristic Evidence,” 558–59).

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processes—e0ktei/naj, h3plwse, proskalou/menoj and skepa/zwn. The two main motivating factors for Hippolytus’s use of two semantically related expressions are (1) to construe the experience of “believing” differently for the sake of his readers (an entity vs. a process), and (2) to more concretely provide his text with a certain semantic organization.72 Conclusion I have provided analysis of the construction e1xein pi/stin from the perspective of SFL, arguing that it represents a nominalized ideational metaphor, with its congruent agnate being pisteu/ein. The primary difference between the metaphorical expression and its congruent agnate is a functional one: the metaphor reconstrues the experience of a process as a more concrete nominal entity. This in turn has significant textual implications, those being that the nominal form can be modified by Epithets, Specifiers, and other items in ways that finite verbs cannot. Nominalized structures also affect how a text organizes its information, and can function to disambiguate the syntagmatic relationships into which they enter with other linguistic items. This understanding of e1xein pi/stin + genitive has been used to interpret the construction’s meaning in three early Christian writings—Mark 11:22, Jas 2:1, and De Antichristo 61:26. It was seen that in light of its semantic relation to pisteu/ein, the construction disambiguates the pragmatic function of the genitive by denoting the object of pi/stin.

72. For a more thorough exegesis of this passage see Cirafesi and Peterman, “pi/stij and Christ,” 602–603.

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Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1 Bibliography Allison, Dale C. “The Fiction of James and Its Sitz im Leben.” RB 108 (2001) 529–70. Assaël, Jacqueline, and Elian Cuvillier. “À propos de la traduction et de l’interprètation de Jacques 2.1.” NTS 57.1 (2011) 145–51. Berry, Margaret. Introduction to Systemic Linguistics. 2 vols. London: Batsford, 1975–1977. Bird, Michael F., and Michael R. Whitenton. “The Faithfulness of Jesus Christ in Hippolytus’s De Christo et Antichristo: Overlooked Patristic Evidence in the pi/stij Xristou= Debate.” NTS 55.4 (2009) 552–62. Brent, Allen. Hippolytus and the Roman Church in the Third Century: Communities in Tension before the Emergence of a Monarch-Bishop. Leiden: Brill, 1995. Brown, Gillian, and George Yule. Discourse Analysis. CTL. Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1983. Bulter, Christopher S. Systemic Linguistics: Theory and Application. London: Batsford, 1985. Butt, Miriam. “The Light Verb Jungle.” Paper presented at a workshop on multi-verb constructions, Trondheim, Norway, June 26–27, 2003. Campbell, Douglas A. “Romans 1:17—A Crux Interpretum for the pi/stij Xristou= Debate.” JBL 113.2 (1994) 265–85. Carson, D.A. “Why Trust a Cross? Reflections on Romans 3:21–26.” Evangelical Review of Theology 28.4 (2004) 345–62. Cerrato, J. A. Hippolytus between East and West: The Commentaries and the Provenance of the Corpus. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002. Choi, Hung-Sik. “pi/stij in Galatians 5:5–6: Neglected Evidence for the Faithfulness of Christ.” JBL 124.3 (2005) 467–90. Cirafesi, Wally V., and Gerald W. Peterman, “pi/stij and Christ in Hippolytus’s De Christo et Antichristo: A Response to Michael F. Bird and Michael R. Whitenton.” NTS 57.4 (2011) 594–603. Cranfield, C.E.B. The Gospel according to St. Mark: Introduction and Commentary. CGTC. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1959.

CIRAFESI e1xein pi/stin in Hellenistic Greek Collins, Adela Yarbro. Mark: A Commentary. Hermeneia. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007. Davids, Peter H. The Epistle of James: A Commentary on the Greek Text. NIGTC. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982. Dunn, James D.G. “Once More, pi/stij Xristou=.” In Pauline Theology: Looking Back, Pressing On, vol. 4, edited by E. Elizabeth Johnson and David M. Hay, 61–81. Atlanta: Scholars, 1997. Easter, Matthew C. “The Pistis Christou Debate: Main Arguments and Responses in Summary.” CBR 9.1 (2010) 33–47. Edgar, David Hutchinson. Has God Not Chosen the Poor? The Social Setting of the Epistle of James. JSNTSup 206. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2001. Fawcett, Robin P. Invitation to Systemic-Functional Grammar through the Cardiff Grammar: An Extension and Simplification of Halliday’s Systemic Functional Grammar. 3rd ed. London: Equinox, 2008. Foster, Paul. “The First Contribution to the pi/stij Xristou= Debate: A Study of Ephesians 3.12.” JSNT 85 (2002) 75–96. France, R.T. The Gospel of Mark. NIGTC. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002. Gregory, Michael. “Meta-functions: Aspects of Their Development, Status, and Use in Systemic Linguistics.” In Developments in Systemic Linguistics, vol. 1, edited by M.A.K. Halliday and Robin P. Fawcett, 194–229. OLS. London: Pinter, 1987. Gould, Ezra Palmer. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel according to St. Mark. ICC. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1896. Halliday, M.A.K. “Grammatical Metaphor in English and Chinese.” In New Papers on Chinese Language Use, edited by Beverly Hong, 9–18. Canberra: Contemporary China Centre, Australian National University, 1984. ———. “Introduction: On the ‘Architecture’ of Human Language.” In On Language and Linguistics, edited by Jonathan J. Webster, 1–32. London: Continuum, 2003.

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Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1 ———. “Language and Knowledge: The ‘Unpacking’ of Text.” In Text in Education and Society, edited by Desmond Allison, Lionel Wee, Bao Zhiming, and Sunita Anne Abraham, 157–79. Singapore: Singapore University Press, 1998. ———. “On Language in Relation to the Evolution of Human Consciousness (1995).” In On Language and Linguistics, edited by Jonathan J. Webster, 390–432. London: Continuum, 2003. Halliday, M.A.K., and Ruqaiya Hasan. Cohesion in English. London: Longman, 1976. Halliday, M.A.K., and Christian M.I.M. Matthiessen. Construing Experience through Meaning: A Language-Based Approach to Cognition. OLS. London: Continuum, 1999. ———. An Introduction to Functional Grammar. 3rd Edition. London: Hodder Education, 2004. Harrisville, Roy A. “pi/stij Xristou=: Witness of the Fathers.” NovT 36.3 (1994) 233–41. Heyvaert, Liesbet. “Nominalization as Grammatical Metaphor: On the Need for a Radically Systemic and Metafunctional Approach.” In Grammatical Metaphor: Views for Systemic Functional Linguistics, edited by Anne-Marie Simon-Vandenbergen, Miriam Taverniers and Louise Ravelli, 65–100. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2003. Hooker, Morna D. “pi/stij Xristou=.” In her From Adam to Christ: Essays on Paul, 321–42. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990. Howard, George. “Notes and Observations on the ‘Faith of Christ.’” HTR 60 (1967) 459–84. Hultgren, Arland J. “The Pistis Christou Formulation in Paul.” NovT 22.3 (1980) 248–63. Jackson-McCabe, Matt A. Logos and Law in the Letter of James: The Law of Nature, the Law of Moses, and the Law of Freedom. NovTSup 100. Leiden: Brill, 2001. Johnson, Luke Timothy. “Rom 3:21–26 and the Faith of Jesus.” CBQ 44 (1982) 77–90. Kamell, Mariam J. “The Soteriology of James in Light of Earlier Jewish Wisdom Literature and the Gospel of Matthew.” Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of St. Andrews, 2010.

CIRAFESI e1xein pi/stin in Hellenistic Greek Lane, William L. The Gospel according to Mark. NICNT. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974. Lee, Jae Hyun. “Against Richard B. Hays’s ‘Faith of Jesus Christ.’” JGRChJ 5 (2008) 51–80. Lowe, Bruce A. “James 2:1 in the pi/stij Xristou= Debate: Irrelevant or Indispensable?” In The Faith of Jesus Christ: Exegetical, Biblical, and Theological Studies, edited by Michael F. Bird and Preston M. Sprinkle, 239–58. Milton Keynes, UK: Paternoster, 2009. Matlock, R. Barry “Detheologizing the pi/stij Xristou= Debate: Cautionary Remarks from a Lexical Semantic Perspective.” NovT 42 (2000) 1–23. ———. “‘Even the Demons Believe’: Paul and pi/stij Xristou=.” CBQ 64 (2002) 300–318. ———. “The Rhetoric of pi/stij in Paul: Galatians 2:16, 3:22, Romans 3:22, and Philippians 3:9.” JSNT 30.2 (2007) 173–203. ———. “Saving Faith: The Rhetoric and Semantics of pi/stij in Paul.” In The Faith of Jesus Christ: Exegetical, Biblical, and Theological Studies, edited by Michael F. Bird and Preston M. Sprinkle, 73–90. Milton Keynes, UK: Paternoster, 2009. McCartney, Dan G. James. BECNT. Grand Rapids: Baker, 2009. McKnight, Scot. The Letter of James. NICNT. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011. Melrose, Robin. “Systemic Linguistics and the Communicative Language Syllabus.” In Developments in Systemic Linguistics, vol. 2, edited by Robin P. Fawcett and David Young, 78–93. OLS. London: Pinter, 1988. Moo, Douglas J. The Letter of James. PNTC. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000. Napoli, Donna Jo. Syntax: Theory and Problems. New York: Oxford University Press, 1993. Nautin, Pierre. Hippolyte et Josipe: Contribution à l’historie de la littèrature Chrètienne du troisième siècle. Paris: Cerf, 1947. Norelli, Enrico. Ippolito, L’Anticristo. De Antichristo. Biblioteca Patristica 10. Florence: Nardini, 1987.

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Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1 O’Donnell, Matthew Brook. Corpus Linguistics and the Greek New Testament. NTM 2. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2005. Peterman, Gerald W. “dikaiwqh~nai dia\ th~j e0k Xristou= pi/stewj: Notes on a Neglected Greek Construction.” NTS 56.1 (2010) 163–68. Pollard, Paul. “The ‘Faith of Christ’ in Current Discussion.” Concordia Journal (1997) 213–28. Porter, Stanley E. and Andrew W. Pitts. “pi/stij with a Preposition and Genitive Modifier: Lexical Semantic, and Syntactic Considerations in the pi/stij Xristou= Discussion.” In The Faith of Jesus Christ: Exegetical, Biblical, and Theological Studies, edited by Michael F. Bird and Preston M. Sprinkle, 33– 53. Milton Keynes, UK: Paternoster, 2009. Ravelli, L. J. “Grammatical Metaphor: An Initial Analysis.” In Pragmatics, Discourse and Text, edited by Erich H. Steiner and Robert Veltman, 133–47. Norwood, NJ: Ablex, 1988. Reed, Jeffrey T. A Discourse Analysis of Philippians: Method and Rhetoric in the Debate over Literary Integrity. JSNTSup 136. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1997. Robertson, A.T. Grammar of the Greek New Testament in the Light of Historical Research. 4th ed. Nashville: Broadman, 1934. Robinson, D.W.B. “The ‘Faith of Jesus Christ’—A New Testament Debate.” RTR 29.3 (1970) 71–81. Simonetti, Manlio. “Due Note su Ippolito.” In Ricerche su Ippolito, edited by Manlio Simonetti et al., 121–6. SEA 30. Rome: Institutum Patristicum Augustinianum, 1989. Sprinkle, Preston M. “pi/stij Xristou= as an Eschatological Event.” In The Faith of Jesus Christ: Exegetical, Biblical, and Theological Studies, edited by Michael F. Bird and Preston M. Sprinkle, 165–84. Milton Keynes, UK: Paternoster, 2009. Stein, Robert H. Mark. BECNT. Grand Rapids: Baker, 2008. Taylor, Greer M. “The Function of pi/stij Xristou= in Galatians.” JBL 85.1 (1966) 58–76. Thompson, Geoff. Introducing Functional Grammar. 2nd ed. London: Hodder Education, 2004.

CIRAFESI e1xein pi/stin in Hellenistic Greek Wachob, Wesley Hiram. The Voice of Jesus in the Social Rhetoric of James. SNTSMS 106. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. ———. “The Languages of ‘Household’ and ‘Kingdom’ in the Letter of James: A Socio-Rhetorical Study.” In Reading James with New Eyes: Methodological Reassessments of the Letter of James, edited by Robert L. Webb and John S. Kloppenborg, 151–68. LNTS 342. London: T. & T. Clark, 2007. Wallace, Daniel B. Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics: An Exegetical Syntax of the New Testament. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1996. Wallis, Ian. The Faith of Jesus Christ in Early Christian Traditions. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Watson, Duane F. “An Assessment of the Rhetoric and Rhetorical Analysis of the Letter of James.” In Reading James with New Eyes: Methodological Reassessments of the Letter of James, edited by Robert L. Webb and John S. Kloppenborg, 99–120. LNTS 342. London: T. & T. Clark, 2007 Williams, Sam K. “The ‘Righteousness of God’ in Romans.” JBL 99 (1980) 241–90. ———. “Again Pistis Christou.” CBQ 49 (1987) 431–47.

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[BAGL 1 (2012) 39–61]

TESTING THE INTERTEXTUALITY OF mataio&thj IN THE NEW TESTAMENT Gregory P. Fewster McMaster Divinity College, Hamilton, ON, Canada Abstract: Adapting Michael Hoey’s lexical priming theory, this article provides a new rubric for the evaluation of intertextuality in the New Testament. This article tests the veracity of the claim that the lexeme mataio&thj functions to invoke the language of Ecclesiastes. Romans 8 mirrors some of the language of Ecclesiastes, while Eph 4:17 has strong ties to Rom 8, creating an intertextual chain via the lexeme mataio&thj. (Article) Keywords: mataio&thj, intertextuality, priming, Romans 8, 2 Peter 2, Ephesians 3.

Introduction In this article, I develop a linguistic model that tests for intertextuality,1 particularly as triggered through individual lexemes. 1. Julia Kristeva first initiated the terminology of intertextuality and textual surfaces (see for example Kristeva, “Bounded Text,” 36–37; cf. Moyise, “Intertextuality,” 14). It was Richard Hays, drawing on the work of literary critic John Hollander, who brought such terminology into the realm of New Testament studies. Hays’ definition of intertextuality as “the embedding of fragments of an earlier text within a later one” seems to capture this as well (Hays, Echoes, 14). Intertextuality, what Moyise now calls “common coinage” (Moyise, “Intertextuality,” 15), has evolved to the point that it is used almost irresponsibly, to the extent that it adds few methodological constraints. The present study is an inquiry into intertextual theory; however, it will require more specific definition as will be seen below. A simplified definition of intertextuality as the interaction of multiple textual surfaces, seems apropos to the present discussion. Note that this study has in view an antecedent or source text, unlike Kristevan intertextuality which makes no comment upon origin or source.

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This model will be used to test the intertextuality of mataio&thj between the New Testament and Ecclesiastes. I will argue that in the New Testament the rare word mataio&thj functions intertextually in Rom 8:20 and 2 Pet 2:18. Rom 8:20 is linked with the book of Ecclesiastes while 2 Pet 2:18 is associated with Rom 8:20 and its surrounding context. Intertextuality in Linguistic-Semantic Perspective Semantics as a sub-discipline within linguistics provides a valuable theoretical framework for addressing issues of word meaning, particularly what sort of associative power might be present in the use of a single lexeme. Lexical semantics provides a more specific theory and more precise terminology that may help to steer the way through the array of terms currently in vogue in Old Testament in the New Testament research. For this I turn primarily to the work of Michael Hoey, whose work in corpus linguistics has led to his theory of lexical priming as a means to account for collocation in written and spoken language.2 Lexical priming is understood as a psychological phenomenon. As words are experienced by language users in day to day life, co-occurring words and grammatical and semantic patterns become associated with them.3 Language use does not occur in a vacuum but occurs within a tradition of use. Priming is thus the cumulative result of repeated encounters with a 2. Corpus linguistics implies an analysis of language phenomena across a specified (representative) group of texts, i.e., the corpus (see O’Donnell, “Register-Balanced Corpus,” for insights into generating a representative corpus for Hellenistic Greek). Observed phenomena can then be generalized to the language as a whole, or register or text-type, etc (ee, for example, Stubbs, “On Texts,” 127, who provides some positive assessments of the benefits of corpus analysis for linguistic description). Strictly speaking, this study is not a corpus investigation proper as it does not compare phenomena in a particular text to patterns in a particular corpus. Instead, using some corpus-derived linguistic theory, I compare particular texts to observe any related patterns that may generate some exegetical significance. 3. Note that according to Hoey, priming is a function of the mind and not the word itself. It is the language users who are primed to expect and duplicate patterns (see Hoey, “Literary Creativity,” 7–9).

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particular word. The implication is that language is fundamentally intertextual, as new linguistic moments are indebted to prior language use.4 At this point, intertextuality becomes a readercentered phenomenon made possible through the reader’s (repeated) experience of particular texts and the accompanying lexical associations. Left here, however, priming is random and personal and of little interest for discerning textual meaning. But language is also a social phenomenon, which means that through mutually experienced language events—such as the reading of common texts—primings become shared. A potent implication of this principle for this study can be seen with respect to religious texts (such as the LXX), which may have had overwhelming associative power for New Testament authors and early Christian communities.5 Traditional Old Testament in the New Testament research seeks to identify these moments of meaningful association, a microcosm of the vast intertextual web appreciated by many post-structural critics and revealed within a representative corpus. The corpus is thus a collection of possibility or even meaning-potential from which to compare specific instances.6 In the present investigation, a particular text is compared to a collection of instances within another text (and part of a larger corpus) to see if there may be any shared, meaningful patterns. Intertextuality at any level is a result of primed associations with an antecedent text. More allusive invocations may be targeted through the use of keywords in carefully constructed contexts. Priming is an act of preparation. For example, one puts a coat of primer on a wall before painting in order to prepare the wall to be painted. In the same way, experiencing particular lexemes in particular repetitive or memorable contexts causes the language user to be primed to re-experience these associated 4. This point is essentially made by Hoey (Hoey, Lexical Priming, 10, 20, 29). See also Teubert, “Parole-Linguistics,” 80, who defines intertextuality as “the recurrence of selected keywords.” 5. Hoey notes that widely read and influential works such as religious texts go a long way in forming and maintaining a language user’s primings (Hoey, Lexical Priming, 12). 6. See Halliday and Matthiessen, Functional Grammar, 26–29.

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contexts in future linguistic events. The use of a linguistic construct (grammatical and/or lexical) taken from an antecedent text transports the reader into the world of that text and brings certain associations to the forefront of the reader’s mind. These keywords are notable, because the corresponding linguistic associations—present in both the author’s and reader’s minds—are conceptually larger and communicate a broader range of meaning than could have been otherwise succinctly communicated. As Stamps points out, “the influence of some texts extends to the social, cultural, and ideological baggage that gets attached to them.”7 In other words, “less is more.” Any portion of language can be used to invoke primed associations, including sizable quotations and paraphrases to a small phrase or even a single word.8 It is up to the investigation of individual cases, then, to determine whether this phenomenon is actually occurring.9 Specificity provides constraints whereas ambiguity is less constrained.10 This is an important principle with regard to intertextual priming. Because intertextual priming may occur primarily with a single word rather than an entire clause or clause complex, there is a deficit of formal constraints. Consequently, it becomes increasingly difficult to determine the invocation of a 7. Stamps, “Use,” 20. 8. A word of warning is necessary when investigating single words like this. Barr, followed by Silva, warns against “illegitimate totality transfer.” This occurs when all possible associations, meanings, etc. are brought to bear on the specific use of a single word (Barr, Semantics, 218; Silva, Biblical Words, 25). There is a balance that must be struck between acknowledging potential associations and committing ITT. 9. Not just any word can have intertextually primed associations. Commonplace words such as conjunctions and articles are obviously too common to prime in the way that I am suggesting. Instead rarer keywords are the type of words required to jolt the reader. Further study is needed that investigates criteria for determining such keywords. 10. For example, an explicit quotation (especially with an introductory formula) has firm lexical and syntactical constraints. The words used and their syntactical order constrains the quotation to the extent that a proposed source must conform to those lexical and syntactical features. More ambiguous examples of intertextuality (such as a paraphrase or allusion) will have fewer formal constraints and therefore may not have as specific a source.

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previous text as particular lexicogrammatical constraints decrease. I suggest, therefore, that it is highly unlikely that a skilled author would use a single keyword to invoke a very precise portion of text. Instead, single words are likely employed to target larger bodies of literature, notable passages unified by a single theme, or other more general referents. Linguistic constraints are required, therefore, to provide a measure of rigor and control in such an investigation. As noted above, corpus linguistic theories seek to account for language patterning and repetition; select theoretical contraints can help better identify meaningful associations between texts. Hoey’s lexical priming theory provides a number of pattern-types that may serve as criteria in such an investigation, the first being collocation—the frequent cooccurrence of one lexeme with another.11 Besides lexical collocations, there are seven additional criteria that can identify and constrain meaningful interactions between texts:12 The grammatical patterns a word appears in and the grammatical function it serves including the grammatical categories it realizes (colligation) The meanings with which it is associated (semantic association) The pragmatics it is associated with (pragmatic association) The genres, styles, domains, and social situations it occurs in, and/or is restricted to The patterns of cohesion (or absence) it forms in a text (textual collocation) The textual positioning of the word, e.g., whether it typically begins or ends the sentence it appears in or whether it has a tendency to appear at the beginning of paragraphs or speaking turns (textual colligation)

11. See Teubert, “Language and Corpus,” 83; Hoey, Lexical Priming, 2–5. Hoey and O’Donnell both suggest that ±4 words is the ideal range for collocates of consequence (Hoey, Lexical Priming, 4–5; O’Donnell, Corpus Linguistics, 332). 12. This list is adapted from Hoey, “Literary Creativity,” 8. Cf. Hoey, Lexical Priming, 13, where these concepts are well developed throughout the rest of the book.

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Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1 Its place in the larger semantics of the text, e.g., its associations with contrast relations, problem-solution patterns, narrative climax, etc. (textual semantic association)

Theoretically, an author may give clues to the source text through the use of any of these linguistic constraints. When a keyword in the antecedent texts occurs consistently in certain syntactical frames, near certain words, or expressed within a certain theme, the repetition of this pattern will constrain the implied audience’s recognition of the source text.13 When investigating such an allusive category of intertextuality, that which counts for evidence must be firmly defined and rigorously applied. None of the criteria alone can confirm an intertextual relationship. The presence of multiple criteria is ideal; this will correct for random or coincidental constraints. The principle of “less is more” suggests that the targeted effect of the keyword is variable. An author may make use of a keyword under the assumption that the associations set off in the recipient’s mind may be similar to the author’s, though not necessarily so. By virtue of the fact that this keyword is used, the author consciously surrenders the locus of meaning from him- or herself and places it into the hands of the audience.14 Even so, a reader-oriented approach to such a study demands caution. As noted above, priming—while being a thoroughly psychological phenomenon—can only be measured in terms of shared linguistic events. An audience-sensitive, author-centered approach to intertextuality therefore appreciates socially-bound lexical associations and the skill of an author to anticipate them.

13. Without these constraints, measurable intertextuality cannot exist. A single word on its own is too small a unit to relate to an antecedent text with any certainty. 14. Porter accurately describes the ways in which meaning is controlled. “The less control the original author has over the citation, the more control the citing author has over it” (Porter, “Further Comments,” 108). The use of a single keyword allows for maximal control of the “quoting author” because the meaning constraints from the source text are minimized. However, this in turn allows for ambiguity in meaning for the audience, thus the surrendering of meaning to the audience.

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Ecclesiastes, Psalms, and mataio&thj Thirty-nine of the total fifty-four occurrences of mataio&thj in the Old Testament, a common translation of the Hebrew word lbh, are found in Ecclesiastes and characterize the repeated evaluation of the experiences of Qoheleth. A pattern emerges as Qoheleth searches for meaning in life, yet finds it utterly vain. This repeated refrain occurs in a number of forms. The two most common are: kai/ ge tou~to mataio&thj and ta_ pa&nta mataio&thj kai\ proai/resij pneu/matoj. At times, the refrains are modified with the addition of kai\ proai/resij pneu/matoj to the end of the former phrase or removing kai\ proai/resij pneu/matoj from the latter. Further, Ecclesiastes is bookended in 1:2 and 12:8 by mataio&thj mataioth/twn ei]pen o( 0Ekklhsiasth/j, mataio&thj mataioth&twn ta_ pa/nta mataio&thj. Though occasionally modified, the refrains have one thing in common: the lexeme mataio&thj, which reinforces a theme that is further emphasized by Qoheleth’s thesis in 1:2 and 12:8. This is a work that identifies the paradoxical and uncertain nature of the world—aptly described in terms of mataio&thj. Several primed patterns support these observations as the majority of repetitive lexical, grammatical, and semantic patterns contribute to the overall thesis of futility (see concordance table in the Appendix). Interestingly, the lemma mataio&thj is one of the most frequent collocates. This is best seen in the “bookend” statements. Further, other semantically-related lexical items collocate around mataio&thj to contribute semantically to the futility thesis. For example, in Eccles 11:10, youth is seen to be h( a!noia mataio&thj (the folly of futility). The most frequent nested collocation (14 times) is the idiom kai/ ge tou~to mataio&thj. This repetition is a reminder to the reader that in the mind of Qoheleth, each endeavour comes to futility. Such a sentiment is reiterated by an additional common collocate pattern, ta_ pa&nta mataio&thj (6 times). The futility theme is often expanded upon by the nested collocation kai\ proai/resij pneu&matoj (7 times). This metaphor helps define for the reader how Qoheleth conceives of futility. The volume of instances of mataio&thj in Ecclesiastes, accompanied by its consistent and programmatic use

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represented by these priming patterns, recommends the book as an ideal antecedent text for consideration. The other text in which mataio&thj often occurs is the Psalms.15 Generally, mataio&thj is used in the Davidic Psalms, though it occasionally occurs in others. The lexeme is commonly used to refer to humankind and their days on the earth,16 in parallel to a0dikai/aj,17 and in connection with idolatry.18 There does not seem to be any unifying theme behind the use of mataio&thj in the Psalms, making it an unlikely source text for the New Testament writers. Pauline Usage mataio&thj appears twice in the Pauline writings: Rom 8:20 and Eph 4:17. The context of each occurrence is conspicuously different. In Rom 8:20, mataio&thj is used as a characteristic of the creation, as that to which the creation has been subjected, while in Eph 4:17 mataio&thj typifies of the minds of the Gentiles. The following discussion will explore Paul’s uses of the term in each context to determine if mataio&thj is being used as a keyword. In Eph 4:17, most commentators do not see any intertextual connection with Ecclesiastes in the lexeme mataio&thj.19 Rather, 15. The only other occurrence is in Proverbs. 16. See Ps 39:5 (38:6 LXX), 52:7 (51:9 LXX), 78:33 (77:33 LXX), 144:4 (143:4 LXX) among others. 17. See esp. 144:8, 144:11 (143:8, 143:11 LXX). 18. Ps 31:6 (30:7 LXX) and possibly 40:4 (39:5 LXX) 19. Barth, Ephesians 1–3, 499–50; Bruce, Colossians, Philemon, and Ephesians, 355; Best, Ephesians, 214; Lincoln, Ephesians, 271–73; MacDonald, Colossians and Ephesians, 302; O’Brien, Ephesians, 318–20; Thielman, Ephesians, 296–97; Liefeld, Ephesians, 112; Patzia, Ephesians, Colossians, Philemon, 248–49. This statement is primarily based on an implicit lack of any reference to Ecclesiastes, rather than explicit denial by commentators. Few exceptions exist. Muddiman notes that Ecclesiastes and Psalms both employ mataio/thj frequently, while Hoehner gives reference to the entire biblical witness including Ecclesiastes, Psalms, Romans 8, and 2 Peter 2 though he makes no claims for intertextuality (see Muddiman, Ephesians, 213; Hoehner, Ephesians, 583).

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they emphasize the lexeme’s link to ta_ e1qnh. If there is any dependence on the LXX, it appears to be on the basis of the adjectival form ma&taioj, which frequently describes pagan idolatry (for example Jonah 2:9; Zech 10:2; Wis 15:8).20 Paul also uses this language to depict the futility of Gentile practices, including idolatry.21 Others have proposed a connection between Eph 4:17 and Rom 1:21.22 Lincoln puts the two passages in parallel to illustrate the verbal and thematic similarities. Key concepts, which include futility, darkness, impurity, and the giving up of oneself, exhibit a strong conceptual relationship between the two passages, perhaps demonstrating a development or application of the thought in Romans 1.23 Both of these suggestions provide important background to the text and usage of mataio&thj in Ephesians. The author’s attempt to distance the readers from their idolatrous Gentile heritage is highlighted by negative associations present in Jewish perspectives on idolatry. There is also clear continuity in thought between Romans and Ephesians, as seen in Lincoln’s analysis.24 Despite the lack of recognition by commentators, mataio/thj in Eph 4:17 has the strongest collocational link with Ecclesiastes in comparison to other New Testament references.25 In Eph 4:17, ta_ e1qnh are described as walking e0n mataio&thti tou~ noo_j au0tw~n. The assertion is further described as being e0skotwme/noi

20. O’Brien, Ephesians, 320; Best, Ephesians, 214; Thielman, Ephesians, 296. The link to idolatry is also emphasized in Caird, Letters from Prison, 79; Bruce, Colossians, Philemon, and Ephesians, 355. 21. Best, Ephesians, 214; O’Brien, Ephesians, 320; Bruce, Colossians, Philemon, and Ephesians, 355. Barth goes even further to suggest that this word was commonly used in Jewish anti-pagan propaganda to describe the Empire (Barth, Ephesians 1–3, 499–500). 22. See discussion in MacDonald, Colossians and Ephesians, 302; Lincoln, Ephesians, 273; Bruce, Colossians, Philemon, and Ephesians, 355; Caird, Letters from Prison, 79; O’Brien, Ephesians, 318; Darko, As the Gentiles, 34. 23. Lincoln, Ephesians, 273. 24. This should not be surprising if Paul wrote Ephesians. Otherwise, this may simply reflect development of the Pauline tradition. 25. That is to say, at least in terms of lexical relationships. Syntactical and thematic links are lacking.

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th|~ dianoi/a| o!ntej. skoti/a appears six times in Ecclesiastes, sometimes in close proximity to mataio&thj. In Eccles 2:13–14, Qoheleth contrasts wisdom and folly, and equates them with tou= fwto_j and to_ sko&toj, noting that the fool walks in darkness. The thematic relationship between darkness and folly (though the word here is not from the mataio&thj family, it is actually o( a!frwn) is evident. Eccles 5:17 (5:16 LXX) has no apparent thematic relationship, despite the verbal parallel. In Eccles 6:4, mataio&thj is linked with the preposition e0n (the same as Eph 4:17) and paralleled with e0n sko&tei, though the context is different than in Ephesians. Finally, Eccles 11:8 parallels darkness and futility. Qohelet speaks of ta_j h(me/raj tou~ sko&touj, calling all that comes “futility.” There is little doubt as regards the lexical relationship between mataio&thj and skoti/a; however, it is hard to demonstrate any other points of contact. Thematically, there is no apparent relationship except in Eccles 2:13, 14, where the lexical links are fewer, i.e., mataio&thj does not appear.26 Any proposed intertextual relationship in this case would be tenuous. Verbal and thematic parallels are at least able to show some correspondence in thought between Eph 4:17 and Rom 1:12, where the verbal form of mataio/thj is used. Romans 8:20 marks the earliest instance of mataio&thj in the New Testament. Paul writes: th|= ga_r mataio&thti h( kti/sij u9peta&gh, ou0x e0kou=sa a)lla_ dia_ to_n u9pota/canta. There are essentially three main positions regarding Old Testament allusions in Rom 8:20: (1) the Fall narrative, particularly Gen 3:17– 19, (2) the book of Ecclesiastes and/or (3) Rom 1:21, with the surrounding verses involved in an intratextual relationship. The majority position identifies the Fall narrative as the central source for the language and thought of Rom 8:20.27 The numbers 26. sko&toj collocates with mataio&thj only once in Eccles 6:4. 27. Consider Cranfield’s comments: “there is little doubt that Paul had in mind the judgment related in Genesis 3:17–19…” (Cranfield, Romans, 413), while Murray calls this Paul’s commentary on Gen 3:17–19 (Murray, Romans, 303). Moo notes that mataio/thj may connote the futility of Ecclesiastes, but it is better to read it in light of the Genesis 3 narrative (Moo, Romans 1–8, 552). Schreiner explicitly states that Rom 8:20 should not be read in light of

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are not in favour of position (2); only a small number of scholars support this position.28 It is notable, however, that this position is variously nuanced. While commentators may have Ecclesiastes as a whole in view, Barrett simply asserts that the reader naturally thinks of the specific uses of mataio&thj in Eccles 1:2.29 As for (3), Rom 1:21 contains the single use of the verb form mataio&w in the New Testament. Because of this, several commentators see a thematic intratextual relationship between Rom 1:21 and Rom 8:20.30 This is occasionally seen as a direct link, but more often is described as a continuous development of thought carried forward vis-à-vis the Adam theme. It is problematic that none of these three interpretations reflects a developed method for evaluating intertextuality (or intratextuality). Many of the comments are unsupported, leaving the conclusions without a solid foundation. This state of affairs requires a defined method of measuring intertextuality that will serve to evaluate the complexities of the evidence. Dunn notes that mataio&thj in Rom 8:20 is one of many verbal parallels between Romans 8 and Romans 1.31 For example, there is a striking connection between the noun mataio&thti Ecclesiastes (Schreiner, Romans, 436). Witherington even uses the word “echo” to describe Paul’s use of the Genesis narrative, though the term is not well defined (Witherington, Romans, 223–24). See also Achtemeier, Romans, 142; Bullmore, “Important Passages,” 159–60; Dunn, Romans 1–8, 467; Eastman, “Whose Apocalypse?” 273; Fitzmyer, Romans, 505; Jewett, Romans, 513; Käsemann, Romans, 233; Keener, Romans, 105; Keck, Romans, 211; Lawson, “Hope of Creation,” 559–60; Lenski, Romans, 534; Moo, “Nature in the New Creation,” 460; Moo, Romans, 515; Moo, “Isaiah’s Cosmic Covenant,” 78; Osborne, Romans, 211; Rimbach, “All Creation Groans,” 382; Stuhlmacher, Romans, 134. 28. Barrett, Romans, 166; Jewett, Romans, 513; Sanday and Headlam, Romans, 208; Luther, Romans, 108. 29. Barrett, Romans, 166. Jewett suggests that the lexeme would have initiated thoughts of Ecclesiastes, and makes specific reference to the statement in Eccles 1:2 (see Jewett, Romans, 513). 30. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 467, 470; Eastman, “Whose Apocalypse?” 274–75; Johnson, Reading Romans, 128; Käsemann, Romans, 235; Keener, Romans, 105; Moo, Romans 1–8, 552. 31. Dunn, Romans 1–8, 467.

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and the verb e0mataiw&qhsan in Rom 1:21. Johnson presents this as an obvious allusion to Paul’s earlier description of idolatry,32 which Eastman suggests is an interpretation of Genesis 3.33 Paul may use this keyword to help his readers recall the description of fallen humanity in ch. 1, especially the idolatry that is so characteristic of humanity’s fall. Jonathan Moo develops this line further. Given that Romans 5 presents Adam as the individual who brought sin and its consequences into the world, Moo posits a continuity between the giving over to futility in Rom 1:21, the Adamic themes in Romans 5, and the creation’s subjection to futility in Romans 8. There is, therefore, an echo of Genesis 3 in Romans 8, which is strengthened by the link between Romans 5 and 8.34 Despite the lack of verbal parallels with Genesis 3, this relationship is plausible. Even so, it does not preclude the possibility of intertextuality with Ecclesiastes. Despite the scholarly consensus, Ecclesiastes is the best possible candidate for intertextuality. As opposed to the above suggestions, there is a firm lexical relationship simply due to the fact that mataio&thj is present in Rom 8:20 and in Ecclesiastes. This point is reinforced given that mataio&thj is a rare word in Paul but a very common word in Ecclesiastes. Paul also seems to put emphasis on the lexeme mataio&thti. In contrast to Eph 4:17 where e0n mataio&thti is placed near the end of the clause, in Rom 8:20 the phrase th|= ga_r mataio/thti is placed in the clause-initial position before the verb and the subject. The highly marked dative case may also bring th|= mataio&thti into prominence in comparison to the less-marked nominative h( kti/sij.35 Evidently, Paul wants to draw attention to mataio/thj.36 32. Johnson, Reading Romans, 128. 33. Eastman, “Whose Apocalypse?” 274. 34. Moo, “Isaiah’s Cosmic Covenant,” 78. 35. Westfall’s cline of markedness with regard to case places the dative case as the most highly marked behind the vocative, while the nominative is only above the unmarked accusative case (Westfall, “Analysis of Prominence,” 82). 36. Jewett also makes reference to the placement of th=| mataio/thti in “emphatic position” (Jewett, Romans, 513).

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There are some significant primed relationships between Ecclesiastes and Rom 8:20. mataio&thj appears predominantly in the nominative case in Ecclesiastes, whereas it appears in the dative in Rom 8:20. The predominant occurrences of the lexeme in Ecclesiastes involve no verbs.37 However, when mataio&thj is in direct syntactical relationship with a verb, that verb is usually either in the present or aorist tense-forms.38 This is significant given that, in Rom 8:20, mataio&thti is the direct object of u9peta/gh, which occurs in the aorist form. This may reflect an important colligation relationship: “mataio&thj + aorist verb.” Such a colligation may help to invoke associations with the opening and closing refrains of Ecclesiastes (see below). Even so, a close link is seen in the transition between chs. 11 and 12 of Ecclesiastes and Romans 8. Qoheleth addresses the youth, telling them kai\ a0po/sthson qumo\n a)po_ kardi/aj sou kai\ para/gage ponhri/an a)po\ sarko/j sou o3ti h( neo/thj kai\ h( a!noia mataio&thj. In 12:1, Qoheleth, still addressing the youth, encourages them to remember tou~ kti/santoj se. These verses are held together by the repetition of neo/thj (youth), especially as it collocates with mataio&thj. Thus, there is a recognizable tension here between the created status of the “youth” and their futility. Three important intertextually primed relationships are in view here. First, a semantic association between mataio&thj and creation language (i.e., tou~ kti/santoj and h( kti/sij) indicates a plausible intertexual link.39 Second, the created-but-futile tension present in both Eccles 11:10–12:1 and Rom 8:20–21 reflects Hoey’s textual semantic association.40 Third, the imperative verb 37. Often an equative verb is assumed. See, for example, Eccles 2:11, 17; 4:4, 8. 38. Perhaps most notably in the opening and closing refrains (mataio&thj mataioth&twn, ei]pen o9 0Ekklsiasth/j). 39. This association may be extended to include the collocate poie/w (three times in Ecclesiastes), which is in the same semantic domain as the kti/zw family. 40. Hoey’s definition of a textual semantic association is “[the lexeme’s] place in the larger semantics of the text e.g. its association with contrast relations, problem-solution patterns, narrative climax” (Hoey, “Literary Creativity,” 8). This would be a case of a contrast relation.

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mnh&sqhti (remember) occurs in the aorist form in Eccles 12:1, as does u9peta/gh in Rom 8:20—an established colligation in Ecclesiastes. These three primed patterns help to establish some sort of intertextual link between Eccles 11:9–12:1 and Rom 8:20. That is to say, given Paul’s (and perhaps his readers’) exposure to the language patterns of this portion of Ecclesiastes, these patterns are repeated in the in language choices of Rom 8:20. Paul may also have the entire book of Ecclesiastes in view. The ambiguity of the reference in Romans allows for more interpretive freedom on behalf of the reader. mataio/thj invokes a central theme in Ecclesiastes. The notion of futility forms a thematic bracket with the phrase mataio&thj mataioth&twn, ei]pen o9 0Ekklsiasth/j, ta_ pa&nta mataio&thj and the sense of futility is the single concept that prevails in the evaluatory refrains throughout the book. Thus, the thematic coherence constrains the intertextual potential of Rom 8:20 (unlike Eph 4:17). As Qoheleth searches for meaning in various aspects of life, he finds them all to be futile, which culminates in the assessment that ta_ pa&nta mataio&thj. This is the sentiment expressed in Rom 8:20, where creation (or the creature) is subjected to mataio&thj. In that light, I propose that the entire book of Ecclesiastes serves as the primary target association in Paul’s use of mataio&thj. Even so, the language of Rom 8:20 invokes the strongly primed patterns in Eccles 11:10–12:1, and so readers who are more familiar with the book could be expected to recognize those grammatical, semantic, and textual parallels. Moyise raises a concern with regard to the acceptance and use of Ecclesiastes in and around the first century CE. He observes rabbinic resistance to the value of Ecclesiastes, probably due to the book’s consistently negative tone.41 If this disapproval in rabbinic circles is any indication of the general opinion of the book in that period, one has to seriously question whether Paul would want to allude to it.42 Moyise raises a more serious objection when he suggests that the LXX text of Ecclesiastes is “post41. Moyise, “Intertextuality,” 20–21. 42. That is, unless the overall negative feelings are exactly what Paul wished to evoke in his readers.

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Christian.”43 Surviving Greek translations of Ecclesiastes appear to stem from a tradition originally produced by Aquila.44 This confirms Moyise’s claim of a post-Christian date, c. 140 CE.45 Even so, Dines does point out that Ecclesiastes can be placed within the textual tradition called the kaige group, a phenomenon that exemplifies an earlier and wider translational tradition eventually culminating in Aquila’s work, which is thought to have been translated between the first centuries BCE and CE.46 If the Ecclesiastes translation is part of this earlier and influential kaige group, it remains possible for Paul to have been influenced by the mataio&thj of Ecclesiastes. For Paul, Qoheleth’s description of a world given over to futility is the basic association that corresponds with a subjected world. The insertion of mataio&thj brings the audience into the world of Ecclesiastes (especially 11:10–12:1), characterizing the futility of creation in accordance with the futility described by Qoheleth. Petrine Usage The only non-Pauline use of mataio&thj in the New Testament is found in 2 Pet 2:18. As the author warns against false teachers in ch. 2, he gives a lengthy description of their practices and appeals to Balaam son of Beor as an archetype for their behavior. In 2:17, the author provides vivid description of the teachers, calling them “waterless springs” and “storm-driven mists,” and even suggests their punishment. Further, they are said to entice 43. Moyise, “Intertextuality,” 22. 44. Jobes and Silva, Invitation, 172; Dines, The Septuagint, 20. 45. Jobes and Silva, Invitation, 39. 46. The first instance of the kaige group was found in 8QHevXIIgr. It soon became one of many texts containing a number of unique and characteristic translational patterns including the Greek phrase kai& ge (Dines, The Septuagint, 20, 51). Jobes and Silva note that “the evidence indicates that this text does not represent an independent translation, but rather a Jewish Palestinian recension of the Greek version found in the main LXX tradition,” which actually seems to have brought the text closer to the original Hebrew and became the basis for Aquila’s work (Jobes and Silva, Invitation, 172).

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the church through loud boasts of mataio&thtoj. Most commentators do not mention any Old Testament background to this passage, questioning any sort of intertextuality with the Old Testament.47 Despite this fact, it is likely that an intertextual connection exists between 2 Pet 2:18–19 and Rom 8:19–21.48 Romans 8:19–21

2 Peter 2:18–19

h( gar a)pokaradoki/a th~j kti/sewj th\n a)poka&luysin tw~n ui9w~n tou~ qeou~ a)pekde/xetai. th|= ga_r mataio&thti h( kti/sij u9peta/gh, ou0x e0kou=sa a)lla_ dia_ to\n u9pota/canta, e0f’ e0lpi/di o3ti kai\ au0th\ h( kti/sij e0leuqerwqh&setai a)po\ th~j doulei/aj th~j fqora~j ei0j th\n e)leuqeri/an th~j do/chj tw~n te/knwn tou~ qeou~.

u9pe/rogka ga_r mataio&thtoj fqeggo/menoi delea&zousin e0n e0piqumi/aij sarko\j a)selgei/aij tou\j o0li/gwj a)pofeu/gontaj tou\j e0n pla&nh| a)nastrefome/noj, e0leuqeri/an au0toi=j e0paggelo/menoi, au0toi\ dou~loi u9pa&rcontej th~j fqora~j:

When both passages are viewed together, four verbal parallels are noticeable, which comprise a thematic core that holds these two passages together. In Rom 8:18–21, Paul depicts the hopeful expectation of the creation that was subjected to mataio&thj. This futile creation was subjected in hope that it will be set free (e0leuqerwqh&setai) from slavery to corruption (th~j doulei/aj th~j fqora~j). Further, the author of 2 Peter writes regarding false teachers that in speaking loud boasts of mataio&thtoj they promise freedom (e0leuqeri/an), but, ironically, they are in fact slaves to corruption (dou~loi th~j fqora~j). It appears as though the author engages in an ironic use of the language of Romans 8—a case of both collocational and textual semantic association, 47. See Davids, II Peter and Jude, 244–45; Neyrey, 2 Peter, Jude, 220; Green, Second Peter and Jude, 127; Kelly, Peter and Jude, 345; Donelson, I & II Peter and Jude, 258; Green, Jude & 2 Peter, 293–94; Harrington and Senior, 1 Peter, Jude and 2 Peter, 276; Witherington, 1–2 Peter, 360. It is common for commentators to make note of parallels with Jude 16. 48. Verbal parallels are highlighted in bold.

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which is best characterized through the contrast relation of slavery–freedom.49 While Paul promises the release from slavery to corruption, the author of 2 Peter uses this language as an accusation. In both cases, mataio&thj is the key term that characterizes the subject. Second Peter reveals progressive intertextual movement from mataio&thj in Ecclesiastes to Romans 8, and then to 2 Peter’s use of mataio&thj, which occurs in accordance with e0leuqeri/an, dou~loi, and th~j fqora~j to associate the description of the futile creation with the false teachers he criticizes. This phenomenon illustrates the associative permutations that occur with the re-experiencing of a lexeme. Conclusion Michael Hoey’s theory of lexical priming is a useful model for the analysis of potential cases of intertextuality in the New Testament. Hoey’s priming classes function as criteria to affirm or deny intertextual relations. Utilizing this model, I have shown that the language of the book of Ecclesiastes (particularly Eccles 11:10–12:1) is a likely target in Rom 8:20 in a description of futile creation, while mataio&thj in Eph 4:17 does not invoke any such associations. The verbal parallels present between 2 Pet 2:18 and Rom 8:20—particularly mataio&thj—suggest that the author of 2 Peter intended to invoke the language of futile creation in his critique of false teachers.

49. See, again, Hoey, “Literary Creativity,” 8, for a reference to contrast relations as textual semantic association.

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Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1 Appendix: Concordance of mataio&thj in Ecclesiastes

1:2 ς Ισραηλ ἐν Ιερουσαλημ 1:2 ν εἶπεν ὁ Ἐκκλησιαστής 1:2 ς ματαιοτήτων τὰ πάντα 1:14 λιον καὶ ἰδοὺ τὰ πάντα 2:1 καὶ ἰδοὺ καί γε τοῦτο 2:11 ιεῖν καὶ ἰδοὺ τὰ πάντα 2:15 λαλεῖ ὅτι καί γε τοῦτο 2:17 τὸν ἥλιον ὅτι τὰ πάντα 2:19 τὸν ἥλιον καί γε τοῦτο 2:21 ίδα αὐτοῦ καί γε τοῦτο 2:23 δία αὐτοῦ καί γε τοῦτο 2:26 θεοῦ ὅτι καί γε τοῦτο 3:19 νος οὐδέν ὅτι τὰ πάντα 4:4 ρου αὐτοῦ καί γε τοῦτο 4:8 γαθωσύνης καί γε τοῦτο 4:16 αὐτῷ ὅτι καί γε τοῦτο 5:9 ῶν γένημα καί γε τοῦτο 6:2 ος φάγεται αὐτόν τοῦτο 6:9 ενον ψυχῇ καί γε τοῦτο 7:6 ν ἀφρόνων καί γε τοῦτο 8:10 ἐποίησαν καί γε τοῦτο 8:14 ροσώπου τοῦ θεοῦ ἔστιν 8:14 εἶπα ὅτι καί γε τοῦτο 9:2 τα πρὸ προσώπου αὐτῶν 11:8 νται πᾶν τὸ ἐρχόμενον 11:10 ἡ νεότης καὶ ἡ ἄνοια 12:8 ὸν θεόν ὃς ἔδωκεν αὐτό 12:8 Ἐκκλησιαστής τὰ πάντα 6:12 ωῇ ἀριθμὸν ἡμερῶν ζωῆς 7:15 πάντα εἶδον ἐν ἡμέραις 9:9 ησας πάσας ἡμέρας ζωῆς 9:9 τὸν ἥλιον πάσας ἡμέρας 6:4 ὐτὸν τὸ ἔκτρωμα ὅτι ἐν 1:2 ν Ιερουσαλημ ματαιότης 1:2 Ἐκκλησιαστής ματαιότης 12:8 ἔδωκεν αὐτό ματαιότης 5:6 ἐν πλήθει ἐνυπνίων καὶ 4:7 πέστρεψα ἐγὼ καὶ εἶδον 4:7 γοι πολλοὶ πληθύνοντες

ματαιότης ματαιοτήτων εἶπεν ὁ Ἐκκλησι ματαιότης ματαιοτήτων τὰ πάντα ματαιό ματαιότης τίς περισσεία τῷ ἀνθρώπῳ ἐν ματαιότης καὶ προαίρεσις πνεύματος δι ματαιότης τῷ γέλωτι εἶπα περιφορὰν ματαιότης καὶ προαίρεσις πνεύματος κα ματαιότης ὅτι οὐκ ἔστιν μνήμη τοῦ σοφ ματαιότης καὶ προαίρεσις πνεύματος κα ματαιότης καὶ ἐπέστρεψα ἐγὼ τοῦ ματαιότης καὶ πονηρία μεγάλη ὅτι τί γ ματαιότης ἐστίν οὐκ ἔστιν ἀγαθὸν ἐν ἀ ματαιότης καὶ προαίρεσις πνεύματος το ματαιότης τὰ πάντα πορεύεται εἰς τόπον ματαιότης καὶ προαίρεσις πνεύματος ὁ ματαιότης καὶ περισπασμὸς πονηρός ἐστ ματαιότης καὶ προαίρεσις πνεύματος φύ ματαιότης ἐν πλήθει τῆς ἀγαθωσύνης ματαιότης καὶ ἀρρωστία πονηρά ἐστιν ἐ ματαιότης καὶ προαίρεσις πνεύματος εἴ ματαιότης ὅτι ἡ συκοφαντία ματαιότης ὅτι οὐκ ἔστιν γινομένη ματαιότης ἣ πεποίηται ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς ματαιότης καὶ ἐπῄνεσα ἐγὼ σὺν τὴν εὐφ ματαιότης ἐν τοῖς πᾶσιν συνάντημα ἓν ματαιότης εὐφραίνου νεανίσκε ἐν νεότη ματαιότης καὶ μνήσθητι τοῦ κτίσαντός ματαιότης ματαιοτήτων εἶπεν ὁ Ἐκκλησι ματαιότης καὶ περισσὸν ὅτι ἐγένετο Ἐκ ματαιότητος αὐτοῦ καὶ ἐποίησεν αὐτὰς ματαιότητός μου ἔστιν δίκαιος ἀπολλύμ ματαιότητός σου τὰς δοθείσας σοι ὑπὸ ματαιότητός σου ὅτι αὐτὸ μερίς σου ἐν ματαιότητι ἦλθεν καὶ ἐν σκότει πορεύε ματαιοτήτων εἶπεν ὁ Ἐκκλησιαστής ματα ματαιοτήτων τὰ πάντα ματαιότης τίς πε ματαιοτήτων εἶπεν ὁ Ἐκκλησιαστής τὰ π ματαιότητες καὶ λόγοι πολλοί ὅτι σὺν ματαιότητα ὑπὸ τὸν ἥλιον ἔστιν εἷς ματαιότητα τί περισσὸν τῷ ἀνθρώπῳ ὅτι

FEWSTER Intertextuality of mataio&thj Bibliography Achtemeier, Paul J. Romans. Interpretation. Atlanta: John Knox, 1985. Barr, James. The Semantics of Biblical Language. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1961. Barrett, C.K. The Epistle to the Romans. HNTC. New York: Harper & Row, 1957. Barth, Markus. Ephesians: Introduction, Translation, and Commentary on Chapters 1–3. AB 34. New York: Doubleday, 1974. Best, Ernest. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Ephesians. ICC. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1998. Brown, Raymond E. An Introduction to the New Testament. New York: Doubleday, 1997. Bruce, F.F. The Epistle to the Colossians, to Philemon, and to the Ephesians. NICNT. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1984. Bullmore, Michael A. “The Four Most Important Biblical Passages for a Christian Environmentalism.” TrinJ 19.2 (1998) 139–62. Caird, G.B. Paul’s Letters from Prison: In the Revised Standard Version. London: Oxford University Press, 1976. Cranfield, C.E.B. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans. ICC. London: T. & T. Clark, 1975. Darko, Daniel K. No Longer Living as the Gentiles: Differentiation and Shared Ethical Values in Ephesians 4.17–6.9. LNTS 375. London: T. & T. Clark, 2008. Davids, Peter H. The Letters of II Peter and Jude. PNTC. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006. Dines, Jennifer M. The Septuagint. London: T. & T. Clark, 2004. Donelson, Lewis R. I & II Peter and Jude. NTL. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2010. Dunn, James D.G. Romans 1–8. WBC 38a. Waco, TX: Word, 1988. Eastman, Susan. “Whose Apocalypse? The Identity of the Sons of God in Romans 8:19.” JBL 121.2 (2002) 263–77. Fitzmyer, Joseph A. Romans: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 33. New York: Doubleday, 1992.

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Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1 Green, Gene L. Jude & 2 Peter. BECNT. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2008. Green, Michael. The Second Epistle General of Peter and the General Epistle of Jude: An Introduction and Commentary. TNTC. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1987. Halliday, M.A.K., and Christian M.I.M. Matthiessen. An Introduction to Functional Grammar. 3rd ed. London: Hodder Education, 2004. Harrington, Daniel J., and Douglas P. Senior. 1 Peter, Jude and 2 Peter. Sacra Pagina. Collegeville, MN: Liturgical, 2008. Hays, Richard B. Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul. New Haven/London: Yale University Press, 1989. Hoehner, Harold W. Ephesians: An Exegetical Commentary. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2002. Hoey, Michael. “Lexical Priming and Literary Creativity.” In Text, Discourse and Corpora: Theory and Analysis, edited by Michael Hoey, Michaela Mahlberg, Michael Stubbs and Wolfgang Teubert, 7–30. London: Continuum, 2007. ———. Lexical Priming: A New Theory of Words and Language. London/New York: Routledge, 2005. Jewett, Robert. Romans. Hermeneia. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007. Jobes, Karen H., and Moisés Silva. Invitation to the Septuagint. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2000. Johnson, Luke Timothy. Reading Romans: A Literary and Theological Commentary. New York: Crossroad, 1997. Käsemann, Ernst. Commentary on Romans. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980. Keck, Leander. Romans. Abingdon New Testament Commentaries. Nashville: Abingdon, 2005. Keener, Craig S. Romans. New Covenant Commentary Series. Eugene: Cascade, 2009. Kelly, J.N.D. A Commentary on the Epistles of Peter and of Jude. BNTC. London: Adam & Charles Black, 1969. Kristeva, Julia. “The Bounded Text.” In Desire in Language: A Semiotic Approach to Literature and Art, edited by Leon S. Roudiez, 36–63. New York: Columbia University Press, 1980.

FEWSTER Intertextuality of mataio&thj Lawson, J. Mark. “Romans 8:18–25—The Hope of Creation.” Review and Expositor 91.4 (1994) 559–65. Lenski, R.C.H. The Interpretation of St. Paul’s Epistle to the Romans. Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1961. Liefeld, Walter L. Ephesians. The IVP New Testament Commentary Series 10. Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 1997. Lincoln, Andrew T. Ephesians. WBC 42. Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1990. Luther, Martin. The Epistle to the Romans. Translated by J. Theodore Mueller. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1954. MacDonald, Margaret Y. Colossians and Ephesians. Sacra Pagina. Collegeville, MN: Liturgical, 2000. Moo, Douglas J. The Epistle to the Romans. NICNT. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996. ———. “Nature in the New Creation: New Testament Eschatology and the Environment.” JETS 49.3 (2006) 449–88. ———. Romans 1–8. The Wycliffe Exegetical Commentary. Chicago: Moody Press, 1991. Moo, Jonathan. “Romans 8.18–22 and Isaiah’s Cosmic Covenant.” NTS 54.1 (2008) 74–89. Moyise, Steve. “Intertextuality.” In Old Testament in the New Testament: Essays in Honour of J.L. North, edited by Steve Moyise, 14–41. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2000. Muddiman, John. The Epistle to the Ephesians. BNTC. London: Continuum, 2001. Murray, John. The Epistle to the Romans. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1968. Neyrey, Jerome H. 2 Peter, Jude: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 37C. New York: Doubleday, 1993. O’Brien, Peter T. The Letter to the Ephesians. PNTC. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999. O’Donnell, Matthew Brook. Corpus Linguistics and the Greek New Testament. NTM 2. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2005.

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Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1 ———. “Designing and Compiling a Register-Balanced Corpus of Hellenistic Greek for the Purpose of Linguistic Description and Investigation.” In Diglossia and Other Topics in New Testament Linguistics, edited by Stanley E. Porter, 255–97. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2000. Osborne, Grant R. Romans. The IVP New Testamnet Commentary Series. Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2004. Patzia, Arthur G. Ephesians, Colossians, Philemon. New International Biblical Commentary. Peabody: Hendrickson, 1990. Porter, Stanley E. “Further Comments on the Use of the Old Testament in the New Testament.” In The Intertextuality of the Epistles: Explorations of Theory and Practice, edited by Thomas L. Brodie, Dennis R. MacDonald and Stanley E. Porter, 98–110. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2006. Rimbach, James A. “‘All Creation Groans’: Theology/ Ecology in St. Paul.” AJT 1.2 (1987) 379–91. Sanday, W., and A.C. Headlam. The Epistle to the Romans. ICC. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1896. Schreiner, Thomas R. Romans. BECNT. Grand Rapids: Baker, 1998. Silva, Moisés. Biblical Words and Their Meaning. Revised and expanded ed. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1986. Stamps, Dennis L. “The Use of the Old Testament in the New as a Rhetorical Device: A Methodological Proposal.” In Hearing the Old Testament in the New Testament, edited by Stanley E. Porter, 9–37. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006. Stubbs, Michael. “On Texts, Corpora, and Models of Language.” In Texts, Discourse and Corpora: Theory and Analysis, edited by Michael Hoey, Michaela Mahlberg, Michael Stubbs and Wolfgang Tuebert, 163–90. London: Continuum, 2004. Stuhlmacher, Peter. Paul’s Letter to the Romans: A Commentary. Translated by Scott J. Hafemann. Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1994. Teubert, Wolfgang. “Parole-Linguistics and the Diachronic Dimension of the Discourse.” In Text, Discourse and Corpora: Theory and Analysis, edited by Michael Hoey, Michaela Mahlberg, Michael Stubbs and Wolfgang Teubert, 57–88. London: Continuum, 2007.

FEWSTER Intertextuality of mataio&thj Thielman, Frank. Ephesians. BECNT. Grand Rapids: Baker, 2010. Westfall, Cynthia Long. “A Method for the Analysis of Prominence in Hellenistic Greek.” In The Linguist as Pedagogue: Trends in Teaching and Linguistic Analysis of the Greek New Testament, edited by Stanley E. Porter and Matthew Brook O’Donnell, 79– 94. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2009. Witherington, Ben. Letters and Homilies to Hellenized Christians: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary on 1–2 Peter. Grand Rapids: IVP Academic, 2007. Witherington, Ben, with Darlene Hyatt. Paul’s Letter to the Romans: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004.

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LANGUAGE CHOICE IN ANCIENT PALESTINE: A SOCIOLINGUISTIC STUDY OF JESUS’ LANGUAGE USE BASED ON FOUR “I HAVE COME” SAYINGS Hughson Ong McMaster Divinity College, Hamilton, ON, Canada Abstract: This article relates to the criteria of language authenticity in historical Jesus research and inquires into the lingua franca of Jesus’ social environment. It demonstrates via sociolinguistic principles that Palestine was a multilingual society, establishes that various social groups necessitate the use of language varieties, and addresses the issue of language choice—the occasions and reasons multilingual people use their native tongue over and against their second language. The objective is to show in four “I have come” sayings in the Synoptics that, with high probability, Jesus’ internal language was Aramaic, and his public language was Greek. (Article) Keywords: Historical Jesus, Greek language, sociolinguistics, Mark 2:17, Mark 10:45, Luke 12:49–51, Matt 5:17

Introduction The historical Jesus remains one of the most often discussed topics in the study of the Synoptic Gospels. Numerous criteria for authenticating Jesus’ sayings (and actions) have emerged during the latter two “Quests.”1 Neglected to a certain extent have been 1. Some scholars rightly argue that the label “quests” as marking some distinctive periods in the history of Jesus research is inaccurate, especially since there has been, in fact, a single ongoing study and writing of Jesus’ life even long before Reimarus, who is generally recognized as the “father” of the historical Jesus quest. For an excellent discussion of this view and a suggestion as to how future research should go, see Porter, Criteria, 17–25, 28–123, 238– 42, esp. 17, 21, 24–25, 32, 55–56. See also “Criteria,” 697–99. Cf. Weaver,

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the Aramaic and Greek language criteria, especially the unsettled debate as to whether Aramaic or Greek was the lingua franca of Jesus’ social environment.2 With the impasse in the debate, it is important to note that these two language criteria can be seen as those languages spoken by typical first-century Jews.3 The choice of one language or the other, as well as the social forces and factors that influence that choice, can be studied through sociolinguistic theories.4 Thus, my goal in this article is to Historical Jesus, xi-xii; Allison, “Secularizing,” 141–45; Holmén, “Disinterested Quest,” 189. Using the labels “quests” for referential purposes, however, and with the aforementioned fact in mind, it is significant to note that the dawn of the New Quest (ca. 1953–1970s) has paved the way for the further development of some of the criteria, notably that of the criterion of Double Dissimliarity. During this period of the zenith of form criticism (and redaction criticism), although this criterion became the central point of reference for many studies, it also ultimately meant stripping away Jesus’ historical relevance. To a great extent, according to Tobias Nicklas, the Third Quest (ca. 1980s–present) responded with the recognition that Jesus was a man of his own world and attempted to reconstruct this world. That Jesus should be distinguished from his own world in order to discern a minimal amount of “genuine” tradition, or that he should be assimilated into it, is the thing in common between these two later quests. See Nicklas, “Alternatives,” 715–18; Telford, “Major Trends,” 60–61, who might have rightly argued that the Third Quest is merely a revival of the New Quest. 2. See Porter, Criteria, 164–80; Porter, “Use of Greek,” 71–87; Porter, “Did Jesus Ever Teach in Greek?” 199–235; Casey, “Aramaic Approach,” 275– 78; Casey, “In Which Language?” 326–28. 3. These language criteria can have direct significance on the criterion of difference or (double) dissimilarity, since if evidence shows that Jesus’ sayings in the Gospels took place in both Greek and Aramaic, then this undermines the dissimilarity criterion. Further, this linguistic criterion poses a good alternative to tradition-critical analysis. Tom Holmén finds its methodology most hazardous, since not only does it work backwards from the texts to earlier “hypothetical” traditions, but also there are no “laws” to govern their developments. See Holmén, Covenant Thinking, 26. Cf. Nicklas, “Alternatives,” 718. 4. Sociolinguistics is the study of the interplay between the way language is used in communication, the social factors in the environment of the communicative process, and the speaker’s attitude toward this process. Ralph Fasold gives two facts about language that are often ignored in the field of linguistics: (1) because language varies, speakers have multiple ways of saying the same thing, and (2) language is used not only for transmitting information

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demonstrate how sociolinguistic theories can provide a general picture of how these two languages were appropriated in various ways and situations in ancient Palestine. Specifically, I intend to show, based on a sociolinguistic analysis of four “I have come” sayings (Mark 2:17; 10:45; Luke 12:49–51; Matt 5:17), that whereas Jesus’ “internal” language was most likely Aramaic, the language that he used in public would have most likely been Greek. The discussions that follow first show that Palestine was a multilingual society and establishes that various social groups or units necessitate the use of language varieties.5 The second section addresses the issue of language choice, that is, when and why people in multilingual societies would typically use their “mother tongue” and their “second language” on certain occasions. I present three models where language choice is studied from the fields of sociology, social psychology, and anthropology. In the last section, I analyze four “I have come” sayings of Jesus through these three lenses in order to determine the type of language Jesus would have used in these instances. One caveat before I proceed is that some objections to the application of contemporary models to ancient sources and texts are valid and have not gone unacknowledged by experts in the

and thoughts from one person to another, but also for defining the social situation (Sociolinguistics of Society, ix–x). While I find the latter reason to be an accurate observation, the first reason is not necessarily true. For a good discussion of the purposes of linguistic analysis, see Thompson, Functional Grammar, 1–13. Dell Hymes’s explanation of the subject of sociolinguistics makes clear this distinction between the linguist’s and the sociolinguist’s tasks: “What seem variation and deviation from the standpoint of a linguist’s analysis may emerge as a structure and a pattern from the standpoint of the communicative economy of the group among whom the analyzed form of speech exists” (Foundations, 4). Cf. Halliday, “Users and Uses,” 75–110. 5. This study from a sociolinguistic perspective, to my knowledge, is a new and unique contribution to historical and cultural studies on the multilingualism of Palestine. For previous studies on the multilingual environment of Palestine, see Wise, “Languages,” 434–44, esp. 437; Fitzmyer, “Languages,” 501–31.

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area of linguistics.6 However, I think that the nature of how language functions remains relatively constant in contrast to other types of social analyses (e.g., the social and anthropological models used in social-scientific criticism), since society and culture certainly change through the course of time. A clear case in point is an example from my own personal experience.7 The customs and traditions of my grandparents, parents, and my own generation have significantly changed, especially from a more patriarchal to an egalitarian setting within the family. While this has entailed variations and change in the tone, style, content, and even the choice of words and expressions in the actual use of language from generation to generation, the single thing in common continues to be the type of language that is used at home.8 Of course, a relocation of residence, such as our migration to Canada, will completely disrupt this scenario by virtue of the new environment. Palestine as a Multilingual Society There are a number of reasons that suggest ancient Palestine was a multilingual environment. One is that a monolingual society 6. See Paulston and Tucker, Early Days; Paulston, Linguistic Minorities; also cited in Paulston, “Language Repertoire,” 82. 7. I wish to thank Cynthia Long Westfall for encouraging me to use pertinent personal examples from my own experience as a multilingual in this discussion of language use and choice. I was born and raised in the Philippines, a linguistically diverse country (with six major regional languages), which is like many other countries, such as Nigeria, Tanzania, India, and Indonesia. See Fasold, Sociolinguistics of Society, 1. As a child, I spoke a particular Chinese dialect with my parents, Filipino (the national language) and Bicol (a major dialect) with friends, and English in the classroom (English is the official medium of instruction in most private schools). 8. My observation is consistent with the two most basic sociolinguistic principles that (1) all languages and all speech communities change through time due to the “functional allocations of the varieties of language used in them,” and (2) all language users evaluate the forms of language(s) they use, such that some forms are regarded as either appropriate or inappropriate in different social settings (see Ferguson, Sociolinguistic Perspectives, 277).

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rarely exists.9 The mere presence of Jewish and Greek communities and their Roman rulers clearly indicates a complex linguistic society.10 As I show below, the native languages of each of these communities, which were Aramaic/Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, functioned in different sociolinguistic settings.11 Porter argues that Jesus, as a multilingual who lived in this first-century context, must have been productively fluent in Aramaic (his native tongue) and Greek (his second acquired language), and that Jesus may have known a few common Latin words based on the multilingual environment of Palestine.12 This is possible, since Latin must have been confined to conversations between Romans and the elites.13 In any case, John 19:20 reads: “Many of the Jews read [a)ne/gnwsan (read aloud)]14 this sign, for the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city and it was written in Aramaic, Latin, and Greek” (CEB). Since Hebrew was

9. Canada has numerous languages, including those of its native peoples and immigrants, in addition to English and French—Canada’s official languages. Even the United States, which is often thought of as a monolingual society, has three major Spanish dialects from earlier Puerto Rican, Cuban, and Chicano immigrants, along with European and Asian languages from recent immigrants (see Fasold, Sociolinguistics of Society, 1–2). 10. This is only a general categorization of the communities of ancient Palestine. Various smaller groups, parties, and sects, as well as the two-thirds or three-fourths Jews living in the Diaspora, contribute all the more to this linguistic diversity. For a brief survey of the historical background of ancient Palestine, see Ferguson, Backgrounds, esp. 427–30; Jeffers, Greco-Roman World, 14–18, 211–19. 11. Fitzmyer provides a historical background with literary and inscriptional evidence of the four languages used in Palestine about the time Christianity emerged (Greek, Latin, Hebrew, and Aramaic). See Fitzmyer, “Languages,” 501‒31. 12. Porter, Criteria, 134. 13. On the use of Latin, see Fitzmyer, “Languages,” 504‒507. 14. The verb a)naginw&skw most likely means “to read something written, normally done aloud and thus involving verbalization” (Louw and Nida, Lexicon, 1: 396).

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mostly confined within liturgical contexts, Jesus may only have been a passive speaker of Hebrew.15 Another reason involves the role that language plays in the concept of nationalism and nationism (both are points at the ends of a continuum, see Appendix A).16 Because first-century Jews tended to think that they were a multinational state (see Appendix B), that is, that they were a nationality that happened to be under a ruling nation, nationism could have been a huge problem for the Roman government. There are generally two areas in which language becomes a problem for nationism: government administration and education. Because both governing and educating requires a language for communication, not only within the government institution but also between the government and the people, the language that does the best job is the best choice.17 On the other hand, the role of language in nationalism is linked with culture, religion, and history. It serves as a symbol of tradition and authenticity.18 According to Fishman, “the mother tongue is an aspect of the soul.”19 Whereas a nation’s appeal to language has a pragmatic goal, it is symbolic on the part of a nationality. Therefore, even though multilingualism works against nationalism, pragmatically, problems in communication can act as a serious impediment to trade and industry and can be 15. For studies on the use of Hebrew in first-century Palestine, see Segal, “Mishnaic Hebrew,” 670‒700; Kutscher, History, 15–20. 16. This concept of nationalism-nationism is derived from Joshua Fishman (see “Nationality-Nationalism and Nation-Nationism,” 39‒52; Fishman, Language and Nationalism, esp. 3–5, 44–55). 17. Fishman, “Sociolinguistics,” 7, 9. 18. The Austrians and the Swiss, for instance, were threatened by their northern neighbor, Germany, and fought for their national integrity linguistically, especially after the Second World War. Both turned to the extensive use of their non-standard dialects to react against the language-nation-ideology, which had a long tradition in the German-speaking area. As a result, the use of German was limited to formal situations and to writing. Hence, Ulrich Ammon points out that linguistic purism is rather a common phenomenon of linguistic national defense or emancipation (see “National-Variety Purism,” 161–78, esp. 168–70). 19. Fishman, Language and Nationalism, 46.

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socially disruptive.20 Hence, it is typical and natural for the ruling nation to impose its own national language, regardless of the resistance it may face from various local groups.21 While one may argue that the concept of nationalismnationism is a modern phenomenon that has its origin in the ultra-nationalist party during the French Revolution,22 this is not necessarily the case, since nationalism is a universal and perennial phenomenon. Being “nationalistic” is a natural human tendency, even though not all people are nationalistic. Therefore, nationalism as a cultural phenomenon had been there even before this political ideology developed in the seventeenth century. Moreover, J. Hellerman’s study “Purity and Nationalism in Second Temple Literature” has shown that this innate human tendency to defend one’s own national identity was already present from the Maccabean period (ca. 167 BCE) to the first century CE. Based on evidence from 1–2 Maccabees and Jubilees, he shows that whereas earlier Jews during the time of Menelaus were willing to compromise or give up their socio-religious identity and ethnic solidarity by openly accommodating Greek mores, later first-century Jews exemplified opposite attitudes. First and Second Maccabees and Jubilees reflect Jewish preoccupation with the following symbols of socio-political identity: circumcision and the distinction between sacred and profane places, times, foods, and people (Palestinian Jews and Gentile oppressors).23 The two major Jewish revolts of ca. 66–74 CE and ca.

20. Fasold, Sociolinguistics of Society, 3. 21. The Philippines gained its independence in 1947. The government then declared Pilipino (Filipino now), which is basically the old Tagalog, as the national language. Although there was some resistance from the other large regions to use it as the lingua franca, Filipino remains the national and formal language (together with English) of the country to this day. Cf. Holmes, Introduction, 101. 22. E.g., see Smith, Nationalism and Modernism. His discussion of the five paradigms of primordialism, perennialism, ethno-symbolism, modernism, and postmodernism, which are various strands of historical concepts that affect their explanation of the trend of nationalism, is insightful. 23. See Hellerman, “Purity and Nationalism,” 401–21.

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132–135 CE, and Paul’s injunctions in Romans 13 and Tit 3:1 (cf. 1 Tim 2:2) further support this point. A third reason for seeing Palestine as a multilingual society is that societies with the few rich on top and the populous poor at the bottom of its economic scale tend to be multilingual. In short, monolingual societies are typically economically better off than multilingual communities. Jonathan Pool attempted to conduct a study in 1962 using gross domestic product (GDP) per capita to measure the economy of 133 countries. He arrived at this conclusion: “a country that is linguistically highly heterogeneous is always underdeveloped or semideveloped, and a country that is highly developed always has considerable language uniformity.”24 The veracity of Pool’s finding can be tested against the macro-economic picture of the first-century Roman Empire and a quick snapshot of Paul’s Roman congregation (see Appendix C). The data in Appendix C shows that 90 percent of the Roman cities with at least ten thousand inhabitants lived at or below the poverty line. It is not surprising that multilingualism can create poverty, although many other factors, such as detachment from the traditional socio-economic way of life, urbanization, migration, policies on resource allocation, political and ethnic conflicts, and information and contact barriers can all contribute to the level of the economic condition of a society.25 That not all languages are given equal status and privileges implies that speakers of minority languages are socio-economically disadvantaged; those who are able to speak the prestige language are the ones who have the most access to jobs and education and who are able to equally participate and position themselves in societal functions.26 The fourth and final reason for such multilingualism in Palestine is that multilingualism is a solution to nationist-nationalist conflicts in the event of migration, imperialism, federation, or 24. 25. 23–36. 26.

See Pool, “National Development,” 213–30, esp. 222. For a good discussion of these various factors, see Batibo, “Poverty,” Harbert et al., “Poverty,” 1–2; Batibo, “Poverty,” 28–29.

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border territory interaction. Large-scale migration occurs when a larger group expands its territory by moving into adjoining territories and simultaneously controlling smaller socio-cultural groups. Small-scale migration happens when a smaller ethnic group moves into a larger territory controlled by another nationality and will often speak their own native language upon arrival.27 In imperialism, of which colonialism, annexation, and economic imperialism are subsets, the imperialist introduces its language into the colonized or annexed territories. Further, the imperialist’s language is likely to be used in government and education and for international commerce and diplomacy (in the case of economic imperialism).28 Federation is the process of uniting various nationalities or ethnic groups under the political control of a nation.29 People who lived in “border territories” may be citizens of one country, but at the same time, members of a socio-cultural group in the other.30 These historical patterns, however, are not clear-cut categories, since they often overlap each other. Figure 1 gives a general picture of the historical pattern of language shifts in Judea and its societal relationship with 27. After American independence, the migration of the descendants of the British colonists to the United States can be seen as a large-scale migration, whereas nineteenth- and early twentieth-century European and Chinese immigration, and more recently the Indo-Chinese countries such as Korea, Cuba, and Haiti, can be seen as a small-scale migration (see Fasold, Sociolinguistics, 9–10). 28. A modern example of annexation can be seen in the absorption of the Baltic republics of Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia by the Soviet Union after the Second World War. See Lewis, “Migration,” 310–41; Lewis, Multilingualism. Thailand was never colonized by an English-speaking country, but the attempt to use English as the medium of instruction by a large segment of the society for economic advantages is an example of economic imperialism. See Aksornkool, “EFL Planning in Thailand.” 29. After its independence in 1830, Belgium experienced great civil unrest because of the increasing nationalism of one group of its native speakers, the Northern Flemish, and was forced to undergo federations with the Frenchspeaking Southern Waloons. See Lorwin, “Linguistic Pluralism,” 386–412. 30. E.g., the French-speaking communities in the northeastern United States, while residents of that country are ethnically closer to Canadians living in Quebec.

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the Roman Empire in the first century BCE based on Judea’s subsequent annexations by three different superpowers (see Appendix D).31 By the seventh century CE, Arabic had displaced Aramaic in the Near East. The long history of the Aramaic language, which traces its roots to Aram (Syria now) in ca. 1000 BCE, suffered a major blow from the Arabic Islamic conquest. Today the language has almost vanished.32

Figure 1: Language Shifts in Judea and its Societal Relation with the Roman Empire: From the Persians to the Romans

Our discussion so far has allowed us to verify from a sociolinguistic perspective that Palestine was a multilingual society. Therefore, individuals who lived in such a society needed to know the variety of languages used in the various geographical areas of Palestine. But the bigger question is the implications of this phenomenon for an individual who lived in such a society. Fasold notes that “multilingualism serves as an interactional resource for the multilingual speaker.”33 This suggests that one particular language might normally be used at home or with close friends, whereas another would be used for commerce and trade, and even a third one for dealing with government agencies.34 In the Philippines, a typical third-generation FilipinoChinese who lived in a major city would normally speak Chinese with one’s parents, the regional dialect with friends and on the 31. Language shifts certainly did not happen overnight. The transition is a gradual process from the top socio-economic level to the low and more remote socio-economic and ethnic groups. On the movement of Hellenism in the east, see Kuhrt and Sherwin-White, Hellenism in the East. 32. See Sabar, “Aramaic, Once an International Language,” 222–34. 33. Fasold, Sociolinguistics, 8. 34. Fasold, Sociolinguistics, 8.

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street in shops and malls (if living outside the country’s capital of Metro Manila), Filipino (the national language) with government officials and institutions, and English at school (with the teacher), at a law court, or at a formal business meeting or seminar.35 Moreover, church services, wedding ceremonies, funeral services, and other socio-civic activities are usually conducted in English, although this varies according to the degree of formality and the type(s) and number of ethnic groups participating in a particular occasion. These kinds of linguistic variations and patterns are studied by sociolinguists, social psychologists, and anthropologists to determine what makes people in a society choose one language rather than another in a given instance. I now turn to this subject. Language Choice It is a common mistake to think of language choice as only available to a multilingual.36 There are normally three types of choices that are available to a language user: (1) code-switching, which involves switching between two or more languages, (2) code-mixing (borrowing), in which words, phrases, or larger units of one language are used while speaking in another language, and (3) variation within the same language, in which a monolingual speaker must select which set of variants to use in a given situation. Since these three types of choices operate on a 35. The Fil-Chi community constitutes perhaps the largest ethnic group in the Philippines. Although a similar situation can be observed with second generation mestizos and mestizas (or Filipino-Spanish), third generation Filipino-Spanish speakers would normally speak the regional dialect (or Filipino) at home and with friends. This may indicate that Filipino-Chinese tend to preserve their tradition and authenticity more than Filipino-Spanish. In the case of people who live in the rural areas, most of them would rarely even know how to speak Filipino properly and fluently. So the scenario here is altogether different from that in the more urbanized areas and major cities. In cases where the witness does not know how to speak English, a translator, normally one’s legal aid, would be present. 36. We often hear people say “As your boss…but as a friend…” This is an example of language choice for a monolingual.

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continuum, code-mixing is very difficult to differentiate from the other categories.37 This set of choices from a sociolinguistic perspective can be analyzed through the lenses of sociology, social psychology, and anthropology. Domain Analysis (A Sociological Model) One way of examining language choice is through what Joshua Fishman calls domains—certain institutional contexts comprised of a myriad of factors, such as location, topic, and participants.38 Domain analysis, according to Charles Ferguson, is related to diglossia “where two varieties of a language exist side by side throughout the community, with each having a definite role to play.”39 In 1967, Fishman further referred to diglossia as any degree of linguistic variation from within a single language to the use of two distinct languages.40 From these definitions there are two fairly distinct functions of language, one of which is called the High language/dialect (H) and the other the Low language/dialect (L). Function is the most important criterion for diglossia.41 Functional distribution means that there are certain situations in which only H is appropriate, and there are others in which only L is applicable, with some degrees of overlap. Using examples from four speech communities—Arabic, Modern Greek, Swiss German, and Haitian Creole—Ferguson gives a list of typical situations in which the two functions are distinguished (see Figure 2). The concept of diglossia is important, since the

37. See Fasold, Sociolinguistics, 181. 38. See Fishman, “Language Maintenance,” 32–70; Fishman, “Who Speaks,” 67–88. 39. Diglossia appears to be a term first used by Charles Ferguson in 1959. He distinguished diglossia from the alternate use of a standard language and a regional dialect, as well as between two distinct languages. See Ferguson, “Diglossia,” 232–51. 40. See Fishman, “Societal Bilingualism,” 92. 41. Ferguson explains diglossia under nine rubrics: function, prestige, literary heritage, acquisition, standardization, stability, grammar, lexicon, and phonology (see Ferguson, “Diglossia,” 232–51). For the purposes of this article, I can only include “function”—the most important criterion.

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term is differentiated from bilingualism. The former means a control of both H and L, whereas the latter refers to the function of H and L.42 The most common domain that emerges in any domain analysis is the family domain—a speaker talking to another member of the family about a mundane topic at home. It is shown in sociological studies that the family domain is the only domain where the native language (L) of the speaker dominates. This domain is closely followed by domains that are considered to be “intimate domains,” such as conversation with friends, acquaintances, neighbors, etc. I cite some of these studies from different types of sociological experimental studies in Appendix E because of the limited space.

Figure 2: Typical Situations and Choices of H or L in Diglossia43

Another example is a study conducted by Luis Laosa. Laosa investigates how elementary school children from three Spanishspeaking communities in various cities in the United States (Cubans, Mexicans, and Puerto Ricans) select their type of language within the family, in the classroom, and in recreational activities at school. His findings are that the use of Spanish was most often

42. 43.

Fasold, Sociolinguistics, 40. Ferguson, “Diglossia,” 236.

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in the family context, less often in the recreational context, and least often in the classroom.44 “Overlapping Psychological Situations” (A Social Psychology Model) Simon Herman investigates the individual speaker’s problem of language selection as he or she is confronted with at least three simultaneously overlapping psychological situations in an actual linguistic situation. The three are: (1) personal needs, (2) background situation, and (3) immediate situation.45 The last two are related to social groupings. The immediate group involves the people who are actually there at that time. The “hidden committees,”46 or background group, refers to those who are in the wider social milieu that may influence the behavior of the speaker or affect the situation, but are not directly involved in the immediate situation. Based on this theory, Herman considers the circumstances that cause one particular situation to gain salience at the expense of the other two. This salient situation is the most prominent at that particular instance and is the one that the speaker will respond to or address. On the basis of extensive empirical data on language choice in Israel, Herman suggests that certain circumstances will increase the salience of one situation over the other two. These circumstances are listed in Figure 3. For instance, if two friends who have well established relationships always use a particular language between themselves, then that language will be the default language whenever they talk to each other; therefore, the immediate situation takes precedence over personal and background considerations.

44. 45. 46.

See Laosa, “Bilingualism,” 617–27. See Herman, “Explorations,” 492–511. Herman, “Explorations,” 494–95.

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Figure 3: Circumstances causing an increase in salience for one of three psychological situations47

Susan Gal’s Anthropological Model48 Anthropologists differ from sociologists and social psychologists in terms of the object and goal of their analyses and the method they employ in such analyses. Whereas sociologists deal purely with theoretical social constructs, and social psychologists attempt to explain the individual’s relationship to these theoretical social constructs, anthropologists are interested in studying the values of socio-cultural groups and the cultural rules of behavior that reflect those values. Similarly, whereas the former two rely on statistical surveys under controlled experiments, the priority of anthropologists is on uncontrolled behavior that leads them to apply a research methodology called “participant observation.”49 For example, Susan Gal spent a year living with a local family in Oberwart, Eastern Austria to study the shift in language choices of the people between Hungarian (L) and German

47. 48. 49.

Herman, “Explorations,” 495–96. Gal, “Variation and Change,” 227–38. See Fasold, Sociolinguistics, 192.

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(H).50 She developed an “implicational-scale” table with speakers represented by rows and interlocutors by columns (see Figure 4), which tabulates orderly patterns of the language choice of women (the scale for men is almost identical). Whereas the use of German with any particular interlocutor implies (or predicts) that German will be used with all interlocutors to the right, Hungarian is used with all interlocutors to the left of the scale. The use of both languages to the same interlocutor appears between the use of only Hungarian and the use of only German. From this figure, there are several observations that can be made, but I will mention only some of them here. First, older people are likely to be addressed in Hungarian, while the younger are likely to speak in German. Second, “black market clients” is the only category (within the “non-intimate” categories) where Hungarian is usually spoken, since this is an attempt of the people to maintain their tradition of market transactions in the face of the strict labor licensing in Austrian regulations. Incidentally, “black market clients” is part of a smaller community group in contrast to the government officials who belong to the larger social establishment with prestigious positions, and, therefore, are likely to be addressed in German. Finally, conversations with God and one’s parents are almost exclusively in Hungarian, while conversations with one’s siblings, neighbors, and friends vary between German and Hungarian depending on the age group.51

50. See Gal, Language Shift, esp. 120–66. Blom and Gumperz and Gillian Sankoff spent similar long periods of residence in the communities they were studying, and Dorian spent over a decade working on language change in East Sutherland, Scotland. See Blom and Gumperz, “Social Meaning,” 111–36; Sankoff, “Language Use,” 29–46; Dorian, “Language Shift,” 85–94. For a good synthesis of Susan Gal’s work, see Fasold, Sociolinguistics, 192–200. 51. The reason for this variation might be found in Gal’s study of the increase in fluency of speaking German by the people from the late nineteenth century to the twentieth century. In the former period, peasants in Oberwart only spoke German in order to transact business in the markets. But in the 1970s, the goal of the people was to pass from their monolingual stage to a stage where they could speak German fluently and free from a Hungarian accent. See Gal, Language Shift, 107, 155.

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Figure 4: Implicational Scale for Language Choice by Women Speakers in Oberwart52

Summary of the Theories We may now summarize the data from the above discussion and use them to analyze our four “I have come” sayings of Jesus, in order to determine the type of language Jesus would have used in those instances. First, from the concept of nationism-nationalism, 52. Gal, Language Shift, 121. Interlocutors: 1 (God); 2 (Grandparents and their generation); 3 (Black market clients); 4 (Parents and their generation); 5 (Age-mate pals, neighbors); 6 (siblings); 7 (salespeople); 8 (spouse); 9 (children and that generation); 10 (government). Languages: G = German; H = Hungarian.

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the Roman rulers in ancient Palestine would seem to have used Greek in governing, even though there might have been a strong tendency on the part of Jews to use their native Aramaic language to preserve their religion, culture, and history.53 Second, not only do the economic indices reveal a multilingual environment, but also the subsequent annexations of Palestine by the Persians, Greeks, and the Romans would have allowed for multilingualism as a solution to nationist-nationalist conflicts. Therefore, with reference to an individual living in this social environment, multilingualism would have served as an interactional resource to draw upon in various linguistic situations. Third, from the perspective of sociology, the native tongue is typically used in L domains (i.e., with families, friends, neighbors, or where intimacy is salient). Otherwise, the H language would be the “de-fault language” one would use in other domains. Fourth, from the perspective of social psychology, the choice of L language over H language depends on the salience of one of the three overlapping psychological situations (personal needs, background situation, and immediate situation) at the expense of the other two. Lastly, from the perspective of anthropology, not only would L language be used in situations where intimacy is salient (esp. with God) and where there is an attempt to protect tradition, there is also a tendency for older people to use L language more than younger generations. This might suggest an increasing language shift from Aramaic to Greek, such that at the turn of the first century CE, there were already more Greek speakers than Aramaic speakers (see Figure 1 above; cf. Mark 9:36–37//Luke 9:47–48//Matt 18:3–5 where Jesus called a little child to him and taught his disciples about greatness in the kingdom of heaven). With these things in mind, let us now analyze the four “I have come” sayings.

53. There is even a possibility that Hebrew was still preserved in some circles for religious and liturgical purposes. See Porter, Criteria, 136–37.

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Analysis of Mark 2:17; 10:45; Luke 12:49–51; Matt 5:17 Mark 2:17. “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” The sociolinguistic evidence all points to the use of the H language (Greek) in this particular saying. Given the fact that Jesus came out of his house, or the house where he had healed the paralytic (vv. 1–12), the indication that he was beside the lake (v. 13), and the presence of telw&nion (tax table; v. 14), the setting of this episode was most likely in Capernaum. Capernaum was the border city between the tetrarchies of Antipas and Philip.54 Although the CEB suggests that Jesus was in the house of Leui/ (Maqqai=oj in Matt 9:9), it is rather unclear from the Greek text (e0n th=| oi0ki/a| au0tou=) whether Jesus invited Levi to his own house or he was indeed at Levi’s house. In any event, the important fact is that Jesus was in a house with a large crowd behind him (v. 13) composed of his disciples, many tax collectors and sinners (v. 15), and the Pharisees (v. 16). Unlike the major cities of Sepphoris, Tiberias, and the Decapolis, Capernaum was considered a small town with private houses that had one or two stories. Houses of these types have small rooms that most likely could only accommodate a small group of people.55 Hence, the paralytic had to enter through the roof (v. 4). The conversation appears to have taken place in a family context with the mention of Levi’s house, but since there was a mixed group of people around (vv. 15–16), and since a small private house could not accommodate such a large crowd, we should expect that this was a public setting, although we are certain that Jesus was inside a house “reclining” (sunane/keinto) with the tax collectors and his disciples.56 This depiction of the social setting should indicate the salience of the background situation of the episode (i.e., a public setting). Eating with tax 54. France, Mark, 131. 55. For a brief description of the villages, towns, and houses in Palestine, see Jeffers, Greco-Roman World, 66–69. 56. “Jews sat a table for ordinary meals but reclined on couches or carpets for formal meals” (Brooks, Mark, 62).

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collectors and sinners may also suggest that Jesus wanted to associate himself with them, while, at the same time, to dissociate himself from the antagonizing Pharisees (v. 16). Further, there is no indication here that Jesus’ conversation with the Pharisees was an intimate one, although his table fellowship with the sinners and tax collectors should be seen as one of the foremost expressions of intimacy in Jewish culture. His response to the Pharisees was casual and to the point because they were not his “friends.” Because Jesus was teaching the large crowd in this episode and because there was a mixed group of people present in this social setting, it is unlikely that Jesus would have used his native tongue in this saying to the Pharisees. This saying consists of a “proverb” in the third person and a mission statement in the first person (“I have come”), which probably was intended as a rejoinder not only to the Pharisees but also to everyone who was present. However, this linguistic situation radically differs from Mark 10:45. Mark 10:45: “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” This text is a well-known passage supporting the substitutionary concept of atonement.57 Although the source of this saying (incl. v. 39) has been questioned, its historicity is beyond doubt,58 since the author would not have mentioned such a discrediting story that involves two of Jesus’ closest disciples and is in the presence of the other ten disciples. This episode demonstrates again the dullness on the part of the disciples immediately after a passion prediction (vv. 32–34). Surprisingly, James and John’s audacious request of sitting at the right and left hand of Jesus in his kingdom did not receive a reprimand from their master, but rather an indirect but profound teaching that the way to glory in the kingdom entails service, sacrifice, and suffering. Exaltation 57. For a good discussion of some of the issues, see Taylor, St. Mark, 445–46. 58. The authenticity of this saying is strongly defended in Jeremias, “pai=j qeou=,” TDNT 5: 706.

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means lowliness (vv. 43–44). The imageries of drinking the cup, baptism, servant-greatness, and giving life as a ransom for all point to what true discipleship means. It is interesting to note that even if the two disciples lack understanding, they were certainly loyal and courageous (v. 39).59 In fact, Jesus had to tell them plainly that their request still could not be granted despite their courage and willingness. And the ultimate answer to their request (v. 37) is clinched by the saying kai\ ga\r o9 ui9o\j tou= a)nqrw&pou ou0k h]lqen diakonhqh=nai a0lla\ diakonh=sai kai\ dou=nai th\n yuxh\n au0tou= lu&tron a0nti\ pollw~n (v. 45).60 It is possible that this episode serves both to remove the disciples’ dullness (the reaction of the other ten disciples is no more commendable than the ambitiousness of the two, v. 41) and to explain further the meaning of the preceding passion prediction. It is not until v. 46, when they enter Jericho, that the exchange takes place between only Jesus and the Twelve (vv. 32–45). Here, the immediate situation, specifically Jesus’ familiar relationship with his disciples, is the most salient sociolinguistic feature of the episode. Jesus was clearly not concerned about group identifications in this episode, since he was having a private ingroup conversation with intimate friends. As such, this account and the saying in v. 45 likely transpired in Aramaic. The “I have come” sayings of Jesus can indicate strongly that Jesus was self-conscious that he was the Messiah.61 His response to the Pharisees in Mark 2:17 (see above) implies that he came to heal sinners; here he explicitly states that he came to serve and save people. But this explicit statement took place when he was with his disciples. Might this passage shed some light on 59. Cf. France, Mark, 417. 60. The combination of the conjunctions kai\ ga_r underlines the primary reason why o9 ui9o\j tou= a)nqrw&pou came, whereas the anarthrous infinitives diakonh=sai and dou=nai indicate its purpose. Cf. Porter, Idioms, 231. 61. Although the quest for the aims and intentions of Jesus had long been dismissed by Schweitzer and Cadbury in the earlier quests for the historical Jesus, many scholars within the Third Quest (perhaps with Wright at the frontline) have sought to revive this theory of Jesus’ messianic self-awareness. See Beilby and Eddy, “Introduction,” 51–52.

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understanding the “messianic secret”62 in Mark (e.g., 1:44; 4:11; 8:29–30; 9:9)? Luke 12:49–51: “I have come to bring fire on the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! But I have a baptism to undergo, and what constraint I am under until it is completed! Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division.” The rationale behind this saying of Jesus can be traced as far back to 11:37–52 in the “woe catalogue” against the Pharisees. While the indignant Pharisees wait for an opportune time to trap him in something he might say (11:53–54), Jesus begins to teach the large crowd that immediately followed him, starting with his own disciples (12:1). This episode with his disciples seems to have been interrupted by someone in the crowd (12:13), where Jesus responds by telling the parable of the rich fool. However, 12:22 clearly indicates that Jesus resumes his conversation with his disciples. Nevertheless, at 12:41, Peter’s question as to whether Jesus was telling his disciples or everyone, and Jesus’ interrogative reply ti/j a!ra e0stin o9 pisto\j oi0ono/moj o9 fro/nimoj, point to the fact that in 12:1–59 Jesus seems to be addressing (either directly or indirectly) everyone who was present (cf. v. 54). As such, this saying was most likely in Greek. The mere fact that this happened in a public setting should indicate the prominence of the background situation of this episode. Specifically, the prominent sociolinguistic feature in this episode is Jesus providing cues about his coming at the parousia to the crowd, especially in light of the fact that this saying is juxtaposed with the parables about his second coming and the fulfillment of certain events (vv. 35–48). But this particular 62. The “messianic secret” is a motif primarily in Mark that points to the instances where Jesus commands his disciples not to tell anyone that he is the Messiah. This theory was first proposed by William Wrede in 1901, who argued that this “secrecy” was for the purpose of easing the tension between the early Christians’ belief in Jesus’ messiahship and the apparent non-messianic nature of his ministry. See Wrede, Messianic Secret; see also Kingsbury, Christology, 2–11; Hooker, St. Mark, 66–69.

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saying seems to talk about Jesus’ earthly mission; hence, it is unclear why Luke inserted this material here.63 This saying, however, may have overtones of sedition or division on the part of Jesus.64 While it is true that the context would suggest that Jesus might have been talking about the ultimate cost of discipleship (vv. 52–53),65 it is important to ask how Jesus sees his relationship with the Roman Empire as a Jewish national, for if Jesus’ spirit of nationalism was like those who revolted against the empire in 66 CE and 132 CE, there is the possibility that he would have attempted to preserve the Aramaic language as his medium of communication on all occasions. However, there is no indication that Jesus had such an attitude or intention (cf. Mark 14:48–49; 15:4; Matt 27:19, 23–24; Luke 23:14, 22).

63. Cf. Stein, Luke, 364. John Nolland argues that the coming fire refers to Jesus’ eschatological purgation associated with his coming judgment: “The time for the execution of that commission is not yet, but its purging flames are already anticipated in the baptism that is to be Jesus’ own fate and in the heartbreak and challenge of the strife that, with the coming of Jesus, breaks apart the closest of human ties.” However, I. H. Marshall is probably more precise in arguing that “fire” could be referring to the Holy Spirit in connection to Jesus’ baptism, such that Jesus himself partakes in the coming eschatological judgment, although it is clear in the saying that Jesus’ baptism is a pre-condition for what is to follow. Hence, Jesus longs for the fulfillment of his baptism. Marshall’s view provides a closer link for the two-part sayings in vv. 49–51. Cf. Nolland, Luke 9:21–18:34, 707; Marshall, The Gospel of Luke, 546–47. 64. Richard Blight has compiled a list of the various identifications of the topic in 12:49–53: “The topic is fire on the earth [TNTC], Jesus, the great divider [NAC], Jesus as the cause of division [BECNT; NCV, NRSV, TEV], Jesus will cause conflict [GW], not peace, but trouble [CEV], not peace, but division [HCSB, NET, NIV], the prospect of fire, baptism, and division [WBC], the enigma of Jesus’ mission [AB].” See Blight, Exegetical Summary, 62. 65. There are at least two ways to view this saying as a matter of Jesus’ highlighting the cost of discipleship: (1) Jesus’ offer of peace causes people either to reject or accept it (Bock, Luke; Bratcher, Gospel of Luke) both of which may entail suffering; and (2) persecution will come to those who accept Jesus from those who oppose him (Geldenhuys, Gospel of Luke). See Blight, Exegetical Summary, 65–66.

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Matt 5:17: “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.” This saying appears in the middle of Jesus’ first discourse in Matthew, the Sermon on the Mount (5:1—7:29). The conversation partners of Jesus here are indicated at 5:1 and 7:28. However, it seems unclear from these two verses whether Jesus was teaching his disciples only or if he included the crowd as well.66 Perhaps Jesus’ primary audience was his disciples, and the crowd was his secondary audience.67 We could speculate that Jesus’ disciples either arrived first on the scene or were with him on the way to the mountainside, and that he began to teach them first (5:1–2). Because the crowds from Galilee, the Decapolis, Jerusalem, Judea, and the region across the Jordan were so large, their arrivals on the scene would have been in groups at intermittent times. In this case, it is possible that Jesus was speaking in Aramaic first with his disciples when he taught them the Beatitudes (5:3–12) and when he gave the command to be the salt and light of the earth (5:13–16). The topics about suffering and persecution and the charge to the disciples to glorify their Father in heaven through their good deeds seem to support this scenario. Notice the abrupt change in topic from an intimate conversational topic to matters about the Law and the Prophets (5:17–18). Two factors may affect this abrupt change. First, the subsequent arrivals of various groups of people may have necessitated a situational code-switching on the part of Jesus in order for him to accommodate the people. Or, second, Jesus’ shift of topic may suggest a metaphorical code-switching. This is likely to happen if the motivation for the code-switch was the topic of the conversation, rather than the arrival of the 66. Some (Davies and Allison, Matthew; Hagner, Matthew 1–13) suggest that Jesus, after his intensive healing ministry throughout Galilee (4:23–25), wanted to get away from the crowd and so went up to the mountainside as signaled by the participle i0dw&n (seeing). See Tehan and Abernathy, Sermon on the Mount, 11–12. 67. This view is supported in Davies and Allison, Matthew, and R. T. France, Matthew. See Tehan and Abernathy, Sermon on the Mount, 193.

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crowds.68 In any case, Jesus would have used Greek in this saying because the setting was in a public place; there is no indication of any “intimate” conversation with people who are close to him, and his conversation partners were a mixed crowd, which would surely include all sorts of people both young and old. Conclusion I have shown in this article that language choice in a particular linguistic situation can be analyzed through the use of sociolinguistic theories. This particular methodology is distinct and independent from historical approaches, and, therefore, should be given careful consideration. Because Palestine was a multilingual society, any first-century individual, like Jesus, would have used a native language for “internal” domains and a contact language for “public” domains. This claim is gleaned from the three sociolinguistic models I have presented in this article. In light of this assertion, it is clear that Jesus used both Aramaic and Greek in the four “I have come” sayings. While limited space has prevented an examination of other passages, such a methodology is useful for further development, research, and application.

68. Situational code-switching occurs when there is an abrupt change in the social situation, such as, say, the sudden arrival of a new person in the social scene. In other words, in these instances the topic of discussion does not really matter in a code-switch. But when a code-switch is required because of a change in the topic of discussion, this is called metaphorical code-switching. It is interesting to note that “some topics may be discussed in either code, but the choice of code adds a distinct flavor to what is said about the topic.” See Wardhaugh, Introduction, 104, 108; cf. Holmes, Introduction, 35.

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Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1 Appendix A: The Concepts of Nationalism and Nationism

A nationality is a particular group of people who think of themselves as a social unit distinct from other units, although not necessarily confined to a single locality. It should be distinguished from an ethnic group, which is just like a nationality except that it is “simpler, smaller, more particularistic, more localistic.”69 A nationality under normal conditions does not have geographical autonomy. A nation, on the other hand, while being different from a state, polity, or country (which can be controlled by more than one nationality), is “any political-territorial unit which is largely or increasingly under the control of a particular nationality,” and is independent of external control.70 All of these distinctions are points on a continuum rather than discrete distinctions. Combining both these distinctions between “nationality and ethnic group” and between “nation and state,” we get a new continuum with multinational states on one end, and multiethnic nations on the other end. If a socio-cultural group claims that they are an independent nationality, which happens to be under someone’s government, that socio-cultural group is possibly a multinational state. Alternatively, if a socio-cultural group thinks that they are concurrent members of the governing nation they reside in, and, at the same time, also members of their particular socio-cultural group, it is probably a multiethnic nation. This nationality-nation concept is important, since, where language is concerned, the requirements of nationalism and nationism can be in tension with each other.71

69. 70. 71.

Fishman, Language and Nationalism, 3. Fishman, Language and Nationalism, 5. Fasold, Sociolinguistics of Society, 3.

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Appendix B: Herod the Great to Pontius Pilate (37 BCE–36 CE) A historical account from the time of Herod the Great to the time of Pontius Pilate and Jesus, a span of seventy-five years, can be reconstructed in order to glean a general background of the social, cultural, and political setting of ancient Palestine. Herod the Great was king over all Judea and other Greek cities along the Mediterranean and on both sides of the Jordan in 37–34 BCE, which makes his kingdom approximately the size of the ancient kingdom of Israel.72 Apart from his massive rebuilding project of the Jerusalem temple, which was completed ca. 63 CE long after his death, Herod proved both an able and ruthless ruler, and Josephus described him as having an “irreligious spirit” (Ant. 17:191). His identification with GrecoRoman civilization can be seen in his building of a Greek theater and hippodrome, and especially in making Greek, instead of Aramaic, the official language of government. Consequently, many Jews saw him as an enemy who treated them contemptuously. However, upon his death, Palestine was divided among three of his sons, Antipas, Philip, and Archelaus. Whereas Philip ruled the areas east of Galilee, north of Decapolis, and south of Abilene in relative tranquility, because he did not have to be concerned about Jewish religious sensibilities (most of his subjects were non-Jews), his brothers Antipas and Archelaus were not able to follow his peaceful government. As tetrarch of Galilee and Perea (see for example, Mark 6:14, 22, 25–27) from 4 BCE–37 CE, Antipas served Roman interests well. Archelaus’s rule was very brutal. As a result, Caesar Augustus removed him as tetrarch of Judea and Samaria in 6 CE. From this time on, Judea became a Roman imperial province under the governorship of a prefect of equestrian rank. Under this Roman rule, military troops were stationed in Jerusalem’s fortress of Antonia next to the temple, and Romans probably also occupied the palace of Herod in the upper city. Fergus Millar points out that the temple as a meeting place for 72.

For a thorough study of Herod’s lineage, see Richardson, Herod.

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national sentiments highlights Jerusalem as a prominent place then.73 The high priest, who was the presiding officer of the Jewish Sanhedrin, which functioned as a kind of senate of the province, was the most political person in Judea after the governor (Matt 26:3; Luke 3:2; John 18:24; Acts 4:5–6). As such, he was under the appointment of the governor, Pontius Pilate being one of them (26–36 CE).74 From this brief historical account, we can make a few important observations. First, it is quite clear that Jerusalem, during the time of Jesus, was a melting pot of all sorts of people, because of the significance of the temple and the high concentration of nonJews in the areas under Philip’s rule.75 Second, the official language of government was most likely Greek since the time of Herod the Great, as it is unlikely that his sons would revert to Aramaic, especially in the case of Judea and Samaria under Roman rule from 6 BCE on.76 Finally, the apparent antagonism between many Jews and Herod or the Roman governor suggests that the former tended to think that they were a multinational state.77

73. Millar, Roman Near East, 45. 74. See Jeffers, Greco-Roman World, 110–41, esp. 122–32; Ferguson, Backgrounds, 40–45. 75. Porter has shown that there was a widespread use of Greek in Lower Galilee and Palestine, since these areas were a trade route among travelers in the Mediterranean, Sea of Galilee, and the Decapolis. Moreover, there is epigraphic and literary evidence, which includes coins, papyri and literary texts, and funeral inscriptions that support this claim. See Porter, Studies, 148–60. This should not come as a surprise, since these two areas are adjacent to Philip’s territory. 76. Greek was the lingua franca of Samaria since the third century BCE, mostly for economic and administrative purposes (see Hengel and Markschies, “Hellenization” of Judaea, 8; Millar, Roman Near East, 341). In Jerusalem, it is estimated that between 10 to 15 percent of the Jews there spoke Greek as their first language (see Hengel and Deines, Pre-Christian Paul, 55). 77. Josephus gives two accounts that show Pilate’s hostile relationship with the Jews. The first one involves the military’s medallion that bore the busts of the emperor, which was highly offensive to many Jews (War 2:169– 74; Ant. 18:55–59). The second one is when Pilate took money from the temple

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Appendix C: A Macro-Economic Picture of Ancient Rome and Paul’s Congregation Figure 5 below is a picture of the social classes in the Roman Empire. This figure indicates that only a few well-to-do people lived in the empire. It also more or less corresponds with the statistical finding of Steven Friesen as shown in Figure 5.78 Based on this table, Friesen was able to arrive at the economic profile of Paul’s congregation from the account in Acts. Figure 6 shows the generated data. We can speculate from this data that some of Paul’s congregations were comprised of people who lived near the poverty line (with Paul himself at the bottom border!).

Figure 5: Social Class in the Roman Empire79

treasury to pay for his aqueduct project to bring water to Jerusalem from the southern hills (War 2:175–77; Ant. 18:62). 78. The results indicated in this figure according to Friesen are based on “excruciating calculations” of the large cities of the eastern Roman Empire during the early imperial period. See Friesen, “Poverty,” 340–43. Here, I am only using the results of Friesen’s study as one means of depicting the economic condition of ancient Palestine. For further details, see Friesen, “Paul and Economics,” 25–54. 79. Jeffers, Greco-Roman World, 181.

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Figure 6: Percentage of population in categories: Roman cities with population over 10,00080

Figure 7: Economic profile of Paul’s assemblies based on Acts of the Apostles81

80. 81.

Friesen, “Paul and Economics,” 37. Friesen, “Paul and Economics,” 43.

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Appendix D: Judea—The Persians to the Romans In the biblical world, Judea became a client kingdom of the Persians as a result of the latter’s annexation after defeating the Babylonians. The large-scale migration when the exile returned to Jerusalem in ca. 536 BCE brought with it the Babylonianinherited Aramaic language. As a result, Aramaic (or Hebrew) became not only the language of religion but also of administration.82 When Alexander and the Greeks arrived, conquering every city or territory in Palestine, Hellenistic cities were built, such as the Decapolis, Galilee, etc. James Jeffers points out that everyone had to learn the Greek language to do business in the cities, “and could not help but be influenced by their culture.”83 Rome, the superpower in the entire Mediterranean by 146 BCE, came on the scene shortly before the New Testament era. Because they were too strong to resist, Judea voluntarily yielded itself to be annexed and became a semi-independent client state in 143 BCE. Because the Romans were heavily influenced by the Greek culture in the Italian peninsula, it was not difficult for them to adapt to Greek culture and language upon arrival, since they were as much Greek as they were Romans.84 Hence, the official language of government during Herod the Great’s time was Greek.

82. The notion that Aramaic was brought to Judea by the returning exiles, however, may not be an accurate assessment of the scenario. Frank Polak points out that the extent to which Aramaic was used during the time of EzraNehemiah suggests that the language “was conditioned by its sociopolitical functions as the imperial language in western Asia, hence, the language of the administration in the subjugated provinces, such as Yehud.” See Polak, “Judean Speech Community in the Achaemenid Empire,” 589–628 (591–92). 83. Jeffers, Greco-Roman World, 15. 84. For a summary of Greco-Roman history, see Jeffers, Greco-Roman World, 293–320; Ferguson, Backgrounds, 5–39.

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Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1 Appendix E: Domain Analysis Studies by S.N. Parasher and Lawrence Greenfield

In a study conducted among 350 educated people in India, S.N. Parasher arrived at a similar finding as Greenfield (see below). Using seven domains, Parasher’s respondents were asked to state which of five language types (English, mother tongue or first language, regional language, Hindi, or other language) they would use in each situation.85 The results are shown in Figure 7 and point to the fact that native or first languages are most expectedly used in low domains (i.e., family, neighborhood, friend) and least in the high domains (government, employment, and education), with the transaction domain falling in the middle.

Figure 7: Use ratings for mother tongues in seven domains by educated Indians

Lawrence Greenfield conducted a study through a questionnaire on the choice of Spanish in a linguistic situation by Puerto Ricans in New York City. Given two congruent components, say, person and place, respondents were asked to choose the third component indicating the language that they would use in that combination of circumstances. For example, respondents were told to think of a conversation with a parent on a family matter and asked to select the place from among home, beach, church, school, and work-place, and the language that they would use.86 85. See Parasher, “Mother-Tongue-English Diglossia,” 151–68. 86. See Greenfield, “Situational,” 17–35; also in Greenfield, “Normative Language Views,” 602–18.

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Using a five-point scale (with 1 indicating an all-Spanish and 5 indicating an all-English usage), the result is tabulated in Figure 8. His findings show that Spanish is most likely chosen when intimacy is salient and English where a status difference is involved.

Figure 8: Language selection scale averages in two domain categories by New York City Puerto Rican subjects87 Bibliography Aksornkool, Namtip. “EFL Planning in Thailand: A Case Study in Language Planning.” Unpublished Ph.D. Dissertation. Georgetown University, 1980. Allison, Dale C. “The Secularizing of the Historical Jesus.” Perspectives in Religious Studies 27 (2000) 135–51. Beilby, James K., and Paul R. Eddy. “The Quest for the Historical Jesus: An Introduction.” In their The Historical Jesus: Five Views, 9–54. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2009. Blight, Richard C. An Exegetical Summary of Luke 12–24. 2nd ed. Dallas: SIL, 2008. Blom, Jan-Petter, and John Joseph Gumperz. “Social Meaning in Linguistic Structure: Code-Switching in Norway.” In The Bilingual Reader, edited by Li Wei, 111–36. New York: Routledge, 2000. Bock, Darrell L. Luke. 2 vols. BECNT. Grand Rapids: Baker, 1994, 1996. Bratcher, Robert G. A Translator’s Guide to the Gospel of Luke. New York: United Bible Societies, 1982. Brooks, James A. Mark. NAC. Nashville: Broadman, 2001. 87.

Greenfield, “Situational Measures,” 25.

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Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1 Casey, Maurice. “An Aramaic Approach to the Synoptic Gospels.” ExpTim 110 (1999) 275–78. ———. “In Which Language Did Jesus Teach?” ExpTim 108 (1997) 326–28. Crossley, James G. Reading the New Testament: Contemporary Approaches. Reading Religious Texts Series. London: Routledge, 2010. Davies, W.D., and Dale C. Allison. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel According to Saint Matthew. ICC. 3 vols. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1988–97. Dorian, Nancy. “Language Shift in Community and Individual: The Phenomenon of the Laggard Semi-Speaker.” International Journal of the Sociology of Language 25 (1980) 85–94. Fasold, Ralph W. The Sociolinguistics of Society. Language in Society. Oxford: Blackwell, 1984. Ferguson, Charles A. Sociolinguistic Perspectives: Papers on Language in Society, 1959–1994, edited by Thom Huebner. Oxford Studies in Sociolinguistics. New York: Oxford University Press, 1996. ———. “Diglossia.” Word 15 (1959) 325–40. Ferguson, Everett. Backgrounds of Early Christianity. 3rd ed. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003. Fishman, Joshua A. Language and Nationalism: Two Integrative Essays. Rowley: Newbury, 1973. ———. “Language Maintenance and Language Shift as Fields of Enquiry.” Linguistics 2.9 (1964) 32–70. ———. “Nationality-Nationalism and Nation-Nationism.” In Language Problems of Developing Nations, edited by Joshua A. Fishman, Charles A. Ferguson, and Jyotirindra Das Gupta, 39– 52. New York: Wiley, 1968. ———. “Societal Bilingualism: Stable and Transitional.” In The Sociology of Language: An Interdisciplinary Social Science Approach to Language in Society, edited by Joshua A. Fishman, 91–106. Rowley: Newbury, 1972.

ONG Language Choice in Ancient Palestine ———. “Sociolinguistics and the Language Problems of Developing Countries.” In Language Problems of Developing Nations, edited by Joshua A. Fishman, Charles A. Ferguson, and Jyotirindra Das Gupta, 3–16. New York: Wiley, 1968. ———. “Who Speaks What Language to Whom and When.” Linguistics 1.2 (1965) 68–88. Fitzmyer, Joseph A. “Languages of Palestine in the First Century AD.” CBQ 32 (1970) 501–31. France, R. T. The Gospel According to St. Matthew: An Introduction and Commentary. TNTC. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1985. ———. The Gospel of Mark: A Commentary on the Greek Text. NIGTC. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002. Friesen, Steven. “Paul and Economics: The Jerusalem Collection as an Alternative to Patronage.” In Paul Unbound: Other Perspectives on the Apostle, edited by Mark Douglas Given, 25–54. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson 2010. ———. “Poverty in Pauline Studies: Beyond the So-Called New Consensus.” JSNT 26 (2004) 323–61. Gal, Susan. Language Shift: Social Determinants of Linguistic Change in Bilingual Austria. Language, Thought, and Culture. New York: Academic Press, 1979. ———. “Variation and Change in Patterns of Speaking: Language Shift in Austria.” In Linguistic Variation: Models and Methods, edited by D. Sankoff, 227–38. New York: Academic Press, 1978. Geldenhuys, Norval. Commentary on the Gospel of Luke. NICNT. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1951. Greenfield, Lawrence. “Situational Measures of Normative Language Views in Relation to Person, Place and Topic among Puerto Rican Bilinguals.” In Advances in the Sociology of Language, edited by Joshua A. Fishman, 17–35. The Hague: Mouton, 1972. ———. “Situational Measures of Normative Language Views in Relation to Person, Place and Topic among Puerto Rican Bilinguals.” Anthropos 65 (1970) 602–18. Hagner, Donald A. Matthew 1–13. WBC 33a. Waco, TX: Word, 1998.

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Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1 Halliday, M. A. K. “The Users and Uses of Language.” In The Linguistic Sciences and Language Teaching, edited by M. A. K. Halliday, Angus McIntosh, and Peter Strevens, 75–110. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1965. Hengel, Martin, and Roland Deines. The Pre-Christian Paul. London: SCM, 1991. Hengel, Martin, and Christopher Markschies. The “Hellenization” of Judaea in the First Century after Christ. London: SCM, 1989. Herman, Simon. “Explorations in the Social Psychology of Language Choice.” In Readings in the Sociology of Language, edited by Joshua A. Fishman, 492–511. The Hague: Mouton, 1968. Holmén, Tom. “A Theologically Disinterested Quest? On the Origins of the ‘Third Quest’ for the Historical Jesus.” ST 55 (2011) 175– 97. ———. Jesus and Jewish Covenant Thinking. BINS 55. Leiden: Brill, 2001. Hooker, Morna D. The Gospel According to St. Mark. BNTC. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1993. Hymes, Dell H. Foundations in Sociolinguistics: An Ethnographic Approach. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1974. Jeffers, James S. The Greco-Roman World of the New Testament Era: Exploring the Background of Early Christianity. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 1999. Jeremias, Joachim. “pai=j qeou=.” In TDNT 5: 654–716. Kingsbury, Jack Dean. The Christology of Mark's Gospel. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983. Kuhrt, Amélie, and Susan M. Sherwin-White. Hellenism in the East: The Interaction of Greek and Non-Greek Civilizations from Syria to Central Asia after Alexander. Hellenistic Culture and Society. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987. Kutscher, E. Y. A History of the Hebrew Language. Leiden: Brill, 1982. Laosa, Luis. “Bilingualism in Three United States Hispanic Groups: Contextual Use of Language by Children and Adults in their Families.” Journal of Educational Psychology 67.5 (1975) 617– 27.

ONG Language Choice in Ancient Palestine Lewis, E. Glyn. Multilingualism in the Soviet Union: Aspects of Language Policy and its Implementation. Contributions to the Sociology of Language. The Hague: Mouton, 1972. ———. “Migration and Language in the USSR.” In Advances in the Sociology of Language, edited by Joshua A. Fishman, 310–41. The Hague: Mouton, 1972. Lorwin, Val. “Linguistic Pluralism and Tension in Modern Belgium.” In Advances in the Sociology of Language, edited by Joshua A. Fishman, 386–412. The Hague: Mouton, 1972. Louw, Johannes P., and Eugene A. Nida. Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament: Based on Semantic Domains. 2nd ed. 2 vols. New York: United Bible Societies, 1989. Millar, Fergus. The Roman Near East, 31 B.C.–A.D. 337. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1993. Nicklas, Tobias. “Alternatives to Form and Tradition Criticism in Jesus Research.” In Handbook for the Study of the Historical Jesus. Vol 1: How to Study the Historical Jesus, edited by Tom Holmén and Stanley E. Porter, 715–42. Leiden Brill, 2011. Parasher, S. N. “Mother-Tongue-English Diglossia: A Case Study of Educated Indian Bilinguals’ Language Use.” Anthropological Linguistics 22.4 (1980) 151–68. Paulston, Christina Bratt. “Language Repertoire and Diglossia in First-Century Palestine: Some Comments.” In Diglossia and Other Topics in New Testament Linguistics, edited by Stanley E. Porter, 79–89. JSNTSup 193. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000. ———. Linguistic Minorities in Multilingual Settings: Implications for Language Policies. Studies in Bilingualism. Amsterdam: Benjamins, 1994. Paulston, Christina Bratt, and G. Richard Tucker. The Early Days of Sociolinguistics: Memories and Reflections. Summer Institute of Linguistics Publications in Sociolinguistics. Dallas: SIL, 1997. Polak, Frank H. “Sociolinguistics and the Judean Speech Community in the Achaemenid Empire.” In Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, edited by Oded Lipschitz and Manfred Oeming, 589–628. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006.

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Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1 Pool, Jonathan. “National Development and Language Diversity.” In Advances in the Sociology of Language, edited by Joshua A. Fishman, 213–30. The Hague: Mouton, 1972. Porter, Stanley E. “Did Jesus Ever Teach in Greek?” TynBul 44 (1993) 199–235. ———. Idioms of the Greek New Testament. BLG 2. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1994. ———. “Jesus and the Use of Greek: A Response to Maurice Casey.” BBR 10 (2000) 71–87. ______. Studies in the Greek New Testament: Theory and Practice. SBG 6. New York: Peter Lang, 1996. ———. “The Criteria of Authenticity.” In Handbook for the Study of the Historical Jesus. Vol 1: How to Study the Historical Jesus, edited by Tom Holmén and Stanley E. Porter, 695–714. Leiden: Brill, 2011. ———. The Criteria for Authenticity in Historical-Jesus Research: Previous Discussion and New Proposals. JSNTSup 191. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000. Richardson, Peter. Herod: King of the Jews and Friend of the Romans. Studies on Personalities of the New Testament. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1996. Sankoff, Gillian. “Language Use in Multilingual Societies: Some Alternate Approaches.” In The Social Life of Language, edited by Gillian Sankoff, 29–46. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1980. Segal, M. H. “Mishnaic Hebrew and its Relation to Biblical Hebrew and to Aramaic.” JQR 20 (1908) 670–700. Taylor, Vincent. The Gospel according to St. Mark. London: Macmillan, 1952. Tehan, Thomas M., and David Abernathy. An Exegetical Summary of the Sermon on the Mount. 2nd ed. Dallas: SIL, 2008. Teford, William R. “Major Trends and Interpretive Issues in the Study of Jesus.” In Studying the Historical Jesus: Evaluations of the State of Current Research, edited by Bruce Chilton and Craig A. Evans, 33–74. Leiden: Brill, 1994 Thompson, Geoff. Introducing Functional Grammar. 2nd ed. London: Hodder, 2004.

ONG Language Choice in Ancient Palestine Ulrich, Ammon. “National-Variety Purism.” In Language Choices: Conditions, Constraints, and Consequences, edited by Martin Pütz, 161–78. Amsterdam: Benjamins, 1997. Weaver, Walter P. The Historical Jesus in the Twentieth Century, 1900–1950. Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1999. Wise, Michael O. “Languages of Palestine.” In Dictionary of Jesus and the Gospels, edited by Joel B. Green, Scot McKnight, and I. Howard Marshall, 434–44. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 1992. Wrede, William. The Messianic Secret. Library of Theological Translations. Cambridge: J. Clarke, 1971.

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RELATIVE SALIENCY AND INFORMATION STRUCTURE IN MARK’S PARABLE OF THE SOWER Steven E. Runge Logos Bible Software | Stellenbosh University, Stellenbosch, South Africa Abstract: This study applies the cognitive model of Chafe , and the information-structure model of Lambrecht as applied by Levinsohn and Runge to the Markan explanation of the Parable of the Sower (4:14–20). The primary objective is to identify and analyze other linguistic devices, besides demonstratives, which might clarify the pp re t prom e ce g e to the u fru tful sc tter gs M rk’s account. This study provides the necessary framework for comparing M rk’s pr gm t c we ght g of s l e cy to th t fou M tthew Luke’s ccou ts or er to eterm e whether M rk’s ersion is consistent with or divergent from the other traditions. (Article) Keywords: saliency, information structure, Mark 4:14–20, Matt 13:19–23, Luke 8:11–15, ou[toj, e0kei=noj.

Relative Saliency and Non-Deictic Demonstratives I Le soh ’s stu y of the demonstratives ou[toj and e0kei=noj, he claims that the near demonstrative ou[toj is prototypically use rr t e phor c lly to e co e them t c or “ce tr l” participants, especially if the referent temporarily displaces a more globally thematic participant, e.g., Simeon displacing Joseph, Mary, and Jesus in Luke 2:25. On the other hand, the far demonstrative e0kei=noj is used in similar contexts to encode them t c or “ o -ce tr l” p rt c p ts, s M rk 16:10–11 to refer to “th t o e/those o es” s them t c wh le Jesus rem s  This article was previously published in the JLIABG. I have updated references and terminology but not changed the fundamental claims.

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thematic. Levinsohn also demonstrates that these demonstratives are used to contrast competing participants, using the near demonstrative ou[toj for the more salient or important of the two (cf. Matt 9:26; 12:45; Luke 18:14; John 1:33; 5:19, 38; 6:29; 10:6; 21:23; 1 Cor 10:6, 11, 28; 1 John 3:3).1 Consider now the use of demonstratives in Mark 4:14–20.2 The near demonstrative ou[toj is used in vv. 15, 16, and 18 to encode the seed scattered along the path, on the rocky ground, and among the thorns, respectively. On the other hand, the far demonstrative e0kei=noj is used to encode the seed scattered on goo so l. Is Le soh ’s cl m ppl c ble here, z. th t the u fruitful scatterings of seed are more thematically salient to the writer/editor? This article will consider other linguistic devices used in this pericope to evaluate whether a thematic/athematic distinction exists as suggested by the contrasting use of demonstrative pronouns. I will begin with an overview of information structure by looking at how hearers process and categorize information. This will provide the necessary background for understanding how and why speakers structure their utterances. Mental Representations and Information Status3 When reading a text, readers form a mental representation of the information communicated in the discourse, which has been likened to filing the information into cognitive files.4 states that discourse is made up of a combination of new and old information. We shall refer to the new information as focal and the old information as presupposed or topical. Presupposed, 1. See Le soh , “U f e L gu st c Descr pt o ,” 204–216. 2. It should not be ruled out that the writer/editor intended these terms to be understood deictically, as though Jesus was literally pointing at the kind of ground in question. Even granting this point, the fact still remains that a distinction between the two groups has been made using the prototypically thematic ou[toj and the prototypically athematic e0kei=noj. 3. For a more accessible introduction to information structure for nonspecialists, see Runge, Discourse Grammar, 179–206. 4. Lambrecht, Information Structure, 43.

RUNGE Relative Saliency and Information Structure 105 top c l form t o s “ ssume by the spe ker to be ccess ble to the hearer,” either from the preceding text or from a general knowledge of the world. Foc l form t o s “ ssume by the speaker to be inaccessible to the hearer.”5 Presupposed inform t o ser es s the “grou g po t” or fr mework w th which the focal information is processed.6 By definition, focal information is the most important part of the utterance, with the presupposed information grounding it to the context. According to the cross-linguistic principle of “natural information flow,” utterances are prototypically structured to move from what is most known to what is least known.7 Stated another way, presupposed or topical information is most naturally placed before focal information, as much as the syntactic typology of the language allows. In the following example the bolded constituents are the focal information, the plain italics are presupposed. 1. Default flow of information (a) Once upon a time there was a handsome prince. (b) The prince lived in a large, ornate castle, which was surrounded by a moat. (c) The prince wanted to see the world…

5. , Grammar of Referential Coherence, 8. 6. , Grammar of Referential Coherence, 8. A simple old/new dichotomy is admittedly insufficient to differentiate focal information from what is presupposed in some cases, but it provides a heuristic starting point. Lambrecht st tes, “the form t o co eye by propos t o c ot be f ctore out and matched with individual sentence constituents. In particular, the differe ce betwee ‘ol form t o ’ ‘ ew form t o ’ c ot be equ te with the differe ce betwee ‘ol ’ ‘ ew’ refere ts” (Information Structure, 49). Wh t m kes form t o “ ew” is the relation between the presupposition the ssert o . L mbrecht ef es focus s “The sem t c compo e t of pragmatically structured proposition whereby the assertion differs from the presuppos t o ” (213). Focus s ot form lly st gu she o the b s s of co stituent be g textu lly or s tu t o lly “ ew.” It is pragmatically and cognitively established based upon the difference between what is presupposed in a he rer’s me t l prese t t o wh t s sserte by spe ker g e context. 7. Cf. Comrie, Language Universals, 127–28; , Syntax, 8.

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The story begins by predicating the existence of a handsome prince, only making a comment about him after he is activated. The second line introduces a large, ornate castle, and makes a comment about it using a relative clause. In our mental representation, a file has figuratively been created for the prince, and the information about his dwelling and his aspirations are filed inside it. Information Structure Markedness Andrews’ account of markedness proposes an asymmetrical set of oppositions where members of the set are either marked or unmarked for a particular feature. Use of a marked form explicitly signals the presence of a particular feature in the context. Use of the unmarked member of a set does not specify whether or not the feature is present. It is unmarked for the feature.8 From a methodological standpoint, we will describe the unmarked member of the opposition set as the default, i.e., the most basic member of the set. The default becomes the canon against which marked forms are identified and described. The principle of natural information flow represents the default ordering of constituents when a speaker has no particular reason to use a marked order or structure.9 When speakers use a marked order, it means that they have pragmatically chosen to signal the presence of a particular feature, such as discontinuity or added prominence. To summarize, use of a marked order, by definition, signals the presence of a particular feature in the context. If speakers use a default order, they have chosen not to signal the presence of the feature. It may or may not be present; 8. Andrews, Markedness Theory, 9–29. 9. See Stephe C. Le so ’s eo-Gricean pragmatic implicature expressed in his M-principle, which states that a speaker should not use a marked expression unless he or she intends some meaning other than that signaled by a default expression (“Pr gm t cs the r mm r of A phor ,” 379–434).

RUNGE Relative Saliency and Information Structure 107 the default form is unmarked for it. Thus, a default expression does not inherently mean the opposite of a marked expression; it simply implies that the expression is unmarked for the feature in question. Frames of Reference Speakers have a certain degree of flexibility in how they structure an utterance, based on the conventions and constraints of the particular language. Utterances can be pragmatically structured to create certain effects, prototypically signaling that a constituent is marked for a particular feature by moving it to an initial position in the clause, which I will refer to as preposing. Preposing a constituent has one of two pragmatic effects, depending on whether the constituent is presupposed or focal. Lambrecht has found that preposing topical information pragmatically creates a new frame of reference for the following clause, with several effects. While the writer/speaker could have communicated the same information by placing the constituent in its default position, preposing a noun phrase (NP) or an adverbial expression of place, time, or situation creates a disruption or discontinuity in the flow of the text by signaling a non-default switch in the context.10 A second effect is cohesion, wherein this preposed topical constituent becomes the primary basis of relating the discourse that precedes the constituent with the discourse that follows it.11 I will refer to clause-initial presupposed constituents as frames of reference or simply frames, to refer to what Levinsohn calls points of departure.12 Frames of reference are identified graphically by underlining. While preposing the presupposed information does add prominence to it, it does not make it more salient than the focal information. By definition, the focal information is the most important part of the utterance,

10. Lambrecht, Information Structure. 11. Levinsohn, Discourse Features, 8; Dooley and Levinsohn, Analyzing Discourse, 68–69. 12. Levinsohn, Discourse Features, 8.

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regardless of its location. I now turn to the pragmatic effect of preposing focal information. Emphasis When both topical and focal information is preposed, Dik has found that languages place the topical information before focal information, as expected based on the principle of natural infor13 mation flow. The default position for focal constituents is as close to the end of the clause as the typology of the language allows. Preposing the focal constituent pragmatically marks the constituent, giving it prominence it would not have naturally rece e ts ef ult pos t o . It reflects the wr ter’s cho ce to add extra prominence to what is already relatively most salient in the context. The pragmatic effect of preposing focal constituents has long been recognized but is usually referred to as placing “emphasis” on the constituent.14 I will follow this convention but with a much more limited scope. Emphasis, in this sense, refers to placing what was already the most important information in the clause in a marked position to draw additional prominence to it. Emphasis will be graphically represented using italics. This study considers the following constituent order to be the most basic and unmarked order in New Testament Greek when all constituents are present, as informed by the principles of natural information flow and of language typology.15 2. Proposed constituent orders of nuclear clauses in New Testament Greek16 Frames of Reference—Emphasized Elements—Verb—Pronoun(s) —Subject—Complement(s)—Adjuncts

If one or more clause constituents is preposed before the verb, I will construe this as being pragmatically motivated. Compare the 13. Dik, Functional Grammar. See ό , Syntax, 257. 14. Cf. BDF §472(2). 15. See Lehm , “Structur l Pr c ple”; “Co clus o .” 16. For a fuller treatment of constituent ordering principles, see Levinsohn, Discourse Features, 1–62.

RUNGE Relative Saliency and Information Structure 109 pragmatic effects of changing the structures found in Appendix 1. A co st tue t’s scourse co text eterm es whether t should be construed as presupposed or focal. Consider the pragmatic change to the word “yesterday” depending upon the context in which it occurs. 3. Presupposed versus focal: the importance of discourse context (a) What did you do yesterday? Yesterday, I arrived. (Today, I am going fishing.) (b) When did you arrive? Yesterday I arrived. (as opposed to some other day).

Both (a) and (b) contain the exact same clause, but “yesterday” plays a different pragmatic role in each, based on the change in context. In (a), “yesterday” establishes a specific temporal frame of reference for the clause that follows. “Today” in the following clause serves the same purpose, with the pragmatic effect of sharpening the contrast between “yesterday” and “today.” In the case of (b), “yesterday” provides the missing element of the question, filling in the gap between what is presupposed and what is asserted, making it focal. Preposing it adds extra prominence, hence receiving emphasis. For more examples illustrating these information structure concepts in both English and Greek, see Appendix 1. Analysis of Information Structure in Mark 4:14–20 There are several factors that serve to separate the unfruitful plantings from the fruitful: changes in the utilization of marked constituent order, lexical changes in the use of demonstratives, and changes in verbal aspect.17 Each of these issues will be 17. Gould notes these factors, but does not draw any specific conclusions from them. He st tes, “We h e three ffere t pro ou s, or ject es, use pointing out the various classes of hearers. ou[toi, then ou[toi o9moi/wj, indicating a general resemblance; then a!lloi, denoting a specific difference; and finally e0kei=noi, denoting contrast with all that precede. oi9 spare/ntej—that were sown. The part. in the other cases has been present, denoting the general

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discussed below. Their overall contribution to the interpretation of the pericope will be presented in the final section. The Structuring of the Account18 M rk’s expl t o of the p r ble beg s . 14 by expl g what the seed symbolizes using a very tidy marked clause o9 spei/rwn to\n lo/gon spei/rei. The sower is reactivated from the original parable using a frame of reference to indicate a new topic, and the explanation of what he sows is preposed for emphasis, highlighting the identification of “the seed” as “the word.” The preposed focal information fills in the blank between what was presupposed (the sower sowed something) and the new form t o th t s be g sserte . M rk’s expl t o m kes regular use of such marked structures. F rst, M rk’s ccou t uses o -default constituent order to structure the pericope, viz. the repeated use of preposed demonstrative pronouns to begin each new segment of the explanation (cf. vv. 15a, 16a, 18a, 20a). But, while the Matthean and Lukan accounts use the demonstratives in referential frames of reference to signal the transition to a new segment, Mark uses the pronouns cataphorically for emphasis, pointing ahead to highlight a referent that follows the pronoun. For instance, in v. 15 he writes ou[toi de/ ei0sin oi9 para_ th\n o9do/n. By default, ou[toi as a pronominal element would be expected to immediately follow the verb.19 M rk’s str tegy h s the s me type of effect s the fact about seed sown in such places. The aor. here confines it to the particular case of the parable” (Mark, 76). 18. In reading this next section, it may be helpful to make reference to the complete analysis of the information structure of the different Synoptic versions provided in Appendix 2. 19. Cf. Matt 20:21; 25:46; John 6:5. The vast majority of occurrences using ou[toi are marked, either frames of reference or preposed focal/ emphasized constituents. This is where the asymmetrical view of markedness is crucial, in that I do not take the most frequently occurring form or position to be default. Instead, the most basic form is selected as default, and forms the canon against which marked forms are described. One should not be surprised that demonstratives are utilized so frequently for marked constructions since demonstratives are virtually the only pronominal option for anaphorically

RUNGE Relative Saliency and Information Structure 111 other accounts, but is achieved via a different path by cataphorically highlighting the referent before introducing it. This strategy has the effect of drawing extra attention to the referent before it is introduced. M rk’s ccou t lso uses o -default structures to highlight salient ideas, like the location of the scatterings. In vv. 15a, 16a, 18a, and 20a, each demonstrative is followed by a NP specifying the location of the scattering. Verse 15a employs a relative clause to encode the scattering, o3pou spei/retai o9 lo/goj. The choice of the relative clause affords the writer/editor another opportunity to reinforce the correlation of “the seed” to “the word.” Each of the following segments encodes the scattering using a participial phrase, e.g., oi9 e0pi\ ta_ petrw&dh speiro/menoi in v. 16a. Preposing the focal information within the participial clause adds prominence to where the seed fell, but the scope of the prominence is limited to the participial clause. Seco , wh le e ch segme t of M rk’s expl t o ut l zes nearly parallel structures to introduce the scatterings, distinctions between the fruitful and unfruitful scatterings are made using other devices. The unfruitful scatterings each use present tense/ imperfective aspect to encode the act of scattering.20 This stands in contrast to the aorist tense/perfective aspect found describing the fruitful scattering in v. 20a. Perfective aspect portrays the action as an undifferentiated whole; imperfective aspect marks the action as ongoing or incomplete, allowing attention to be given to some facet within the action.21 The choice to encode the first three scatterings using imperfective aspect opens the door for more attention to be given to the actions or results. In contrast, the final scattering in Mark is viewed as a complete, undifferentiated whole. These differences in verbal aspect correspond

referring to entire propositions; cf. Gundel, Hedberg, and Zacharski, “Demo str t e Pro ou s.” 20. Though v. 15a does not use a participle, the verb in the subordinate relative clause, functionally parallel to the participles in vv. 16a and 18a, is nonetheless present passive. 21. See Porter, Idioms, 21–49.

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to the amount of description that the results of each scattering receive (see below). Third, the scatterings are differentiated by lexical changes in the use of demonstratives. As noted above, ou[toj is used to refer to the three unfruitful scatterings, while e0kei=noj is used to refer to the fruitful one. An important clarification must be made though. In the explanation of the seed falling among the thorns in v. 18a, the cataphoric pronoun is not ou[toj but a!lloj, a correlative pronoun. Correlatives are prototypically used to link non-initial members of a correlated set. The correlative a!lloj can be used for each non-initial member of the set, explicitly linking each to the other (e.g., Matt 13:4–8; 13:24, 31, 33). This is the strategy the writer/editor uses in the parable itself (see Mark 4:5, 7, 8). There is no exact parallel in Mark to the usage of a!lloj with only the final member of the set, as found here in 4:18a. However, Mark does create a similar effect by using a!lloj for all but the final item, where the writer/editor creates a distinction between the correlated set and the final item (see Mark 6:15–16; 8:28–29; 12:3–6). The effect created in the explanation of the Parable of the Sower is to separate the scattering on the good soil from the other scatterings, corroborating the apparent distinction between groups created by varying the use of demonstratives and the use of verbal aspect mentioned above. Though the correlative pronoun is used cataphorically in v. 18a, the demonstrative ou[toj is used in v. 18b as a frame of reference to reassert the preceding topic, and thus is linked with the other scatterings introduced by ou[toi by virtue of the repetition. Highlighting within the Account Mention has already been made of how emphasis is used to give added prominence to focal information (viz. preposing the prepositional phrases in vv. 16a, 18a, and 20a). Mark also makes use of marked orders to highlight certain aspects of the results of the scatterings. The relative clauses of v. 15b and 16b share a similar structure. Both begin by establishing an explicit temporal

RUNGE Relative Saliency and Information Structure 113 frame of reference for the clause that follows, o3tan a)kou/swsin….22 The default position for subordinate adverbial adjuncts, according to this framework, is clause-final. Preposing it indicates that the primary basis for relating what follows to the preceding discourse is a switch from the one sowing to the ones hearing, concentrating specifically on what happened when they heard. Both relative clauses also prepose adverbial constituents to highlight the manner in which the following action takes place. In v. 15b, eu0qu/j is preposed to highlight how quickly “Satan comes and takes the word which was sown in them.”23 In v. 16b, a second adverb is preposed, highlighting that the hearers not only responded quickly but with joy. Verse 17b describes these hearers using the preposed focal constituent pro/skairoi, an implicit consequence of not having roots.24 Verse 17c elaborates o the c rcumst ces co tr but g to the pl ts’ fleet g ex stence. The verse begins with two temporal frames: “then,” to indicate that what follows is closely linked chronologically to what precedes (viz. “immediately” and “with great joy receiving the word”), and the second outlining the circumstances that lead to their demise, encoded using a genitive absolute circumstantial clause. Thus, 17c coul be tr sl te “Then, when affliction and persecution come about on account of the word, immediately they tur w y.” The erb eu0qu/j is preposed before the nuclear verb to highlight that just as quickly as they received the word, these hearers fell away. In addition to the cataphoric use of the correlative a!lloi discussed in the previous section, it is also important to note the 22. The noun phrase to\n lo&gon is likely elided in v. 15b due to the presence of o9 lo/goj in the preceding relative clause. Verse 16 does not contain such an occurrence, hence the explicit object noun phrase in 16b. 23. The appositional modifier to\n e0sparme/non ei0j au0tou/j is semantically redundant, and likely functions to sharpen the contrast that what had only just been sown is now being taken away. Cf. Porter, Idioms, 39–41 for the significance of using the perfect tense in such a context. 24. The preposing of r9i/zan Luke’s ers o (8:13c) g es more prominence to the factor leading to their being short-l e th M rk’s ers o .

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preposing of focal information in vv. 19a and b. Based on the parable told in 4:1–9, the reader presupposes that something chokes out the seed, allegorized as weeds. While the manner was highlighted describing seed scattered along the path and on the rocky place, the instrument is highlighted in the description of the weeds. The term a!karpoj is also preposed, clearly highlighting the poor results of this scattering. Note that Matthew preposes both the instruments and the result (cf. Matt 13:22c), while Luke only preposes the instruments (cf. Luke 8:14c). Finally, and in stark contrast to the unfruitful scatterings, the description of the seed scattered upon the good soil makes no use of marked constructions other than the initial description of the location (i.e., oi9 e0pi\ th\n gh~n th\n kalh\n spare/ntej). One would think that if this portion were the most salient of the four, the “th rty-, sixty- and hundred-fol ” retur o the see woul be given more prominence by preposing or by some other linguistic device. Interestingly enough, the other Synoptic traditions (with a minor exception in Luke)25 do not use marked devices either. Conclusions I have presented a number of linguistic devices that encode how the writer/editor conceptualized the explanation of the Parable of the Sower. I demonstrated the ways that marked constituent order was used above the clause level to organize the pericope, breaking the explanation into four distinct segments. Such structures were also shown to be used at the clause level for establishing new cognitive frames of reference for the clause that followed, and providing cohesive links back to the preceding discourse. I also pointed out that the preposing of focal constituents forms emphasis, reinforcing the fact that these clause elements were relatively more salient than the other constituents in the clause. The description of the scatterings along the path 25. Cf. the use of e0n kardi/a| kalh=| kai\ a)gaqh=| to describe the manner in which the “good soil” hears the word. The crop produced is not highlighted at all.

RUNGE Relative Saliency and Information Structure 115 and on the rocky place used emphasis to highlight the manner. In the scattering among the thorns, emphasis highlighted the instrument that made the scattering unfruitful. In the description of the fruitful scattering, on the other hand, the writer/editor gave no marked prominence to any constituent after the introduction in v. 20a. It is as though the seed scattered on good soil produced the expected result, whereas the other scatterings produced seemingly unexpected results. There are two options here. The first is that Mark was simply trusting that the natural prominence of mentioning the fruitful scattering last was sufficient to mark it as most salient. But in light of the contrasting use of marked structures, combined with the apparent distinction made between the unfruitful and fruitful scatterings using the near and far demonstratives, this is an unlikely option. Alternatively, I suggest that Mark pragmatically structured his explanation of the parable to highlight the various “road-blocks to a bountiful spiritual harvest” as being more salient than “good soil bearing a good crop.” The hearer of the parable might well have expected poor results based on the description of the first three scatterings. There are few marked constituents in the actual parable (with the exception of vv. 6b and 7d), creating the impression that each scattering is equally salient. However, the spiritual factors contributing to the unfruitfulness of the scatterings, as disclosed in the explanation, would not have been expected. For this reason, it is more reasonable to conclude that Mark uses these linguistic devices to focus his re ers’ tte t o o the p tf lls to sp r tu l growth th t shoul be avoided.26 Such an interpretation is reasonable in light of current research. Gundry comments on the linguistic devices that serve to separate the unfruitful scatterings from the fruitful, but he draws no conclusion regarding salience.27 France notes that the 26. W ll mso suggests someth g lo g these l es, s y g “The thrust of this explanation is not encouragement but exhortation. The reader is led to sk, ‘Wh t k of so l m I?’” (Mark, 94). 27. Gundry, Mark, 206.

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final group receives little interpretation compared to the others, without mentioning the conventions used to delineate the groups.28 Finally, Mann st tes, “The e of the expl t o of the parable is an anti-climax. So intent are all three versions in the synoptic gospels on the failures and shortcomings of the previous types that the triumph of the word in the fully converted is lmost om tte . Cert ly the h r est s left to expl tself.”29 eul ch m kes s m l r cl m, st t g th t “the terpret t o explai s the p r ble s w r g g st ‘he r g’ the f rst three categories of respondents and an admonition for all ‘he rers’ to be l ke the fourth c tegory th t ‘be rs fru t’.”30 Though the other Synoptic traditions do not make a comparable distinction between the fruitful and unfruitful scatterings using demonstratives, this preliminary survey points toward a comparable weighting of the unfruitful scatterings using other devices, but this is beyond the scope of this study.

28. 29. 30.

France, Mark, 207. Mann, Mark, 267–68. Guelich, Mark 1–8, 223.

RUNGE Relative Saliency and Information Structure 117 Appendix 1: The Pragmatic Effects of Preposing Various Kinds of Constituents (1) Illustration of default versus marked ordering in English (a) Preposing temporal expressions for a new temporal frame of reference: Default: John went outside after dinner. OR John ate dinner and went outside. Marked: After dinner, John went outside. OR John ate dinner, then he went outside. (b) Preposing nominal constituents for a new referential frame of reference Default: John went outside after dinner. Marked: As for John, he went outside after dinner. (c) Preposing certain prepositional phrases for a new spatial frame of reference: Default: John finished eating dinner in the kitchen and went outside. Marked: In the kitchen, John finished eating dinner and then went outside. (d) Preposing conditional clauses for an explicit conditional frame of reference: Default: Joh w ll ot go outs e f he oes ’t f sh eating dinner. Marked: If Joh oes ’t f sh e t g er, he will not go outside. (e) Prepos g “ ew” information for marked focus (emphasis): (i) What were you working on? Default: I was working on my paper. Marked: It was my paper (I was working on).

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(2) Illustration of default versus marked ordering in Koine Greek (a) Preposing temporal expressions for a new temporal frame of reference: Default: kai\ eu0qu\j e1pxetai o9 Satana~j o3tan a0kou/swsin. (Variation of Mark 4:15b) Marked: kai\ o3tan a)kou/swsin, eu0qu\j e1pxetai o9 Satana~j. (b) Preposing nominal constituents for a new referential frame of reference: Default: spei/rei o9 spei/rwn to\n lo/gon. (Variation of Mark 4:14a) Marked: o9 spei/rwn spei/rei to\n lo/gon. (c) Preposing certain prepositional phrases for a new spatial frame of reference: Default: kai\ e1pesen a!llo e0pi\ to\ petrw~dej o3pou ou0k ei]xen gh~n pollh/n. (Variation of Mark 4:5) Marked: kai\ e0pi\ to\ petrw~dej e1pesen a!llo o3pou ou0k ei]xen gh~n pollh/n. (d) Preposing conditional clauses for an explicit conditional frame of reference: Default: ti/na ga_r misqo\n e1xete e0a_n a0gaph&shte tou\j a0gapw~ntaj u9ma~j; (Variation of Matt 5:46) Marked: e0a_n ga_r a)gaph&shte tou\j a)gapw~ntaj u9ma~j, ti/na misqo\n e1xete;

RUNGE Relative Saliency and Information Structure 119 Appendix 2: Information Structure Analysis of Each Gospel Matthew 13:19–23 19a panto\j a)kou/ontoj to\n lo&gon th~j basilei/aj kai\ mh_ sunie/ntoj31 19b e1rxetai o9 ponhro\j 19c kai\ a(rpa&zei to\ e0sparme/non e0n th~| kardi/a| au)tou=: 19d ou[to&j32 e0stin o9 para_ th_n o9do\n33 sparei/j. 20a o9 de\ e0pi\ ta_ petrw&dh34 sparei/j,35 20b ou[to&j e0stin o9 to\n lo&gon a)kou&wn 20c kai\ eu)qu_j meta_ xara~j36 lamba&nwn au)to&n: 21a ou)k e1xei de\ r(i/zan e0n e9autw~| 21b a)lla_ pro&skairo&j37 e0stin, 21c genome/nhj de\ qli/yewj h@ diwgmou~ dia_ to\n lo&gon38 eu)qu_j39 skandali/zetai. 22a o9 de\ ei0j ta_j a)ka&nqaj40 sparei/j,41

31. Underlined clause is a left-dislocated phrase—syntactically independent from the following main clauses—to activate a new topic. This dislocated phrase establishes the framework within which the following predications hold (see Li and Thompson, “Subject Top c”; Chafe, “ e ess”). Verse 19a is coreferent with ou[toj in 19d. 32. Referential frame of reference resumes topic established in 19a. 33. Emphasis within the frame of reference highlights the place where the seed is sown. 34. Emphasis within the frame of reference highlights the place where the seed is sown. 35. Underlined clause is left-dislocated with respect to v. 20b to establish a new topic, resumed by ou[toj. 36. Emphasis highlights the manner in which the word is received, immediately and with joy. 37. Emphasis highlights the duration of the plants’ existence. 38. Initial clause establishes a temporal frame of reference as the basis for relating what follows to what precedes. 39. Emphasis highlights the manner in which the person falls away, immediately. 40. Emphasis within the frame of reference highlights the place where the seed is sown. 41. Underlined clause is left-dislocated with respect to v. 22b to establish a new topic, resumed by ou[toj.

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22b ou[to&j e0stin o( to_n lo&gon42 a)kou&wn, 22c kai\ h( me/rimna tou~ ai0w~noj kai\ h( a)pa&th tou~ plou&tou43 sumpni/gei to\n lo&gon 22d kai\ a!karpoj44 gi/netai. 23a o9 de\ e0pi\ th\n kalh\n gh~n45 sparei/j,46 23b ou[to&j e0stin o( to_n lo&gon47 a)kou&wn 23c kai\ suniei/j, 23d o$j dh_ karpoforei= 23e kai\ poiei= o$ me\n e9kato&n, o$ de\ e9ch&konta, o$ de\ tria&konta.48 Mark 4:14–20 14a o9 spei/rwn to\n lo&gon49 spei/rei. 15a ou[toi50 de/ ei0sin oi9 para_ th_n o(do/n: o#pou spei/retai o( lo&goj 15b kai\ o#tan a)kou&swsin, eu)qu_j51 e1rxetai o( Satana~j 15c kai\ ai1rei to_n lo&gon to_n e0sparme/non ei0j au)tou&j. 16a kai\ ou[toi/52 ei0sin oi9 e0pi\ ta_ petrw&dh53 speiro&menoi, 42. Emphasis within the participial phrase highlights what was heard. Contrast with Matt 13:19a; Mark 4:20b. 43. The parable presupposes that something chokes the growth of the seeds (cf. v. 7), and the emphasis highlights the means of choking. 44. Emphasis highlights the resulting state of the seed, unfruitful. 45. Emphasis within the frame of reference highlights the place where the seed is sown. 46. Underlined clause is left-dislocated with respect to v. 23b to establish a new topic, resumed by ou[toj. 47. Emphasis within the participial phrase highlights what was heard. Contrast with Matt 13:19a; Mark 4:20b. 48. Verse 23d is a continuative relative clause, which provides further description of the left-dislocated topic of v. 23a. 49. Emphasis highlights the new information of the clause. 50. Emphasis cataphorically highlights the new topic oi9 para_ th\n o(do&n by preposing the demonstrative pronoun. 51. Temporal frame of reference to establish the temporal frame of reference for what follows. 52. Emphasis cataphorically highlights the new topic oi9 e0pi\ ta_ petrw&dh speiro/menoi by preposing the demonstrative pronoun. 53. Emphasis within the participial phrase highlights the place where the seeds were sown.

RUNGE Relative Saliency and Information Structure 121 16b oi9\ o#tan a)kou&swsin to_n lo&gon54 eu)qu_j meta_ xara~j55 lamba&nousin au)to&n, 17a kai\ ou)k e1xousin r(i/zan e0n e9autoi=j 17b a)lla_ pro&skairoi/56 ei0sin: 17c ei]ta genome/nhj qli/yewj h@ diwgmou~ dia_ to_n lo&gon eu)qu_j57 skandali/zontai. 18a kai\ a!lloi58 ei0si\n oi9 ei0j ta_j a)ka&nqaj59 speiro&menoi: 18b ou[toi/ ei0sin oi9 to_n lo&gon60 a)kou&santej, 19a 7kai\ ai9 me/rimnai tou~ ai0w~noj kai\ h( a)pa&th tou~ plou&tou kai\ ai9 peri\ ta_ loipa_ e0piqumi/ai61 ei0sporeuo&menai sumpni/gousin to_n lo&gon, 19b kai\ a!karpoj62 gi/netai. 20a kai\ e0kei=noi/63 ei0sin oi9 e0pi\ th_n gh~n th_n kalh_n64 spare/ntej, 54. Temporal frame of reference to establish the temporal frame of the continuative relative clause that it begins. 55. Emphasis highlights the manner in which the word is received, immediately and with joy. 56. Emphasis highlights the duration of the plants’ existence. 57. Emphasis highlights the manner in which the person falls away, immediately. 58. Emphasis cataphorically highlights the new topic oi9 ei0j ta_j a)ka&nqaj speiro&menoi by preposing the correlative pronoun. Use of correlative—instead of the proximate demonstrative ou[toi—indicates the end of correlated entities. Compare to Matt 13:4, 5, 7, 8; 13:1, 24, 31, 33; 20:1, 3, 6 and Mark 4:4, 5, 7, 8, where correlative pronouns are used for each non-initial entity of the correlated set, including the last. Contrast with Mark 12:3, 4, 5, 6, where the final related member of the set is contrasted with the other members of the set. Similar usages are found in Mark 6:14, 15, 16; 8:28, 29. 59. Emphasis within the participial phrase highlights the place where the seeds were sown. 60. Emphasis within the participial phrase highlights what was heard. Contrast with Mark 4:20b. 61. The parable presupposes that something chokes the growth of the seeds (cf. v. 7), and the emphasis highlights the means of the choking. 62. Emphasis highlights the resulting state of the seed, unfruitful. 63. Emphasis cataphorically highlights the new topic oi9 e0pi\ th\n gh~n th_n kalh_n spare/ntej by preposing the demonstrative. 64. Emphasis within the participial phrase highlights the place where the seeds were sown.

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20b oi3tinej a)kou&ousin to_n lo&gon 20c kai\ parade/xontai 20d kai\ karpoforou~sin e4n tria&konta kai\ e4n e9ch&konta kai\ e4n e9kato&n. Luke 8:11–15 11a e1stin de\ au#th h( parabolh&: 11b o9 spo&roj65 e0sti\n o( lo&goj tou~ qeou~. 12a oi9 de\ para_ th_n o(do&n66 ei0sin oi9 a)kou&santej, 12b ei]ta67 e1rxetai o( dia&boloj 12c kai\ ai1rei to_n lo&gon a)po_ th~j kardi/aj au)tw~n, 12d i3na mh_ pisteu&santej swqw~sin. 13a oi9 de\ e0pi\ th~j pe/traj68 13b oi4 o#tan a)kou&swsin69 meta_ xara~j70 de/xontai to_n lo&gon, 13c kai\ ou[toi r(i/zan71 ou)k e1xousin, 13d oi4 pro_j kairo_n72 pisteu&ousin 13e kai\ e0n kairw~| peirasmou~73 a)fi/stantai. 14a to_ de\ ei0j ta_j a)ka&nqaj74 peso&n,75

65. Referential frame of reference for a marked switch to a different topic. 66. Referential frame of reference for a marked switch to a different topic. 67. Temporal frame of reference to establish the temporal frame for the clause that it begins. 68. Left-dislocated referential frame of reference for a marked switch to a different topic for the continuative relative clause in v. 13b, resumed by ou[toi in v. 13c. 69. Temporal frame of reference to establish the temporal frame for the continuative relative clause that it begins. 70. Emphasis highlights the manner in which the word is received, with joy. 71. Emphasis highlights what these plants are missing, roots. 72. Emphasis highlights the duration for which the word is believed, for a time. 73. Temporal frame of reference to establish the temporal frame for the clause that it begins. 74. Emphasis within the frame of reference highlights the place where the seed is sown.

RUNGE Relative Saliency and Information Structure 123 14b ou[toi/ ei0sin oi9 a)kou&santej, 14c kai\ u(po_ merimnw~n kai\ plou&tou kai\ h(donw~n tou~ bi/ou76 poreuo&menoi sumpni/gontai 14d kai\ ou) telesforou~sin. 15a to_ de\ e0n th~| kalh~| gh~|,77 15b ou[toi/ ei0sin oi3tinej e0n kardi/a| kalh~| kai\ a)gaqh~78 | a)kou&santej to_n lo&gon kate/xousin 15c kai\ karpoforou~sin e0n u(pomonh~|. Bibliography Andrews, E. Markedness Theory: The Union of Asymmetry and Semiosis in Language. Durham: Duke University Press, 1990. Ch fe, W ll ce L. “Cog t e Co str ts o I form t o Flow.” I Coherence and Grounding in Discourse, edited by Russel S. Tomlin, 21–51. Philadelphia: John Benjamins, 1987. ———. “ e ess, Co tr st e ess, Def te ess, Subjects, Top cs, Po t of V ew.” I Subject and Topic, edited by Charles N. Li, 25–56. New York: Academic Press, 1976. Dik, Simon. Functional Grammar. Amsterdam: North Holland Press, 1978. Dooley, Robert A., and Stephen H. Levinsohn. Analyzing Discourse: A Manual of Basic Concepts. Dallas: SIL International, 2001. France, R.T. The Gospel of Mark: A Commentary on the Greek Text. NIGTC. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002 Guelich, Robert A. Mark 1–8:26. WBC 34a. Dallas: Word, 2002. , Talmy. Syntax: An Introduction, Volume II. Revised ed. Philadelphia: John Benjamins, 2001. 75. Left-dislocated referential frame of reference for a marked to switch to a different topic, resumed by ou[toi in the following clause. 76. The parable presupposes that something chokes the growth of the seeds (cf. v. 7), and the emphasis highlights the means of choking. 77. Left-dislocated referential frame of reference for a marked to switch to a different topic, resumed by ou[toi in the following clause. 78. Emphasis highlights the inner qualities of some who hear the word and respond favorably.

124

Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1 ———. “The r mm r of Refere t l Cohere ce s Me t l Process g I struct o s.” Linguistics 30 (1992) 5–55. Gould, Ezra Palmer. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel according to St. Mark. ICC. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1922. Gundel, Jeanette K., Nancy Hedberg, and Ron Zacharski. “Demo str t e Pro ou s N tur l D scourse.” P per presented at the Fifth Discourse Anaphora and Anaphora Resolution Colloquium. St. Miguel, Portugal, Spain, 23–24 September 2004. Gundry, Robert H. Mark: A Commentary on His Apology for the Cross. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993. Lambrecht, Knud. Information Structure and Sentence Form: Topic, Focus and the Mental Representations of Discourse Referents. CSL. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996. Lehmann, Winfred P. “A Structur l Pr c ple of L gu ge Impl c t o .” Language 49 (1973) 47–66.

Its

———. “Co clus o : Tow r U erst g of the Profou U ty U erly g L gu ges.” I Syntactic Typology, edited by Winfred P. Lehmann, 663–80. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1978. Levinsohn, Stephen H. “Tow r s U f e L gu st c Descr pt o of ou[toj and e0kei=noj.” In The Linguist as Pedagogue: Trends in Teaching and Linguistic Analysis of the Greek New Testament, edited by Stanley E. Porter and Matthew Brook O’Do ell. NTM 11. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 2009. ———. Discourse Features of New Testament Greek: A Coursebook on the Information Structure of New Testament Greek. 2nd edition. Dallas: SIL International, 2000. Levinson, Stephen C. “Pr gm t cs the Grammar of Anaphora: a Partial Pragmatic Reduction of Binding and Control Phe ome .” Journal of Linguistics 23 (1987) 379–434. Li, Charles N., and Sandra A. Thompson. “Subject Top c: A New Typology of L gu ge.” I Subject and Topic, edited by Charles N. Li, 459–89. New York: Academic Press, 1976. Mann, C.S. Mark: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 27. Garden City: Doubleday, 1986.

RUNGE Relative Saliency and Information Structure 125 Porter, Stanley E. Idioms of the Greek New Testament. BLG 2. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992. Runge, Steven E. Discourse Grammar of the Greek New Testament: A Practical Introduction for Teaching and Exegesis. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2010. Williamson, Lamar. Mark. Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching. Louisville: John Knox, 1983.

ANCIENT SOURCES INDEX Old Testament Genesis 3 3:17–19 15:6

48, 50 48 26

Psalms 38:6 [LXX] 39:5 51:9 [LXX] 52:7 77:33 [LXX] 78:33 143:4 [LXX] 143:8 [LXX] 143:11 [LXX] 144:4 144:8 144:11

46 46 46 46 46 46 46 46 46 46 46 46

Ecclesiastes 1:2 1:14 2:1 2:11 2:13–14 2:15 2:17 2:19 2:21

45, 49, 56 56 56 51, 56 48 56 51, 56 56 56

2:23 2:26 3:19 4:4 4:7 4:8 4:16 5:6 5:16 [LXX] 5:17 6:2 6:4 6:9 6:12 7:6 7:15 8:10 8:14 9:2 9:9 11 11:8 11:9—12:1 11:10—12:1 11:10 12 12:1 12:8

56 56 56 51, 56 56 51, 56 56 56, 56 48 48 56 48, 56 56 56 56 56 56 56 56 56 51 48, 56 52 51–53, 55 45, 56 51 51, 52 45, 56

128 Jonah 2:9

Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1 Zechariah 10:2

47

47

Apocrypha Wisdom of Solomon 15:8 47 New Testament Matthew 4:23–25 5:1–7:29 5:1–2 5:1 5:3–12 5:13–16 5:17–18 5:17 5:46 7:28 9:9 9:26 13:1 13:4–8 13:4 13:5 13:7 13:8 13:19–23 13:19 13:20 13:21 13:22 13:23 13:24

86 86 86 86 86 86 86 63, 65, 81, 86 118 86 81 104 121 112 121 121 120, 121 121 103, 119 119, 120 119 119 114, 119, 120 120 112, 121

13:31 13:33 17:20 18:3–5 20:1 20:3 20:6 20:21 21:21 25:46 26:3 27:19 27:23–24 Mark 1:44 2:1–12 2:4 2:13 2:14 2:15–16 2:15 2:16 2:17 4:1–9 4:4

112, 121 112, 121 16 80 121 121 121 110 16 110 90 85 85 84 81 81 81 81 81 81 81, 82 63, 65, 81, 83 114 121

ANCIENT SOURCES INDEX 4:5 4:6 4:7 4:8 4:11 4:14–20 4:14 4:15 4:16 4:17 4:18 4:19 4:20 4:40 6:14 6:15–16 6:15 6:16 6:22 6:25–27 8:28–29 8:28 8:29–30 8:29 9:9 9:36–37 10:32–45 10:32–34 10:37 10:39

112, 118, 121 115 112, 115, 121 112, 121 84 103, 104, 120 110, 118, 120 104, 110– 13, 118, 120 104, 110– 13, 120, 121 113, 121 104, 110– 12, 121 114, 121 110–12, 115, 120–22 16 89, 121 112 121 121 89 89 112 121 84 121 84 80 83 82 83 82, 83

10:41 10:43–44 10:45 10:46 11:21 11:22 11:23–24 11:23 11:24 12:3–6 12:3 12:4 12:5 12:6 14:48–49 15:4 16:10–11 Luke 2:25 3:2 8:7 8:11–15 8:11 8:12 8:13 8:14 8:15 9:47–48 11:37–52 11:53–54 12:1–59 12:1 12:13 12:22

129 83 83 63, 65, 81– 83 83 24 5, 8, 22, 23, 25, 26, 31 23 23, 24 24 112 121 121 121 121 85 85 103 103 90 123 103, 122 122 122 113, 122 114, 122, 123 123 80 84 84 84 84 84 84

130 12:35–48 12:41 12:49–52 12:49–51

Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1

12:52–53 12:54 17:6 18:14 23:14 23:22

84 84 85 63, 65, 81, 84 85 84 16 104 85 85

John 1:33 1:50 5:19 5:38 6:5 6:29 10:6 18:24 19:20 21:23

104 18 104 104 110 104 104 90 67 104

Acts 4:5–6 13:6–12 14:9 16:13–15 17:4 17:5–9 17:12 17:34 18:3–8 18:7 18:8 18:22–36 19:4

90 92 16 92 92 92 92 92 92 92 92 92 28

20:34 Romans 1 1:12 1:17 1:21 3:21–26 3:22 5 7:18 8

92

10:6 13 14:22

47, 49, 50 48 32 47–50 6, 32, 34 7, 35 50 29 39, 46, 49, 50, 51, 54, 55 54 51 40, 46, 48– 52, 55 29 70 16

1 Corinthians 10:6 10:11 10:28 13:2

104 104 104 16

Galatians 2:16 3:22 5:5–6

7, 35 7, 35 6

8:19–21 8:20–21 8:20

Ephesians 3 4:17

39 39, 46–48, 50, 52, 55

ANCIENT SOURCES INDEX Philippians 3:9

7, 35

Colossians 2:12

26

2 Thessalonians 2:13 26 1 Timothy 1:19 2:2 Titus 3:1

16 70 70

Philemon 5 12

16 29

1 John 3:3

104

James 2 2:1–13 2:1

131

2:14–26 2:14 2:18 2:23

26 24, 25 5, 7, 8, 15, 22, 24–27, 31 28 16, 26, 27 26, 27 26

Hebrews 2:14

29

2 Peter 2 2:17 2:18–19 2:18

46 53 54 40, 53, 55

Revelation 2:13 14:12

26, 27 27

Early Jewish Literature Josephus Antiquities 17:191 18:55–59 18:62 19:11–16 19:14–16 19:15

89 90 91 18 18 18

19:16 19:16:1

19 16

Jewish Wars 2:169 2:175–77

90 91

132

Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1 Greco-Roman Literature

Aelius Aristides pro\j pla&twna u9pe\r tw~n tetta&rwn 158:32 17

Plutarch De Cupiditate Divitiarum 91:A:8 15 524:D:3 29

Athenaeus Deipnosophistae 10:70:13 29

De Facie in Orbe Lunae 926:F:4 29

Diogenes Laertius Vitae Philosophorum 1:78:6 15, 16 10:127:2 29 Dionysius Halicarnassensis Antiquitates anae 2:75 18 Galen De Compositione Medicamentorum per Genera Libri viii 12:997:16 17 Labanius Orationes 1–64 1:70:8 17

Fabius Maximus 5:5:1 16 Praecepta gerendae rei publica 812:F:6 15 Theseus 1:4:1

15

Polybius Historiae 32:6:5

15

Rhetorius Capitula Selecta (ex Rhetorii Thesauris) 152:19 17

Early Christian Writings Vitae Nicolai Sionitae 59:5–8 20 59:9–10 20 59:13 20 59:16–17 17, 20 59:16 20

59:18–19

20, 21

Acta Pauli et Theclae 17:10 17

ANCIENT SOURCES INDEX

133

Antiochus Pandecta Scripturae Sacrae 102:80 17

Eusebius Commentarius in Isaiam 2:57:65 18

Athanasius Contra gentes 45:14

Gregorius Acindynus Refutatio Magna 4:12:52 17

De Incarnatione Verbi 29:4:15 17

Gregory of Nazianzus Carmina Moralia 913:13 16

Disputatio contra Arium 28:500:23 17 Orationes tres contra Arianos 26:17:39 18 Basilius Caesariensis Adversus Eunomium 29:509:27 17 Basilius Seleuciensis Semones xli 456:29 17 Cyrillus Collectio Dictorum Veteris Testamenti [Sp] 77:1225:32 18 Didymus Caecus Fragmenta in Psalmos 1:1:3:42:24 18 1081:6 18 Epiphanius Panarion 3:351:7

17

Hermas Pastor 43:2 43:4 43:5–7 43:9–10 43:9 43:9:2 43:12 43:13 43:17

19 19 19 19 20 16 19 19 19, 20, 21

Hippolytus De Antichristo 61:23–31 28 61:24 28 61:26 5, 8, 22, 28, 31 61:28 30 Joannes Adversus Iconoclastas 96:1357:38 17

134

Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1

Maximus Confessor Ambigua ad Thomam 5:175 17, 18 Michael Gabras Epistulae 20:35 17 Nonnus Par Sancti Ev. Joannei 1:206 16 Palladius Dialogus de vita Joannis Chrysostomi 132:27 18

Pseudo-Justin Quaestiones et Responsiones ad Orthodoxos 491:A:3 17 Sophronius Narratio Miraculorum Sanctorum Cyri et Joannis 64:37 17 7:15 17 Commentarius in xxi Prophetas Minores Am.pr.1:95 18

MODERN AUTHORS INDEX Abernathy, D. 86, 100 Abraham, S.A. 34 Achtemeier, P.J. 49, 57 Aksornkool, N. 71, 95 Allison, D.C. 24, 32, 34, 64, 86, 95, 96 Ammon, U. 68, 101 Andrews, E. 106, 123 Assaël, J. 25, 32 Barr, J. 42, 57 Barrett, C.K. 49, 57 Barth, M. 46, 47, 57 Beilby, J.K. 83, 95 Berry, M. 8, 32 Best, E. 46, 47, 57 Bird, M.F. 6, 7, 28–30, 35, 36 Blight, R.C. 85, 95 Blom, J-P. 78, 95 Bock, D.L. 85, 95 Bratcher, R.G. 85, 95 Brent, A. 32 Brooks, J.A. 81, 95 Brown, G. 9, 32 Brown, R.E. 57 Bruce, F.F. 46, 47, 57 Bullmore, M.A. 49, 57 Butler, C.S. 8, 32 Butt, M. 12, 32

Cadbury, H.J. 83 Caird, G.B. 47, 57 Campbell, D.A. 6, 32 Carson, D.A. 32 Casey, M. 64, 96 Cerrato, J.A. 32 Chafe, W.L. 103, 119, 123 Choi, H.-S. 6, 32 Cirafesi, W.V. 31, 32 Collins, A.Y. 23, 33 Comrie, B. 105 Cranfield, C.E.B. 23, 32, 48, 57 Crossley, J.G. 96 Cuvillier, E. 25, 32 Darko, D.K. 47, 57 Davids, P.H. 25, 33, 54, 57 Davies, W.D. 86, 96 Deines, R. 90 Dik, S. 108, 123 Dines, J.M. 53, 57 Donelson, L.R. 54, 57 Dooley, R.A. 107, 123 Dorian, N. 78, 96 Dunn, J.D.G. 6, 24, 33, 49, 57 Easter, M.C. 6, 7, 33 Eastman, S. 49, 50, 57 Eddy, P.R. 83, 95

136

Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1

Edgar, D.H. 24, 33 Fasold, R.W. 64, 66, 67, 69, 71, 72, 74, 75, 77, 78, 88, 96 Fawcett, R.P. 9, 12, 33 Ferguson, C.A. 66, 74, 75, 96 Ferguson, E. 67, 90, 93, 96 Fewster, G.P. 5 Fishman, J.A. 68, 74, 88, 96 Fitzmyer, J.A. 49, 57, 65, 67, 97 Foster, P. 6, 33 France, R.T. 23, 33, 83, 86, 97, 115, 116, 123 Friesen, S. 91, 92, 97 Gal, S. 77–79, 97 Geldenhuys, N. 85, 97 Givón, T. 103–105, 108, 123 Gould, E.P. 23, 109, 124 Green, G.L. 54, 58 Green, M. 54, 58 Greenfield, L. 94, 95, 97 Gregory, M. 33 Guelich, R.A. 116, 123 Gumperz, J.J. 78, 95 Gundel, J.K. 111, 124 Gundry, R.H. 115, 124 Hagner, D.A. 86, 97 Halliday, M.A.K. 9–14, 27, 33, 34, 41, 58, 65, 98 Harrington, D.J. 54, 58

Harrisville, R.A. 6, 7, 34 Hasan, R. 9, 34 Hay, D.M. 33 Hays, R.B. 6, 7, 22, 23, 27, 35, 39, 58 Headlam, A.C. 49, 60 Hedberg, N. 111, 124 Hellerman, J. 69 Hengel, M. 90, 98 Herman, S. 76, 77, 98 Heyvaert, L. 11, 34 Hoehner, H.W. 46, 58 Hoey, M. 39–41, 43, 51, 55, 58 Hollander, J. 39 Holmén, T. 64, 98 Hong, B. 33 Hooker, M.D. 7, 34, 84, 98 Howard, G. 6, 34 Hultgren, A.J. 6, 34 Hyatt, D. 61 Hymes, D.H. 65, 98 Jackson-McCabe, M. 24, 34 Jeffers, J.S. 67, 81, 90, 91, 93, 98 Jeremias, J. 82, 98 Jewett, R. 49, 50, 58 Jobes, K.H. 53, 58 Johnson, E.E. 33 Johnson, L.T. 6, 34, 50, 58 Kamell, M.J. 28, 34 Käsemann, E. 49, 58 Keck, L. 49, 58 Keener, C.S. 49, 58 Kelly, J.N.D. 54, 58 Kingsbury, J.D. 84, 98

MODERN AUTHORS INDEX Kloppenborg, J.S. 37 Kristeva, J. 39, 58 Kuhrt, A. 72, 98 Kutscher, E.Y. 68, 98 Lambrecht, K. 103, 104, 107, 124 Lane, W.L. 22, 35 Laosa, L. 75, 76, 98 Lawson, J.M. 49, 59 Lee, J.H. 6–8, 35 Lehmann, W.P. 108, 124 Lenski, R.C.H. 49, 59 Levinsohn, S.H. 103, 104, 107, 108, 123, 124 Levinson, S.C. 106, 124 Lewis, E.G. 71, 99 Li, C.N. 119, 124 Liefeld, W.L. 46, 59 Lincoln, A.T. 46, 47, 59 Lorwin, V. 71, 99 Louw, J.P. 67, 99 Lowe, B.A. 7, 24, 35 Luther, M. 49, 59 MacDonald, M.Y. 46, 47, 59 Mann, C.S. 116, 124 Markschies, C. 90, 98 Marshall, I.H. 85 Matlock, R.B. 6–8, 17, 35 Matthiessen, C.M.I.M. 13, 34, 41 McCartney, D.G. 25, 26, 35 McKnight, S. 24, 35 Melrose, R. 9, 35 Millar, F. 90, 99

137

Moo, D.J. 25, 35, 48, 49, 59 Moo, J. 49, 50, 59 Moyise, S. 39, 52, 53, 59 Muddiman, J. 46, 59 Murray, J. 48, 59 Napoli, D.J. 12, 35 Nautin, P. 35 Neyrey, J.H. 54, 59 Nicklas, T. 64, 99 Nida, E.A. 67, 99 Nolland, J. 85 Norelli, E. 35 O’Brien, P.T. 46, 47, 59 O’Donnell, M.B. 14, 36, 40, 43, 59, 60 Osborne, G.R. 49, 60 Parasher, S.N. 94, 99 Patzia, A.G. 46, 60 Paulston, C.B. 66, 99 Peterman, G.W. 5–7, 31, 32, 36 Pitts, A.W. 8, 20, 21, 36 Polak, F.H. 93, 99 Pollard, P. 6, 36 Pool, J. 70, 100 Porter, S.E. 8, 20, 21, 36, 44, 60, 63, 64, 67, 80, 83, 90, 100, 111, 113, 125 Ravelli, L.J. 10–13, 34, 36 Reed, J.T. 8, 9, 36 Richardson, P. 89, 100 Rimbach, J.A. 49, 60

138

Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics 1

Robertson, A.T. 29, 36 Robinson, D.W.B. 22, 27, 36 Runge, S.E. 103, 104, 125 Sanday, W. 49, 60 Sankoff, G. 78, 100 Schreiner, T.R. 49, 60 Schweitzer, A. 83 Segal, M.H. 68, 100 Senior, D.P. 54, 58 Sherwin-White, S.M. 72, 98 Silva, M. 42, 53, 58, 60 Simonetti, M. 36 Simon-Vandenbergen, A.M. 34 Sprinkle, P.M. 6, 7, 35, 36 Stamps, D.L. 42, 60 Stein, R. 23, 36, 85 Stubbs, M. 40, 60 Stuhlmacher, P. 49, 60 Taverniers, M. 34 Taylor, G.M. 6, 36 Taylor, V. 82, 100 Tehan, T.M. 86, 100 Telford, W.R. 64, 100

Teubert, W. 41, 43, 60 Thielman, F. 46, 47, 61 Thompson, G. 9–11, 36, 65, 100 Thompson, S.A. 19, 124 Tucker, G.R. 66, 99 Wachob, W.H. 24, 25, 37 Wallace, D.B. 26, 37 Wallis, I. 7, 22, 37 Watson, D.F. 37 Weaver, W.P. 63, 101 Webb, R.L. 37 Webster, J.J. 33, 34 Weem, L. 34 Westfall, C.L. 50, 61, 66 Whitenton, M.R. 7, 28–30, 32 Williams, S.K. 6, 7, 37 Williamson, L. 115, 125 Wise, M.O. 65, 101 Witherington, B. 49, 54, 61 Wrede, W. 84, 101 Yule, G. 9, 32 Zacharski, R. 111, 124 Zhiming, B. 34