Postclassical Greek Prepositions and Conceptual Metaphor: Cognitive Semantic Analysis and Biblical Interpretation (Fontes et Subsidia ad Bibliam Pertinentes (FoSub), 12) 9783110774047, 9783110777895, 9783110777994, 3110774046

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Postclassical Greek Prepositions and Conceptual Metaphor

Fontes et Subsidia ad Bibliam pertinentes (FoSub)

Edited by James K. Aitken, David S. du Toit and Loren T. Stuckenbruck

Volume 12

Postclassical Greek Prepositions and Conceptual Metaphor Cognitive Semantic Analysis and Biblical Interpretation Edited by William A. Ross and Steven E. Runge

ISBN 978-3-11-077404-7 e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-077789-5 e-ISBN (EPUB) 978-3-11-077799-4 ISSN 1861-602X Library of Congress Control Number: 2022931065 Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; Detailed bibliographic data are available in the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2022 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston Typesetting: Integra Software Services Pvt. Ltd. Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck www.degruyter.com

To the scholarly community at Tyndale House, Cambridge; even those among them skeptical of linguists.

Contents Lists of Abbreviations 

 IX

William A. Ross and Steven E. Runge  1 1 Introduction  Richard A. Rhodes 2 Greek Prepositions: A Cognitive Linguistic View 

 11

Patrick James 3 The Overlap between ἀπό and ὑπό to Mark Agents: The Trials and Tribulations  37 of a Traditionalist Lexicographic Treatment  Rachel E. Aubrey and Michael G. Aubrey 4 Spatial Profiling: ἐκ, ἀπό, and Their Entailments in Postclassical Greek  Travis Wright 5 The περί Preposition Phrase at the Grammar-Discourse Interface  William A. Ross 6 Construals of Faith in ἐν and ἐκ Prepositional Constructions  Bonnie Howe 7 “Why Do You Eat and Drink with Tax Collectors and Sinners?”  How Prepositions Shape Social Space and Norms in Luke

 85

 123  153

Steven E. Runge

8

 67

Land Forms, Weapons, and Body Parts: How Mismatches in Preferred Construals  179 Have Shaped Our Understanding of Greek Prepositions 

Michael G. Aubrey and Rachel E. Aubrey 9 Construing Agency and Cause in Passive Constructions 

 209

Erin M. Heim 10 The “Ins” and “Outs” of Matthew 15:1–20: Insights on Prepositions from  241 Prototype Theory and Metaphor Theory 

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 Contents

Jonathan T. Pennington 11 Cognitive Linguistics and Greek Prepositions: A New Testament  259 Perspective  Bibliography 

 269

List of Contributors  Source index  Topic index 

 285  295

 283

Lists of Abbreviations 1Clem. AB ABD acc. AcT Anab. Ant. Ars. AST BAGL BDAG

BECNT Bel. BibInt BLG BNTC BT BZNW ca. CEB Chaer. CLR Comp. Arist. Cat. CSB CSL CTL dat. DGENT Dial. Diogn. DNTB EGLL Ench. ESV ÉtB GELS gen.

1 Clement Anchor (Yale) Bible Freedman, David Noel, ed. Anchor Bible Dictionary. 6 vols. New York: Doubleday, 1992. accusative Acta Theologica Xenophon, Anabasis Josephus, Jewish Antiquities Eudoxus Astronomus, Ars astronomica Amsterdam Studies in the Theory and History of Linguistic Science, Series IV: Current Issues in Linguistic Theory Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics Danker, Frederick W., Walter Bauer, William F. Arndt, and F. Wilbur Gingrich. GreekEnglish Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature. 3rd ed. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000. Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament Hero Mechanicus, Belopoeica Biblical Interpretation Series Biblical Languages: Greek Black’s New Testament Commentary The Bible Translator Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der älteren Kirche circa Common English Bible Chariton, Chaereas and Callirhoe Cognitive Linguistics Research Plutarch, Comparatio Aristidis et Catonis Christian Standard Bible Cambridge Studies in Linguistics Cambridge Textbooks in Linguistics dative Delgado Jara, Inmaculada. Diccionario Griego-Español Del Nuevo Testamento. Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, 2006. Justin, Dialogue with Trypho Diognetus Dictionary of New Testament Background. Edited by Craig A. Evans and Stanley E. Porter. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2000. The Encyclopedia of Greek Language and Linguistics. Edited by Georgios K. Giannakis. 3 vols. Leiden: Brill, 2014. Epictetus, Enchiridion English Standard Version Études bibliques Muraoka, Takamitsu. A Greek-English Lexicon of the Septuagint. Leuven: Peeters, 2009. genitive

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110777895-203

X 

 Lists of Abbreviations

Good Person Herm. Mand. Hist. HTR IC ICC IG II2 IG XII,7 Il. JBL JSNT J.W. KJV L1 L2 Let. Aris LHBOTS LM LSJ LXX m. MS(S) MSU NA28

NAB NAS NICNT NIGTC NIV NovT NRSV NS NTL NTS OCT Od. OED par. pers. comm. PG PMG Pss. Sol. QUD

Philo, That Every Good Person Is Free Shepherd of Hermas, Mandate Herodotus, Histories; Polybius, Histories Harvard Theological Review Guarducci, Margherita, ed. Inscriptiones Creticae. 4 vols. Rome: Libreria dello stato, 1935–1950. International Critical Commentary Kirchner, Johannes, ed. Inscriptiones Graecae II et III: Inscriptiones Atticae Euclidis anno posteriors. 2nd ed. Parts I–III. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1913–1940. Delamarre, Jules, ed. Inscriptiones Graecae XII,7: Inscriptiones Amorgi et insularum vicinarum. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1908. Homer, Iliad Journal of Biblical Literature Journal for the Study of the New Testament Josephus, Jewish War King James Version original language target language of translation Letter of Aristeas Library of Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Studies Landmark Liddell, Henry George, Robert Scott, and Henry Stuart Jones. A Greek-English Lexicon. 9th ed. with revised supplement. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996. Septuagint mishnah manuscript(s) Mitteilungen des septuaginta-unternehmens Aland, Barbara, Kurt Aland, J. Karavidopoulos, Carlo M. Martini, Bruce M. Metzger, and Holger Strutwolf. Novum Testamentum Graece, 28th Revised Edition. Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 2012. New American Bible New American Standard New International Commentary on the New Testament New International Greek Testament Commentary New International Version Novum Testamentum New Revised Standard Version new series New Testament Library New Testament Studies Oxford Classical Texts Homer, Odyssey Oxford English Dictionary. http://www.oed.com. parallel passage personal communication Patrologia Graeca. Edited by J.-P. Migne. 161 vols. Paris, 1857–1886. Page, Denis L. Poetae Melici Graeci. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1962. Psalms of Solomon Question-under-Discussion

Lists of Abbreviations 

RNT RSV Sanh. SBLGNT SCS SemeiaS SLCS Spec. Laws Spir. et litt. Superst. SVTG TLG TR T. Sim. TS TSL UBS4 Vesp. WBC WUNT ZNW

 XI

Regensburger Neuen Testaments Revised Standard Version Sanhedrin Holmes, Michael W. The Greek New Testament SBL Edition. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2010. Septuagint and Cognate Studies Semeia Studies Studies in Language Companion Series Philo, On the Special Laws Augustine, De spiritu et littera Plutarch, De superstitione Septuaginta: Vetus Testamentum Graecum Thesaurus Linguae Graecae. http://stephanus.tlg.uci.edu/. Trajector Testament of Simeon Texts and Studies Typological Studies in Language Aland, Barbara, Kurt Aland, C. M. Martini, and Bruce M. Metzger. The Greek New Testament, 4th ed. Stuttgart: United Bible Societies, 1968. Aristophanes, Wasps Word Biblical Commentary Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft

William A. Ross and Steven E. Runge

1 Introduction

This volume is the result of the “Tyndale House Workshop in Greek Prepositions: Cognitive Linguistic Approaches to Lexicography and Theology,” held from 30 June–1 July in 2017 in Cambridge, England. The aim of that event was to apply Cognitive Linguistic approaches to Greek lexical semantics and theology, a trajectory now presented in the essays below. As the organizers of the workshop in Cambridge and now editors of the present volume, we are grateful for the partnership and support of Tyndale House, particularly the assistance and encouragement of Peter J. Williams and Simon Sykes. Furthermore, the workshop as a whole was made possible by a generous and voluntary grant from the trustees of the Sapere Family Foundation, for which we remain extremely thankful. The workshop intentionally cultivated a multidisciplinary perspective, bringing together linguists, classicists, lexicographers, and theologians alongside biblical scholars to consider the phenomena of postclassical Greek prepositions. That same interdisciplinarity now characterizes the chapters below, appropriately reflecting the complexity and importance of the topic in view. The participation of respected scholars such as Dirk Geeraerts (Linguistics, University of Leuven) and Anne Thompson (Classics, University of Cambridge) greatly enriched the discussion during the workshop and, despite not appearing in this volume, they certainly contributed to the refinement and integration of the essays published here. The same can be said about the participation of those who attended the workshop and contributed their own expertise. We are also pleased to have included a chapter by Travis Wright that was not originally part of the workshop but that nevertheless complements the aims of this volume to stimulate further research into the semantics of postclassical Greek prepositions and its implications for biblical interpretation.

1.1 Greek Prepositions and Cognitive Linguistics Students and scholars of Greek have long wrestled with understanding the meaning of prepositions. This challenge is partly the result of the centuries-old tradition in Greek lexicography of providing glosses (or translation equivalents) in the target language, which cannot adequately represent the meaning of a lexical item such as a preposition. It bears stating the obvious that the semantics of Greek prepositions do not isometrically overlap with those found in modern languages like English. As a result, the gloss method so commonly used in Greek-English lexicons such as BDAG or LSJ produces a misleading representation of the polysemy of most Greek prepositions, with entries for some prepositions stretching over many pages listing dozens of https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110777895-001

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purported senses. That inflated semantic representation in turn leaves interpreters of the New Testament ill-equipped for refining their understanding of the meaning of the ancient Greek text itself, rather than through a modern translation. It is a predicament in both lexicography and theology that calls for much further attention and cross-disciplinary collaboration. Greek prepositions have received selective but excellent treatment in recent years. The two major works of note are Silvia Luraghi and Pietro Bortone.1 These two works represent benchmarks in their own right, yet nevertheless leave much to do. The desiderata have little to do with either the theoretical framework or results of Luragi’s and Bortone’s work. The work that remains pertains rather to scope. Luraghi for her part focuses her analysis primarily on the Homeric corpus, Herodotus, Thucydides, Plato, Aristotle, Xenophon, and select other Attic authors. As excellent as her discussion of prepositional semantics is, she gives no attention to postclassical sources.2 Bortone on the other hand does, as his title indicates, give attention to a much broader diachronic sweep of Greek. By the same token, however, because he treats the entire history of the language, Bortone’s coverage of the postclassical period is fairly light, limited to only one chapter. There Bortone does delve into nonliterary papyri along with the Septuagint and New Testament corpora, but his analysis focuses primarily on broad trends rather than detailed semantic descriptions of particular prepositions.3 Despite this limitation in scope, there is broad agreement among scholars that Luraghi and Bortone have chosen the ideal theoretical framework for the task of analyzing prepositional semantics, namely Cognitive Linguistics. At the same time, however, an ongoing challenge when it comes to studying the languages of the ancient primary texts within biblical scholarship is a general lack of acquaintance with linguistic theory. Many students and scholars alike tend to work with the languages using basic terminology learned from their teachers (however long ago), a few older introductory texts, and/or what might charitably be called common sense or perhaps instinct.4 This approach is understandable to some extent, as linguistics is a

1 Silvia Luraghi, On the Meaning of Prepositions and Cases: The Expression of Semantic Roles in Ancient Greek, SLCS 67 (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2003); Pietro Bortone, Greek Prepositions from Antiquity to the Present, Oxford Linguistics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010). Also worth noting is volume 6 of Biblical and Ancient Greek Linguistics, which was devoted entirely to prepositions. 2 Luraghi, Meaning of Prepositions, 4–8. 3 Bortone, Greek Prepositions, 171–94. 4 Popular among these are, e.g., James Barr, The Semantics of Biblical Language (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1961); Moisés Silva, Biblical Words and Their Meaning: An Introduction to Lexical Semantics (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1995); Peter Cotterell and Max Turner, Linguistics & Biblical Interpretation (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1989); David Alan Black, Linguistics for Students of New Testament Greek: A Survey of Basic Concepts and Applications, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1995). While these texts are each valuable in their own ways, none deal with Cognitive Linguistics. Other works dealing specifically with prepositions have interacted briefly with (or otherwise acknowledge)

1 Introduction 

 3

very broad field whose literature can be eye-wateringly abstract and thus uninviting to beginners. But the results of analyzing language without being informed of linguistic theory are rarely ideal. Without attempting to solve the entire quagmire just outlined, it is nevertheless appropriate to provide a very basic overview of key concepts in Cognitive Linguistics. This discussion deals only with aspects of Cognitive Linguistic theory that bear directly upon the essays in the present volume. Much more could of course be added. It is also worth noting well that there is a considerable amount of variation in the terminology used by Cognitive Linguists. For those reasons we have provided a Further Reading section below.

1.1.1 Theoretical Commitments of Cognitive Linguistics Cognitive Linguistics is an approach to the study of language that emerged in the 1980s and has been expanding ever since into a very broad and flourishing field of research.5 In many ways, Cognitive Linguistics was originally a response to Generative Grammar and Truth-Conditional Semantics that have otherwise dominated much of twentieth-century linguistic theory. As such, the major theoretical commitments of Cognitive Linguistics stand starkly in contrast with other approaches. One theoretical commitment is to generalization, meaning that whatever structuring principles hold in one aspect of language hold across all aspects of language, including phonology, morphology, semantics, pragmatics, and so on. Another theoretical commitment is to cognition, meaning that whatever principles hold in linguistic structures should hold across all aspects of human cognition based on other disciplines, including neuroscience, psychology, and philosophy. These key commitments of Cognitive Linguistic theory have numerous implications or corollaries, four of the most important being as follows:

the work of Bortone and Luraghi, but do not build upon them. See, e.g., Constantine Campbell, Paul and Union with Christ: An Exegetical and Theological Study (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2012); Murray J. Harris, Prepositions and Theology in the Greek New Testament: An Essential Reference Resource for Exegesis (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2012). 5 This section draws upon William Croft and D. Alan Cruse, Cognitive Linguistics, CTL (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004); Vyvyan Evans, A Glossary of Cognitive Linguistics (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2007); Vyvyan Evans and Melanie Green, Cognitive Linguistics: An Introduction (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2006); and Dirk Geeraerts, “Introduction: A Rough Guide to Cognitive Linguistics,” in Cognitive Linguistics: Basic Readings, CLR 34 (Berlin: De Gruyter Mouton, 2006), 1–28.

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Cognition is Embodied Much of western thought has assumed, particularly in the wake of Cartesian rationalism, that the human mind can be studied without attention to the human body, an assumption that carried over to modern linguistic theories like Chomskyan generativism. By contrast, Cognitive Linguistics hypothesizes in more empiricist fashion that mind and body must be held together in our theoretical frameworks. Specifically, Cognitive Linguistic theory maintains that human cognition – the way we mentally construe the world we inhabit – is necessarily mediated by our physical bodies. Because cognition is conditioned by embodiment, so is human language. Linguistic meaning, therefore, is a reflection of embodied perspective on the world. 2. Language Is Not Conceptually Autonomous Generative Grammar maintains that language is innate and exists in an autonomous faculty of the human mind, distinct from all other cognitive capacities. By contrast, Cognitive Linguistics hypothesizes that linguistic knowledge is represented conceptually and processed in the same way as all other conceptual structures, such as those that govern visual perception or physical movement. The ability to process language thus does not differ from any other cognitive ability. In that sense, linguistic representation is conceptually structured and grounded in cognition. Linguistic knowledge is therefore also embedded in the sociocultural circumstances in which human cognition occurs. Cognitive Linguistics has therefore drawn richly upon Cognitive Psychology, especially models of perception, categorization, and memory. 3. Grammar Is Conceptualization Truth-Conditional Semantics approaches meaning by means of a metalanguage of truth or falsity connected to the world. By contrast, Cognitive Linguistics hypothesizes that conceptual structure  – and therefore linguistic knowledge  – cannot be reduced to truth-conditional correspondence to the world. Cognition involves construal and conceptualization of the world, which is reflected in linguistic structure, that is to say in grammar. Put differently, Cognitive Linguistics is concerned not only with knowledge of language, but also in language as a form of knowledge, specifically knowledge focused on meaning. 4. Knowledge of Language Emerges from Language Use Other linguistic theories tend to seek maximally abstract and general representations of pairings between grammatical forms and meanings, allocating many linguistic phenomena to the periphery of ‘exceptions.’ By contrast, Cognitive Linguistics hypothesizes that linguistic structures in semantics, syntax, morphology, and phonology are what they are simply by virtue of speakers’ usage in specific utterances. In this way, minor variations in these structures over time occasion interpretation that accommodates new grammatical representations at both the highly detailed and highly general levels, which amounts to language change. Language change also occurs because speakers inhabit a changing world to which they must adapt.

1 Introduction 

 5

1.1.2 Key Ideas in Cognitive Linguistics Building upon the core commitments noted above, research in Cognitive Linguistics has come to be characterized by a number of key ideas. Once more, this list is very selective, tailored primarily to the essays presented in this volume, many of which will reiterate or supplement these ideas. – Concept: A unit of knowledge developed from embodied experience that is usually stable but may be modified over time. – Conceptualization: The result of constructing meaning of which language is a part by providing access to encyclopedic knowledge. – Construal: The way in which a language user chooses to encode a conceptual representation of the world in language. – Construction: A unit of language that is a conventional pairing of form and meaning. – Image schemas: A relatively abstract conceptual representation derived from embodied experience of the world, which provides the basis for more complex and richer concepts, often as part of a domain. For example, the container image schema involves structural elements like interior, exterior, and boundaries, which are involved in concepts associated with words like “fill” or “outside.” – Frames: A knowledge structure that schematizes experience, held in long-term memory, and unifying elements, attributes, roles, relations, and so on, that are associated with a culturally embedded scene or situation, often as part of a domain. – Domain: A readily available, complex knowledge structure held in long-term memory that is derived from experience in the world and the way it works, whether physically or culturally, as part of encyclopedic knowledge. – Encyclopedic knowledge: Structured, nonlinguistic knowledge of the world that a speaker inhabits to which linguistic units such as a word correspond. – Prototype: An abstract conceptual representation that unifies the most salient attributes and features that best represent a category. – Radial network: A flexible set of concepts learned by convention and organized into a category based on their correspondence to each other as well as to a prototype, such that some members of the network constitute better exemplars of the prototype than others. For many in the northeastern United States, for example, an oak is the prototype for the concept tree, which itself has a radial network in which other members, such as a palm, are situated further from the center. – Profiled relationship: A linguistically encoded relationship between two or more elements in a scene, where an/some element(s) is/are portrayed as more in focus than others. – Landmark (sometimes abbreviated LM): An element of a profiled relationship that is nonfocal or secondary, such as the object of a preposition. For example, in “John jumped into the river,” the Landmark is the river.

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Trajector (sometimes abbreviated TR): An element of a profiled relationship that is focal or prominent, such as the clause (or a component of it) modified by a prepositional phrase. For example, in “John jumped into the river,” the Trajector is John. Conceptual metaphor: A conceptual structure in which one more basic domain (source) is mapped onto another more abstract domain (target) to enrich communication. In the sentence “Jenny is really going places,” for example, the journey source domain is mapped onto the life target domain such that the conceptual metaphor life is a journey emerges to structure meaning, in which forward progress is conceptualized as positive development.

1.2 Overview of This Volume The essays presented here move in a broad arc from the introductory, to the technical, to the applied. They have in view a broad set of questions: Are postclassical Greek prepositions really as polysemous as suggested by the major lexicons and in modern translations of the New Testament? What is the best approach to describing the meaning of Greek prepositions given the variety of functions they serve in the postclassical period? To what extent are Greek prepositions polysemous and how can we correctly determine the number and boundaries of the senses? By what means can our semantic description of Greek prepositions accurately and accessibly present relevant information in English? Such questions of course bear very directly upon translating and interpreting the New Testament, as several essays in this volume explore. Aside from the key concepts discussed above, the contribution of Rich Rhodes outlines the discussion of prepositional semantics in Cognitive Linguistic terms that frames the rest of the volume. This chapter will help orient readers not already acquainted with the complexities of prepositional meaning and how Cognitive Linguistics approaches the issues involved. Rhodes correlates the routines of human experience with prepositional meaning and the options they offer for construing various situations. Prepositions mediate between perception and language structure, reflecting the way speakers profile perceptions of the world prelinguistically in a way that includes general knowledge of the world. Prepositional meaning has a radial category structure built around a spatial prototype from which other senses extend, raising unique challenges in representing (sometimes mismatched) construals in translation. The essay by Patrick James offers a fascinating point of methodological contrast. Writing as one of the main contributors to the recent Cambridge Greek Lexicon from 2007–2016, James reflects on the challenges in representing prepositional meaning from a traditionalist lexicographical approach.6 After a discussion of the nature of the 6 James Diggle, B. L. Fraser, Patrick James, O. B. Simkin, and A. A. Thompson, eds., The Cambridge Greek Lexicon (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2021).

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Greek prepositions and why they prove so difficult, James focuses on the overlap in the Greek of the New Testament between ὑπό and ἀπό, each followed by a genitive, as means of marking a noun as an agent, a topic also addressed from a different angle elsewhere in this volume. Rachel and Michael Aubrey then offer a semantic analysis of the prepositions ἐκ and ἀπό in postclassical Greek. They focus on how these prepositions function and what spatial relations they convey as a preliminary to understanding more abstract expressions. Because of differences in schematic structure, each preposition is associated with different entailments. For instance, ἐκ is associated with a bounded landmark, which supplies the basic structure for metaphors of emergence with entities that are intrinsically related or experience a change of state. It also supplies the basic structure for event quantification and bounded time periods in temporal constructions. On the other hand, ἀπό lacks such boundaries in its basic structure. Because of its indefinite nature, it is more readily available for extension to a wide variety of conceptions, which is likely the reason for its eventual spread in taking over usage of ἐκ. The Aubreys identify and distinguish source, origin, partitive, temporal, and cause constructions for each preposition, taking diachronic development and overlap into consideration along the way. Another semantic analysis follows in the chapter by Travis Wright, who addresses the relative chaos of entries in the lexicons for the preposition περί. He argues that confusion can be traced back to two factors: (1) the complexity of topic as a discourse-pragmatic phenomenon, and (2) asymmetry between περί and its purported English equivalents. In response, this chapter explores the synchronic and diachronic dimensions of the semantic potential of περί. Wright begins with a diachronic description of the spatio-geometric features of the lexical network and proposes that a metaphorical extension lay behind the movement from a locative relation to topic. He concludes with a description of the discourse-pragmatic features of topic, suggesting that it is not the lexical network of περί that is complex but rather its usage profile at the grammar-discourse interface. At this point in the volume, the focus of essays shifts toward applying Cognitive Linguistic analysis of Greek prepositions to interpretive questions. To that end, William A. Ross evaluates the semantics of the prepositions ἐν and ἐκ in the New Testament, specifically constructions in which πίστις (“faith”) is the complement of the phrase. Taking all examples into consideration, discussion centers on cases in which the sense of ἐκ and ἐν appears to overlap with those of other prepositions, such as διά and ἀπό. These examples tend to occur in theologically debated texts involving uses of ἐκ and ἐν traditionally considered instrumental, as well as texts involved in the πίστις Χρίστου debate, raising new questions for consideration. This essay demonstrates the importance of theoretical linguistic frameworks not only to translation, but ultimately to matters of interpretation and theology. Bonnie Howe’s essay follows, examining the ways that Cognitive Linguistic models for analysis of prepositions might help readers understand the social-ethical

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message of Luke, with special reference to how the social-relational usages of prepositions relate to the spatial-locative meanings of prepositions. Prepositions structure and shape Luke’s portrayal of people’s responses to Jesus, particularly where he is a stranger or outsider, Jesus’s own behavior with strangers or outsiders, and responses to Jesus’s disciples as both insiders and outsiders. Borrowing from Annette Herskovits’s work, especially her application of Prototype Theory to prepositions, Howe demonstrates that basic image-schematic structure of prepositions evokes mental spaces that in turn create conceptual blends, container schemas, force dynamics, frames, and frame metonymies.7 By way of metaphor, prepositions also map social-relational experiences such as honor, shame, belonging, inclusion, and exclusion, onto spatial structures. In the next essay, Steven E. Runge explores the implications of Rhodes’s observations about lexicographers adding senses to prepositions in order to bridge mismatches between Greek and English. For example, landforms like mountains and bodies of water are prototypically profiled in Greek as horizontally bounded spaces, whereas English preferences call for construing them as surfaces. Similarly, body parts and weapons are also profiled as containers in Greek in contrast to English’s preference for profiling them as instruments. These mismatches between the languages have led to the propagation of Greek senses that cannot be understood as radial extensions of the image schema. Runge proposes that these senses are better understood as not reflecting a Greek preposition’s meaning, but as bridging senses needed to overcome the mismatches between the languages. Another set of interpretive questions comes to attention in the second essay by Michael and Rachel Aubrey. They consider the notable degree of flexibility in how prepositions express causal relationships. For ἐκ and ἀπό, the abstract construal of cause is based on spatial source. In the physical realm, a distancing motion occurs in which one entity moves away from another; the stable entity serves as the locational source for the object in motion. If one event occurs in sequence with another, then the first situation may be conceived as a logical or causal starting point for a resulting state of affairs. With διά, the basic spatial configuration of a channel metaphor is mapped onto more abstract causal relationships. One relies on the source-path-goal schema in which an intermediary participant provides a path or channel for an ultimate cause. Postclassical Greek also employs ἐν to convey expressions of cause. Its spatial container metaphor and its entailments are extended to the domain of events and activities, in which an abstract entity is interpreted as a bounded domain that exerts control or authority over the state or behavior of a Trajector. Erin Heim’s essay looks at a particular text in Matthew 15 from a Cognitive Linguistic perspective, particularly evaluating what Prototype Semantics can contribute

7 Annette Herskovits, Language and Spatial Cognition: An Interdisciplinary Study of the Prepositions in English, Studies in Natural Language Processing (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986).

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to the growing body of scholarship applying Cognitive Metaphor Theory to biblical texts. After a brief overview of previous biblical scholarship employing cognitive approaches, analysis focuses on Matt 15:1–20, discussing related matters of narrative construal, boundary construction, and the author’s conception of the human body. New and more refined interpretive insights are only beginning to open up by virtue of the approach of Cognitive Linguistics, pointing to its value for better understanding the social, cultural, and relational dimensions of Scripture. Finally, Jonathan T. Pennington offers brief reflections as a seasoned New Testament scholar and theologian coming to consider Cognitive Linguistics for the first time at the 2017 workshop in Cambridge. He focuses in particular on implications for Greek pedagogy, translation, and hermeneutics, and subsequently explores how certain ideas from Cognitive Linguistics might inform a reading of the Greek text of 1John.

1.3 Further Reading The following list provides select resources for understanding and building upon the essays below. Croft, William, and D. Alan Cruse. Cognitive Linguistics. CTL. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Dirven, René, and Marjolijn Verspoor. Cognitive Exploration of Language and Linguistics. 2nd ed. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2004. Evans, Vyvan. A Glossary of Cognitive Linguistics. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2007. Evans, Vyvyan, and Melanie Green, Cognitive Linguistics: An Introduction. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2006. Geeraerts, Dirk, ed. Cognitive Linguistics: Basic Readings. CLR 34. Berlin: De Gruyter Mouton, 2006. Geeraerts, Dirk, and Hubert Cuyckens. The Oxford Handbook of Cognitive Linguistics. Oxford Handbooks in Linguistics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007. Tyler, Andrea, and Vyvian Evans. The Semantics of English Prepositions: Spatial Scenes, Embodied Meaning and Cognition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Ungerer, Friedrich, and Hans-Jörg Schmid. An Introduction to Cognitive Linguistics. 2nd ed. Learning about Language. London: Routledge, 2013.

Although Cognitive Linguistics may be new to most biblical scholars, its application in linguistics proper has more than demonstrated its potential to offer robust explanations to challenging conundrums like the seemingly inexplicable polysemy of Greek prepositions. Our hope is that the methods and conclusions offered in this volume will reinvigorate interest in developing new lexicographical practices to more accurately describe prepositions and thus more successfully bridge mismatches between Greek and the target languages of modern translation.

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Bibliography Barr, James. The Semantics of Biblical Language. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1961. Black, David Alan. Linguistics for Students of New Testament Greek: A Survey of Basic Concepts and Applications. 2nd ed. Grand Rapids: Baker, 1995. Bortone, Pietro. Greek Prepositions from Antiquity to the Present. Oxford Linguistics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. Campbell, Constantine. Paul and Union with Christ: An Exegetical and Theological Study. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2012. Cotterell, Peter, and Max Turner. Linguistics and Biblical Interpretation. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1989. Croft, William, and D. Alan Cruse. Cognitive Linguistics. CTL. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Diggle, James, B. L. Fraser, Patrick James, O. B. Simkin, and A. A. Thompson, eds. The Cambridge Greek Lexicon. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2021. Evans, Vyvan. A Glossary of Cognitive Linguistics. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2007. Evans, Vyvyan, and Melanie Green, Cognitive Linguistics: An Introduction. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2006. Geeraerts, Dirk. “Introduction: A Rough Guide to Cognitive Linguistics.” Cognitive Linguistics: Basic Readings, edited by Dirk Geeraerts, 1–28. CLR 34. Berlin: De Gruyter Mouton, 2006. Harris, Murray J. Prepositions and Theology in the Greek New Testament: An Essential Reference Resource for Exegesis. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2012. Herskovits, Annette. Language and Spatial Cognition: An Interdisciplinary Study of the Prepositions in English. Studies in Natural Language Processing. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986. Luraghi, Silvia. On the Meaning of Prepositions and Cases: The Expression of Semantic Roles in Ancient Greek. SLCS 67. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2003. Silva, Moisés. Biblical Words and Their Meaning: An Introduction to Lexical Semantics. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1995.

Richard A. Rhodes

2 Greek Prepositions: A Cognitive Linguistic View The purpose of this essay is to bring insights that Cognitive Linguistics offers to bear on some select postclassical Greek prepositions.1 The general topic of prepositional meaning has a very extensive literature in Cognitive Linguistics. The fundamental insights on how prepositions profile spatial scenes are most fully articulated in Ronald Langacker.2 Some important earlier works developed then nascent insights into prepositional and particle meanings extensively, in particular Claudia Brugman and Susan Lindner, laying the foundation for how Cognitive Linguists now think about prepositional meaning.3 The best summary of cognitive thought on prepositional meaning can be found in Andrea Tyler and Vyvyan Evans’s book on the semantics of English prepositions.4 As for new work on postclassical Greek prepositional meaning, the approaches have been either lexicographic or didactic. The lexicographers catalogue the various usages of Greek prepositions encountered in the texts, and organize them into senses based on the judgment of the lexicographer. For example, LSJ lists a grouped set of meanings for ἐν, including in; within, surrounded by; on, at, or by; in the number of,

1 This essay is better for the comments, insights, and suggestions of Eve Sweetser, Mary Rhodes, and Marie-Louise Liebe-Harkort, as well as of the other participants in the workshop, especially Bonnie Howe, Michael Aubrey, and Rachel Aubrey. All mistakes and failures to take good advice belong to the author alone. 2 Ronald Langacker, Foundations of Cognitive Grammar, vol. 1: Theoretical Prerequisites (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1987), 214–74; Langacker, Concept, Image and Symbol: The Cognitive Basis of Grammar, CLR 1 (Berlin: De Gruyter Mouton, 1991); Langacker, Foundations of Cognitive Grammar, vol. 2: Descriptive Application (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1991); Langacker, “Prepositions as Grammaticalizing Elements,” Leuvenese Bijdragen 81 (1992): 287–309. 3 Claudia Brugman, The Story of Over: Polysemy, Semantics and the Structure of the Lexicon, Outstanding Dissertations in Linguistics (New York: Garland Press, 1988), original MA thesis, 1981; Lindner, “A Lexico-Semantic Analysis of English Verb Particle Constructions with Out and Up” (PhD diss., University of California, San Diego, 1981). 4 Andrea Tyler and Vyvyan Evans, The Semantics of English Prepositions: Spatial Sciences, Embodied Meaning, and Cognition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). There is quite a bit of variation in the terminology used by Cognitive Linguists. However, concepts, domains, construals, and categorization are four basic distinct constructs recognized widely, if not universally; see Timothy C. Clausner and William Croft, “Domains and Image Schemas,” Cognitive Linguistics (1999) 10:1–32. The most opaque term is domain. Domain refers to the knowledge of the world and the way it works (both physically and culturally), sometimes called encyclopedic knowledge. Unsurprisingly, domains contain a lot of information, much of it structured. Domains encompass various readily identifiable types of cognitive structures. Two important subtypes of domain information are of particular relevance to this essay, image schemas and frames. They will be defined and explained as they come up. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110777895-002

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amongst; in one’s hands, within one’s reach or power; in respect of. On the other hand, many language teaching materials give as a learning tool a figure such as that in Figure 2.1.5 In neither the lexicographic nor the didactic presentation of the data is any overarching analysis offered. ana (up) huper (over) epi (upon) peri (around) para (beside) pros (toward)

apo (from) en (in)

eis (into)

ek (out of)

dia (through)

hupo (under) kata (down)

Figure 2.1: A traditional visual representation of Greek preposition meanings.

Cognitive Linguistics, on the other hand, offers a principled way to understand the kinds of meanings prepositions express. The cognitive view of language is that meaning arises out of perceptual experience. “Meaning is not objectively given, but constructed, even for expressions pertaining to objective reality. We therefore cannot account for meaning by describing objective reality but only by describing the cognitive routines that constitute a person’s understanding of it.”6 That is to say ἐν, ἐπί, ὑπό, ἐκ, περί and so on label concepts that arise out of how humans perceive their environment. The preposition ἐν, like in, refers to the basic

5 Drawn from H. E. Dana and Julius R. Mantey, A Manual Grammar of the Greek New Testament (New York: Macmillan, 1957; 1st ed., 1927), 1113. 6 Langacker, Foundations, vol. 1, 194.

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notion of containment and ἐπί, like on, refers to the basic notion of contact. Both containment and contact are known to be already well-developed in prelinguistic infants.7 But the experiential aspect of meaning goes beyond the perception of external configurations like containment, contact, and verticality. Perception is also internal. We understand hunger and satisfaction, sickness and health, sadness and happiness out of our experience of these bodily states. Internal states are cognitized just as our external world is cognitized. In fact, verticality is cognitized as a combination of the sense of gravitational pull in our bodies and comparing it with visual perceptions. It is easy to draw things visually perceived; not so easy to draw hunger or sadness. Fortunately, the main thrust of this essay is to address meanings whose rudiments are, for the most part, readily rendered in drawings. A simple example should make this clear. (1)

There is a book on the table.

Sentence (1) describes a spatial scene like that in Figure 2.2.

Figure 2.2: A book and a table.

7 Jean Mandler, “How to Build a Baby: On the Development of an Accessible Representational System,” Cognitive Development 3 (1988): 113–36; Mandler, “How to Build a Baby: II. Conceptual Primitives,” Psychological Review 99 (1992): 587–604.

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Objectively Figure 2.2 shows a table, a book, walls, and a floor. The naïve view is that language – honestly used – simply expresses reality. But as Langacker observed, that is only true in part. It is one of the most important findings of Cognitive Linguistics that, at the very point of perception, humans impose structure on a scene even though the structure is not present in the raw input. The first imposed structuring in (1) profiles – that is, foregrounds  – the table and the book and backgrounds the rest of what is seen in Figure 2.2. The next layer of profiling is expressed in the prepositional phrase. That profiling imposes an asymmetry on the relationship between the table and the book. The prepositional phrase highlights the entity it modifies and backgrounds its object. In (1), the book is described in relation to the table. That is not objective reality. Objectively there are two objects, a book and a table. They are in contact with one another and they stand in a particular orientation with respect to gravity – nothing more. It is the cognitive operation of profiling that imposes structure on the scene, backgrounding the floors and walls into silence, and making the book the figure and the table the ground. This cognitive operation is so fundamental to perception that it is hard to believe that saying (1) about Figure 2.2 is not objective reality. One way to help us recognize the asymmetry is to invert the figure and ground, by changing the preposition as in sentence (2). (2) There is a table under the book. Sentence (2) sounds odd, in large measure because the figure-ground profiling of (1) is based on our general knowledge of the world. Under normal circumstances, speakers strongly favor less mobile objects as grounds and more mobile objects as figures. General knowledge about tables and books includes the facts that tables are generally placed in a location and then not moved, whereas books are moved all the time. Using a book normally entails moving it. Based on this knowledge, the book is profiled as figure and the table as ground. Turning the profiling around as in (2) therefore seems odd. There is standard Cognitive Linguistic terminology for figure and ground in this context, and these terms appear in nearly every chapter in this volume. The ground is called the Landmark and the figure is called the Trajector. In (1), the table is the Landmark and the book is the Trajector. The syntactic structure reflects the profiling. The object of a preposition is the Landmark, and the entity modified by the prepositional phrase is the Trajector. Prepositions work this way in every language.8 Their meaning is a particular profiling of a scene. Thus, the prepositional phrase in the postclassical Greek sentence in (3b) parallels the prepositional phrase in the English sentence in (3a).

8 Because Greek and English are languages in which prepositions predominate, the focus here is on prepositions, but there are many languages in which the corresponding construction has post-

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(3) (a) There is a book on the table. [= (1)] (b) καἱ σὑ φάγῃ ἄρτον ἐπὶ τῆς τραπέζης μου (2Sam 9:7) You will eat the bread on my table. In (3a), book is the Trajector and table is the Landmark. In (3b) ἄρτος is the Trajector and τραπέζα is the Landmark. The profilings expressed by basic locative prepositions, like those in (3a, b), are simple and quite abstract, the product of routinized experience. George Lakoff calls such cognitive structures image schemas.9 There is ample psychological evidence that image schemas and even transformations of image schemas are prelinguistic.10 Any list of image schemas in the spatial domain will have to include the following in Figure 2.3, which are of particular interest for explaining the meanings of prepositions.11

Figure 2.3: Some basic image schemas.

In the literature, visually perceived image schemas are generally presented as sketches like those in Figure 2.4.12

positions. The general things said here about the meanings of locative prepositions apply equally to postpositions. The cover term “adposition” was not used for the sake of clarity. 9 George Lakoff, Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things: What Categories Reveal About the Mind (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987). 10 Mandler, “How to Build a Baby;” Mandler, “How to Build a Baby: II;” Mandler, “Preverbal Representation and Language,” in Language and Space, ed. Paul Bloom et al. (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1996) 365–84; Raymond W. Gibbs and Herbert L. Colston, “The Cognitive Psychological Reality of Image-Schemas and Their Transformations,” Cognitive Linguistics 6, no. 4 (1995): 347–78. 11 Mark Johnson, The Body in the Mind: The Bodily Basis of Meaning, Imagination, and Reason (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987), 126; Jean Mandler and Cristóbal Pagán Cánovas, “On Defining Image Schemas,” Language and Cognition 6, no. 4 (2014): 9. 12 Because the sketches in figure 2.4 are so simple, it is easy to miss the fact that some schemas are complex in the sense that they are blends of simpler, i.e., primary, schemas. Thus, the schema in figure A (reprised from figure 2.4) is a blend of a containment schema, figure A’, and a motion schema, figure A”.

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Figure 2.4: In and into image schemas.

The contact image schema can be represented as in Figure 2.5.

Figure 2.5: The contact image schema.

In Figures 2.4 and 2.5, the black dot represents the Trajector. The other parts of the sketch represent the properties of the Landmark, that is, a bounded region in Figure 2.4 and a surface contacted by the Trajector in Figure 2.5. And when the image schema includes motion, an arrow is used to represent it, as in Figure 2.4. Putting the pieces together, the cognitive analysis of Figure 2.2 is given in Figure 2.6. There is an item of the book kind and an item of the table kind and they map onto the contact schema such that the book is the Trajector and the table is the Landmark.

Figure 2.6: Image schemas in semantic construction.

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Note that the book and the table in Figure 2.6 are not the book and table in Figure 2.2. Rather they are the best examples of their respective kinds, what cognitivists call prototypes. That is because reference is not a direct process; it is mediated by categorization.13 A perceived entity is recognized as belonging to a particular category and is then labeled by the term that is the name of that category. Since categories are structured based on best examples, in this case, the best examples are a prototype book and a prototype table. Furthermore, the cognitive structure that Figure 2.6 represents applies to many sentences, including those in (4), and many others. (4) (a) (b) (c) (d)

There is a book on the table. [= (1)] The book is on the table. The book on the table is black. She saw a book on the table.

The various sentences in (4) involve other profilings as well, but that is beyond the scope of this essay. One further observation about the concepts listed in Figure 2.3 is necessary. Categorization and prototyping apply to concepts and image schemas in the same way as to directly perceived objects. The concept of most importance to this essay at this point is containment. Prototype containment is based on a well-defined and clearly perceivable container, like a box, a bowl, or the like, represented in Figure 2.7 as an image schema. (By convention, the simpler two-dimensional representation in Figure 2.4 is used as shorthand for the prototype Figure 2.7.)

Figure 2.7: The container image schema.

13 Lakoff, Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things.

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But spaces can be readily profiled as containers even if they lack clear boundaries. For example, in both English and postclassical Greek, the sky is regularly profiled as a container, as exemplified in (5). (5) γενηθήτω τὸ θέλημά σου, ὡς ἐν οὐρανῷ καὶ ἐπὶ γῆς· (Matt 6:10) your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. (NIV) There are no clear boundaries to the sky. Rather the sky can be straightforwardly construed as a three-dimensional entity. It, therefore, must have an inside even if we cannot perceive its boundaries. Hence the sky counts as belonging to the category of container, albeit not a prototypical one. The key point is that directly perceptible boundaries are not necessary for a profile of containment to be applied. It is common, both in English and in postclassical Greek to profile larger two-dimensionally bounded areas as if they were spaces, as exemplified in (6). (6) (a) καὶ ἦν ἐν τῇ ἐρήμῳ τεσσεράκοντα ἡμέρας (Mark 1:13) and he was in the wilderness forty days (NIV) (b) ἔτι ὢν ἐν τῇ Γαλαίᾳ (Luke 24:6) while he was in Galilee (author’s translation) (c) Ὁ δὲ Πέτρος ἐκάθητο ἔχω ἐν τῇ αὐλῇ, (Matt 26:69) Peter was standing outside in the courtyard. (NIV) This may all seem trivially obvious, because English and Greek speakers profile many scenes the same way. But that is not always true. There are scenes closely related to the kinds of examples we have just given in which English and postclassical Greek profile the scene differently. A simple case can illustrate this. English and postclassical Greek differ in which image schemas are conventionally applied to roads. Consider the scene in Figure 2.8. The central entity in Figure 2.8 might be called a path or a trail in English. But in Roman era Palestine, this would be a prototype ὅδος.14

14 For the purposes of this essay, the fact that the Greek word ὅδος is a far more general term than the English word road can be ignored, because it will turn out that it doesn’t matter for the things of interest here. It is worth noting, however, that when a student of beginning Greek learns ὅδος in the second week of class, it is glossed “road.” There are two significant problems with that gloss. First, as just noted, ὅδος is a very general term for an improvement in the landscape, however minor, intended to make it easier for traversal. Road is a much more restricted term for a significant improvement such that traversal by vehicle is possible. The second problem is that, for a contemporary first world speaker of English, the prototype of road is different from figure 2.8. One of the key differences is that most

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Figure 2.8: A pathway scene.

The way one talks in English about roads, trails, and paths in their intended use is exemplified in (7). (7) (a) (i) (ii) (b) (i) (ii) (c) (i) (ii)

Turn onto Miller Road. They got on the trail before dawn. We were on the road for two extra hours because of the traffic. There are more hikers on the John Muir trail nowadays. If you can’t drive any better than that, get off the road! We need to be off the trail by dusk.

This can be illustrated as in Figure 2.9. The use of on means that English speakers profile roads as surfaces, as in Figure 2.10, because, as shown in the schema in Figure 2.5, English on is the preposition used when the Landmark is a surface. While this seems completely objective to an English speaker, it is, in fact, a matter of convention. One could legitimately profile a road in a different way and Greek does just that.

modern roads in the first world are surfaced. Of course, there were some surfaced roads in Roman times, and there are many unsurfaced roads in modern times, but that does not matter because scenes are profiled on the basis of prototypes, as shown in the discussion of the book and the table.

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Figure 2.9: English construal of a pathway.

Figure 2.10: Construing a pathway as a surface.

In postclassical Greek, roads are talked about with a different set of prepositions. Some examples of the way roads in normal use are talked about in Greek are given in (8). (8) (a) (i)

Ἔξελθε εἰς τὰς ὁδοὺς καὶ φραγμοὺς (Luke 14:23b) Go out to the roads and country lanes (NIV) (Better: Go out onto the roads and into the hedgerows,)

(ii)

καὶ ἥξεις εἰς τὴν ὁδὸν ἐρήμου Δαμασκοῦ (1Kgs 19:15b) and go to the Desert of Damascus. (NIV) (Better: Go to Damascus on the desert road.)

2 Greek Prepositions: A Cognitive Linguistic View 

(b) (i)

 21

παρελεύσομαι διὰ τῆς γῆς σου, ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ πορεύσομαι, οὐκ ἐκκλινῶ δεξιὰ οὐδ᾿ ἀριστερά· (Deut 2:27) Let us pass through your country. We will stay on the main road; we will not turn aside to the right or to the left. (NIV)

(ii)

κατὰ συγκυρίαν δὲ ἱερεύς τις κατέβαινεν ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ ἐκείνῃ, (Luke 10:31a) A priest happened to be going down the same road, (NIV)

(c) (i)

καὶ ἐξέκλινεν ἡ ὄνος ἐκ τῆς ὁδοῦ καὶ ἐπορεύετο εἰς τὸ πεδίον· (Num 22:23b) it turned off the road into a field. (NIV) (Better: And the donkey turned off the road and went into a field.)

(ii)

καὶ ἀπέστησεν αὐτὸν ἐκ τῆς ὁδοῦ (1Kgs 11:29 LXX) and he took him off the road (author’s translation)15

Figure 2.11 illustrates the usages in (8).

Figure 2.11: Greek construal of a pathway.

The Greek prepositions εἰς, ἐν, and ἐκ are used when the Landmark is construed as a container. In this case the road is profiled as bounded area construed as a container, not as a surface (as in English). In general use, these Greek prepositions correspond to English into, in, and out (of). The use of ἐν means that postclassical Greek speakers profile roads as bounded areas, as in Figure 2.12. Again, this is a matter of convention. All roads, paths, and trails, improved or not, must not only have a surface, but also be a bounded area. Hence the choice of preposition focusing on either the surface (like English) or the boundedness (like post-

15 LXX wording does not match the Hebrew Bible, hence this clause is not in the NIV.

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Figure 2.12: Construing a pathway as a container.

classical Greek) is truly a matter of convention. Most importantly for the study of the meaning of prepositions, the convention is at the level of profiling, and is therefore in some important sense prelinguistic. Postclassical Greek ἐν does not mean “on,” even though English usage demands that the prepositional phrase ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ generally be translated “on the road.”16 If the meanings of all prepositions were all straightforward mappings between words of the class preposition and Landmark-Trajector meanings like the ones just outlined, one could simply work out the respective image schemas and that would be the end of it. But matters are not that simple. The mappings between the word class of prepositions and cognitive construals of the Landmark-Trajector type are not oneto-one. They are, in fact, many-to-many. A single preposition can have more than one meaning associated with it, and Trajector-Landmark meanings can be expressed in morphemes of word classes other than prepositions. These points will be addressed in order. The cognitivist perspective on polysemy in prepositions, and in fact on polysemy in general, is based on the concept of radial category, articulated by Lakoff, in which

16 The modern English fixed expression on the way “in transit” is regularly used to translate the nonidiomatic ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ, even though way no longer means “road.” That quasi-idiomatic English expression is the reflex of on ðǣm weġe, the Old English phrase used to refer to roads in normal use when weġ did mean “road.” On and not in has always been the preposition used in English to refer to roads in normal use even though the prototype road in Old English times was not surfaced.

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he applies to language work that was done on categorization by psychologists.17 The psychologists showed that categories are organized around best examples, called prototypes. Lakoff further observed that many, possibly all, categories can have members that lack some of the defining features of the category if they are nonetheless readily relatable to the prototype. It is important to point out that this work is diametrically opposed to the approach to semantics of Eugene Nida.18 Nida sought to define words by assembling an array of defining features. Lakoff argues that is in principle unworkable. For example, no one says that a penguin is not bird because it doesn’t fly. Radial category structure is true of the meaning of prepositions as well as of lexical words, as the work of Brugman and Lindner shows.19 The discussion above of the three kinds of scenes that postclassical Greek can profile with ἐν is just such a radial category. The three cases are: “inside a physical container,” as in (9a), “inside a bounded area,” as in (9b), and “inside an unbounded 3-dimensional space,” (9c). (9) (a) οὗτος ξενίζεται ἐν οἰκίᾳ Σίμωνος βυρσέως παρὰ θάλασσαν. (Acts 23:10) He is a guest in the home20 of Simon the tanner, who lives by the sea. (NIV) (b) Ὁ δὲ Πέτρος ἐκάθητο ἔχω ἐν τῇ αὐλῇ, (Matt 26:69) (=[6c]) Peter was standing outside in the courtyard. (NIV) (c) γενηθήτω τὸ θέλημά σου, ὡς ἐν οὐρανῷ καὶ ἐπὶ γῆς· (Matt 6:10) (=[5]) your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. (NIV) A representation of the radial category for these three partially overlapping senses of ἐν is given in Figure 2.13. The reason that this has to be a radial category is that the characteristic of the prototype image schema is both bounded and 3-dimensional, but the two variants each lack one of those characteristics. As Brugman, showed for the English preposition over, the radial category for a preposition can be quite complex.21 Figure 2.13 is only a part of the full radial category for ἐν. No attempt will be made to build the full radial category here. That is at least a paper-length discussion, complicated by the fact that there are theoretical questions that have come to light since Brugman wrote that would need to be addressed. In particular what is the role of Metaphor Theory? 17 Lakoff, Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things; Carolyn Mervis and Eleanor Rosch, “Categorization of Natural Objects,” Annual Review of Psychology 32 (1981): 89–115. 18 Eugen A. Nida, A Componential Analysis of Meaning: An Introduction to Semantic Structures, Approaches to Semiotics 57 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1979). 19 Brugman, Story of Over; Lindner, “Lexico-Semantic Analysis.” 20 Although the English translation says “home,” the οἰκία is the physical object. See Howe, §7 in this volume. 21 Brugman, Story of Over.

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Figure 2.13: The radical category of ἐν.

For example, is the use of ἐν with a group of people, as in (10), an extension of the boundedness following Brugman’s approach, or is it an instance of metaphor following Bonnie Howe?22 (10) Προφήτης μέγας ἠγέρθη ἐν ἡμῖν. (Luke 7:16) A great prophet has appeared among us. (NIV) However, there is at least one further kind of extended meaning that does require some discussion here. To understand it, another important concept from Cognitive Linguistics must be introduced, namely, the notion of frame. The working definition is: “[A frame is] a system of concepts related in such a way that to understand any one of them you have to understand the whole structure in which it fits; when one of the things in such a structure is introduced into a text, or into a conversation, all of the others are automatically made available.”23 An easy place to start is with the well-studied commercial transaction frame.24 One can’t have a buyer without a seller or merchandise or money. None of these things make any sense without all the others. However, a subtler implication is that even ordinary things that appear to be self-contained actually have frames. For example,

22 Bonnie Howe, Because You Bear This Name: Conceptual Metaphor and the Moral Meaning of 1 Peter, BibInt 81 (Leiden: Brill, 2006). 23 Charles Fillmore, “Frame Semantics,” in Linguistics in the Morning Calm (Seoul: Hanshin Publishing Company, 1982), 111–37. 24 Charles Fillmore, “The Case for Case Reopened,” in Grammatical Relations, ed. Peter Cole and Jerrold M. Sadock, Syntax and Semantics 8 (Leiden: Brill, 1977), 59–81; Fillmore, “Topics in Lexical Semantics,” in Current Issues in Linguistic Theory, ed. Roger W. Cole (Bloomington: University of Indiana Press, 1977), 76–138; John Lawler, “Lexical Semantics in the Commercial Transaction Frame: Value, Worth, Cost, and Price,” Studies in Language 13 (1989): 381–404; Richard A. Rhodes, “Commercial Transaction Frame in Koine”(paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature, Baltimore, 23 November 2013).

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consider a road. A road makes no sense unless it goes from one place to another and has users and the users have a way to access it. Furthermore, general knowledge about roads includes that their users make use of not only the middle of the road, but also its edges, what are called shoulders in English, as well as areas very near the road, where buildings are built because of the ease of access, and it is sometimes convenient to stand there, for example to meet someone traveling on the road. In postclassical Greek, these two areas, one the edge and the other the “sphere of influence” are indicated by prepositions. Recognizing this distinction in the frame of roads makes it easier to understand a puzzling problem in Greek prepositional usage better. The prepositions παρά and ἐπί are both used to refer to areas associated with roads. To the English speaker it is not immediately obvious what the difference is. At first glance both prepositions seem to mean pretty much the same thing, as in the verses in (11). (11)

(a) παρά (i)

ὁ υἱὸς Τιμαίου Βαρτιμαῖος τυφλὸς προσαίτης ἐκάθητο παρὰ τὴν ὁδόν (Mark 10:46b) Bartimaeus (which means “son of Timaeus”), was sitting by the roadside begging. (NIV)

(ii) καὶ ἐγένετο ἐν τῷ σπείρειν ὃ μὲν ἔπεσεν παρὰ τὴν ὁδόν, (Mark 4:4) As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path (NIV) (b) ἐπί (i)

καὶ ἰδὼν συκῆν μίαν ἐπὶ τῆς ὁδοῦ ἦλθεν ἐπ’ αὐτήν, (Matt 21:19a) Seeing a fig tree by the road, he went up to it. (NIV)

(ii) Ποῦ ἐστιν ἡ πόρνη ἡ γενομένη ἐν Αιναν ἐπὶ τῆς ὁδοῦ; (Exod 38:21b) Where is the shrine prostitute who was beside the road at Enaim? (NIV) But, in fact, the distinction being profiled is between the edge of the road, the shoulder, marked by παρά and the broader associated area, marked by ἐπί. This profiling is illustrated in Figure 2.14. This usage applies not just to roads, but to landforms with naturally well-defined boundaries, like lakes, seas, and rivers, as exemplified in (12).25

25 The one place where there is ambiguity between is with doors. The LXX has both usages in completely parallel passages referring to the area in front of a door: παρά Exod 29:32; επί Exod 29:4. But in the passage commanding the blood of the Passover lamb be put around the door the preposition is παρά.

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Figure 2.14: Greek profiling of a pathway.

(12) (a) ποταμός (i)

καὶ ἐνέβαλεν τὸ ταιδίον εἰς αὐτὴν καὶ ἔθηκεν αὐτὴν εἰς τὸ ἕλος παρὰ τὸν ποταμόν. (Exod 2:3) Then she placed the child in it and put it among the reeds along the bank of the Nile. (NIV)

(ii) Τότε παραγίνεται ὁ Ἰησοῦς ἀπὸ τῆς Γαλιλαίας ἐπὶ τὸν Ἰορδάνην πρὸς τὸν Ἰωάννην τοῦ βαπτισθῆναι ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ. (Matt 3:13) Then Jesus came from Galilee to the Jordan to be baptized by John. (NIV) (b) θάλασσα/λίμνη (i)

καὶ εἶδεν δύο πλοῖα ἑστῶτα παρὰ τὴν λίμνην, (Luke 5:2) He saw at the water’s edge two boats, (NIV)

(ii) εὐθέως δὲ τότε τὸν Παῦλον ἐξαπέστειλαν οἱ ἀδελφοὶ πορεύεσθαι ἕως ἐπὶ τὴν θάλασσαν· (Acts 17:14) The believers immediately sent Paul to the coast. (NIV)

(12’) λήμψεσθε δὲ δεσμὴν ὑσσώπου καὶ βάψαντες ἀπὸ τοῦ αἵματος τοῦ παρὰ τὴν θύραν καθίξετε τῆς φλιᾶς καὶ ἐπ᾽ ἀμφοτέρων τῶν σταθμῶν ἀπὸ τοῦ αἵματος, ὅ ἐστιν παρὰ τὴν θύραν· (Ex. 12:22) Take a bunch of hyssop, dip it into the blood in the basin and put some of the blood on the top and on both sides of the doorframe. (NIV) (Better: Take a bunch of hyssop and dip it with the blood for the doorframe, put it on the lintel and on both door jambs, the blood which is on the doorframe.)

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This particular use of ἐπί to profile the immediate vicinity of its Landmark is widely used, including of people, as examples in (13) show. (13)

(a)

τῇ δὲ μιᾷ τῶν σαββάτων ὄρθρου βαθέως ἐπὶ τὸ μνῆμα ἦλθον φέρουσαι ἃ ἡτοίμασαν ἀρώματα. (Luke 24:1) On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. (NIV)

(b)

καὶ ἐὰν ἀκουσθῇ τοῦτο ἐπὶ τοῦ ἡγεμόνος, ἡμεῖς πείσομεν αὐτὸν καὶ ὑμᾶς ἀμερίμνους ποιήσομεν. (Matt 28:14) If this report gets to the governor, we will satisfy him and keep you out of trouble. (NIV) (lit. “if this is heard before the governor”)

As in the case of roads, postclassical Greek speakers are profiling locations differently than English speakers would. English speakers preferentially profile entities used as locations as points unless there is reason to do otherwise, and hence they use at or to. Postclassical Greek speakers profile physical entities as having an immediate vicinity. To talk about the location of the entity, one is metonymically talking about the entity’s immediate vicinity. That area is further profiled as a de facto surface; hence the use of ἐπί. The point is that even in such cases ἐπί means “in contact with the surface of,” just as it does in examples like those in (14). (14)

(a)

καὶ ἀπελθοῦσα εἰς τὸν οἶκον αὐτῆς εὗρεν τὸ παιδίον βεβλημένον ἐπὶ τὴν κλίνην, (Mark 7:30) She went home and found her child lying on the bed, (NIV)

(b)

Οὐδεὶς ἐπίβλημα ἀπὸ ἱματίου καινοῦ σχίσας ἐπιβάλλει ἐπὶ ἱμάτιον παλαιόν· (Luke 5:36) No one tears a piece out of a new garment to patch an old one. (NIV) (lit. “place on an old garment”)

Once again, it is not that ἐπί means “to” or “at.” Rather the difference is prelinguistic. Postclassical Greek speakers simply profile the perceived world differently. That said, there are extended uses of prepositions that require a different kind of explanation. Again, ἐπί is a good example. One large and important class of extended meanings is metaphorical. An example is the temporal use of ἐπί, as in (15). This usage is well documented back to Homer.

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(a)

πῶς εἰσῆλθεν εἰς τὸν οἶκον τοῦ θεοῦ ἐπὶ Ἀβιαθὰρ ἀρχιερέως καὶ τοὺς ἄρτους τῆς προθέσεως ἔφαγεν, (Mark 2:26) In the days of Abiathar the high priest, he entered the house of God and ate the consecrated bread, (NIV)

(b)

Πέτρος δὲ καὶ Ἰωάννης ἀνέβαινον εἰς τὸ ἱερὸν ἐπὶ τὴν ὥραν τῆς προσευχῆς τὴν ἐνάτην, (Acts 3:1) One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the time of prayer – at three in the afternoon. (NIV)

It is part of a time is space metaphor that is well-documented as universal in the cognitive literature.26 It’s clear that the metaphor is active in postclassical Greek as well. Words like ἐγγυς “near” and μεταξύ “between” have both locative and temporal uses. What is interesting relative to the preceding discussion is that ἐπί as a temporal preposition contrasts with the ἐν. Ἐπί refers to extended periods of time, for example the period when a high priest serves (15a) or for shorter periods like the time of prayer in (15b). Ἐπί is used for the explicit measure of periods of time as in (16). (16)

(a)

μὴ φάγητε μηδὲ πίητε ἐπὶ ἡμέρας τρεῖς νύκτα καὶ ἡμέραν, (Esther 4:16) Do not eat or drink for three days, night or day. (NIV)

(b)

ὃς ὤφθη ἐπὶ ἡμέρας πλείους τοῖς συναναβᾶσιν αὐτῷ ἀπὸ τῆς Γαλιλαίας εἰς Ἰερουσαλήμ, (Acts 13:31) and for many days he was seen by those who had traveled with him from Galilee to Jerusalem. (NIV)

(c)

φωνὴ ἐγένετο μία ἐκ πάντων ὡς ἐπὶ ὥρας δύο κραζόντων· (Acts 19:34) they all shouted in unison for about two hours (NIV)

In contrast, ἐν can be used of moments, as in the phrase ἐν ἐκείνῃ τῇ ὥρᾳ, “at that time,” sometimes with the sense of “at that moment,” as in (17a), or of a more extended time, as in (17b–c).

26 Herbert H. Clark, “Space, Time, Semantics, and the Child,” in Cognitive Development and the Acquisition of Language, ed. Timothy E. Moore (New York: Academic Press, 1973), 27–63; George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, Metaphors We Live By (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980); Elisabeth Engberg-Pedersen, “Space and Time,” in Cognitive Semantics: Meaning and Cognition, ed. Jens S. Allwood and Peter Gärdenfors, Pragmatics and Beyond 55 (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 1999), 131–52; Teenie Matlock, Michael Ramscar, and Lera Boroditsky, “On the Experiential Link between Spatial and Temporal Language,” Cognitive Science 29 (2005): 655–64.

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(a)

 29

ὅταν δὲ παραδῶσιν ὑμᾶς, μὴ μεριμνήσητε πῶς ἢ τί λαλήσητε· δοθήσεται γὰρ ὑμῖν ἐν ἐκείνῃ τῇ ὥρᾳ τί λαλήσητε· (Matt 10:19) But when they arrest you, do not worry about what to say or how to say it. At that time you will be given what to say. (NIV) (Better: At that moment you will be given what to say.)

(b) καὶ ἐν τῷ σπείρειν αὐτὸν ἃ μὲν ἔπεσεν παρὰ τὴν ὁδόν, (Matt 13:4) As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, (NIV) (c) Λύσατε τὸν ναὸν τοῦτον καὶ ἐν τρισὶν ἡμέραις ἐγερῶ αὐτόν. (John 2:19) Destroy this temple, and I will raise it again in three days. (NIV) From the perspective of the prepositional phrase, the distinction between (16) and (17c) is not obvious. Nonetheless it is a well-known distinction in semantics, but that has to do with the predicate, in particular the aspect of the predicate. The distinction is called telicity.27 Predicates are telic if, as in (17c), they have a finishing point. There is point at which one finishes building a building. In contrast, none of the actions in (16) have that property. There is no natural endpoint to shouting or fasting. The use of the prepositions ἐπί and ἐν to express this difference in meaning makes sense. Metaphorical uses of prepositions align with their literal meanings.28 Ἐπί in the locational sense refers to an area with a center but no clear boundary, as was shown above, and that is consistent with its reference to an extended period. On the other hand, ἐν is bounded but unmarked for size, since a container can be large or small, and so ἐν can be used either for points in time (17a) or for longer periods (17b–c).29 However, there is yet another class of uses of prepositions that sometimes gets called metaphorical, but where the connections are less clear. LSJ lists as one of the senses of ἐπί “of the occasion or cause, [. . .] freq. with Verbs expressing some mental affection” (B.III.1.). It is common in the New Testament, and occasional in the LXX, that when the stimulus for an emotion is expressed, it is with an ἐπί phrase.30 This is the case with a wide variety of predicates, as the following examples show.

27 David R. Dowty, Word Meaning and Montague Grammar, Synthese Language Library 7 (Dordrecht: Reidel, 1979). 28 The consistency in aspects of meaning between literal and metaphorical readings is crucial to Lakoff’s theory of metaphor, but it is beyond the scope of this essay to lay out his whole argument. The reader’s intuitions must suffice. 29 The reader may have noticed that in (17b), the verb is atelic. Sowing has no natural end point. This simply means that we cannot use ἐν as a test for telicity in postclassical Greek, as we can in English. 30 In the LXX some verbs took accusative of stimulus, as in (18’).

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sadness/distress/sadness (a) Καὶ ὡς ἤγγισεν, ἰδὼν τὴν πόλιν ἔκλαυσεν ἐπ’ αὐτήν, (Luke 19:41) As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it. (NIV) (b) συλλυπούμενος ἐπὶ τῇ πωρώσει τῆς καρδίας αὐτῶν (Mark 3:5) deeply distressed at their stubborn hearts (NIV) (c) ὁ δὲ στυγνάσας ἐπὶ τῷ λόγῳ ἀπῆλθεν λυπούμενος, ἦν γὰρ ἔχων κτήματα πολλά. (Mark 10:22) At this the man’s face fell. He went away sad, because he had great wealth. (NIV) (lit. “disheartened by what was said”) (d) ἡ δὲ ἐπὶ τῷ λόγῳ διεταράχθη (Luke 1:29) Mary was greatly troubled at his words (NIV)

(19)

compassion/mercy (a) καὶ ἐσπλαγχνίσθη ἐπ’ αὐτοὺς ὅτι ἦσαν ὡς πρόβατα μὴ ἔχοντα ποιμένα (Mark 6:34) He had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. (NIV) (b) καὶ ἐφείσατο ὁ βασιλεὺς ἐπὶ Μεμφιβοσθε (2Sam 21:7) The king spared Mephibosheth (NIV) (lit. “had pity on Mephibosheth”)

(20) rejoicing/happiness (a) ἀναγνόντες δὲ ἐχάρησαν ἐπὶ τῇ παρακλήσει. (Acts 15:31) The people read it and were glad for its encouraging message. (NIV)

(18’) εἰ δὲ δύναμιν καὶ ἐνέργειαν ἐκπλαγέντες, νοησάτωσαν ἀπ’ αὐτῶν πόσῳ ὁ κατασκευάσας αὐτὰ δυνατώτερός ἐστιν·(Wis 13:4) “But if they were astonished at their power and virtue, let them understand by them, how much mightier he is that made them.” But, by the Roman era, all citations of stimulus of an emotion had changed to ἐπί phrases. (18’’) ἐξεπλήσσοντο δὲ πάντες ἐπὶ τῇ μεγαλειότητι τοῦ θεοῦ. (Luke 9:43) They were all astonished at the mighty power of God.

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(b) καὶ καταφιλήσας πάντας τοὺς ἀδελφοὺς αὐτοῦ ἔκλαυσεν ἐπ᾽ αὐτοῖς, (Gen 45:15; cf. [17a]) And he kissed all his brothers and wept over them. (NIV) (21)

surprise/amazement/astonishment (a) θάμβος γὰρ περιέσχεν αὐτὸν καὶ πάντας τοὺς σὺν αὐτῷ ἐπὶ τῇ ἄγρᾳ τῶν ἰχθύων ὧν συνέλαβον, (Luke 5:9) For he and all his companions were astonished at the catch of fish they had taken, (NIV) (b) οἱ δὲ μαθηταὶ ἐθαμβοῦντο ἐπὶ τοῖς λόγοις αὐτοῦ. (Mark 10:24) The disciples were amazed at his words. (NIV) (c) ἐξίσταντο δὲ πάντες οἱ ἀκούοντες αὐτοῦ ἐπὶ τῇ συνέσει καὶ ταῖς ἀποκρίσεσιν αὐτοῦ. (Luke 2:47) Everyone who heard him was amazed at his understanding and his answers. (NIV) (d) καὶ πάντες ἐμαρτύρουν αὐτῷ καὶ ἐθαύμαζον ἐπὶ τοῖς λόγοις τῆς χάριτος τοῖς ἐκπορευομένοις ἐκ τοῦ στόματος αὐτοῦ, (Mark 3:5) All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his lips. (NIV) (e) καὶ ἐξεθαύμαζον ἐπ’ αὐτῷ. (Mark 12:17) And they were amazed at him. (NIV) (f)

καὶ ἀκούσαντες οἱ ὄχλοι ἐξεπλήσσοντο ἐπὶ τῇ διδαχῇ αὐτοῦ. (Matt 22:33) When the crowds heard this, they were astonished at his teaching. (NIV)

The reason for citing so many examples is to show that this particular causal meaning is not associated with any particular predicate, but is a specialized meaning of ἐπί phrases. In cognitive terms, the Trajector of ἐπί in this meaning is a predicate expressing an emotional response and the Landmark is the stimulus causing that response. While this usage indubitably has its basis in a metaphor, it is less clear that the correct analysis is to include it as part of an extended radial category. In other words this usage of ἐπί is polysemous. That doesn’t mean that there isn’t some connection, at least historically. The bridge usage is the relatively rare use of an ἐπί phrase to mean the basis on which an action is taken. (22)

(a)

ἐπὶ δὲ τῷ ῥήματί σου χαλάσω τὰ δίκτυα. (Luke 5:5) But because you say so, I will let down the nets. (NIV)

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(b)

εἰ ἡμεῖς σήμερον ἀνακρινόμεθα ἐπὶ εὐεργεσίᾳ ἀνθρώπου ἀσθενοῦς, ἐν τίνι οὗτος σέσωται, (Acts 4:9) If we are being called to account today for an act of kindness shown to a man who was lame and are being asked how he was healed, (NIV)

This in turn is an extension of the use of an ἐπί phrase to mean “the basis on which to believe something.” This usage occurs in the New Testament only in quotes and allusions to the LXX, as in (23c–d). (Notice also that these phrases are metonymic, “witness” [μαρτύρ] for what the witness says, and “mouth of the witness” [στόμα μαρτύρος] for what the witness says.) (23)

(a) ἐπὶ δυσὶν μάρτυσιν ἢ ἐπὶ τρισὶν μάρτυσιν ἀποθανεῖται ὁ ἀποθνῄσκων· οὐκ ἀποθανεῖται ἐφ᾽ ἑνὶ μάρτυρι. (Deut 17.6) On the testimony of two or three witnesses a person is to be put to death, but no one is to be put to death on the testimony of only one witness. (NIV) (b) ἐπὶ στόματος δύο μαρτύρων καὶ ἐπὶ στόματος τριῶν μαρτύρων σταθήσεται πᾶν ῥῆμα. (Deut 19:15) A matter must be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses. (NIV) (c) ἵνα ἐπὶ στόματος δύο μαρτύρων ἢ τριῶν σταθῇ πᾶν ῥῆμα· (Matt 18:16) so that “every matter may be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses.” (NIV) (d) ἀθετήσας τις νόμον Μωϋσέως χωρὶς οἰκτιρμῶν ἐπὶ δυσὶν ἢ τρισὶν μάρτυσιν ἀποθνῄσκει· (Heb 10:28) Anyone who rejected the law of Moses died without mercy on the testimony of two or three witnesses. (NIV)

This is a metaphor based an extension from the contact image schema of ἐπί to a schema that represents physical support, as in (24). (24)

οὐδὲ καίουσιν λύχνον καὶ τιθέασιν αὐτὸν ὑπὸ τὸν μόδιον ἀλλ’ ἐπὶ τὴν λυχνίαν, (Matt 5:15) Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, (NIV)

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The metaphor is reasons are supports. But the fact that a bridge step appears to be weak or missing in Roman-era Greek suggests that causal ἐπί may no longer be synchronically part of the ἐπί radial category.31 Now there is one last point to be made regarding prepositional meaning. It is that not all Trajector-Landmark semantics is expressed in prepositions. In postclassical Greek, as in English, there are three kinds of closely related word classes that can all have Trajector-Landmark semantics. The three word-classes are prepositions, verbal prefixes, and adverbials. As shown in Table 2.1, not every morpheme expressing spatial Trajector-Landmark meaning has all word class possibilities. Table 2.1: Derivations of Greek locative prepositional roots. preposition

verbal prefix

adverbial

ἐκ

ἐκ

ἔξω

“out”

ἐν

ἐν

ἔσω

“in”

 –

ἀνα

ἄνω

“up”

κατά

κατα

κάτω

“down”

ἀπό

ἀπο

 –

“(away) from”

32

What makes these other word classes important is how Landmarks can be handled with them. For example, in the passage in (25), the courtyard (αὐλή) is only explicitly mentioned in the first sentence, but it serves as the notional Landmark for the prefix εἰσ- “into” and the adverbial ἔσω “inside,” even though it is not explicit in the second sentence. (25)

δὲ Πέτρος ἠκολούθει αὐτῷ ἀπὸ μακρόθεν ἕως τῆς αὐλῆς τοῦ ἀρχιερέως, καὶ εἰσελθὼν ἔσω ἐκάθητο μετὰ τῶν ὑπηρετῶν ἰδεῖν τὸ τέλος. (Matt 26:58) But Peter followed him at a distance, right up to the courtyard of the high priest. He entered and sat down with the guards to see the outcome. (NIV) (lit. “Going in, he sat down inside with the guards”)

31 That the idiom ἐπ’ ἀληθείας, really counts as a relevant instance is a difficult theoretical point. The standard Lakovian position is that, if it is formally identical, then it is relevant. Some others take the position that grammaticalization (including in its most extreme form, idiom formation) can override the relevance of formal identity. 32 There is no prepositional use of ἀνά in the meaning “up.” There is a fixed expression ἀνὰ μέσον “in the middle of,” common in the LXX, and an idiom ἀνὰ μέρος “one after the other.” The productive use of ἀνά as a preposition in Roman-era postclassical Greek is with numbers as a distributive, ἀνὰ δηνάριον “a denarius each,” ἀνὰ δύο “two each, two by two.”

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Similarly, ἔξω, ἄνω, and κάτω can have their Landmark missing in the syntax of the local clause, but can be supplied from the context or from general knowledge, as in (26). (26)

καὶ δώσω τέρατα ἐν τῷ οὐρανῷ ἄνω καὶ σημεῖα ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς κάτω, αἷμα καὶ πῦρ καὶ ἀτμίδα καπνοῦ· (Acts 2:19) I will show wonders in the heavens above and signs on the earth below, blood and fire and billows of smoke. (NIV)

The Landmark for ἄνω is the earth and the Landmark for κάτω is the heavens. Often this means that the Landmark is vague, as in the Matthew passage relating Peter’s denial given in (27). Words indicating Peter’s location are indicated in bold face and the text is broken up accordingly. (27)

(a)

Ὁ δὲ Πέτρος ἐκάθητο ἔξω ἐν τῇ αὐλῇ· καὶ προσῆλθεν αὐτῷ μία παιδίσκη λέγουσα· Καὶ σὺ ἦσθα μετὰ Ἰησοῦ τοῦ Γαλιλαίου· 70 ὁ δὲ ἠρνήσατο ἔμπροσθεν πάντων λέγων· Οὐκ οἶδα τί λέγεις. 69

Now Peter was sitting out in the courtyard, and a servant girl came to him. ‘You also were with Jesus of Galilee,’ she said.70 But he denied it before them all. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. 69

(b)

ἐξελθόντα δὲ εἰς τὸν πυλῶνα εἶδεν αὐτὸν ἄλλη καὶ λέγει τοῖς ἐκεῖ· Οὗτος ἦν μετὰ Ἰησοῦ τοῦ Ναζωραίου· 72 καὶ πάλιν ἠρνήσατο μετὰ ὅρκου ὅτι Οὐκ οἶδα τὸν ἄνθρωπον. 73 μετὰ μικρὸν δὲ προσελθόντες οἱ ἑστῶτες εἶπον τῷ Πέτρῳ· Ἀληθῶς καὶ σὺ ἐξ αὐτῶν εἶ, καὶ γὰρ ἡ λαλιά σου δῆλόν σε ποιεῖ· 74 τότε ἤρξατο καταθεματίζειν καὶ ὀμνύειν ὅτι Οὐκ οἶδα τὸν ἄνθρωπον. καὶ εὐθέως ἀλέκτωρ ἐφώνησεν· 75 καὶ ἐμνήσθη ὁ Πέτρος τοῦ ῥήματος Ἰησοῦ εἰρηκότος ὅτι Πρὶν ἀλέκτορα φωνῆσαι τρὶς ἀπαρνήσῃ με, 71

Then he went out to the gateway, where another servant girl saw him and said to the people there, “This fellow was with Jesus of Nazareth.” 72 He denied it again, with an oath: “I don’t know the man!” 73 After a little while, those standing there went up to Peter and said, “Surely you are one of them; your accent gives you away.” 74 Then he began to call down curses, and he swore to them, “I don’t know the man!” Immediately a rooster crowed. 75 Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken: “Before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.” 71

(c) [. . .] καὶ ἐξελθὼν ἔξω ἔκλαυσεν πικρῶς. (Matt 26:69–75) [. . .] And he went outside and wept bitterly. (NIV)

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In (27a), since it was made clear earlier in the passage that the starting location for this excerpt is the courtyard of the high priest’s house, the Landmark of the ἔξω is the high priest’s house. In (27b), he comes out into the gateway area. The Landmark of the ἐκ- verbal prefix is the courtyard. Finally in (27c) he moves again and the Landmark of this ἔξω and the verbal prefix ἐκ- is probably the whole of the high priest’s residence, but it is vague. It could just be saying that he left the gateway area. In conclusion, it should be obvious that there is much, much more that could and should be said about the semantics of prepositions. In this essay, the most crucial insights of Cognitive Linguistics were brought to bear on how prepositions mediate between perception and language structure. In particular, it was shown that they reflect the way we profile our perceptions of the world prelinguistically in that we impose a Trajector-Landmark structure on scenes, including crucial interactions with our general knowledge of the world. Of necessity, the focus was on the literal meanings of prepositions, leaving aside the myriads of metaphorical uses, since all metaphorical use depends first and foremost on a clear understanding of their literal use. Mentioned in passing was the fact that, like other words, prepositional meanings have radial category structure of specific subsenses, particularly for common prepositions, but that comes with problems in determining when highly specialized subsenses might become independent polysemous words. Finally, it was shown that Trajector-Landmark structuring extends beyond prepositions to other related word classes and how those word classes may have a syntax whose interpretation crucially depends on the accessibility of general knowledge and the knowledge structures that are built up in the process of reading (or hearing) a text.

Bibliography Brugman, Claudia. The Story of Over: Polysemy, Semantics and the Structure of the Lexicon. Outstanding Dissertations in Linguistics. New York: Garland Press, 1988. Clark, Herbert H. “Space, Time, Semantics, and the Child.” In Cognitive Development and the Acquisition of Language, edited by Timothy E. Moore, 27–63. New York: Academic Press, 1973. Clausner, Timothy C., and William Croft. “Domains and Image Schemas.” Cognitive Linguistics 10 (1999): 1–32. Dana, Harvey E., and Julius R. Mantey. A Manual Grammar of the Greek New Testament. Macmillan, 1957. 1st ed., 1927. Dowty, David R. Word Meaning and Montague Grammar. Synthese Language Library 7. Dordrecht: Reidel, 1979. Engberg-Pedersen, Elisabeth. “Space and Time.” In Cognitive Semantics: Meaning and Cognition, edited by Jens S. Allwood and Peter Gärdenfors, 131–52. Pragmatics and Beyond 55. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 1999. Fillmore, Charles. “The Case for Case Reopened.” In Grammatical Relations, edited by Peter Cole and Jerrold M. Sadock, 59–81. Syntax and Semantics 8. Leiden: Brill, 1977.

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Fillmore, Charles. “Topics in Lexical Semantics.” In Current Issues in Linguistic Theory, edited by Roger W. Cole, 76–138. Bloomington: University of Indiana Press, 1977. Fillmore, Charles. “Frame Semantics.” In Linguistics in the Morning Calm, 111–37. Seoul: Hanshin Publishing Company, 1982. Gibbs, Raymond W., and Herbert L. Colston. “The Cognitive Psychological Reality of Image-Schemas and Their Transformations.” Cognitive Linguistics 6, no. 4 (1995): 347–78. Howe, Bonnie. Because You Bear This Name: Conceptual Metaphor and the Moral Meaning of 1 Peter. BibInt 81. Leiden: Brill, 2006. Johnson, Mark. The Body in the Mind: The Bodily Basis of Meaning, Imagination, and Reason. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987. Lakoff, George, and Mark Johnson. Metaphors We Live By. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980. Lakoff, George. Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things: What Categories Reveal About the Mind. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987. Langacker, Ronald. Foundations of Cognitive Grammar. Vol. 1: Theoretical Prerequisites. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1987. Langacker, Ronald. Concept, Image and Symbol: The Cognitive Basis of Grammar. CLR 1. Berlin: De Gruyter Mouton, 1991. Langacker, Ronald. Foundations of Cognitive Grammar. Vol. 2, Descriptive Application. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1991. Langacker, Ronald. “Prepositions as Grammaticalizing Elements.” Leuvenese Bijdragen 81 (1992): 287–309. Lawler, John. “Lexical Semantics in the Commercial Transaction Frame: Value, Worth, Cost, and Price.” Studies in Language 13 (1989): 381–404. Lindner, Susan. 1981. “A Lexico-Semantic Analysis of English Verb Particle Constructions with Out and Up.” PhD diss., University of California, San Diego. Mandler, Jean. “How to Build a Baby: On the Development of an Accessible Representational System.” Cognitive Development 3 (1988): 113–36. Mandler, Jean. “How to Build a Baby: II. Conceptual Primitives.” Psychological Review 99 (1992): 587–604. Mandler, Jean. “Preverbal Representation and Language.” In Language and Space, edited by Paul Bloom, Mary A. Peterson, Lynn Nadel, and Merrill F. Garrett, 365–84. Cambridge: MIT Press, 1996. Mandler, Jean, and Cristóbal Pagán Cánovas. “On Defining Image Schemas.” Language and Cognition 6, no. 4 (2014): 510–32. Matlock, Teenie, Michael Ramscar, and Lera Boroditsky. “On the Experiential Link between Spatial and Temporal Language.” Cognitive Science 29 (2005): 655–64. Mervis, Carolyn, and Eleanor Rosch. “Categorization of Natural Objects.” Annual Review of Psychology 32 (1981): 89–115. Nida, Eugene A. A Componential Analysis of Meaning: An Introduction to Semantic Structures. Approaches to Semiotics 57. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1979. Rhodes, Richard A. “Commercial Transaction Frame in Koine.” Paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature. Baltimore, 23 November 2013. Tyler, Andrea, and Vyvyan Evans. The Semantics of English Prepositions: Spatial Sciences, Embodied Meaning, and Cognition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003.

Patrick James

3 The Overlap between ἀπό and ὑπό to Mark Agents: The Trials and Tribulations of a Traditionalist Lexicographic Treatment This chapter seeks to explain why prepositions are so problematic, in order to set the scene for this volume as a whole and for the contributions that Cognitive Linguistics has to offer.1 After a general discussion of the nature of Greek prepositions and why they prove so difficult, the specific focus will be the overlap in the Greek of the New Testament between ὑπό and ἀπό, each followed by a genitive, as means of marking a noun as an agent. This overlap has received considerable attention in various earlier studies2 and was in my mind during my preparation of the entries for both of these prepositions for the Cambridge Greek Lexicon Project (2007–2016).3 This overlap will be addressed by Michael and Rachel Aubrey from a standpoint in Cognitive Linguistics in §9 of this volume.

1 I am grateful to Steve Runge and William Ross, both as the organizers of the “Tyndale House Workshop in Greek Prepositions: Cognitive Linguistic Approaches to Lexicography and Theology,” 30 June–1 July, 2017, and, as the editors of this volume, for their invitations to contribute. All translations are my own and are intended to facilitate understanding of the Greek text and not as theological commentary. For example, my translation of Jas 1:13 should not be taken as an explanation of the meaning of ἀπείραστος. See, e.g., Peter H. Davids, “The Meaning of ΑΠΕΙΡΑΣΤΟΣ in James I. 13,” NTS 24, no. 3 (1978): 386–92. 2 See A. N. Jannaris, An Historical Greek Grammar Chiefly on the Attic Dialect (London: Macmillan, 1897), 369–70; Gualtherus Kuhring, De Praepositionum Graecarum Chartis Aegyptiis Usu Quaestiones Selectae (Bonn: Carolus Georgus, 1906), 35–36, 37–38, and 52–57; Conradus Rossberg, De Praepositionum Graecarum in Chartis Aegyptiis Ptolemaeorum Aetatis Usu (Jena: Neuenhahn, 1909), 19–23 and 58–60; Henry St. John Thackeray, A Grammar of the Old Testament in Greek according to the Septuagint, vol. 1, Introduction, Orthography and Accidence (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1909), 46; Martin Johannessohn, Der Gebrauch der Präpositionen in der Septuaginta, MSU 3.1 (1918): 174–78 and 271–83; Eduard Schwyzer, Zum persönlichen Agens beim Passiv, besonders im Griechischen (Berlin: Akademie der Wissenschaften, in Kommission bei Walter de Gruyter, 1943); Friedrich Blass, Albert Debrunner, and Robert W. Funk, A Greek Grammar of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961), 113; Karin Hult, Syntactic Variation in Greek of the 5th Century A.D., Studia Graeca et Latina Gothoburgensia 52 (Göteborg: Acta Universitatis Gothoburgensis, 1990), 34–70; Coulter H. George, Expressions of Agency in Ancient Greek (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005); Pietro Bortone, Greek Prepositions from Antiquity to the Present, Oxford Linguistics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010); Murray J. Harris, Prepositions and Theology in the Greek New Testament: An Essential Reference for Exegesis (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2012), 59 and 221–23. All New Testament instances of ἀπό where ὑπό was expected were emended away by Samuel Adrianus Naber, “ΥΠΕΡ ΤΑ ΕΣΚΑΜΜΕΝΑ,” Mnemosyne NS 6 (1878): 85–104. 3 James Diggle et al., The Cambridge Greek Lexicon (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2021). https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110777895-003

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My approach is that of one schooled in Latin first and then primarily in Ancient Greek (principally, Classical Attic) and of one who now teaches Ancient Greek (again, principally, Classical Attic), and has research specialisms both in the origins and preclassical history of the Greek language and in its synchronic and diachronic variation throughout the Hellenistic (323–31 BCE), Roman (31 BCE–ca. 300 CE), and early Byzantine periods (300–800 CE). In part, that is what “traditionalist” in my title concerns. The other part concerns my work for the Cambridge Greek Lexicon Project, both on prepositions and more broadly, a project related not only to the lexicographic tradition embodied in the Greek-English Lexicon of Henry Liddell, Robert Scott, and Henry Stuart Jones, but also, via its founder, John Chadwick, to the Oxford Latin Dictionary, on which Chadwick worked (1946–1952).4 There seem to be at least four obstacles associated with the linguistic and lexical study of prepositions and their lexicographic presentation. Students and scholars of Greek alike will be aware of the difficulty of interpreting and translating prepositions in the texts they read. We may all sympathize with the summary of one New Testament lecturer: “I usually tell students that prepositions are 50 percent learning them and thereafter 50 percent guesswork.” If the object of study is the Greek of the New Testament in isolation from Greek texts from earlier in the history of the language and from Greek’s Indo-European origins and relations, we will be unaware of the interrelated causes that underlie that difficulty. The first obstacle to studying prepositions and variation in their use is the sheer number of attestations, over such a long period in a language that was spoken (and written) over such a large area and used by so many individuals in so many situations (or sociolinguistic registers) and for so many purposes. Limiting our study to the Greek text of the New Testament, we still confront 645 instances of ἀπό and 171 of ὑπό that introduce a noun in the genitive (leaving aside, for now, variant readings, which are generally not reported).5 In addition to this richly documented history, each preposition has a considerable prehistory. That is the second obstacle. This second obstacle is less obvious. Prepositions are grammatical or function words, but they began as semantic words, and specifically as nouns, with meanings and referents. Greek prepositions, of course, can be glossed or translated by their English functional equivalents. Indeed, some English glosses or functional equivalents are also etymological equivalents of their postclassical Greek counterparts. English in is the same word as ἐν (cf. Arcadian Greek ἰν and Latin in, as other relatives). However, prepositions chiefly function to indicate the relationship of a noun to some other constituent in a sentence. (As I tell my students, any instance of any preposition can be translated by “in relation to.” That is never wrong, but it is also never 4 See Peter G. W. Glare, ed., The Oxford Latin Dictionary (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968–1982), vii. 5 These figures are based on my counts of the citations in William F. Moulton, Alfred S. Geden, and I. Howard Marshall, Concordance to the Greek New Testament, 6th ed. (London: T&T Clark, 2002), 86–92 and 1062–64.

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entirely correct either.) The development of the preposition ἀντί from a noun becomes clear when its relatives in languages related to Greek are considered. The preposition ἀντί was a root noun in the dative case (itself the Indo-European locative in origin), whose accusative is also preserved as ἄντα in the Homeric tradition (and its later imitators). That root noun would be *ἆς, *ἀντός (*ἆς is the regular outcome in AtticIonic of Common Greek < *ant-s, itself the reflex of Indo-European < *h2ént-s). Such a root noun is attested in another Indo-European language, Hittite, as ḫant- and means “front, face.”6 This root noun “face, front” has left its traces in the Latin preposition ante (< (*)antĭ) “before, in front (in space or in time)” and in the Sanskrit preposition ánti “before, near, facing.” It is unclear whether an old instrumental singular form *h2nt-bhi survived as the preposition ἀμφί,7 which is absent from the New Testament, except as a prefix (or preverb) in a few compound verbs and derived nouns (e.g., ἀμφιβάλλω in Mark 1:16 and ἀμφίβληστρον in Matt 4:18 respectively). This root noun “face” may be still detectable in the Homeric tradition. One instance, whose interpretation is equivocal, may illustrate the development from a noun to an adverb and then to a preposition. ἤτοι Δαρδανίδης Πρίαμος θαύμαζ’ Ἀχιλῆα ὅσσος ἔην0 οἷός τε· θεοῖσι γὰρ ἄντα ἐῴκει. (Il. 24.629–630) Then, Priam, son of Dardanus, was amazed at Achilles – how big he was and of what kind he was; for, as to his face, he was like the gods.

My translation takes ἄντα as the accusative of our root noun indicating the respect in which Achilles resembled the gods. Such an analysis rests on LSJ, s.v. “ἔοικα,” I 1,8 at which several Homeric instances with an accusative are listed, but not interpreted or explained. Iliad 24.630 is among them, as is Μαχάονι πάντα ἔοικε (Il.1.613), which must mean “he was like Machaon in every way,” with πάντα as an adverbial accusative. However, the lexica present another analysis in their treatment of ἄντα as an adverb that modifies the verb ἐῴκει. Richard Cunliffe translated this instance almost

6 Robert S. P. Beekes and Lucian van Beek, Etymological Dictionary of Greek, Leiden Indo-European Etymological Dictionary Series 10 (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 107–8 and 109. 7 Beekes and van Beek, 94–95, advocate this relationship on the basis of the Lex Rix (the zero-grade *h2ṇ > Greek αν). For the problems with such a relationship and with ἀμφί as a remodeling of *ἀφί (< *h2ṃbhi), see Andrew L. Sihler, New Comparative Grammar of Greek and Latin (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), 410, but also 97 and 439. 8 Georg Autenrieth, Homeric Dictionary, trans. Robert Keep (London: Duckworth Press, 2000), 97, presented this analysis: “(1) similem esse, resemble, τινί τι, in any thing, [. . .] ἄντα Ω 630”; see, further, n. 10. Cf. LSJ, s.v. “ἄντην,” I. “οὐδέ τις ἔτλη ἄντην εἰσιδέειν look him in | the face, [Il.]19.15, cf. 24.223; [. . .] θεῷ ἐναλίγκιος ἄντην like a god | in presence, Od. 2.5, 4.310; χελιδόνι εἰκέλη ἄ(ντην) 22.240.” Autenrieth, Homeric Dictionary, 39, rightly in my view, interpreted the final three passages listed by LSJ, s.v. “ἄντην,” I, as involving an “acc(usative) of specification, in respect to countenance, with ἐναλίγκιος, εἰκέλη.”

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as a temporal adverb “when set face to face, when brought into comparison,”9 while LSJ elsewhere (s.v. “ἄντα,” I) uses “to look at,” a loose translation, which is plausible given that Priam was amazed, we are told, at Achilles’s stature in general (ὅσσος ἔην οἷός τε· Il. 24.630).10 In the history of Greek, root nouns were liable either to lexical replacement, which is evident in the New Testament itself, or to surviving fossilized in certain forms in specific functions. For example, in the New Testament a pig is a χοῖρος (in Matt 7:6 and eleven other places). The “Classical” word, a root noun ὗς (genitive ὑός, dative ὑί, accusative ὗν), which had been inherited from Indo-European, had been replaced by χοῖρος, which is thematic (an o-stem, or second-declension noun). That root noun is found only in the quotation at 2Pet 2:22, apparently an instance of an old-fashioned word retained in a proverb. The root noun had been used in the Old Greek translations of the Hebrew Bible: in 2Kgdms 17:8; 20:19; and 22:38 and, in its alternative form σῦς, in Lev 11:7; Deut 14:8; Ps 79:14; and Prov 11:22. However, some root nouns, such as πούς and χείρ remained in full use in the Greek of the New Testament. All that remains of the root noun *ἆς in Classical Greek is the preposition ἀντί (and, perhaps, ἀμφί in Classical Greek), the derived adjective ἀντίος and its adverbs ἀντίον and ἀντία, and the derived verbs ἀντιάζω (and its compounds) and ἀντάω and its compounds (e.g., ὑπαντάω in Matt 8:28). Another adverb, ἄντην had no currency outside the Homeric tradition (and its imitators). Some semantic vestiges of the prehistory of ἀντί as a locative case of a root noun can be found in dialect inscriptions and even in Classical Greek prose.11 LSJ, s.v. “ἀντί,” A I cites Xenophon, Anab. 4.7.6 and IG 2.835c–l68 (reedited as IG II2 1534.99) for the meaning “opposite, over against.” There, an instance from the Gortyn Law Code was also quoted (ἀντὶ μαιτύρων [= μαρτύρων]) and translated “in the presence

9 Richard Cunliffe, A Lexicon of the Homeric Dialect (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1963), 39. Autenrieth, Homeric Dictionary, 39, was wrong to label ἄντα as instr(umental), since -ᾰ was never a consonant-stem instrumental ending, but was always the consonant-stem accusative singular ending (< *–ṃ; but -ᾱ [< *-eh2] was the a:-stem singular instrumental ending). See Sihler, Comparative Grammar, 248, 250, and 252. The instrumental ending *-eh1 would give Greek -η (*ἄντη as a precursor to ἄντην), while *-h1 would give Greek -ε. 10 On the basis of the surrounding translations and explanations, I suspect that the use of the word “face” in LSJ, s.v. “ἄντα,” ΙΙ was not intended to reflect the original meaning of the preposition ἀντί as a noun “face”: “[. . .] also of persons, ἄ(ντα) σέθεν before thee, to thy face, ib.[Od. 4.]160, cf. 22.232; so in Il. 21.331, with a notion of comparison, confronted with thee.” Autenrieth, Homeric Dictionary, 39, was less equivocal than LSJ: he explained the construction ἄντα ἐῴκει as “properly ore (instr.) similis fuit, was like him in countenance,” and glosses ἄντην with “strictly, the face,” and ἀντί as “strictly (1) in the face of [. . .].” 11 Another meaning with nouns that refer to periods of time is reported in LSJ, s.v. “ἀντί,” II, with citations from dialect inscriptions.

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of witnesses.” The three passages are as follows (the transcription of the Gortyn Law Code reflects that it was inscribed in the local alphabet and written in the Cretan dialect).12 τούτου δὲ ὅσον πλέθρον δασὺ πίτυσι διαλειπούσαις μεγάλαις, ἀνθ’ ὧν ἑστηκότες ἄνδρες τί ἂν πάσχοιεν ἢ ὑπὸ τῶν φερομένων λίθων ἢ ὑπὸ τῶν κυλινδομένων; (Xenophon, Anab. 4.7.6, early fourth century BCE) Now as much as a plethrum of that distance is covered with tall, scattered pine trees, and if men should stand behind them, what harm could they suffer either from the flying stones or the rolling ones? [δύο ἕτε]ρα· ἰάσ[π]ιδες τρεῖς, ἐν αἷς ἔνι ἱππεὺς καὶ ὁπλίτης καὶ Μίν[ως ἑστὼς] ἀντὶ τοῦ Μινωταύρου· (IG II2 1534.99, Attica, 275 BCE) [. . . two others]; three jaspers, on which there are a knight, an infantry soldier, and Min[os standing] in front of the Minotaur (or: opposite to the Minotaur). αἰ δέ κα ναεύει ὀ δο͂ λος ὀ ͂ κα νικαθε͂ ι, καλίον ἀντὶ μαιτύρον δυο͂ ν δρομέον ἐλευθέρον ἀποδεικσάτο. . . (IC 4.72.39–43, Crete, ca. 450 BCE) But if the slave on whose account a man has been defeated should take sanctuary in a temple, (the defeated party) summoning (the successful party) in the presence of two free adult witnesses shall point out (the slave). . .

None of these passages was cited by previous editions of Liddell and Scott (nor were Hero Bel. 97.5 and ἀντὶ τῆς ὄψεως ἡμῶν Eudox. Ars 18, LSJ’s other citations at this point). In part, they reflect the growing attention that LSJ paid to epigraphic evidence.13 The specific source of the Xenophon passage,14 and the Hellenistic Attic inscription can be identified. The phrase ἀντὶ τοῦ Μινωταύρου was cited by Jacob Wackernagel as a parallel for the meaning “gegenüber” in the Xenophon passage in his discussion of the Hellenistic

12 For introductions to the Cretan dialect (and alphabet) and to this inscription, see Carl Darling Buck, The Greek Dialects: Grammar, Selected Inscriptions, Glossary (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1955), 169–72 and 314–34, and Stephen Colvin, A Historical Greek Reader: Mycenaean to the Koiné (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 16–19, 44–47, and 158–60. 13 See Henry Stuart Jones, “Preface,” LSJ, iv. 14 Ε. D. Stone, Xenophon’s Anabasis Book IV (London: Macmillan, 1890), 101, explained this instance with reference to the origin of the preposition ἀντί: “in its literal sense, ἀνθ᾽ ὧν ‘facing which’ i.e. the trees.” Others made no reference to etymology, but simply glossed with “behind which” on the basis of “facing which” or “opposite to which” and, sometimes, on the basis of the context; see J. Marshall, Xenophon, Anabasis Book IV, Part 2 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1892), 23; G. M. Edwards, The Anabasis of Xenophon Book IV (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1898), 75, who followed A. Pretor, The Anabasis of Xenophon: Volume 2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1881), 452. Most recently, Geoffrey Steadman, Xenophon’s Anabasis Book IV (Geoffrey Steadman, 2018), 84, https://geoffreysteadman.files.wordpress.com/2018/07/xenoanabasis4-26july18.pdf.

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Greek adverb-preposition ἔναντι,15 which looks like a univerbation of the preposition ἐν with ἀντί as a noun in the dative. Wackernagel was cautious about identifying such a use of ἀντί, even in an author who did not write pure Attic Greek:16 “der Halbattiker Xenophon.” He cautiously added, “[. . .] wenn die Stelle richtig überliefert ist” [“if the passage is correctly transmitted”].17 The third obstacle is the complexity of the interface in a prepositional phrase between the range of meaning of the preposition and its functions, on the one hand, and, on the other, the meaning and function of the case of the noun. In an earlier phase of the language, the cases themselves did the work of indicating the function of a noun in the sentence. A preposition was unnecessary for that task, but made a contribution of its own to the content of the sentence. This interface between case and preposition will be discussed case-by-case below by means of examples that involve the same verb and voice (ὑποδύομαι “I put myself under,” whose aorist is ὑπέδυν, an active athematic form) as well as the same preposition (and one that is the same as the prefix on the verb, or its preverb). The genitive case indicated various relationships including that of the place from which, the time within which (τῆς νυκτός “during the night”) an action occurred, or that only some or a part of the referent of a noun was involved (the partitive genitive). In the Greek of the New Testament, the first relationship is indicated by ἀπό with the genitive, while the third function (partitivity) is marked in the New Testament sometimes by ἐκ with a genitive (e.g., John 1:35 ἐκ τῶν μαθητῶν αὐτοῦ δύο “two out of his disciples”; cf. John 21:2), but sometimes ἐκ was not used (e.g., Luke 19:29 ἀπέστειλεν δύο τῶν μαθητῶν “he sent out two of the disciples”; cf. Luke 7:18; Mark

15 Jacob Wackernagel, Hellenistica (Göttingen: Officina Dieterichiana, 1907), 5. His source was O. Riemann, “K. Meisterhans, Grammatik der attischen Inschriften (Berlin, 1885),” Revue de Philologie 9 (1885): 176. 16 See Anthony J. Bowen, Xenophon: Symposium, Classical Texts (Warminister: Aris & Phillips, 1998), 16–18, with references to further discussion; and John A. L. Lee, A Lexical Study of the Septuagint Version of the Pentateuch, SCS 14 (Chico, CA: Scholars Press), 69, 76, 86, and 113. 17 E. C. Marchant, Xenophontis opera omnia: Tomus III; Expeditio Cyri , OCT (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1904), 127, reports no variants in the manuscript tradition at this point. Aside from Wackernagel’s suspicions, there is also the possibility of a misleading assumption about ἀνθ᾽ ὧν. It is noteworthy that LSJ does not quote the Greek of the Xenophon citation, in contrast to its treatment of the other citations here. As such, the reader meets an assertion, not evidence whose admissibility can be assessed. The relative pronoun is assumed to be feminine in agreement with πίτυσι διαλειπούσαις μεγάλαις. However, the relative pronoun in ἀνθ᾽ ὧν could be neuter and the prepositional phrase could represent an idiom meaning either “wherefore,” as in Luke 12:32, or “therefore”: see LSJ, s.v. “ἀντί,” III 3. If ἀνθ᾽ ὧν begins a new sentence, we have “Now as much as a plethrum of that distance is covered with tall, scattered pine trees. Therefore (or: for that reason), what harm could they suffer, as they stand, either from the flying stones or the rolling ones?” Such reconsideration of the text as it stands may put us on the right track to understanding this curious instance of ἀντί alleged to mean “opposite” that is without known parallels in Classical Greek prose literature.

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11:1; and 14:13).18 The genitive as the means of indicating a place from which there is a departure, here conveyed by ὑποδύομαι, can be illustrated from a comedy by Aristophanes (late fifth century BCE): μῦς; οὐ μὰ Δί’, ἀλλ’ ὑποδυόμενός τις οὑτοσὶ ὑπὸ τῶν κεραμίδων ἠλιαστὴς ὀροφίας. (Aristophanes, Vesp. 205–206) A mouse? No, it isn’t; this here is a roof-dwelling juror, trying to slink through under the tiles.19 (or: “in the process of slinking along down low out from under the roof tiles.”)

The accusative case, among other functions, indicated that a place was a destination or that a period of time was the duration of an action (in answer to the question, “How long?”). Herodotus (mid–late fifth century BCE) illustrates the accusative as the destination of movement: ὑποδύντες αὐτοὶ ὑπὸ τὴν ζεύγλην, (Herodotus 1.31.2) “when they (Cleobis and Biton) had taken the yoke upon their own shoulders, . . .” (or: “when they had crouched themselves down so as to be under the yoke”).

The dative case indicated that a noun was the location of an action, event, or state of affairs, was the time when an action took place, was the instrument with which an action was performed, or was the indirect object of an action. In the Greek of the New Testament, the last of those functions was being taken on by πρός. Nouns in the dative in the other functions were all introduced by ἐν, first when the noun was a place, a time period, and then an instrument: in Classical Greek, the thought “at Athens” had been expressed by Ἀθήνησι on its own (a locative case fossilized as a local adverb), but the Greek of the New Testament required the preposition ἐν and a dative (e.g. 1Thess 3:1: ἐν Ἀθήναις).20 The coexistence of the Classical use of the cases alone and of the use of prepositional phrases in the same functions is evident in Luke 6:6–11. The person to whom someone speaks is indicated by the dative in Luke 6:8 and 10, but a prepositional phrase πρὸς αὐτούς in 6:9. The day on which an event occurs is indicated by a dative either alone (τῷ σαββάτῳ 6:9) or with ἐν (ἐν τῷ σαββάτῳ 6:7). A  two-line popular song illustrates the dative used to refer to a location, which is qualified further by the preposition ὑπό:

18 The use of ἐκ with a partitive genitive is not confined to the Greek of John. Luke 24:13 is a near parallel to the two examples with μαθητῶν: δύο ἐξ αὐτῶν “two of them.” The referent of αὐτῶν is the same as that of μαθητῶν or is similar (cf. 24:9 τοῖς ἕνδεκα “to the Eleven”; and 24:10). 19 This translation is adapted from Alan H. Sommerstein, Aristophanes: Wasps (Warminster: Aris & Phillips, 1983), 23. For ὑπό with verbs of motion, see LSJ, s.v., A I 1; and s.v. “ὑπέκ.” 20 That is, unless the added value of ἐν here is “in the vicinity of, nearby to.”

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ὑπὸ παντὶ λίθῳ σκόρπιος, ὦ ἑταιρ᾽, ὑποδύεται. (Scolion 903.1 PMG, 477) “My friend, under (or: “behind, near”) every stone, a scorpion lurks (or: “crouches”).

The point of reference for the location is the stone in the dative. That relationship is made more precise by the addition of ὑπό. A scorpion could lurk, instead, παρὰ παντὶ λίθῳ “beside every stone.” So far, our examples with ὑποδύομαι have illustrated the interaction of three variables: first, the meaning and function of the preposition itself, second, the meaning and function of the verb, and, third, the case that is governed by the preposition. The translations demonstrated that, even when the verb is identical (allowing for a difference of verbal aspect in the Herodotus passage), the meaning and function of the verb alters with each grammatical case. That is, if Aristophanes Vesp. 206 had a dative τοῖς κεραμίσι after the preposition ὑπό, the participle ὑποδυόμενος would have to mean either, as a verb of translational motion, “slinking along underneath the roof tiles” or, as a verb of change of position or motion at a fixed point, “lurking underneath the roof tiles.” Analysis of the function and meaning of prepositions becomes yet more complex when we introduce other kinds of verbs, other prefixes (or preverbs) for the verb, and other kinds of nouns. The following table presents the options as attested (conveniently, from a single passage [222e, in the main] from a single text from a single author: the Symposium of Plato). Table 3.1: Prepositional meaning with prefixes and nouns. κατα-κλίνω

παρά

ὑπό / ὑποκάτω

With genitive

Ø

222e4–5: ὑποκάτω ἐμοῦ κατακλίνου. you should recline on the couch (that is) below mine (or “me”)

With dative

203b8–9: κατακλίνεταί τε παρ’ αὐτῷ he reclines beside him (cf. 213c, with a different verb: κατακείσῃ)

222e11–12: ἐὰν οὖν ὑπὸ σοὶ κατακλινῇ Ἀγάθων If, then, Agathon reclines on the couch (that is) below you

With accusative

175a4–5: παρ’ Ἐρυξίμαχον κατακλίνου You should recline beside Eryximachus 222e2, after ἐλθών: παρὰ σὲ ἐλθὼν κατακλινήσομαι I will come to you and recline (beside you) 223b4–5 after πορεύεσθαι: πορεύεσθαι παρὰ σφᾶς καὶ κατακλίνεσθαι to go to them and to recline (beside them).

219b6–7: ὑπὸ τὸν τρίβωνα κατακλινεὶς having reclined under the cloak

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These passages show the (attested) possible combinations with this verb and with the prepositions παρά and ὑπό, with other variables such as author, date, and genre neutralized. Since two instances with παρά and an accusative involve a verb of motion (222e2 and 223b4–5), the force of the preposition is that of marking the destination of that motion. The position of the preposition in the word order reflects that. The exception, 175a4–5, must then be understood to imply motion toward. We would not expect an example of παρά with the genitive, since it is hard to conceive of “taking up” (κατα-) a reclining position in a manner that involves motion away: lying down (κατα-) has a destination or location in view more than an origin. The difference between 222e4–5; 222e11–12; and 219b6–7 is less clear. All three, all either with ὑπό or with ὑποκάτω, involve reclining in a location that is presented as below the point of reference expressed by the noun (here, pronouns referring to Socrates). (222e4–5 and 222e11–12 concern the “seating plan.” The personal pronoun stands for the place of that person, Socrates. Agathon, the subject of the second person of the imperative, is due to change place in 222e4–5 and in 222e11–12, where he is named explicitly.) If there is motion, it is motion toward the point of reference expressed by the (pro)noun with all three cases, not away from that point (the genitive) and not at that point (the dative). The three cases seem to have no functional difference. In contrast with Classical Greek, by the time of the New Testament, most of the work of expressing relationships was done by prepositions and little was done by the case of the noun that followed, at least for some speakers and writers. The idea of sitting on a throne could be expressed by ἐπί with a genitive (θρόνου: Rev 4:10), with a dative (θρόνῳ: Rev 7:10, although Codex Sinaiticus was altered to the genitive; and Rev 4:9, but with a genitive in uncial 025), or with an accusative (θρόνον: Rev 4:2, but with a genitive in uncial 025). The same irrelevance or neutralization of grammatical case is clear both from Jesus walking on the sea toward the disciples (ἐπί with an accusative – Matt 14:25: ἦλθεν πρὸς αὐτοὺς περιπατῶν ἐπὶ τὴν θάλασσαν)21 and the disciples seeing him walking on the sea (ἐπί with a genitive – Matt 14:26: ἐπὶ τῆς θαλάσσης περιπατοῦντα). The fourth obstacle is that both during the period of the composition of the New Testament and during its transmission, the use of prepositions was not stable. This instability has left its traces in variant readings throughout the textual tradition. For example, when faced by μάκροθεν “from afar” in Matt 26:58, some copyists thought that the adverb itself was sufficient to mean “from afar” (e.g., Codices Sinaiticus and Ephraemi Rescriptus: 01 and 04), while others thought that ἀπό was necessary for the text to make sense (e.g., Codices Alexandrinus, Vaticanus, Bezae, and Washingtonianus: 02, 03, 05, and 032). Whichever reading we consider original, either the preposition has been omitted by some to make the text conform to Classical

21 Codices Ephraemi Rescriptus (04) and Bezae (05), among others, have the genitive here.

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standards or the preposition has been added to make the text of Matthew consistent with varieties of Greek in this period that used ἀπό before μάκροθεν regularly, such as the Greek of Revelation (cf. 18:10,15,17, without any variants reported). Here we must also note the likelihood of different individuals (the author of Matthew and that of Revelation) making different use of prepositions. For this reason, 1Macc 10:82b is a problematic piece of evidence, although, on semantic grounds, it may be the least questionable example of ἀπό to mark an agent in the Septuagint and the New Testament.22 The passage in the editions of Henry B. Swete and of Werner Kappler reads:23 ἡ γὰρ ἵππος ἐξελύθη, καὶ συνετρίβησαν ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ καὶ ἔφυγαν. (1Macc 10:82b) For the cavalry had been broken up, and they (the phalanx of 82a) were smashed by him (i.e., Simon; cf. 82a) and they fled.

The preposition ἀπό with the verb συντρίβω “I crush” can only be a marker of the agent of the crushing and cannot be a marker of source or origin. However, only Codex Alexandrinus has ἀπό here, while Codices Sinaiticus and Vaticanus (and the so-called Lucianic tradition) have ὑπό. In other words, the example of ἀπό marking an agent that is the strongest on semantic grounds is very doubtful on textual grounds. Also, since Alfred Rahlfs, following Sinaiticus and Vaticanus against Alexandrinus, printed ὑπό,24 such an allegedly strong example of ἀπό will be found neither in that edition nor via a search of the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae (henceforth TLG) and any other software that uses that edition. The use (and presence) of ἀπό in 1Macc 10:82b seems to be supported by 9:15, where Rahlfs printed ἀπό with the verb συνετρίβη. However, Rahlfs printed ὑπ’ with the passive of συντρίβω both at 9:68 (with the unanimous support of the manuscript tradition) and at 8:6 (again, following Codex Vaticanus and, in its original reading, Codex Sinaiticus). However, Kappler printed ἀπ᾽ αὐτῶν at 8:6 (with the rest of the tradition), but ὑπ᾽ at 9:68, with the entirety of the tradition. Next, we may question the support offered by 9:15 as an example of ἀπό as a marker of the agent. Since the text there reads καὶ συνετρίβη τὸ δεξιὸν μέρος “and the right part (of the battleline) was crushed,” the prepositional phrase ἀπ᾽ αὐτῶν does

22 I am grateful to Michael and Rachel Aubrey for drawing my attention to this example, both in response to a question from Robert Crellin and in their paper at the Tyndale House Workshop on Greek Prepositions. 23 Henry B. Swete, The Old Testament in Greek according to the Septuagint, 3 vols. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1887–1894); and Werner Kappler, Maccabaeorum liber 1, SVTG 9.1 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1936). 24 Alfred Rahlfs, Septuaginta: Id est Vetus Testamentum graece iuxta LXX interpretes (Stuttgart: Deutsches Bibelgesellschaft, 1935), 1079.

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not have to mean “by them.”25 Instead, the prepositional phrase could be partitive, as μέρος suggests, and mean “(the right part) from (or: “of”) them.”26 Indeed, there ἀπ᾽ itself is not textually secure. It is absent from Codex Vaticanus (leaving αὐτῶν to be a partitive genitive dependent on μέρος), while, the Lucianic tradition has ὑπ᾽ instead. As such, there is a lack of secure parallels to support ἀπό marking the agent in 1Macc 10:82b. Counterevidence comes from the united support for ὑπό at 9:68. Although many witnesses have ἀπό at 8:6, the oldest manuscripts do not. There is stronger manuscript support for ἀπό at 9:15, but a partitive interpretation is plausible. The fourth obstacle, then, is that the number of items in the New Testament preposition dataset and also that their identity is somewhat fluid. Also, particular passages are open to interpretation, even when the textual evidence for a particular preposition is nearly unanimous: as, for example, at Luke 9:22 and Jas 1:13. The interaction of the kind of verb, the choice of preposition, the case of the noun governed by that preposition, and the kind of noun all make it very difficult to pin down the “meaning” of the preposition in a given collocation in isolation from the other elements in that collocation for a specific section of an entry in a lexicon. Moreover, it is not the task of the lexicographer to explain the meaning of prepositional phrases, but to isolate the meaning of a given headword independent of the influence of its context and to present that meaning as (part of) an entry for that word.27 Before framing the questions that need to be asked about overlap between ἀπό and ὑπό to mark agents and, then, discussing the passages themselves, some general comments about the dataset and the use of these two prepositions in the Greek of the New Testament are in order. The Greek text as published in the fourth United Bible Societies edition (UBS4)28 contains 645 instances of ἀπό and 171 instances of ὑπό governing a genitive. Since many of those tokens involve spatial and other relationships, they are not relevant for this study of marking agents. I studied the data in the form of the citations collected by Moulton, Geden, and Marshall, Concordance, not from the TLG,29 in order to have access both to a more recent edition of the text and to indications of passages in which the other (or another) preposition had been printed in the editions of B. F. Westcott and F. J. A. Hort, of Constantin von Tischendorf, 25 It was so translated by George T. Zervos, “1 Makkabees,” in A New English Translation of the Septuagint, ed. Albert Pietersma and Benjamin G. Wright (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 491. 26 For “partitive” ἀπό, see LSJ, s.v. “ἀπό,” A I 6; BDAG, 105 (s.v. “ἀπό,” 1 f); and GELS, 70 (s.v. “ἀπό,” 3b). However, GELS, 71 (s.v. “ἀπό,” 5a), treated the three passages in 1 Maccabees as “through the agency of.” 27 For this point of lexicography, see John Chadwick, Lexicographica Graeca: Contributions to the Lexicography of Ancient Greek (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), 33; and John A. L. Lee, “A Note on Septuagint Material in the Supplement to Liddell and Scott,” Glotta 47 (1969): 234. 28 This text is identical with that of NA28, except in James–Jude. See NA28, 47, 48, and 50–51. 29 As its base text, TLG had, at the time of writing, Kurt Aland, Matthew Black, C. M. Martini, Bruce M. Metzger, and A. Wikgren, The Greek New Testament, 2nd ed. (Stuttgart: Württemberg Bible Society, 1968).

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or of Alexander Souter.30 Fuller consideration of manuscript variation in the use of prepositions is beyond the scope of this paper,31 but it has already been discussed in relation to the fourth obstacle to the study of prepositions and early variants will be considered in the discussion of particular passages below. As far as the use of ὑπό in postclassical Greek, and especially in the Greek of the Septuagint and of the New Testament is concerned, two observations may be made from the perspective of the history of Greek. First, the Gospel according to John, a representative of less classicizing varieties of postclassical Greek,32 has only one instance of ὑπό: John 14:21. Second, the use of ὑπό with a dative is absent from the New Testament and is not securely attested in the Septuagint. Job, itself a representative of a more “literary” translation or “version”33 may contain the only instance of ὑπό with a dative (12:5): Rahlfs printed ὑπὸ ἄλλους, but noted that the reading of Codex Alexandrinus (and others) is ὑπὸ ἄλλοις, while that of the Codex Vaticanus (and others) is ὑπὸ ἄλλων.34 Two questions should be asked as we now review the dataset: 1. What factors influenced, or determined, the choice of ἀπό instead of ὑπό by a speaker or a writer of Greek either as a first-language (L1) or as a second-language (L2)? In other words, can we understand their choices? 2. On what criteria can we decide at points where some textual witnesses attest ἀπό, but others attest ὑπό? In other words, can we understand the selection of one preposition instead of the other so well that we can rule out from the text as variously transmitted one preposition in a given context? The use of ἀπό to mark an agent is well illustrated by the citation of Luke 9:22 in LSJ (s.v. “ἀπό,” A III 4: “in later Greek freq(uently) of the direct agent”). In LSJ, both the possibility of subsequent confusion in the manuscript tradition and the existence of “autograph” instances in magical and documentary papyri and in an inscription are duly noted.

30 See Moulton, Geden, and Marshall, Concordance, vi–vii, for its treatment of variants. 31 Note, e.g., that Codex Bezae, 05, supplies an extra instance of ὑπό (Matt 2:17) because it has ὑπὸ κυρίου in addition to διὰ Ἰερεμίου. Also, 0250 (Codex Climaci Rescriptus Graecus) twice has διά for the ὑπό of the Byzantine text (in Matt 2:17 and a longer form of Matt 27:35 with ἵνα πληρώθη τὸ ῥηθὲν διὰ τοῦ προφήτου). The data for 0250 come from Ian A. Moir, Codex Climaci Rescriptus Graecus, TS 2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1956), 75–76. 32 See Nigel Turner, A Grammar of New Testament Greek, Volume IV, Style (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1976), 64–79; and Geoffrey Horrocks, Greek: A History of the Language and its Speakers, 2nd ed. (Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010), 149 and 150–52. 33 See Thackeray, Grammar, 13; Jennifer Dines, The Septuagint, Understanding the Bible and its World (London: T&T Clark, 2004), 20–21 and 112; and Claude E. Cox, “Job,” in T&T Clark Companion to the Septuagint, ed. James K. Aitken (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2015), 389–91. 34 For fuller details, see Joseph Ziegler, Iob, SVTG 11.4 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1982), 262.

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δεῖ τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου πολλὰ παθεῖν καὶ ἀποδοκιμασθῆναι ἀπὸ τῶν πρεσβυτέρων καὶ ἀρχιερέων καὶ γραμματέων καὶ ἀποκτανθῆναι καὶ τῇ τρίτῃ ἡμέρᾳ ἐγερθῆναι. (Luke 9:22) It is necessary that the Son of Man suffer many afflictions and that he be rejected by the elders, and the chief priests and the scribes, and that he be killed, and that he be raised on the third day.

Here, ἀπό certainly seems to introduce a series of personal agents who will reject the Son of Man. The agency can be considered direct because the elders, chief priests, and scribes personally rejected the Son of Man. Since the aorist passive infinitive ἀποκτανθῆναι has no prepositional phrase of its own, no such claim is made explicitly for their direct involvement with the execution of the Son of Man, although that was at their instigation (indirect agency). On the other hand, Frederick Danker refers to instances of ἀπό that denote “the one who indirectly originates an action”35 in contrast to ὑπό as the marker of a direct agent. One of his examples involves the verb ἑτοιμάζω in Rev 12:6: ἔχει ἐκεῖ τόπον ἡτοιμασμένον ἀπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ “there she has a place prepared at God’s command” (Danker’s translation). The agent here may well be indirect. (We have to note that ὑπό is found in the tenth-century uncial 046 and in some tenth-century minuscules: 1611 and 2351; cf. Andreas of Caesarea.) This analysis of ἀπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ as “at God’s command” could be considered for the other instance of a passive of ἑτοιμάζω in Revelation: 21:2 Ἰερουσαλὴμ καινὴν εἶδον καταβαίνουσαν ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ ἀπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ ἡτοιμασμένην ὡς νυμφήν (“I saw a new Jerusalem, coming down from heaven away from God, prepared as a bride”). The construal of the two prepositional phrases here raises questions of punctuation and, to a lesser extent, of the order of the constituents. Some editions have a comma before ἡτοιμασμένην (see SBLGNT, 511), but an argument could be made for a threepart description: “coming down from heaven, prepared at God’s command, adorned as a bride for her husband.” However, the wording of 21.10, in which καταβαίνουσαν is qualified both by ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ and by ἀπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ together, suggests a different tripartite division at 21:2 in which every part begins with a participle: καταβαίνουσαν ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ ἀπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ, ἡτοιμασμένην ὡς νυμφήν, κεκοσμημένην τῷ ἀνδρὶ αὐτῆς. The tenth-century uncial 051 has ἀπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ before ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ (cf. Andreas of Caesarea), an order which prevents ἀπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ being taken with ἡτοιμασμένην.36 35 BDAG, 107. 36 Taking ἀπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ with καταβαίνουσαν in Rev 21:2 and, so, as “from God,” also is suggested by the various longer forms of the text in Rev 20:9 in which κατέβη πῦρ ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ is qualified by ἀπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ (as in altered Codex Sinaiticus, in uncial 025 and in minuscules 1854, 2030, and 2329). Cf. Rev 3:12.

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On the other hand, the agent is also indirect in another instance of the passive of this verb, this time with ὑπό to mark its agent. τὸ δὲ καθίσαι ἐκ δεξιῶν μου καὶ ἐξ εὐωνύμων οὐκ ἔστιν ἐμὸν τοῦτο δοῦναι, ἀλλ’ οἷς ἡτοίμασται ὑπὸ τοῦ πατρός μου. (Matt 20:23) To sit on my right and left – that is not mine to grant. Instead, it belongs to those for whom it has been prepared by my Father.

If Jesus here refers to those who will be crucified beside him, God is the indirect agent and the direct or immediate agents are the Roman soldiers who crucified the two brigands beside Jesus. In other words, for the Greek of the New Testament as a whole with the verb ἑτοιμάζω, it does not follow that ὑπό can be distinguished from ἀπό on the grounds that the latter may be analyzed in some passages as a marker of an indirect agent. The preposition ὑπό can introduce either an indirect agent or a direct one. Whether ἀπό introduces indirect agents only or also direct agents is our next question to address. In relation to the claim that ἀπό is associated with indirect agency, we may consider an instance of ἀπό with a personal agent juxtaposed with ὑπό and a nonpersonal agent: Jas 1:13–14 (the text is slightly less certain, since Codex Sinaiticus, like some later witnesses, has ὑπό, not ἀπό): μηδεὶς πειραζόμενος λεγέτω ὅτι ἀπὸ θεοῦ πειράζομαι· ὁ γὰρ θεὸς ἀπείραστός ἐστιν κακῶν, πειράζει δὲ αὐτὸς οὐδένα. ἕκαστος δὲ πειράζεται ὑπὸ τῆς ἰδίας ἐπιθυμίας ἐξελκόμενος καὶ δελεαζόμενος· (Jas 1:13–14) No one should say, when he is being tempted, “I am being tempted by God.” For God is without experience of evil, and he himself tempts no one. Instead, each one is tempted by his own desire, as he is dragged out and as he is enticed.37

Murray J. Harris presented the argument for ἀπό introducing an indirect agent: it distinguishes between “immediate and active causation (ὑπό)” and “more remote and less active causation (ἀπό)”38 and surmises that “God is never the originator of any enticement to do wrong, whether acting directly (Jas 1:13b) or indirectly (Jas 1:13a).”39 Harris, here, draws on Danker’s treatment40 of ἀπό in Jas 1:13 as an example of “indirect 37 The translation and paragraphing construe ὑπὸ τῆς ἰδίας ἐπιθυμίας with πειράζεται, but it is grammatically possible for the prepositional phrase to belong more closely with ἐξελκόμενος and δελεαζόμενος than with πειράζεται. 38 Harris, Prepositions, 222. 39 Harris, 59. 40 BDAG, 107.

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origination” and Danker’s summary that the “temptation is caused by God, but not actually carried out by God.” A contrast may be drawn with the other instances of the passive of πειράζω with a prepositional phrase: ὑπὸ τοῦ σατανᾶ in Mark 1:13 and ὑπὸ τοῦ διαβόλου in Matt 4:1 and Luke 4:2. The temptation of Jesus by the devil in person is clearly an instance of immediate or direct agency. Although ὑπὸ τῆς ἰδίας ἐπιθυμίας certainly does concern direct agency and Jas 1:13b denies that God himself (αὐτός) is the grammatical subject and, therefore, the semantic agent of the temptation of anyone, it is difficult to maintain that the use of ἀπό with a passive verb rather than the use of ὑπό involves a distinction of the immediacy of agency. James 1:13a presents a statement that no one should say (on Harris’s analysis): “I am being indirectly tempted by God through influences proceeding from God.” Then, Jas 1:13b gives the reason (γάρ) why no one should utter that statement. Then, the active indicative πειράζει, with God as its grammatical subject (and semantic agent), presents God himself αὐτός (“himself,” “in person”) as directly tempting no one (οὐδένα). The question of God indirectly tempting anyone is left unanswered here. Finally, Jas 1:14 asserts that the immediate cause is each man’s own desires. (There is a contrast between ἴδιος in ὑπὸ τῆς ἰδίας ἐπιθυμίας and negated αὐτός.) Therefore, it seems that what no one should say is, in fact: “I am being tempted directly by God.” Instead, one should say, “I am being tempted by my own desire.” The point is the rejection of blaming God with the use of ἀπό as an immediate or direct agent. This accords with the second part of Danker’s summary that the temptation is “not actually carried out by God.” Also, since the question of God as the indirect agent is left open, it is possible that God is not the direct origin. Therefore, the first part of Danker’s summary also holds true: the “temptation is caused by God.”41 The claim of Harris, and others, that ἀπό marks indirect agents is at odds with the statement in LSJ that ἀπό marks direct agents. Indeed, Harris and Danker both refer to Luke 9:22, LSJ’s example of a direct agent, in their discussion of indirect agency and it is indeed possible that the rejection of the Son of Man would be “at the hands of” or “by command of” (Danker’s translations) the elders and others.42 However, direct agency is not impossible in Luke 9:22, as we have discussed, in the form of personal rejection. The interpretation of ἀποδοκιμασθῆναι in Luke 9:22 in Harris and Danker seems to have been overly influenced by the interpretation of one of its synoptic parallels, Matt 16:21. δεῖ αὐτὸν εἰς Ἱεροσόλυμα ἀπελθεῖν καὶ πολλὰ παθεῖν ἀπὸ τῶν πρεσβυτέρων καὶ ἀρχιερέων καὶ γραμματέων καὶ ἀποκτανθῆναι καὶ τῇ τρίτῃ ἡμέρᾳ ἐγερθῆναι. (Matt 16:21)

41 I am very grateful to Daniel Eng for discussing my assessment of this passage with me. 42 Harris, Prepositions, 59. BDAG, 107.

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It is necessary that he depart for Jerusalem and that he suffer many afflictions at the command of the elders (or, “from the elders”) and the chief priests and the scribes and that he be killed and that on the third day he be raised.

The suffering of Jesus during the passion narrative was not inflicted in person by the elders, chief priests, and scribes, although it had its origins in their actions. In other words, ἀπό does introduce an indirect agent. (In Codex Bezae, which has ὑπό at this point, there is no indication of the immediacy of agency in the choice of preposition.) The passages involve different verbs (παθεῖν and ἀποδοκιμασθῆναι), and different kinds of verbs (an active intransitive verb and the passive of a transitive verb). As such, we should not equate the function of the prepositional phrases even though the preposition is the same in both passages. Although Harris equated Luke 9:22 and Matt 16:21, he separated the other parallel,43 Mark 8.31, because it has ὑπό. (In fact, Codices Alexandrinus and Washingtonianus have ἀπό.) The separation of this parallel, like the equation of the other two, is misleading. δεῖ τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου πολλὰ παθεῖν καὶ ἀποδοκιμασθῆναι ὑπὸ τῶν πρεσβυτέρων καὶ τῶν ἀρχιερέων καὶ τῶν γραμματέων καὶ ἀποκτανθῆναι καὶ μετὰ τρεῖς ἡμέρας ἀναστῆναι· (Mark 8:31) It is necessary that the Son of Man suffer many afflictions and that he be rejected by the elders and the chief priests and the scribes and that he be killed and that after three days he rise.

The word order in this third parallel associates the agentival prepositional phrase not with παθεῖν (in contrast to Matt 16:21), but with ἀποδοκιμασθῆναι (as with Luke 9:22). That is, the prepositional phrase is isolated from παθεῖν, but associated closely with ἀποδοκιμασθῆναι (Luke and Matthew here, it seems, represent different abridgments of the doublet in Mark: Matthew has παθεῖν only, Luke ἀποδοκιμασθῆναι only). The rejection that Mark reported with ὑπό Luke reported with ἀπό. The use of ὑπό in Mark 8:31, which is a closer parallel to Luke 9:22 than to Matt 16:21 in terms of its content and word order, should cause us to pause before we conclude that Luke 9:22 has ἀπό as the marker of an indirect agent. Although Luke may have emphasized indirect agency, he also may not have done so. Likewise, ὑπό in Mark could mark an indirect agent as well as a direct one. We have already considered that the rejection of Jesus was the direct action of the elders, high priests, and scribes in person (as in Mark 8:31 and in LSJ’s treatment of Luke 9:22), even if his afflictions – the direct actions of the Romans – were the indirect actions of the elders, high

43 Harris, 59.

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priests, and scribes. The involvement of all of three groups in Matt 27:41, of two in Mark 15:1 and 15:31, and, in Luke 23:35, of the rulers (οἱ ἄρχοντες) must also be remembered. We may also evaluate another instance adduced for indirect agency both by Harris and by Danker: Luke 17:25.44 Danker asserts that the “emphasis is to be placed on παθεῖν, not on ἀποδοκιμασθῆναι.”45 πρῶτον δὲ δεῖ αὐτὸν πολλὰ παθεῖν καὶ ἀποδοκιμασθῆναι ἀπὸ τῆς γένεᾶς ταύτης. (Luke 17:25) First it is necessary that he suffer many afflictions and that he be rejected by this generation.

The word order counters the implication of Danker’s comment that ἀπὸ τῆς γένεᾶς ταύτης belongs with the emphasized infinitive παθεῖν. That infinitive certainly has the emphasis of being first, but the prepositional phrase certainly belongs with ἀποδοκιμασθῆναι. (No variants are attested in the earliest witnesses.) Also, while πολλὰ παθεῖν does not require an indication of the cause or the source to the same extent, the rejection does have that requirement. An agent and a group, from which the rejection occurs, whether explicit or implicit in the context, seem to be obligatory. The observation that ἀποδοκιμασθῆναι required an agent and a group from which the rejection occurs opens up another line of inquiry. In Luke 17:25, Jesus must be both discredited by his generation and cast out or excluded from his generation. Likewise, the rejection by the chief priests, and their associates, requires Jesus to be discredited and excluded. The more that ἀποδοκιμασθῆναι is understood as “be discredited,” the more agentival a following prepositional phrase (with ἀπό) will become. The more ἀποδοκιμασθῆναι is understood to present rejection as separation, the more spatial (or pseudospatial) the prepositional phrase can remain. It may be significant that many of the instances of ἀπό that could be interpreted as introducing an agent involve verbs with some notion of separation in that they are compounds in ἀπο-:46 as well as ἀποδοκιμασθῆναι (Luke 9:22), there is ἀπο-δείκνῡμι (Acts 2:22), ἀπο-λύω (Luke 16:18 and Acts 15:33), and ἀπο-στέλλω (Luke 1:26: with ὑπό 02, 04, and 05; Acts 10.17). Since the sender and the source of the angel in Luke 1:26 are one and the same (namely, God), the alternative prepositions may reflect attempts at disambiguation, if not an attempt either to preserve classical grammar or to restore the grammar to classical standards. By contrast, the instances of compounds of πέμπω, a verb that is semantically similar to ἀποστέλλω, have agents introduced with ὑπό largely without variants. Acts 13:4 (ἐκ-); 15:3; Rom 15:24; and 2Cor 1:16 (all προ-) all have ὑπό after the passive of πέμπω. In those four passages, the personal agents are given prominence over a place of origin: respectively, the sending was ὑπὸ τοῦ ἁγίου πνεύματος, ὑπὸ τῆς

44 Harris, Prepositions, 59, and BDAG, 107. 45 BDAG, 107. 46 This association was noted by George, Expressions of Agency, 242.

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ἐκκλησίας, and ὑφ’ ὑμῶν (the Christians at Rome or at Corinth). The emphasis on personal agency would emphasize authorization by the Holy Spirit or by an assembly of Christians more than the point of departure. However, before we draw any conclusion about the selection of ὑπό over ἀπό in these passages, especially about an extra notion of authorization, we should recall that such authorization might be seen in the sending of the angel Gabriel as an authorized messenger, discussed above as an example of ἀπό (Luke 1:26), although there ὑπό has significant manuscript support. The three men sent by Cornelius (Acts 10:17: ἀποσταλμένοι ὑπὸ τοῦ Κορνηλίου) were the servants and officer that Cornelius, their master and commander, had sent. Paul and Barnabas could not be sent forth away from the Holy Spirit (Acts 13:4), but they could be sent forth from groups of Christians (προ-, perhaps then followed by ἀπό). Indeed, two of these four passages, Rom 15:24; and 2Cor 1:16, do show ἀπό in some early witnesses, such as Papyrus 46 (and Codex Vaticanus for Rom 15:24), Codex Claromontanus (06), and the ninth-century uncial 010 and 012, both of which are Greek-Latin bilingual codices and which are thought to have Greek readings influenced by the accompanying Latin translation. We should probably not see so much extra significance in ὑπό, a marker of agency that continued from widespread use in Classical Greek. This same line of inquiry may be considered in relation to verbs of ordering. Of two instances, the first, Acts 16:4, is textually secure, the other, Acts 10:33, is somewhat doubtful. παρεδίδοσαν αὐτοῖς φυλάσσειν τὰ δόγματα τὰ κεκριμένα ὑπὸ τῶν ἀποστόλων καὶ πρεσβυτέρων τῶν ἐν Ἱεροσολύμοις. (Acts 16:4) They were delivering to them to guard the decisions that were decided by the apostles and elders who were in Jerusalem.

Since a decision has to be made (κεκριμένα) by someone, ὑπό is unsurprising. However, ἀπό would be difficult here, unless ἀπό were semantically and functionally equivalent to ὑπό. ἀκοῦσαι πάντα τὰ προστεταγμένα σοι ὑπὸ τοῦ κυρίου (Acts 10:33) to hear all the commands issued to you by the Lord. . .

Here, the issuing of commands or ordinances (προστεταγμένα) to someone (σοι) could have either an agent or a source. Therefore, it is not surprising that we find variant readings in the tradition in such a context. The preposition ἀπό could mark either an agent or the origin of the commands. In other words, ἀπό is a counterpart to προσ- in a way that ὑπό is not. (The same interpretations would be available for παρά the reading of the eighth-century uncial 08.)47 47 The occurrence of ὑπέρ instead here in the tenth-century minuscule 1175 remains a curiosity.

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Verbs of giving, as a group, are found in some witnesses with ἀπό to introduce the person by whom that giving was done or from whom another person received. The passive of δίδωμι or its compound παραδίδωμι have agents marked by ὑπό in the critical editions, but some manuscripts have ἀπό. The preposition ἀπό is found with such passives in Rom 15:15 in the original text of Codex Sinaiticus (01*), in Codex Vaticanus, and in the ninth-century Greek-Latin bilingual uncial 010. At Luke 10:22 and Acts 15:40, Codex Bezae has ἀπό. In Acts 15:40, ἀπὸ τῶν ἀδελφῶν at the end of the colon could belong with the main verb (ἐξῆλθεν) and not with the participle (παραδοθείς) and, so, ἀπό does not have to be agentival, while ὑπὸ τῶν ἀδελφῶν has to belong with the participle, not with ἐξῆλθεν. The bestowal or reception of a nickname may belong with verbs of giving: Ἰωσὴφ δὲ ὁ ἐπικληθεὶς Βαρναβᾶς ἀπὸ τῶν ἀποστόλων: “Joseph, nicknamed Barnabas by the apostles” (Acts 4:36). (Some witnesses, such as Codex Bezae and minuscule 33, have ὑπό, as with καλέω elsewhere: see Matt 23:7; Luke 2:21; 14:8 twice; and Heb 5:4.) However, agency may not be the point here at all. A name as common as Joseph48 may have required a designation quite independently of a nickname bestowed by the apostles. Indeed, the mention of a different Joseph with his own pair of designations (Acts 1:23) might prompt the addition of a designation here. Since this Joseph Barnabas is labeled ἀπόστολος elsewhere in Acts (14:14),49 we may wonder whether ἀπό is partitive here:50 “(one) from the apostles.” Several other verbs that occur with ἀπό, perhaps as a marker of the agent, can be analyzed as involving either a source or origin that overlaps, either partially or completely, either with a person, who could be the agent of that action, or with an inanimate noun, which could be the cause of that action. The place of origin and a personal agent also overlap in 1Thess 1:8: ἀφ’ ὑμῶν γὰρ ἐξήχηται ὁ λόγος τοῦ κυρίου οὐ μόνον ἐν τῇ Μακεδονίᾳ καὶ [ἐν τῇ] Ἀχαΐᾳ, ἀλλ’ ἐν παντὶ τόπῳ ἡ πίστις ὑμῶν ἡ πρὸς τὸν θεὸν ἐξελήλυθεν . . . (1Thess 1:8) For from you the word of the Lord has sounded forth, not only in Macedonia and Achaea, but in every place your faith in God has gone forth . . .

The perfect indicative form ἐξήχηται could be middle (as in my translation above) or passive (as in LSJ, s.v., I). With a middle verb, the prepositional phrase ἀφ’ ὑμῶν would indicate the origin, but it would indicate the agent with a passive verb. Danker 48 See BDAG, 486–87, for the ten bearers of this name in the New Testament. 49 BDAG, 122, also lists Acts 15.2, which does not seem relevant. The implicit association in 1Cor 9:5–6 might be adduced. 50 See n. 26 above.

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labels this form as passive and gives a passive definition “be caused to sound forth”, but an active gloss: “ring out.”51 The context, and ἐξελήλυθεν in particular, clearly involves the spread of a message from a location (representing a people, in this instance). The extent to which the Thessalonians were agents of that spreading is left as an option. It seems that such overlap between an origin and a cause can be seen also in a prepositional phrase consisting of ἀπό and an inanimate noun. Acts 11:19 concerns those scattered or dispersed by the trouble that arose in relation to Stephen: οἱ μὲν οὖν διασπαρέντες ἀπὸ τῆς θλίψεως τῆς γενομένης ἐπὶ Στεφάνῳ (ἀπὸ Στεφάνου Codex Bezae). The prepositional phrase introduces the trouble as the cause, when it is taken closely with the aorist passive participle διασπαρέντες. However, with the main verb that follows (διῆλθον), the preposition itself also marks the location away from which they traveled by reference to an event, the trouble that arose in relation to Stephen. The use of ἀπό with αἰσχύνομαι may be explained, if a notion of separation or exclusion is present in the event of being put to shame. ἵνα . . . μὴ αἰσχυνθῶμεν ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ ἐν τῇ παρουσίᾳ αὐτοῦ. (1John 2:28) in order that we may not be put to shame by him on (or, “at”) his arrival.

Here, translators resort to renderings, such as “before him at his coming” (NIV and NRSV), which seem very far from the function of ἀπό in general. However, the extent to which “to be put to shame” involves being excluded is the extent to which ἀπό introduces the person by whom one is excluded and from whom one is excluded to be placed in a state or place of shame. Although there are no parallels for the collocation of αἰσχύνομαι with ἀπό in the Greek of the New Testament, the Septuagint provides some comparable passages.52 In particular, Sir 41:17a involves ἀπό introducing a person followed by another prepositional phrase that explains the reason for that shame. αἰσχύνεσθε ἀπὸ τοῦ πατρὸς καὶ μητρὸς περὶ πορνείας (Sir 41:17a) You should be put to shame by your father and mother in relation to your fornication

However, the interpretation of this collocation is complicated in that the prepositional phrases with ἀπό that follow (41:18–26) involve reasons for shame as well as people and a place (41:19b). In Jer 12:13 (ἐναντὶ κυρίου), the person in relation to whom shame is felt is not marked by ἀπό. Instead, there the preposition introduces the reasons for that shame: ἀπὸ καυχήσεως ὑμῶν and ἀπὸ ὀνειδισμοῦ.

51 BDAG, 350. 52 These instances are from BDAG, 30, who also cites Isa 1:29 (Codices Vaticanus and [altered] Sinaiticus, among others; apparently the rendering of Aquila, Symmachus, and Theodotion).

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Luke 12:58 presents an instance of ἀπό that is particularly complex to analyze, since several points of difficulty are found together. ὡς γὰρ ὑπάγεις μετὰ τοῦ ἀντιδίκου σου ἐπ’ ἄρχοντα, ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ δὸς ἐργασίαν ἀπηλλάχθαι ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ, . . . (Luke 12:58) For when you go with your adversary to the magistrate, on the road make an effort to be released by him (or: “from him”), . . .

In addition to the question of the meaning of ἀπό indicated in the translation above, there is also variation about the presence itself of the preposition ἀπό.53 The absence,  perhaps only accidental, of the preposition in Codex Vaticanus calls for consideration, even though there is strong evidence in favor of the preposition being original and not a late addition (Papyri 45 and 75 and Codices Sinaiticus, Alexandrinus, Bezae, and Washingtonianus). However, without the preposition, the text can be construed and does not have the ambiguity present in the text as generally accepted: the genitive αὐτοῦ would be governed by the preverb ἀπ- and release from the adversary would be the point. That meaning is possible with the preposition present to indicate the relationship of αὐτοῦ to the verb and to reinforce the notion of separation expressed by the preverb (ἀπ-). (It is also possible that αὐτοῦ should be taken as the local adverb “here, there,” i.e., “on the road.”)54 However, it is also possible that ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ expresses the direct agent. The reason for making this effort is to be released by (and from) the adversary himself and to avoid the involvement of a judge and a bailiff. Other occurrences of ἀπό are grammatically or syntactically ambiguous in that they involve a passive verb and a noun that could refer to an agent, but such ambiguity is resolved by the sense of the context. In Matt 9:15, grammar allows for the bridegroom to be removed by sons of the bride chamber, since ἀπ’ αὐτῶν could indicate the agent of the passive verb. μὴ δύνανται οἱ υἱοὶ τοῦ νυμφῶνος πενθεῖν ἐφ’ ὅσον μετ’ αὐτῶν ἐστιν ὁ νυμφίος; ἐλεύσονται δὲ ἡμέραι ὅταν ἀπαρθῇ ἀπ’ αὐτῶν ὁ νυμφίος . . . (Matt 9:15) “Are the sons of the bride chamber able to mourn while the bridegroom is with them? No. Days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them . . .

However, the point is the contrast between his presence with them (μετ᾽ αὐτῶν) and his subsequent separation from them.55 In Rev 14:4, grammar again allows for the people,

53 Codex Bezae adds another variant, ἀπαλλαγῆναι, an aorist passive infinitive, which has no impact on the semantic and syntactic analysis of this verse here. 54 BDAG, 154, provides examples. 55 Luke 8:18 involves the same verb and, again, the context excludes the possibility of ἀπό introducing the agent. Cf. too Luke 9:33,45; 19:42; John 12:36; Rom 15:31; and 2Thess 3:6. In Eph 4:31, the removal could be either from the addressees or by them.

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οἱ ἄνθρωποι, to be the purchasers of these παρθένοι and, as such, the preposition ἀπό would mark τῶν ἀνθρώπων as an agent. οὗτοί εἰσιν οἳ μετὰ γυναικῶν οὐκ ἐμολύνθησαν, παρθένοι γάρ εἰσιν, οὗτοι οἱ ἀκολουθοῦντες τῷ ἀρνίῳ ὅπου ἂν ὑπάγῃ. οὗτοι ἠγοράσθησαν ἀπὸ τῶν ἀνθρώπων ἀπαρχὴ τῷ θεῷ καὶ τῷ ἀρνίῳ, . . . (Rev 14:4) These are those who had not defiled themselves with women (they are chaste, you see) – these are the ones who follow the Lamb wherever he goes. These were purchased from (among) people as the firstfruits for God and for the Lamb . . .

However, since the context specifies a subset of humanity, the preposition and the genitive together have a partitive function or, perhaps, the separation of that subset from the whole of humanity. Revelation 5:9 with the active of this verb (and a prepositional phrase with ἐκ) and, then, the prepositional phrase ἀπὸ τῆς γῆς with the perfect passive of this same verb in Rev 14:3 should be compared. The potential for ambiguity is less in those instances, such as ἴαται ἀπὸ τῆς μάστιγος (Mark 5:29), in which the noun in the prepositional phrase is inanimate. Although ὑπό could be used with the genitive of an inanimate noun (cf. LSJ, s.v., A II 3), the μάστιξ here must be the affliction (a figurative scourge), not a whip (a literal scourge), as the cause of the healing. In the report of the event in Jesus’s words, ἴσθι ὑγιὴς ἀπὸ τῆς μάστιγος (Mark 5.34), in the absence of a verb, agency is out of the question. In addition to the curiosity of a whip or scourge as the cause of this healing, the cause of the healing is presented explicitly by ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε (“Your faith has made you well” Mark 5:34). The ambiguity may also lie in the nature of the particular verb at the time of the New Testament. Τhe meanings “from” and “by” are possible for ἀπό after ἐγενήθη in 1Cor 1:30: ἐξ αὐτοῦ δὲ ὑμεῖς ἐστε ἐν Χριστῷ Ἰησοῦ, ὃς ἐγενήθη σοφία ἡμῖν ἀπὸ θεοῦ, δικαιοσύνη τε καὶ ἁγιασμὸς καὶ ἀπολύτρωσις. And from him, you are in Christ Jesus, who became wisdom for us from God, both righteousness and holiness and redemption. (1Cor 1:30)

As translated, the passive form ἐγενήθη (contrast the middle form ἐγένετο in, e.g., John 1:14) has a middle meaning, “became, came to be.” However, a passive meaning “was made (to be)” is possible and, on that basis, ἀπό would mark the agent or the cause. Since ἀπό is found with γίγνομαι as early as Herodotus and the passive form ἐγενήθη is suppletive (at most) and not a true passive, ἀπό marks the source or origin here rather than the agent.56

56 This analysis follows George, Expressions of Agency, 225.

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A different question of construal arises when the notion of fear is expressed either by the verb or by the prepositional phrase. The verb φοβέομαι is middle-passive in form and, as Luke 12:5 illustrates three times, can be transitive and, as such, it is glossed as “I fear.” μὴ φοβηθῆτε ἀπὸ τῶν ἀποκτεινόντων τὸ σῶμα καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα μὴ ἐχόντων περισσότερόν τι ποιῆσαι. ὑποδείξω δὲ ὑμῖν τίνα φοβηθῆτε· φοβήθητε τὸν μετὰ τὸ ἀποκτεῖναι ἔχοντα ἐξουσίαν ἐμβαλεῖν εἰς τὴν γέενναν· ναί, λέγω ὑμῖν, τοῦτον φοβήθητε. (Luke 12:4–5) Do not be afraid because of those who kill the body and afterwards are not able to do any more. I will show you whom you should fear. You should fear the one who after killing you has authority to throw you into Gehenna. Yes, I say to you, you should fear this one.

A strict treatment of passive forms (in the absence of a direct object) as passive in meaning would allow for ἀπό to introduce an agent for the aorist passive imperative φοβηθῆτε in Luke 12:4. Indeed, earlier in the history of Greek, the verb concerned motion in flight and not only the emotion of fear itself. It had meant “be put to flight.”57 Although such a meaning is unlikely by the time of the Greek of the New Testament, it would allow ἀπό not only to mark the personal agent who causes the flight, but even to mark that from which one flees. That said, such a function of ἀπό is likely to be the result of Semitic influence, as LSJ treats Luke 12:4, and its parallel Matt 10:28 (s.v. “φοβέω,” B II 2): “to be afraid of one (prob[ably] a Hebraism).” These two parallel passages that present a saying of Jesus seem to be the only instances in the Greek of the New Testament, but plenty can be adduced from the Septuagint.58 Still, we can see how this collocation would be analyzed as Greek, since the use of ἀπό to mark the cause of an action, event, or state of affairs is well established in the Greek of the New Testament. In particular, the prepositional phrase ἀπὸ φόβου in Luke 21:26 (ἀπὸ τοῦ φόβου in Matt 14:26; and 28:4) illustrates neatly ἀπό marking a cause59 and can be regarded as a functional equivalent of other expressions of fear as a cause, such as the (instrumental) dative φόβῳ μεγάλῳ (Luke 8:37) or the prepositional phrase διὰ τὸν φόβον (John 19:38; and Rev 18:10,15). It seems to have been possible in Classical Greek to qualify a verb of emotion, such as the passive of εὐφραίνω, with ἀπό, although examples are not plentiful.60

57 For examples, see LSJ, s.v. “φοβέω,” Α Ι and B I. 58 GELS, 718, s.v. “φοβέομαι,” 1 and 3 reports examples akin, respectively, to LSJ’s Jer 1:8 (ἀπὸ προσώπου); and Lev 26:2. 59 As an alternative, ἀπὸ φόβου may restate the ἀπο- of ἀποψυχόντων, the verb that introduces the phrase, in which case φόβου would refer to the cause or source of fear, that which is feared. That contextual factor is absent in Matt 14:26 and 28:4. 60 LSJ, s.v. “εὐφραίνω,” II.

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Although the spatial or local use of ὑπό with a genitive has no place in the Greek of the New Testament,61 and, indeed, had been replaced by ὑπό with an accusative or by ὑποκάτω with a genitive,62 agentival uses of ὑπό with a genitive are plentiful.63 However, in some passages, such as Matt 8:24, the interaction of ὑπό with a genitive seems to involve a spatial thought, if not a spatial function. καὶ ἰδοὺ σεισμὸς μέγας ἐγένετο ἐν τῇ θαλάσσῃ, ὥστε τὸ πλοῖον καλύπτεσθαι ὑπὸ τῶν κυμάτων· (Matt 8:24) And look: there was a huge wave in the sea such that the boat was being covered by (and so: “under”) the waves.64

When the stern of a ship was being broken apart in Acts 27:41 ὑπὸ τῆς βίας (“by” or “under the force [of the waves]”),65 we may imagine the waves to be towering over the ship, which is then under the force (of the waves).66 The “reed shaken by the wind” (κάλαμον ὑπὸ ἀνέμου σαλευόμενον) in Matt 11:7 may similarly be envisaged as “under (the weight or force of) the wind.” However, the worries, wealth, and pleasures of life, by which some plants are suffocated (ὑπὸ μεριμνῶν καὶ πλούτου καὶ ἡδονῶν τοῦ βίου [. . .] συμπνίγονται: Luke 8:14), as such, are pictured as surrounding and constricting those plants (cf. ἀπέπνιξαν “they choked” Luke 8:7). If the prepositional phrase instead belongs with πορευόμενοι (“as they go”; the ellipsis in the quotation of Luke 8:14 above), “under” the weight of worries, wealth, and life’s pleasures comes into mind. That “by” becomes “because (of)” if the prepositional phrase is also construed with the verb in the next part of the sentence, καὶ οὐ τελεσφοροῦσιν (“and they do not come to full fruition”). Instances either of ἀπό or of ὑπό that involve uncertainty about the constitution of the text show that the situation is more complex than a simple interchange from either ἀπό and ὑπό to the other.67 At Luke 8:29; 9:22; Acts 10:17; and 15:4, ὑπό is found in some

61 Cf. LSJ, s.v., A I 2 (“it is not found at all in Th., LXX, Ptolemaic Papyri, and NT”). 62 Note the minimal pair formed by John 1:49 (ὑπό a fig-tree) and John 1:50 (ὑποκάτω the same figtree). The very nonclassical Revelation always has ὑποκάτω. See Turner, Style, 77 and 145–159. 63 E.g., Matt 1:22 for an animate agent (ὑπὸ κυρίου “by the Lord”) and Jas 3:4 for an inanimate, but material, instrument or agent (ὑπὸ ἐλαχίστου πηδαλίου “by a very small rudder”). 64 Codex Vaticanus was altered here from ὑπό to ἀπό, which rules out “under.” However, the evidence for ὑπό, whatever its meaning, as the original reading is strong: Codices Sinaiticus, (unaltered) Vaticanus, Ephraemi Rescriptus, and Washingtonianus. 65 Some witnesses have only ὑπὸ τῆς βίας (“because of the force”: e.g., Codices Sinaiticus (unaltered), Alexandrinus, and Vaticanus) or only ὑπὸ τῶν κυμάτων (“by” or “under the waves,” e.g., 044), but the Majority Text has ὑπὸ τῆς βίας τῶν κυμάτων, as found in Papyrus 74 and in Codex Sinaiticus (altered from ἀπό to ὑπό by 012). One minuscule, 629, has ὑπὸ τῆς βίας τῶν ἀνέμων, “under” or “because of the force of the winds.” 66 The NIV translates with such an image: “so that the waves swept over the boat.” 67 The data here were collected through Moulton, Geden, and Marshall, Concordance, 86–92 and 1062–64; and George, Expressions of Agency, 243–45.

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witnesses in place of the accepted reading ἀπό. In Luke 9:22; and Acts 10:17, the other reading (with ὑπό) is confined to Codex Bezae. However, instead of ἀπό, we find παρά in some witnesses (e.g., at Matt 20:20; and [Mark] 16:9) or ἐκ (e.g., at Mark 9:9; and Luke 15:16). At Luke 13:12, some witnesses give the genitive without a preposition at all. At Rom 13:1, Codex Claromontanus (06) was altered from ἀπό to ὑπό. Instead of ἐπί with τοῦ ἡγεμόνος (Matt 28:14), Codices Vaticanus and Bezae, among others, have ὑπό. Before attempting a sketch an answer to our two questions, there are two dangers of interpretation to address. The first danger involves evaluating the situation in the middle of the development of the Greek language exclusively, or predominantly, from its end in Modern Greek. The second danger involves using an explanation that suits data at one periphery of the Greek-speaking world to explain the linguistic situation either in another periphery or as a whole. The first danger is that of fast-forwarding from first-century Greek to Modern Greek by using the latter to explain the former. Although the Greek of today (but in the literature often that of the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries), is certainly closer to that of the New Testament than Classical Greek is to Greek today, we must remember the temporal interval between the writing of the New Testament and the modern language. Modern Greek does not have ὑπό, but only ἀπό instead, not only as a preverb, but also in nominal compounds, such as ἀπομονή (“perseverance”), which has replaced the ancient word ὑπομονή and is unattested in Classical Greek. (On the basis of ἀπομένω, in Classical Greek *ἀπομονή would have to mean “remaining at a distance, remaining behind,” not “remaining under (some affliction), standing one’s ground.”) Indeed, it is very plausible that the use of ἀπό to introduce an agent in the New Testament is a foreshadowing of the loss of ὑπό in that function, but in the New Testament text we have an opportunity to study synchronic variation and an obligation to understand such variation even when a diachronic explanation is forthcoming. The second danger is that of taking a hypothesis, such as Latin interference on Greek, however plausible in itself, as an explanation that holds true for postclassical Greek as a whole. A. N. Jannaris68 asserted that instances of ἀπό to introduce an agent were all the result of Latin interference or influence. The use of ἀπό to introduce an agent recalls that of Latin ab (with the ablative case) in the same function, while the Latin counterpart of ὑπό in its local or spatial functions is sub. (Both Greek ἀπό and Latin ab have a common origin that is reflected also in Sanskrit ápa and English “of,” as in Article 24 of the Thirty-Nine Articles of the Church of England: “in a tongue not understanded of the people)69 It is plausible that Latin speakers would use ἀπό in their Greek to introduce an agent on the basis that it is the counterpart of ab in its local and spatial functions. Indeed, Georgios Hatzidakis cited an

68 Jannaris, Grammar, 369–70. 69 Cf. the KJV at 1Cor 1:30, and the phrase “sent of heaven” in the hymn “Rock of Ages” by Augustus Toplady.

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epigraphic example (reedited as IG XII 7, 4.1–3 [Phocis, Delphi]):70 Α. Μάριον Νέπωτα Αἰγιαλεινόν, τετ[ει-]μη|μένον ἀπὸ τῆς Κορινθίων βουλῆς τ[ει]|μαῖς βουλευτικαῖς καὶ ἀ[γ]ορανομικαῖς. A Latin context is suggested by the Latin names, and, indeed, the full tria nomina of Roman citizens, of the dedicatee and dedicators (A[ulus] Marius Nepos of Corinth and, in lines 4–5, Julia Aegiala of Delphi). However, there is no compelling corroborative evidence and as counterevidence the syntax (the accusative of the honorand)71 is Greek. Here, ἀπό as a marker of an agent could be the result of Latin influence or could reflect a development within Greek. Without indications of a Latin context and evidence of Latin influence or interference in the texts under investigation, Jannaris’s assertion remains only a hypothesis and one that may be irrelevant to the texts and instances of ἀπό under investigation. Coulter George convincingly refuted Jannaris’s assertion of phonetic confusion of ἀπό and ὑπό, noting also that ab was, like ex, being challenged by the preposition de in the period in which Jannaris claimed that this contact-induced change was taking place.72 Also in that period, it was παρά that grew stronger at the expense of ὑπό, not ἀπό.73 The nature of the first danger, zooming-out and fast-forwarding through almost two millennia of linguistic development and variation has been further clarified by this consideration of the second danger. The replacement of ὑπό by ἀπό is one of several phenomena that can be observed when we zoom-in on periods of postclassical Greek more tightly and the validity of any explanation that is proposed must be assessed for its applicability to the particular texts, and to the instances of ἀπό, that are under consideration.

Conclusion Two related questions were framed in this study of instances of ἀπό that may introduce an agent: 1. What factors influenced, or determined, the choice of ἀπό instead of ὑπό by a speaker or a writer of Greek either as a first-language (L1) or as a second-language (L2)? In other words, can we understand their choices? 2. On what criteria can we decide at points where some textual witnesses attest ἀπό, but others attest ὑπό? In other words, can we understand the selection of one

70 George, Expressions of Agency, 226 n. 4. 71 For this structure as a sign of interference or influence on Latin from Greek, see J. N. Adams, Bilingualism and the Latin Language (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 37, 103, 254–55, 260, 650–51, and 658–61. 72 George, Expressions of Agency, 226–27. 73 See George, 227 (with his n. 7) and 246–63. See also the comments above on the variant reading at Acts 10:33.

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preposition instead of the other so well that we can rule out from the text as variously transmitted one preposition in a given context? In answer to the first question, the suggestion that ἀπό functions as a marker of an indirect agent in various passages has been challenged on the basis of a close reading of the contexts (especially in relation to Jas 1:13–14) and by arguing (especially in relation to Luke 9:22) in favor of ἀπό being prompted by the presence of the notion of separation either in the simple verb itself or in its prefix (or preverb). Several explanations can be considered for the attestations of ὑπό as a variant reading for ἀπό as an alleged indirect-agent marker, as in Codex Sinaiticus at Jas 1:13. If, as seems unlikely, ἀπό marks an indirect agent in Jas 1:13, the existence of ὑπό suggests either that the function of ἀπό as an indirect agent marker was not readily recognized or that ἀπό was not established as a marker of an indirect agent exclusively in contrast to ὑπό as the marker of direct agents exclusively. It may simply be the case that ὑπό could be used in such a context because, as I have argued, indirect agency was not the point there. The appearance of ὑπό in this context may reflect either a classicizing impulse to “correct” ἀπό or a harmonization (whether intentional or subconscious) with the prevailing use of ὑπό with πειράζομαι, unless the reading ὑπό is entirely accidental. Attestations of ὑπό as a variant reading for ἀπό with a verb that involves a notion of separation (as in Codex Bezae at Luke 9:22) could have arisen when the notion of separation was not recognized as significant and ἀπό was seen as a nonclassical alternative that could, or should, be “corrected” to ὑπό. In the case of Rev 21:2, ἀπό is secure, but a change of modern editorial punctuation, on the basis of Rev 21:10, removes the possibility of ἀπό as a marker of an agent of either kind. We have found that the examples of ἀπό that could mark agents tend to be found with verbs that involve some notion of separation. That notion of separation is often expressed by the preposition (or preverb) ἀπο-. Both the kind of verb and whether it is itself prefixed are important factors. The preposition ἀπό often occurs when the agent and a point of departure are coreferential and that is the occasion for the overlap between ἀπό and ὑπό. That is, the kind of noun introduced by the preposition is also an important factor. To answer the second question, ὑπό as a poorly attested variant in such contexts could be explained as an attempt to disambiguate between the agent (and so the authority) and a point of departure. The use of ἀπό with passive verbs was also approached from a different angle, namely passages in which ἀπό as an agent marker with a passive verb is grammatically possible, but, in the context, results in nonsense. The general picture is both that there are passages in which ἀπό with a passive verb has to involve the notion of separation and agency is impossible and that there are passages in which ἀπό may be an agent marker, but remains able, and, perhaps, is more likely, to involve the notion of separation. The preposition ἀπό remained primarily a marker of separation, but one that could convey a secondary notion of agency as an extension of its function of marking a source or an origin. Passages in which ἀπό has to introduce an agent are

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rare (e.g., Jas 1:13) and their textual transmission often is such that ἀπό cannot be said beyond reasonable doubt to be the original reading. Some occurrences of ἀπό that have been adduced as markers of an agent, such as 1Macc 9:15 and Acts 4:36, have been reassessed and analyzed instead as instances of ἀπό in its function of marking a partitive genitive. Instances of ὑπό in some witnesses, such as Codex Bezae at Acts 4:36, could have arisen when the partitive function of ἀπό was not recognized and ἀπό was seen as a nonclassical alternative to ὑπό and an alternative that could be “corrected.” More research remains to be undertaken on what we can discern from variation units that involve a choice between ἀπό and ὑπό and that involve other prepositions as well as a choice between ἀπό and ὑπό.

Bibliography Adams, J. N. Bilingualism and the Latin Language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Aland, Kurt, Matthew Black, Carlo M. Martini, Bruce M. Metzger, and Allen Wikgren. The Greek New Testament, 2nd ed. Stuttgart: Württemberg Bible Society, 1968. Autenrieth, Georg. Homeric Dictionary for Use in Schools and Colleges, translated by Robert Keep. London: Duckworth Press, 2000. Beekes, Robert S. P., and Lucian van Beek. Etymological Dictionary of Greek. Leiden Indo-European Etymological Dictionary Series 10. Leiden: Brill, 2009. Blass, Friedrich, Albert Debrunner, and Robert W. Funk. A Greek Grammar of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961. Bortone, Pietro. Greek Prepositions from Antiquity to the Present. Oxford Linguistics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. Bowen, Anthony J. Xenophon: Symposium. Classical Texts. Warminister: Aris & Phillips, 1998. Buck, Carl Darling. The Greek Dialects: Grammar, Selected Inscriptions, Glossary. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1955. Chadwick, John. Lexicographica Graeca: Contributions of the Lexicography of Ancient Greek. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996. Colvin, Stephen. A Historical Greek Reader: Mycenaean to the Koiné. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007. Cox, Claude E. “Job.” In T&T Clark Companion to the Septuagint, edited by James K. Aitken, 385–400. London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2015. Cunliffe, Richard J. A Lexicon of the Homeric Dialect. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1963. Davids, Peter H. “The Meaning of ΑΠΕΙΡΑΣΤΟΣ in James I. 13.” NTS 24, no. 3 (1978): 386–92. Diggle, James, B. L. Fraser, P. James, O. B. Simkin, A. A. Thompson, and S. J. Westripp, eds. The Cambridge Greek Lexicon. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2021. Dines, Jennifer. The Septuagint. Understanding the Bible and its World. London: T&T Clark, 2004. Edwards, G. M. The Anabasis of Xenophon Book IV. Cambridge Elementary Classics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1898. George, Coulter H. Expressions of Agency in Ancient Greek. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. Glare, Peter G. W., ed. The Oxford Latin Dictionary. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968–1982.

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Harris, Murray J. Prepositions and Theology in the Greek New Testament: An Essential Reference Resource for Exegesis. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2012. Horrocks, Geoffrey. Greek: A History of the Language and its Speakers, 2nd ed. Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010. Hult, Karin. Syntactic Variation in Greek of the 5th Century A.D. Studia Graeca et Latina Gothoburgensia 52. Göteborg: Acta Universitatis Gothoburgensis, 1990. Jannaris, Antonios N. An Historical Greek Grammar Chiefly on the Attic Dialect. London: Macmillan, 1897. Johannessohn, Martin. Der Gebrauch der Präpositionen in der Septuaginta. MSU 3.1. Berlin: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung, 1918. Kappler, Werner. Maccabaeorum liber 1. SVTG 9.1. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1936. Kuhring, Gualtherus. De Praepositionum Graecarum Chartis Aegyptiis Usu Quaestiones Selectae. Bonn: Carolus Georgus, 1906. Lee, John A. L. A Lexical Study of the Septuagint Version of the Pentateuch. SCS 14. Chico, CA: Scholars Press. Lee, John A. L. “A Note on Septuagint Material in the Supplement to Liddell and Scott.” Glotta 47 (1969): 234–42. Marchant, E. C. Xenophontis opera omnia: Tomus III; Expeditio Cyri. OCT. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1904. Marshall, J. Xenophon, Anabasis Book IV, Part 2. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1892. Moir, Ian A. Codex Climaci Rescriptus Graecus. TS 2. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1956. Moulton, William F., Alfred S. Geden, and I. Howard Marshall. Concordance to the Greek New Testament. 6th ed. London: T&T Clark, 2002. Naber, Samuel Adrianus. “ΥΠΕΡ ΤΑ ΕΣΚΑΜΜΕΝΑ.” Mnemosyne NS 6 (1878): 85–104. Pretor, A. The Anabasis of Xenophon: Volume 2. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1881. Rahlfs, Alfred. Septuaginta: Id est Vetus Testamentum graece iuxta LXX interpretes. Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1935. Riemann, O. “K. Meisterhans, Grammatik der attischen Inschriften (Berlin, 1885).” Revue de Philologie 9 (1885): 169–84. Rossberg, Conradus. De Praepositionum Graecarum in Chartis Aegyptiis Ptolemaeorum Aetatis Usu. Jena: Neuenhahn, 1909. Schwyzer, Eduard. Zum persönlichen Agens beim Passiv, besonders im Griechischen. Berlin: Akademie der Wissenschaften, in Kommission bei Walter de Gruyter, 1943. Sihler, Andrew L. New Comparative Grammar of Greek and Latin. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995. Sommerstein, Alan H. Aristophanes: Wasps. Warminster: Aris & Phillips, 1983. Steadman, Geoffrey. Xenophon’s Anabasis Book IV. Geoffrey Steadman, 2018. https:// geoffreysteadman.files.wordpress.com/2018/07/xenoanabasis4-26july18.pdf. Stone, E. D. Xenophon’s Anabasis Book IV. London: Macmillan, 1890. Swete, Henry B. The Old Testament in Greek according to the Septuagint. 3 vols. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1887–1894. Thackeray, Henry St. John. A Grammar of the Old Testament in Greek according to the Septuagint. Vol. 1, Introduction, Orthography and Accidence. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1909. Turner, Nigel. A Grammar of New Testament Greek. Volume IV, Style. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1976. Wackernagel, Jacob. Hellenistica. Göttingen: Officina Dieterichiana, 1907. Zervos, George T. “1 Makkabees.” In A New English Translation of the Septuagint, edited by Albert Pietersma and Benjamin G. Wright, 478–502. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007. Ziegler, Joseph. Iob. SVTG 11.4. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1982.

Rachel E. Aubrey and Michael G. Aubrey

4 Spatial Profiling: ἐκ, ἀπό, and Their Entailments in Postclassical Greek 4.1 Introduction One way to describe Greek prepositions like ἐκ and ἀπό is to begin with simple English glosses: ἐκ “out of”; ἀπό “from, away from.” While this may provide a convenient shorthand, it does little for understanding how prepositions function in the Greek language, what spatial relations they mediate (e.g., contact, container, path), and what consequences these have on more abstract expressions (e.g., time, cause, and effect). Likewise, it says nothing of how synchronic patterns in postclassical Greek are situated within diachronic shifts, or what functional elements (e.g., control, distance) may be associated with ἐκ and ἀπό through sustained use.1 It is precisely these spatial dimensions that form the basis for the present description. We aim to delineate the basic schematic structure of ἐκ and ἀπό, along with their primary usage patterns, and how more abstract expressions are motivated by their spatial grounding. As with all prepositions, the semantic nature of ἐκ and ἀπό is predicated on a set of relationships in space between a Trajector and a Landmark.2 Prepositions mediate or encode spatial scenes in which a Trajector and Landmark are in some spatial configuration relative to one another. These spatial scenes rely on image schemas, or gestalt patterns that emerge from human experience in space.3 One image schema reflected in the meaning of the preposition ἐκ is the container schema. Humans understand containment as an experiential gestalt in everyday existence:4 We go into and out of containers where we are surrounded by boundaries. We put things into and take things out of containers to organize our lives. This underlies the concept of “where things go”; objects have source containers where they come out of when in use.

1 See Maria Brenda, “3.5.2 Functional Elements,” in The Cognitive Perspective on The Polysemy of the English Spatial Preposition Over (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2014), 232–38. 2 Both terms are common in cognitive linguistic literature, though figure and ground are also used. See John R. Taylor, Cognitive Grammar, Oxford Textbooks in Linguistics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 206. 3 Image schemas are “simple structures that constantly recur in our everyday bodily experience: container, paths, links, forces, balance, and in various orientations and relations: up-down, frontback, part-whole, center-periphery, etc.” (George Lakoff, Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things: What Categories Reveal about the Mind [Chicago: University Press, 1987], 267). 4 See Raymond W. Gibbs Jr., “The Psychological Status of Image Schemas,” in From Perception to Meaning: Image Schemas in Cognitive Linguistics, ed. Beate Hampe and Joseph E. Grady (Berlin: De Gruyter Mouton, 2005), 113–35. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110777895-004

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Two primary dimensions that underlie these spatial scenes are place and path. The former defines the location or position of the Trajector with respect to the Landmark; the Trajector may be on/in/under/over the Landmark. The latter defines the movement of the Trajector in the spatial configuration (e.g., motion toward/away, or no motion at all).5 Note that in both cases, the spatial status of the Trajector is defined with reference to the Landmark because it is the Landmark that serves as the stable point of reference in the context of communication. In talking about place, we are interested in three variables: direction, orientation, and distance.6 Distance denotes the relative amount of space between the Landmark and Trajector. This can range from a substantial amount of distance, very far, to no distance at all, where the Trajector is either in contact with the Landmark or entirely enveloped by it. Direction describes the relative position of the Trajector as facing toward or away from the Landmark, where the positional axis is centered in the directional bearing of the Trajector. For example, earth, as a Trajector, rotates on its axis with reference to the sun, as a Landmark, where the continents on earth are either in daylight, facing toward the sun or in the shadow of night facing away from the sun. Similarly, the seasons are determined by earth’s axial position relative to the sun, where winter is the tilt away and summer the tilt toward. Orientation describes the position of the Trajector as beside/above/below/in/near, and so forth relative to the Landmark, where the positional axis is centered in the Landmark. Continuing with the solar system analogy, orientation involves the orbits of planets, comets, and asteroids in their relative positions circling the sun. The conceptualization of path is primarily framed in terms of motion relative to the Landmark. A Trajector might not have a path at all. It might be in a static location with no movement, such that its path is effectively a point rather than a line. A Trajector might be moving toward its Landmark or away from its Landmark. A Trajector could be passing by the Landmark with no implication of source or goal. Path is thus framed as the motion or lack of motion involved in place. These spatial relations, as mediated by the prepositions, have consequences for how the prepositions are used, not only spatially, but also how they are extended into nonspatial domains. For clarification, these are not meant to be features  – components of meaning wherein the right bundle brought together produces the meaning of a preposition. Instead, they represent cognitive concepts grounded in human experience of space

5 Peter de Swart, Hanne M. Eckhoff, and Olga Thomason, “A Source of Variation: A Corpus-Based Study of the Choice between ἀπό and ἐκ in the NT Greek Gospels,” Journal of Greek Linguistics 12, no. 1 (2012): 161–62, DOI: 10.1163/156658412X649760. 6 Günter Radden and René Dirven, Cognitive English Grammar, Cognitive Linguistics in Practice 2 (Amsterdam: John Benjamins 2007), 307–10.

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and embodiment.7 It is within this context that the usage of ἐκ and ἀπό are identical (or nearly so) in their prototypical usage for most of these characteristics. Both profile a Trajector’s path of motion away from a source Landmark. This naturally results in a direction facing away from the Landmark and creates distance between Trajector and Landmark. Where they differ is in the Trajector’s starting point. For ἐκ, the Trajector’s path begins from within the Landmark. Thus, in its source location it is both in contact with the Landmark and surrounded by it. Ἀπό specifies no such containment or contact for the relationship between Trajector and Landmark. The starting point is indefinite, neither identifiable nor specific from the standpoint of the prepositional phrase.8 These similarities and differences are represented in two schemas in Figure 4.1.

Figure 4.1: Basic schemas for ἐκ (left) and ἀπό (right).

4.2 ἐκ and ἀπό in Historical Context Usage patterns of ἐκ and ἀπό in the New Testament era exist within a larger historical context. By the first century CE, ἐκ and ἀπό have already experienced two thousand years of history. Both can be traced back to Proto-Indo-European, ἐκ from *h1ǵʰ-s “out” and ἀπό from *h2epo “from.”9 As noted, their prototypical functions already overlap in Homeric Greek, though they differ with respect to their Landmark. In this case, ἐκ profiles the container schema with a bounded Landmark in its conceptualization. That is, because the Trajector emerges from the interior of the Landmark and has direct contact with it, the Landmark sustains an element of control over the

7 Claude Vandeloise, “Are There Spatial Prepositions?,” in Space in Languages: Linguistic Systems and Cognitive Categories, ed. Maya Hickmann and Stéphane Robert, TSL 66 (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2006), 137–54. 8 This does not preclude such information being provided by the larger clause/discourse context. 9 Robert Beekes, Etymological Dictionary of Greek, vol. 1, Leiden Indo-European Etymological Dictionary Series 10.1 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 117, 433.

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Trajector’s point of origin and emergence.10 This is not the case for ἀπό. With ἀπό, the Landmark merely serves as a point of orientation for the motion of the Trajector. As a result of these differences, in Homer, ἐκ and ἀπό are very nearly in complimentary distribution. Each shows clear preferences for Landmarks of a particular type.11 For example, ἐκ demonstrates a preference for toponym Landmarks, particularly those that can be easily construed as surrounding a Trajector (e.g., cities). In this vein, ἐκ is exclusively used when a ship is the Landmark. Likewise, ἀπό shows a preference for motion verbs and Trajector-Landmark pairs where the Landmark is viewed (based on encyclopedic knowledge) as the natural or expected origin of the now distant Trajector.12 As a basic pattern for Homeric usage, ἐκ is preferred for Trajector-Landmark relations that involve containment, where a Trajector emerges from within a surrounding Landmark, though this guideline grows fuzzy with age. In the Classical period, the general pattern for ἐκ and ἀπό evinces a progressive semantic generalization of ἀπό from its use for noncontainer Landmarks to an unmarked status for Landmark structure. While this process is not fully complete in the Classical era, by late Byzantine and Medieval Greek, Pietro Bortone reports that ἐκ had effectively dropped out of use and that ἀπό had encompassed all uses. Bortone observes that when ἐκ does appear, it functions as a formal, archaic version of ἀπό that contributes more to the status and style of a text than a difference in semantic content.13 The focus of the present account spans the intervening period, with particular attention to the status of ἐκ and ἀπό in Hellenistic and early Roman era Greek. The goal is to trace the broad outlines of their usage in this era, with Silvia Luraghi’s14 description of classical era usage serving as a baseline or starting point from which to continue. In this account, priority is given to their schematic structure, especially as it enables further metaphoric extensions.15

10 Silvia Luraghi, On the Meaning of Prepositions and Cases: The Expression of Semantic Roles in Ancient Greek, SLCS 67 (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2003), 95. 11 Luraghi, 95. 12 Luraghi, 119. 13 Pietro Bortone, Greek Prepositions: From Antiquity to the Present, Oxford Linguistics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010) 211, 232. This account is substantiated in David Holton, et al., Cambridge Grammar of Medieval and Early Modern Greek (Cambridge: University Press, 2019), 1993, 1996–97 (ἀπό), 1997 (ἐκ). 14 Luraghi, Meaning of Prepositions. 15 Following Luraghi’s Meaning of Prepositions, we use the terms “source,” “partitive,” “origin,” “time/ temporal,” and “cause” as the core semantic usage categories for describing the meaningful relationships signaled by prepositions ἐκ and ἀπό.

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4.3 ἐκ and ἀπό in Hellenistic and Early Roman Era Greek 4.3.1 Source Constructions Source constructions are those most closely tied to human activity in physical space. Prototypically expressions of source involve motion, as paired with motion verbs in (1) and (2), but this is not a required element of the schema. (1) καὶ ἀπῆρεν ἀπὸ Ἀντιοχίας, ἀπὸ πόλεως βασιλείας αὐτοῦ (1Macc 3:37) He departed from Antioch from the capital of his kingdom.16 (2) Σπεῦσον καὶ ἐξελθε ἐν τάχει ἐξ Ἰερουσαλήμ (Acts 22:18) Hurry and get out of Jerusalem in haste. An instance like (3), below, profiles the entire source-path-goal schema; the notion of path rises as a consequence of the connection between a locational source and an endpoint goal. A path may be conceptualized as a continuous set of spatial points that serves as a conduit that facilitates passage between two locations. Functionally, it originates from goal-oriented action in which a spatial goal is reached by relating it to a particular point of origin.17 In (3), ἀπό signals the starting point from which the event (as the Trajector) proceeds, with ἕως marking the final endpoint of the action. (3) τὸ καταπέτασμα τοῦ ναοῦ ἐσχίσθη εἰς δύο ἀπʼ ἄνωθεν ἕως κάτω (Mark 15:38) The curtain of the temple split in two from top to bottom. At times, a speaker or writer may want to focus on the static spatial relationship between two points without profiling motion. Location expressions represent a spatial snapshot in which a Trajector is located with reference to a Landmark. Because ἀπὸ references an orientation for the Trajector as facing away from the Landmark, it is then associated with separation or distance; one thing is removed from another by a designated interval. Use of ἀπό in (4) indicates the distance between Bethany and Jerusalem.

16 Unless otherwise noted, all translations are by the authors. 17 Andrea Tyler and Vyvyan Evans, The Semantics of English Prepositions: Spatial Scenes, Embodied Meaning and Cognition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003) 217–18.

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(4) ἦν δὲ ἡ Βηθανία ἐγγὺς τῶν Ἱεροσολύμων ὡς ἀπὸ σταδίων δεκαπέντε (John 11:18 Now Bethany was near Jerusalem some two miles away. Similar to location expressions are separation expressions. These specify a spatio-physical or metaphorical relationship between Trajector and Landmark that highlights their unrelatedness. In addition to distance, these also profile the orientation of the Trajector as having an opposing direction away from the Landmark. Example (5) serves as a command: you (Trajector) must stay away from every form of evil (Landmark).18 (5) ἀπὸ παντὸς εἴδους πονηροῦ ἀπέχεσθε (1Thess 5:22) Abstain from every form of evil. Various elements of the source schema can be reconceptualized metaphorically. The basic source schema for ἐκ profiles a relationship in which a Trajector emerges out of (and away from) a surrounding Landmark.19 This spatial relationship can then be extended to the perceptual domain, involving notions of accessibility. One of the consequences of a Trajector emerging out of a container Landmark is that the Trajector is now accessible to anyone exterior to the Landmark. In (6), human thought is conceived as a Trajector emerging out of a bounded Landmark, the human heart, which normally hides its contents from an exterior vantage point. When the heart is pierced, thoughts are revealed, or made accessible to all those outside of that bounded space. (6) [. . .] καὶ σοῦ δὲ αὐτῆς τὴν ψυχὴν διελεύσεται ῥομφαία, ὅπως ἂν ἀποκαλυφθῶσιν ἐκ πολλῶν καρδιῶν διαλογισμοί. (Luke 2:35) [. . .] and a sword will pierce your own soul also, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. Motion “away from” or “out of” can also be metaphorically conceptualized in other ways. Example (7) below profiles a change of state, with the initial state and the final (changed) state being the source and goal. In this material source expression, the Trajector, as the resulting product, is conceived as emerging from the Landmark. In 18 Presumably this is both a spatio-physical command to keep oneself physically distant from evil and those engaging in evil acts as well as a more abstract construal to be mentally cognizant of avoiding temptation toward evil in all its manifestations. 19 The basic source schema for ἀπό profiles a relationship in which the Trajector is separated from a Landmark source. One of the consequences of this spatial configuration is that a Trajector that is distant from a Landmark becomes difficult to see, distance limits visibility (e.g., Luke 24:31). Likewise, with a separated Trajector and Landmark, something can come between them to visibly block one from the other. See esp. Acts 1:9; Rev 6:16.

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(7), the whip (Trajector) emerges from the cords (Landmark) as its material source. An entailment of this schema is an initial spatial proximity or intrinsic connection between Trajector and Landmark. The whip may look different in shape, length, and in other ways, but it consists of the same (source) material.20 (7) ποιήσας φραγέλλιον ἐκ σχοινίων (John 2:15) Making a whip out of cords.

4.3.2 Origin Constructions Following Luraghi, origin expressions are abstractions from more basic source constructions. Prototypically, origins involve physical Landmarks and Trajectors, but rather than motion, they express more abstract ideas of provenance, origination, or genesis (e.g., prepositions ἐκ and ἀπό trace their origins from Proto-Indo-European).21 As with source, origin expressions can also involve other metaphoric mappings. One of the most common expressions of origin relates to ethnic groups or places of residence. (8) τινὲς δὲ ἀπὸ τῆς Ἀσίας Ἰουδαῖοι (Acts 24:19) Some of the Jews from Asia. In (8), the Jews in question are specifically those who live in Asia and are currently visiting Jerusalem for a religious celebration. With ἐκ especially, origin relations provide a means for the speaker to delineate or define those who are in or out of a particular social, religious, or ethnic group. In this case, the preference for ἐκ is predicated on a metaphoric extension from embodied experience. Consider, for instance, that with source expressions, ἐκ is preferred with birthing verbs, where the container schema is explicit (with the mother as the source container and the child as the emerging Trajector). The extension from birth to lineage and then from lineage to tribe/ethnicity, illustrated in (9) and (10), is a natural and predictable path of grammaticalization. (9)

ὁ θεὸς τὸν υἱὸν αὐτοῦ, γενόμενον ἐκ γυναικός, γενόμενον ὑπὸ νόμον (Gal 4:4) God sent his son, born of a woman, born under the law.

(10) μὴ λάβῃς γυναῖκα ἀλλοτρίαν ἣ οὐκ ἔστιν ἐκ τῆς φυλῆς τοῦ πατρός σου (Tob 4:12) Do not take a foreign wife who is not from your father’s tribe.

20 Luraghi, Meaning of Prepositions, 215. 21 Luraghi, 21.

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Furthermore, social groups are conceived as contained entities that require the crossing of a boundary to enter or leave the group, hence their association with the preposition ἐκ above. Partitive expressions (see next section) are a logical extension from origin in such contexts. Origin expressions referring to religious groups are particularly prominent in the Pauline and General Epistles in the New Testament, where the boundaries of faith and belief are discussed, debated, and taught. Examples like (11)–(12) are common cases. (11) εἰ γὰρ ἐκ νόμου ἡ κληρονομία, οὐκέτι ἐξ ἐπαγγελίας (Gal 3:18) For if inheritance is from the law, it is not from promise. With social groups like in (12), the Landmark has shifted from the physical domain to the abstract. Origin expressions are useful for separating people into categories, such as good or evil. (12) οὐ καθὼς Κάϊν ἐκ τοῦ πονηροῦ ἦν (1John 3:12) We must not be like Cain who was from the Evil One. It should be noted that even though ἐκ is most common for these expressions, since ἀπό is left unspecified for boundaries or containers, it can also be used in such contexts. (13) τούτου ὁ θεὸς ἀπὸ τοῦ σπέρματος κατʼ ἐπαγγελίαν ἤγαγεν τῷ Ἰσραὴλ σωτῆρα Ἰησοῦν (Acts 13:23) From this man’s descendants God brought to Israel a savior, Jesus, just as he promised. In addition to an abstract Landmark, the Trajector can also be abstract. This is the case for origin expressions involving knowledge or education. (14) κατηχούμενος ἐκ τοῦ νόμου (Rom 2:18) being instructed from the law. In example (14), the notion of provenance is retained, but both Trajector (education) and Landmark (Mosaic law) are abstract entities.

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4.3.3 Partitive Constructions Partitive constructions with ἐκ and ἀπό may be of two general types.22 The first, entity partitives, involve the physical domain. They denote inherent relationships between a part and a larger whole, based on the metaphor the object comes out of the substance23 or alternatively wholes are origins.24 As with origins, these relationships are also reliant on shared human experience, involving an intrinsic relationship between a part and a larger whole (e.g., a wheel of cheese and a wedge cut from that wheel). The wedge maintains a direct link in its conceptual structure with its whole. Entity partitives are closely related to material source constructions and likely function as one of the paths by which source extends to partitives. The second is set partitives. Set partitives involve collective groups, where an entire collection of independent entities is treated as a whole on the basis of a shared feature, such as physical space (a crowd) or a set of beliefs (the Jews), or an ethnic background (the Greeks).25 (15) Physical part-whole/entity partitive: λήμψῃ τέφραν θυμιαμάτων καὶ ἐπιθήσεις ἀπὸ τῆς καρδίας καὶ τοῦ ἥπατος τοῦ ἰχθύος (Tob 6:17) You will take incense coals and put some of the heart and fish liver on them. While hearts and livers are body parts, and thus function within an entity partitive frame, they also function in terms of a part-whole expression. The speaker in (15) is referring to indistinguishable pieces from the heart and liver. Example (16) illustrates a set partitive where one participant is highlighted among a set of independent participants/entities. (16) Set partitive: Οὐκ ἐγὼ ὑμᾶς τοὺς δώδεκα ἐξελεξάμην; καὶ ἐξ ὑμῶν εἷς διάβολός ἐστιν (John 6:70 Did I not chose you twelve? And yet one of you is the devil.

22 Helen de Hoop, “Partitivity,” in The Second Glot International State-of-the-Article Book: The Latest in Linguistics, ed. Lisa Cheng and Rint Sybesma, Studies in Generative Grammar 61 (Berlin: De Gruyter Mouton, 2003), 184. 23 George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, Metaphors We Live By (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980), 73. 24 Kiki Nikiforidou, “The Meanings of the Genitive: A Case Study in Semantic Structure and Semantic Change,” Cognitive Linguistics 2 (1991): 149–205, DOI: 10.1515/cogl.1991.2.2.149. 25 See Helen de Hoop, “A Semantic Reanalysis of the Partitive Constraint,” Lingua 103 (1997): 151–74, DOI: 10.1016/S0024-3841(97)00018-1. Since this last set (ethnic background) is so closely related to origin constructions, they can be practically identical.

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The fact that there are two types of partitives allows for more creative expression. For example, in (17), Paul takes what might otherwise be conceived as a set partitive (the church community) and reconceptualizes it as an entity partitive in 1 Corinthians to make a point about the church. (17) Ὅτι οὐκ εἰμὶ ὀφθαλμός, οὐκ εἰμὶ ἐκ τοῦ σώματος (1Cor 12:16) Because I am not an eye, I am not part of the body. Some partitives exist in an ambiguous space between source, origin, and partitive, as in (18). (18) οἱ γὰρ πάντες ἐκ τοῦ ἑνὸς ἄρτου μετέχομεν (1Cor 10:17) For we all share from one bread. In example (18), the metaphor evoked is one of taking pieces of bread from a loaf, which involves aspects of the material source usage, origin constructions (we share a provenance and are part of the same ground), and partitive (pieces of bread from a loaf). Among partitive constructions, ἐκ consistently tends to be preferred since most partitives rely on the notion of a bounded entity/group  – relying on the container schema. However, ἀπό still occurs with partitives where the boundary between whole and part is minimized in some way, such as example (15), where the portion of fish is not specified as distinct from the rest. The constituency of the fish is irrelevant for the aims of the discourse.

4.3.4 Temporal Constructions Temporal constructions shift the Trajector-Landmark relationship out of the physical plane and reconceptualizes it on a temporal scale. The Trajector is an event conceived as moving away from the Landmark; the Landmark event serves as a temporal reference point. Fundamental to temporal expressions with ἐκ and ἀπό are distance and separation, which are applied to the temporal plane. (19) ἀπʼ ἀρχῆς μετʼ ἐμοῦ ἐστε (John 15:27) You have been with me from the beginning. While origins and partitives demonstrate a preference for ἐκ, temporal expressions prefer ἀπό, especially in contexts like (19). The preference for ἀπό comes naturally from the nature of its unspecified Landmark. Most temporal expressions do not involve a temporal starting point with a boundary that can be crossed (à la the con-

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tainer schema). The temporal starting point exists as undifferentiated from the temporal path. This naturally fits the usage of ἀπό and corresponds with its increasing frequency over time. Nevertheless, since diachronic change occurs gradually, we still find instances of ἐκ in the temporal domain, as in (20). (20) οἱ πρεσβευταὶ τῶν Ἰουδαίων ἦλθαν πρὸς ἡμᾶς φίλοι ἡμῶν καὶ σύμμαχοι, ἀνανεούμενοι τὴν ἐξ ἀρχῆς φιλίαν καὶ συμμαχίαν (1Macc 15:17) The ambassadors of the Jews came to us as our friends and allies, renewing their ancient (=from the beginning) friendship and alliance. While this kind of temporal expression is significantly more common with ἀπό, there are still a handful of instances with ἐκ. Already in Classical Greek Luraghi describes ἀπό as the preferred preposition for temporal expressions,26 while Bortone describes Medieval Greek usage as reviving ἐκ for literary effect as a formal and archaic usage.27 It is possible that in postclassical Greek there is already a preference for ἐκ in high register usage.28 Despite the dominance of ἀπό, there still exists a pattern of complimentary distribution with different types of temporal expressions. Ἐκ continues to be used with clearly distinguished or bounded Landmarks, particularly when event quantification is involved, as in (21) and (22). (21) προσηύξατο ἐκ τρίτου (Matt 26:44) He prayed for a third time. (22) καὶ προσέθετο τὸν Βακχίδην καὶ τὸν Ἄλκιμον ἐκ δευτέρου ἀποστεῖλαι εἰς γῆν Ἰούδα (1Macc 9:1) And he repeated sending Bacchides and Alcimus for a second time to the land of Judah. The same is true when a bounded time period is specified, as in (23). (23) εὗρεν δὲ ἐκεῖ ἄνθρωπόν τινα ὀνόματι Αἰνέαν ἐξ ἐτῶν ὀκτὼ κατακείμενον ἐπὶ κραβάττου, ὃς ἦν παραλελυμένος (Acts 9:33) He found a man there whose name was Aeneas, who had been lying on a mat for eight years and was paralyzed. 26 Luraghi, Meaning of Prepositions, 130. 27 Bortone, Greek Prepositions, 232. 28 There is also an idiomatic expression that prefers ἐκ where we might otherwise expect ἀπό: ἡμέραν ἐξ ἡμέρας (“day after day”).

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In (23), the temporal expression fits a highly schematized version of a container, with clear boundaries for the beginning and end of the man’s time on the mat. Temporal usage with ἀπό on the other hand, is either unspecified, as in (19), or it involves a continuous span of time, such as applying the source-path-goal schema to the temporal plane with nonspecific reference points. (24) ἴδετε τὴν γῆν καὶ διανοήθητε περὶ τῶν ἔργων τῶν ἐν αὐτῇ γενομένων ἀπʼ ἀρχῆς μέχρι τελειώσεως (1En. 2:2) See the earth and be reminded of the works that continue in her from the beginning until completion. (25) καὶ πάντες δὲ οἱ προφῆται ἀπὸ Σαμουὴλ καὶ τῶν καθεξῆς ὅσοι ἐλάλησαν καὶ κατήγγειλαν τὰς ἡμέρας ταύτας (Acts 3:24) And all the prophets from Samuel and following, all those who have spoken and proclaimed these days. The preference for ἀπό in (24)–(25) is likely a result of the lack of distinguishability between the starting point and path. Because there is only a point of initiation rather than a specific boundary, ἀπό is the natural choice – just as in spatial source constructions. Both ἐκ and ἀπό demonstrate a coherent mapping from the spatio-physical source domain to the temporal sphere. A few final examples demonstrate how various schematic elements from the spatial domain create motivational potential for metaphoric extension to the temporal domain. Example (26) involves a metonymic mapping where ἐκ κοιλίας μητρὸς αὐτοῦ “from his mother’s womb” stands in for the beginning of his time on earth, marking the temporal span of his lameness from birth until the time of speech/writing. (26) Wombs are containers τις ἀνὴρ χωλὸς ἐκ κοιλίας μητρὸς αὐτοῦ (Acts 3:2) A certain man lame from his mother’s womb. Similarly, example (27) marks the passage of time by delineating specific life stages. A bounded span of time, identified by age (e.g., “my youth”), by status (e.g., “my army days”), or by location (e.g., “my time in the city”) is used as a temporal starting point from which a Trajector emerges and moves away, along a temporal path. Judas Maccabaeus had the character trait of strength (Trajector event) which emerged from the days of his youth (Landmark source).

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(27) Life stages are containers29 Ἰούδας ὁ Μακκαβαῖος αὐτός, ἰσχυρὸς ἐν δυνάμει αὐτὸς ἐκ νεότητος αὐτοῦ (1Macc 2:66) Judas Maccabaeus himself, he was strong from his youth.

4.3.5 Cause Constructions To describe how source prepositions ἐκ and ἀπό are used in cause expressions, it may be helpful to point to a few key observations regarding the human perception of events. There is a strong conceptual link or experiential correlation30 formed between two events if: (1) one temporally precedes the other; this is especially true if (2) one event/object is in contact with another, and (3) there is a detectable change that takes place between one event occurring and another’s initiation. The temporal stipulation in (1) is based on a conceptual metaphor time is space, in which a person is conceived as coming from the past (behind) and going to the future (ahead). This spatial grounding provides a foundation for understanding abstract notions of causation: The causing event is the preceding source (starting point), and the resulting event is the following goal (endpoint).31 If one event precedes another, it is natural to conceive of the former as source or cause of the latter.32 This inference is so common that writers and directors rely on it as part of their craft. Two clauses in a discourse or two scenes in a film appear one after the other without overt marking of a causative relationship and yet they are naturally conceived as denoting cause and effect. In this way, actions are linked to consequences and causes precede their effects. There are other ways that cause can be profiled. For example, if an event can be traced back to the actions of a person who acts with control or impetus, then it is natural to understand the animate agent as the source or origin for the event. In (28), two events are temporally sequenced and then presented with ἀπό asserting a cause-effect relationship.

29 Marking the passage of time by delineating separate stages in life is familiar to English speakers: “Back in my day”; “From childhood to adolescence, he always”; “She picked up the habit from her college days.” 30 Tyler and Evans, Semantics of English Prepositions, 32. 31 Günter Radden, “Spatial Metaphors Underlying Prepositions of Causality,” in The Ubiquity of Metaphor: Metaphor in Language and Thought, ed. Wolf Paprotté and René Dirven, AST 29 (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 1985), 187. 32 When people ask: “What is the cause of the opioid crisis?,” they are looking for what (temporally/ spatially) preceding event can be said to be the source or point of origin for the current state of affairs.

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(28) ὡς δὲ ἔστιλβεν ὁ ἥλιος ἐπὶ τὰς χρυσᾶς ἀσπίδας, ἔστιλβεν τὰ ὄρη ἀπʼ αὐτῶν (1Macc 6:39) When the sun reflected on the golden shields, the mountains gleamed from them. First the sun’s rays reflect on the shields of the soldiers, then the mountains gleam as a result. Other cause-effect relationships involve Landmarks that are physical objects, such as (29): (29) οὐκέτι αὐτὸ ἑλκύσαι ἴσχυον ἀπὸ τοῦ πλήθους τῶν ἰχθύων (John 21:6) They could no longer haul it [the net] from the many fish. In (29), their struggle to pull the net up into the boat can be traced back to a preceding source – the net has become full of fish. The force of a heavy net counteracts their ability to pull it up. Causes with physical objects that may be construed with the container schema, as in (30), tend to prefer ἐκ. (30) πάντα τὰ ὄρνεα ἐχορτάσθησαν ἐκ τῶν σαρκῶν αὐτῶν (Rev 19:21) All the birds became engorged from their corpses. The same can be said for physical processes. Fire and smoke, which envelop a Trajector take ἐκ in cause expressions, but heat – even heat produced by fire – does not and is used with ἀπό. In this regard, a conception like (31) takes advantage of the emergence schema with ἐκ. An event that transpires in a surrounding Landmark is closely tied to the consequences of its emergence from that Landmark. The process of refining gold takes place in the fire and the gold emerges as a purified product. For (32), the heat of a fire is conceived as a preceding source-cause for the subsequent action of a viper where the viper not only moves away from the heat (Landmark) but also that the heat is the reason for its motion away. (31) χρυσίον πεπυρωμένον ἐκ πυρὸς (Rev 3:18) gold refined by fire. (32) ἔχιδνα ἀπὸ τῆς θέρμης ἐξελθοῦσα (Acts 28:3) a viper came out because of the heat.

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Other times, emotion plays a role in the causative chain where internal emotional states are thought to be the cause of external action.33 Such contexts seem to prefer ἀπό, as in (33). (33) ἀπὸ δὲ τοῦ φόβου αὐτοῦ ἐσείσθησαν οἱ τηροῦντες (Matt 28:4) The guards shook with fear. Emotion-event causes follow the construal of ἀπό that involves a lack of distinguishability between the Trajector and source. When the guards shake with fear, the emotional state that caused the shaking is internal to the affected participant. Animate causes also prefer ἀπό, as with (34) and (35), where the event is conceived as proceeding from an animate source/cause: (34) μὴ φοβηθῆτε ἀπὸ τῶν ἀποκτεινόντων τὸ σῶμα (Matt 10:28 par. Luke 12:4) Do not be afraid of those who kill the body. (35) καὶ ηὐφράνθη Ὀλοφέρνης ἀπʼ αὐτῆς (Jdt 12:20) Holophernes was delighted by her. There are a few exceptions. If a Cause-Landmark expresses high control over the Trajector and involves physical contact, then ἐκ is used. Again, there is a tight correlation between a Trajector inside the Landmark and the consequences of its emergence from the Landmark. This, combined with an animate agent as Landmark comes to be associated with a level of influence or control over the emergence of the event. (36) ἔπεσον ἐξ αὐτοῦ τραυματίαι πολλοί (1Macc 16:8) there fell from him many casualties. (37) οὐδεὶς δύναται ἐλθεῖν πρός με ἐὰν μὴ ᾖ δεδομένον αὐτῷ ἐκ τοῦ πατρός (John 6:65) No one can come to me unless it has been granted to them from the Father. In (36), the concepts of both control and contact are profiled. The death of the soldiers is a direct result of physical contact and a high degree of control. Likewise, the use of δίδωμι in (37) activates the image schema for a transference construction where the source (ἐκ τοῦ πατρός) is also profiled as a possessor, which in turn implicates a high degree of control over permission to come to Jesus. 33 Radden and Dirven, Cognitive English Grammar, 329.

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4.4 Conclusion Once again, as a shorthand, the preposition ἐκ may be characterized as “out of,” and ἀπό as “from, away from.” The former preposition mediates a spatial relation with the container schema as its conceptual basis: A Trajector that was once interior to a bounded Landmark is now exterior to it. The latter preposition mediates a spatial relation in which a Trajector moves away from a Landmark source. The shape of the Landmark is unspecified, serving as a point of reference from which to locate the Trajector. Because of differences in schematic structure, each preposition is associated with different entailments. For instance, ἐκ is associated with a bounded Landmark, which supplies the basic structure for metaphors of emergence with entities that are intrinsically related (such as a whip from a cord) or experience a change of state (gold refined from fire). It also supplies the basic structure for event quantification and bounded time periods in temporal constructions. Ἀπό, on the other hand, lacks such boundaries in its basic structure; it is unspecified with regard to the shape of the Landmark as well as contact with it. Because of its indefinite nature, it is more readily available for extension to a wide variety of conceptions, which is likely the reason for its eventual spread in taking over the use of ἐκ. It must not be forgotten, however, that they have many basic functional elements in common. For both ἐκ and ἀπό, the Trajector moves away from the Landmark. The Landmark serves as its source, starting point, or point of origin. Similarly, both relational schemas involve the notion of orientation away from the Landmark along with separation or distance from it. Motion away entails that there is space or distance created between the two entities involved. Based on this shared conceptual structure, there is a natural logic that ἐκ and ἀπό would extend over time to include the same set of semantic senses from a fundamental spatial notion of source to origin, and to time, partitive, and cause. The diachronic path they follow through Homeric and Classical Greek may diverge, but by the New Testament period, their semantic domains largely overlap. Any distinctions in usage can often be identified with respect to certain lexical preferences with particular kinds of Landmarks or with constructional types motivated by their basic schematic structure.

Bibliography Beekes, Robert S. P. Etymological Dictionary of Greek, vol. 1. Leiden Indo-European Etymological Dictionary Series 10.1. Leiden: Brill, 2010. Bortone, Pietro. Greek Prepositions from Antiquity to the Present. Oxford Linguistics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. Brenda, Maria. The Cognitive Perspective on the Polysemy of the English Spatial Preposition Over. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2014.

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Gibbs, Raymond W., Jr. “The Psychological Status of Image Schemas.” In From Perception to Meaning: Image Schemas in Cognitive Linguistics, edited by Beate Hampe and Joseph E. Grady, 113–35. Berlin: De Gruyter Mouton, 2005. Holton, David, Geoffrey Horrocks, Marjolijne Janssen, Tina Lendari, Io Manolessou, and Notis Toufexis. Cambridge Grammar of Medieval and Early Modern Greek. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019. Hoop, Helen de. “A Semantic Reanalysis of the Partitive Constraint.” Lingua 103 (1997): 151–74. DOI: 10.1016/S0024-3841(97)00018-1. Hoop, Helen de. “Partitivity.” In The Second Glot International State-of-the-Article Book: The Latest in Linguistics, edited by Lisa Cheng and Rint Sybesma, 179–212. Studies in Generative Grammar 61. Berlin, De Gruyter Mouton, 2003. Lakoff, George, and Mark Johnson. Metaphors We Live By. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980. Lakoff, George. Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things: What Categories Reveal about the Mind. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987. Luraghi, Silvia. On the Meaning of Prepositions and Cases: The Expression of Semantic Roles in Ancient Greek. SLCS 67. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2003. Nikiforidou, Kiki. 1991. “The Meanings of the Genitive: A Case Study in Semantic Structure and Semantic Change.” Cognitive Linguistics 2: 149–206. DOI: 10.1515/cogl.1991.2.2.149. Swart, Peter de, Hanne M. Eckhoff, and Olga Thomason. “A Source of Variation: A Corpus-Based Study of the Choice between ἀπό and ἐκ in the NT Greek Gospels.” Journal of Greek Linguistics 12, no. 1 (2012): 161–87. DOI: 10.1163/156658412X649760. Taylor, John R. Cognitive Grammar. Oxford Textbooks in Linguistics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002. Tyler, Andrea and Vyvyan Evans. The Semantics of English Prepositions: Spatial Scenes, Embodied Meaning and Cognition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Radden, Günter. “Spatial Metaphors Underlying Prepositions of Causality.” In The Ubiquity of Metaphor: Metaphor in Language and Thought, edited by Wolf Paprotté and René Dirven, 177–208. AST 29. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 1985. Radden, Günter, and René Dirven. Cognitive English Grammar. Cognitive Linguistics in Practice 2. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2007. Vandeloise, Claude. “Are There Spatial Prepositions?” In Space in Languages: Linguistic Systems and Cognitive Categories, edited by Maya Hickmann and Stéphane Robert, 137–54. TSL 66. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2006.

Travis Wright

5 The περί Preposition Phrase at the Grammar-Discourse Interface People seem never to have taken prepositions seriously.1 – Ray Jackendoff

5.1 Synchronic Polysemy and Comparative Language Description When multiple coexistent senses are conventionalized and stored in the mental lexicon under a single phonological form, the result is lexical polysemy. This phenomenon poses a special problem to the descriptive grammar and lexicography of historical languages like ancient Greek, where data cannot be elicited and introspection is not possible. Combine this with the fact that virtually every notional definition in linguistics is problematic, and it’s evident that the situation for historical lexicography is severe.2 This can be seen especially in the chaos of preposition entries in bilingual Greek lexicons. The superimposition of notional categories – or in this case, translation equivalents – from languages like English has led to famous amounts of confusion. Consider the entry for περί in LSJ.3 More than twenty different descriptive headings are provided to represent its semantic potential, almost all of which are either redundant or rely on the polysemy of English prepositions like about or around as catch-all equivalents. What is strikingly absent is a synchronic and diachronic explanation of the lexical network. This chapter attempts to provide such an explanation by using a usage-based, non-modular framework (e.g., a Cognitive-Functional approach) to explore the synchronic and diachronic dimensions of the περί preposi-

1 Ray Jackendoff, “The Base Rules for Prepositional Phrases,” in Festschrift for Morris Halle, ed. Stephen R. Anderson and Paul Kiparsky (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1973), 345. 2 “Theorists often resist it, but the crosslinguistic evidence is not converging on a smallish set of possibly innate categories.” Instead, “the linguist’s job is to describe the phenomena in as much detail as possible. A consequence of the nonexistence of preestablished categories for typology is that comparison cannot be category-based [e.g., clitic vs. suffix, pronoun vs. determiner], but must be substance-based”; Martin Haspelmath, “Pre-Established Categories Don’t Exist: Consequences for Language Description and Typology” Linguistic Typology 11, no. 1 (2007): 119, DOI: 10.1515/LINGTY.2007.011. See also William Croft, “Comparative Concepts and Language-Specific Categories: Theory and Practice,” Linguistic Typology 20, no. 2 (2016): 377–93, DOI: 10.1515/lingty-2016-0012. 3 LSJ, s.v. “περί,” 1366. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110777895-005

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tion phrase’s semantic potential. I show that confusion in the lexicons is based on two factors: (1) the complexity of topic as a discourse-pragmatic phenomenon, and (2) asymmetry between περί and its purported English equivalents.

5.2 Conceptual Domains and Lexical Productivity The relationship between grammar and space can be seen clearly in a language’s preposition inventory.4 Spatial grams like prepositions are coding material that emerge from scene analysis. This refers to the process of organizing the experience of space into knowledge that can be accessed linguistically. Prepositions are one access site to such knowledge: Their prototypical purpose in grammar is to allocate attention over the relations that obtain between space, matter, and participants. However, several foundational cognitive processes lay behind both scene analysis and the emergence and evolution of spatial grams. The first is a process of extrapolating across reoccurring details of experience (size, distance, shape) to form knowledge representations called categories. Categorization is a prolific aspect of human cognition and can be seen throughout all aspects of language structure and use.5 In fact, “If linguistics can be said to be any one thing it is the study of categories: that is, the study of how language translates meaning into sound through the categorization of reality.”6 Once these knowledge representations are stored they help form extremely productive conceptual domains like space, whose presence can be traced to virtually every other conceptual domain.7 Because of their relationship to categorization and the conceptual domain of space, spatial grams are usually polysemous and should be thought of as a network of meanings chained to a prototype: a lexical network.8 On this view, a lexical network is category-like in its behavior. It can have fuzzy boundaries, manifest prototype effects (e.g., certain senses are better members of the category), and

4 A preposition inventory is a scalar notion since spatial grams display gradual membership from grammatical to lexical. 5 John R. Taylor, Linguistic Categorization, Oxford Textbooks in Linguistics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003). 6 William Labov, “The Boundaries of Words and Their Meanings,” in New Ways of Analyzing Variation in English, ed. Charles Bailey and Roger Shuy (Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 1973), 342. 7 E.g., space → time may represent a true universal in human language; Martin Haspelmath, From Space to Time: Temporal Adverbials in the World’s Languages (Munich: Lincom Europa, 1977). See also María del Carmen Guarddon-Anelo, “The Role of Metonymy and Metaphor in Grammaticalization: The Expression of Aspect,” Australian Journal of Linguistics 31, no. 2 (2011): 211–31, DOI: 10.1080/07268602.2011.560829. 8 Ronald W. Langacker, Foundations of Cognitive Grammar, vol. 1: Theoretical Prerequisites (Stanford University Press 1987), 373–77.

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reflect the constraints of human embodiment.9 This is predicted by Cognitive Semantics, which considers polysemy to be the norm in natural language rather than the exception. Polysemy is also a sign that a lexeme is productive in the lexicon. Prepositions have a variety of senses not because language is chaotic but because meaning is embodied. Not only do human beings use space to structure other, more abstract conceptual domains (like time), we also use the grams that emerge from space to code other, more abstract meanings such as purpose, reference, or superiority.10 In sum, the lexicons may be chaotic, but spatial grams are not. They are productive, and there is both logic and order to the various senses in their lexical networks. Although the lexicons struggle to describe this phenomenon, the model proposed in this chapter fully accounts for – and even predicts – these facts.

5.3 περί and space 5.3.1 Overview of Spatial Senses To begin, the περί preposition phrase prompts an image schema in which a Trajector is located in the region of a Landmark.11 Two distinct spatial senses are clear in the data: location and area, both of which take the accusative case. Based on historical and cross-linguistic evidence, the original sense was likely locative.12 It appears this particular preposition was also productive in the “constructicon” (that is, the inventory of constructions in a language) for the associative plural construction. Here it inherits ordinary features from the lexical network for the purpose of designating a unitary, heterogenous set (e.g., Acts 13:13).13 Both location and area are comparatively infrequent in corpus data from the Hellenistic and Roman periods and exclusive

9 “Our bodies and the environment within which we move and interact with other entities, give us the tools to understand and talk about other entities and their spatial relations”; Soteria Svorou, The Grammar of Space (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 1994), 205. 10 Zoltán Kövecses, Where Metaphors Come from: Reconsidering Context in Metaphor (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), esp. 37–38. 11 Svorou, Grammar of Space, 12–20 and 152. 12 Heiko Narrog and Bernd Heine, Grammaticalization, Oxford Textbooks in Linguistics (Oxford: Oxford University Press 2021), esp. 137. I wish to thank Kaspars Ozolins for his advice on the Proto-IndoEuropean evidence. 13 Michael Daniel and Edith Moravcsik, “The Associative Plural” in The World Atlas of Language Structures Online, ed. Matthew Dryer and Martin Haspelmath (Leipzig: Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology, 2013), http://wals.info/chapter/36; Adele E. Goldberg, Constructions: A Construction Grammar Approach to Argument Structure, Cognitive Theory of Language and Culture (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995), 5.

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to Atticizing and archaizing styles in the medieval and modern periods.14 The preposition itself survives to Standard Modern Greek only as a bound morpheme.

5.3.2 Location Location belongs to the around-region and can code path or endpoint focus in three-dimensional space. It is similar but not identical to the around-preposition phrase in English.15 Location depends on the tactile experience of unbounded motion along the circumference of a circular object.16 The Trajector is typically a moveable referent that is or can be made circular because the path around the Landmark is or has been construed as circular.17 It appears that Trajector plexity (e.g., divisibility into discrete units) does not depend on verbal properties like motion18 but on prior knowledge in the mental encyclopedia about the spatial properties of objects and their trajectories. However, dispersion depends on plexity: a uniplex Trajector is not typically diffuse, while a multiplex Trajector can be (see examples [5]–[7] below).19 Although it is less salient than the Landmark, the Trajector is always the focus of attention. Additionally, the Trajector may be simplex or complex, but when the Landmark is complex the Trajector is usually complex as well.

5.3.3 Motion With motion, the Trajector follows a radial path along a bounded Landmark’s circumference in order to accomplish enclosure.20 14 Silvia Luraghi, On the Meaning of Prepositions and Cases, SLCS 67 (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2003), 81; Pietro Bortone, Greek Prepositions: From Antiquity to the Present, Oxford Linguistics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 94. See the Homer-like postposing of πέρι in Justin Dial. 2.2. Thanks to Jacob Cerone for this example. 15 The Greek preposition inventory had several distinct prepositions equivalent to the English around, e.g., κύκλῳ (not περί) for circuitous rotation along an axis. Similarly, note the confusion in BDAG: “lit. round about.” On the English around, see Rainer Schulze, “The Meaning of (a) Round: A Study of an English Preposition,” in Conceptualizations and Mental Processing in Language, ed. Richard A. Geiger and Brygida Rudzka-Ostyn, CLR 3 (Berlin: De Gruyter Mouton, 2011), 399–431; Elizabeth O’Dowd, Prepositions and Particles in English: A Discourse-Functional Account (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), esp. 142. 16 This was true as early as Homer. Luraghi, Meaning of Prepositions, 327. 17 A fact recruited in poetry and metaphor (e.g., Ps. 140:3 LXX; and Job 40:25 LXX). 18 This appears contrary to Luraghi, Meaning of Prepositions, 25. 19 Consider, for example, the difference in boundedness and state of consolidation of at and around; Leonard Talmy, Ten Lectures on Cognitive Semantics, Distinguished Lectures on Cognitive Linguistics 4 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 100. 20 John R. Taylor, The Mental Corpus: How Language Is Represented in the Mind (Oxford: Oxford University Press 2010), 235.

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ἐνέδυσαν τὸν Δανιηλ πορφύραν καὶ τὸν μανιάκην τὸν χρυσοῦν περιέθηκαν περὶ τὸν τράχηλον αὐτοῦ (Dan 5:29 LXX) He clothed Daniel with purple and placed a golden necklace around his neck.21

This can sometimes involve contact (as in 1) though not always (3). Normally the Landmark fills the semantic role of goal and is grammatically singular. In cumulative predicates where the Trajector is a plural object argument, the περί preposition phrase can define the extent of an atelic motion event:22 (2)

κυκλώσω ὡς Δαυιδ ἐπὶ σὲ καὶ βαλῶ περὶ σὲ χάρακα καὶ θήσω περὶ σὲ πύργους (Isa 29:3 LXX) I will encircle you like David and I will put a barricade around you and I will appoint towers around you

This is similar to area but distinguished by enclosure as a distinct feature. The main difference between location and other forms of enclosure is that the Trajector does not typically rotate around the circumference of the Landmark. That is, in location the Trajector does not normally repeat a circuit (as with κύκλῳ) but reaches a goal and stops:23 (3)

ἔδωκα ἐνώτιον περὶ τὸν μυκτῆρά σου καὶ τροχίσκους ἐπὶ τὰ ὦτά σου (Ezek 16:12 LXX) I will put an earring around your nostril and rings upon your ears.

21 Unless otherwise noted, all translations are by the author. 22 “A predicate P is cumulative if whenever it applies to entities x and y, it also applies to the sum of x and y (provided that it applies to at least two distinct entities)”; Manfred Krifka, “Thematic Relations as Links between Nominal Reference and Temporal Constitution,” in Lexical Matters, ed. Ivan Sag and Anna Szabolsci, SCLI Lecture Notes 24 (Stanford: Center for the Study of Language and Information, 1991), 32. 23 Note how the Septuagint translators dispreferred περί for ‫( סביב‬Exod 7:24 LXX), but recruited distinctions between the schematic properties of περί and κύκλῳ for parallelism (Job 18:11 LXX). However, edge-cases exist, e.g., Plutarch Superst. 171.12 περιόδοις σελήνης ἢ κινήσεσιν ἡλίου περὶ γῆν (“rotations of the moon or movements of the sun around the earth”). Although difficult to determine, the plural nominals in this example are most likely an example of event-external pluractionality (one event repeated several times). See David Cusic, “Verbal Plurality and Aspect” (PhD diss., Stanford University, 1981).

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5.3.4 Static Place With states, location codes endpoint focus in the around-region of a Landmark. It typically describes a static place relation that obtains after an inferred motion event in which the Trajector followed a radial path along the Landmark’s circumference.24 (4)

αὐτὸς δὲ ὁ Ἰωάννης εἶχεν τὸ ἔνδυμα αὐτοῦ ἀπὸ τριχῶν καμήλου καὶ ζώνην δερματίνην περὶ τὴν ὀσφὺν αὐτοῦ (Matt 3:4) Now John himself wore a garment of camel’s hair and a belt around his waist.

This place relation is always the result of motion, but the motion event may be implicit. As noted above, enclosure is always present but this does not necessarily entail containment or contact. (5)

αἱ δὲ γυναῖκες χαμαὶ καθέζοντο περὶ τὴν βασιλίδα (Chariton, Chaer. 7.6.4) Now the women were sitting on the ground around the queen

In (5) the women are dispersed on a horizontal rather than vertical plane and no contact is entailed. Likewise, notice that in (6) Paul is enclosed by the light though not necessarily contained by it: (6)

ἐξαίφνης ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ περιαστράψαι φῶς ἱκανὸν περὶ ἐμέ (Acts 22:6) Suddenly from heaven an exceedingly bright light shone around me

This is a useful example of the difference between enclosure and the container metaphor: Paul is merely surrounded by the bright light rather than contained by it.25 Likewise, notice the complex Trajector but the simplex Landmark in (7): (7)

καὶ εἶδεν καὶ ἰδοὺ ὁ βασιλεὺς ἐπὶ τῆς στάσεως αὐτοῦ, καὶ ἐπὶ τῆς εἰσόδου οἱ ἄρχοντες καὶ αἱ σάλπιγγες, καὶ οἱ ἄρχοντες περὶ τὸν βασιλέα (2 Chr. 23:13 LXX) And she looked and there was the king at his position, and the commanders and the trumpets at the entrance, and the commanders around the king

The reverse could not be true: the king could not be around the commanders since the king is a uniplex entity, and the commanders are diffuse. Finally, in (8)–(10) the 24 Svorou, Grammar of Space, 19, “Such relations may exist not only in dynamic situations where movement is involved, but also in static ones as well. In that case the path of movement, or even the end-point of movement, may be idealized as the location in those regions.” 25 Cf. 1John 1:7 ὡς αὐτός ἐστιν ἐν τῷ φωτί.

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Trajector has a diffuse state of consolidation and simultaneously surrounds the Landmark on all sides: (8)

καὶ περιβλεψάμενος τοὺς περὶ αὐτὸν κύκλῳ καθημένους (Mark 3:34) And looking around at those who sat surrounding him

(9)

τὴν κιβωτὸν οἱ ἱερεῖς φέροντες περὶ δ ̓αὐτὴν ἐν κύκλῳ μέρος τι τῶν ὁπλιτῶν φυλάττον ἦν (Josephus Ant. 5.22) While the priests carried the ark, there was a certain part of the armed men surrounding it.

(10) καὶ πᾶσα ἡ στρατιὰ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ εἱστήκει περὶ αὐτὸν ἐκ δεξιῶν αὐτοῦ καὶ ἐξ εὐωνύμων αὐτοῦ (3Kgdms 22:19) And all the host of heaven was standing around him on his right and left side. However, notice κύκλῳ in (8) and (9). Why the additional coding material when the περί preposition phrase already codes location? It appears additional material was preferred to code the entirety of an around-region. The same material is not required in (10) because it simply profiles left and right-region.26 In either case, they rely on the same image schema, as shown in figure 5.1:

Figure 5.1: Image schema for location.

26 Svorou, Grammar of Space, 20.

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5.3.5 Extension: Area Area retains the functional characteristics of a locative relation, but it clearly belongs to the set of spatial grams in Greek that code a near–region.27 In area, the Trajector is conceptualized as a static point in two-dimensional space that is physically proximate to an unbounded Landmark with a diffuse state of consolidation.28 The Trajector can be either a compact (11) or diffuse object/entity (12): (11) περὶ δὲ Μωδειν ἐποιήσατο τὴν στρατοπεδείαν (2Macc 13:1) Now he pitched a tent near Modein. (12) ἀπογράφομαι εἰς τοὺς περὶ Κροκοδίλων πόλιν κατὰ τὸ ἐκτεθὲν ἔκθεμα εἰς τοὺς Φυλακίτας (P.Genova 3.101 [TM 554], 221 BCE)29 I am being registered according to the public edict into the police force in the region of Krokodilopolis In area, a slight shift has happened to the schematic properties of the περί preposition phrase: The Trajector no longer needs to be circular, it never contacts the Landmark, and it can be an event. Likewise, the Landmark is no longer the path along which a motion event takes place, but rather a region. area is frequent with states (13) and activities (14): (13) κλῆρον ἀρουρῶν δέκα ἢ ὅσων ἐὰν ἦν ἐπὶ τὸ πλεῖον περὶ Βουβάστον τῆς Ἡρακλείδου μερίδος (BGU 2.543 [TM 9228], 27 BCE) a portion of 10 arouras or as much as might have been on the ship near Boubastos at Herakleidou Meris (14) Ἀντίοχος δὲ συνεσταμένος πολιορκίαν περὶ τὴν καλουμένην πόλιν Δῶρα (Polybius, Hist. 5.66) Now Antiochus, who in the meantime had launched a siege near a town called Dura

27 Svorou, 15, “The notion of region is relevant within a theory of spatial relations which assumes that people understand space not by a set of coordinates in reference to which objects receive their location independently of other objects, but rather by the relations that exist between objects in that space.” 28 That is, the Landmark “is viewed as a reference point rather than an extended path”; O’Dowd, Prepositions and Particles, 142. 29 Papyri references are given according to their Trismegistos number (trismegistos.org). Please do support Trismegistos.

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The main point behind area is to approximate the extent of a Trajector in the near-region of a larger, more salient Landmark.30 As with location, the Trajector is the focus of attention but less salient than the Landmark, which serves as a ground precisely because it is larger and better known. Area is typical for locative relations that involve cities and geography – that is, entities that are in fact a region31: (15) καὶ πολὺ πλῆθος ἀπὸ τῆς Γαλιλαίας ἠκολούθησεν, καὶ ἀπὸ τῆς Ἰουδαίας καὶ ἀπὸ Ἱεροσολύμων καὶ ἀπὸ τῆς Ἰδουμαίας καὶ πέραν τοῦ Ἰορδάνου καὶ περὶ Τύρον καὶ Σιδῶνα (Mark 3:8) And huge crowds followed from Galilee, Judea, Jerusalem, Idumea, beyond the Jordan, and the region of Tyre and Sidon In each example the Landmark is a region whose exact boundaries are scalar in nature. The boundaries to certain regions can be fuzzier (15) while others may be more well-defined (14), but they rely on the same image schema (see figure 5.2):

Figure 5.2: Image schema for area.

5.4 Diachrony and Semantic Change The synchronic relationship between location and area in the lexical network is based on a diachronic process of semantic change. As Eve Sweetser writes, “synchronic polysemy and historical change of meaning really supply the same data in different ways. No historical shift of meaning can take place without an intervening

30 Luraghi, Meaning of Prepositions, 327. 31 Svorou, Grammar of Space, 16.

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stage of polysemy.”32 We see in area the beginning of a process of generalization referred to as desemanticization, a process that signaled the decline of περί in post classical Greek since it was renovated rather than reinforced.33 Across the world’s languages, concrete meanings (e.g., spatial senses) tend to be recessive and replaced by more abstract meanings (e.g., purpose, cause).34 This process follows predictable stages of historical change called grammaticalization pathways in which semantic change in controlled environments (e.g., bridging and switch contexts) motivates the evolution of formal and functional categories from lexical categories.35 In the case of prepositions, the grammaticalization pathway nominal → adposition → affix is widely attested and productive in all periods of the Greek preposition inventory.36 This process provides a plausible explanation for the synchronic polysemy of the περί preposition phrase in postclassical Greek. Notice, for example, the distinct functional parameters between location (around-region) and area (near-region): In area the Trajector no longer needs to be a physical object, but can be a state or event, while the Landmark does not need to be circular or construed as a region but in fact often is a region, and enclosure and contact are no longer possible either. One mechanism that could be responsible for this schematization (location → area) is extendability across a motive state.37 This refers to a generalization in the lexical network by which the schematic properties involved in motion and static location can be used for one another. In the case of περί, area profiles as a near-region some point along the very same path that a moving Trajector followed in location as an around-region.

32 Eve Sweetser, From Etymology to Pragmatics: Metaphorical and Cultural Aspects of Semantic Structure, CSL 54 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 9. 33 E.g., the Standard Modern Greek για. On the processes of renovation and reinforcement in grammaticalization, see Christian Lehmann, Thoughts on Grammaticalization, 3rd ed. (Berlin: Language Science Press, 2016), esp. 22–26. 34 Desemanticization began early in περί’s lexical network: there are 1,066 tokens for topic vs. 458 tokens for the spatial senses in Isocrates (fifth century BCE); Leonhard Lutz, Die casus-Adverbien bei den Attischen Rednern (Wurzburg: Bonitas Bauer, 1891), 6, cited in Bortone, Greek Prepositions, 122. See also Bernd Heine, Ulrike Claudi, and Friederike Hünnemeyer, Grammaticalization: A Conceptual Framework (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), 149. 35 “If today’s bound morphemes are yesterday’s lexical words, then today’s [morphology] is yesterday’s syntax”; Talmy Givón, “Historical Syntax and Synchronic Morphology: An Archeologist’s Field Trip,” in Papers from the 7th Meeting of the Chicago Linguistic Society, CLS 7 (Chicago: University of Chicago, Department of Linguistics, 1971), 413. See also Martin Haspelmath, “Revisiting the Anasynthetic Spiral,” in Grammaticalization from a Typological Perspective, ed. Heiko Narrog and Bernd Heine, Oxford Linguistics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018), 97–115. 36 “We are not aware of any language that has not undergone such a process”; Bernd Heine and Tania Kuteva, The Genesis of Grammar: A Reconstruction, Oxford Linguistics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 62. 37 Leonard Talmy, “The Representation of Spatial Structure in Spoken and Signed Language,” in Space in Languages: Linguistic Systems and Cognitive Categories, ed. Maya Hickmann and Stéphane Robert, TSL 66 (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2006), 221.

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This began with a series of bridging contexts in which around-region was generalized to near-region, and the physical properties of near-region were extended from objects to events. As we will see, spatial reference was then metaphorically extended to cognitive reference by exploiting these schematic properties in switch contexts where both Trajector and Landmark are abstract entities with an aboutness relation in discursive space.38 Although speculative, these proposed shifts in the functional parameters of περί are a promising example of potential bridging contexts between location and topic and would provide a satisfying historical explanation for synchronic polysemy in the lexical network. Below I review the metaphor responsible for semantic extension in switch contexts where the locative meaning is ruled out completely.

5.5 Metaphor and Discursive Space As noted earlier, the productivity of space as a conceptual domain used to structure more abstract domains is well-documented in the world’s languages.39 In fact, physical space may be the foundational domain of human conceptualization due to the pervasive influence of embodiment on human cognition.40 This is why metaphors like similarity is proximity, association is connection, and categories are regions are productive in language. They recruit from the domain of spatial experience to structure the details of more abstract schemas.41 This fact can also be seen in the productivity of the area metaphor in the grammaticalization and desemanticization of spatial grams like περί, which map proximity in space to nonphysical associations and connections in discursive space. This process of semantic change is referred to as a metaphorical extension.42 Such extensions occur when the schematic properties of an original spatial sense have been abstracted to “structure meaning transfer.”43 The 38 E.g., “The Landmark is the abstract location around which the state of affairs (denoted by the verb) develops”; Michael Aubrey and Rachel Aubrey, Greek Prepositions in the New Testament: A Cognitive-Functional Description (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2020), 131. 39 In fact, in the case of space → time, it may represent a true universal in human language; Haspelmath, From Space to Time. 40 “Our experiences with physical objects (especially our own bodies) provide the basis for an extraordinarily wide variety of ontological metaphors, that is, ways of viewing events, activities, emotions, ideas, etc., as entities and substances”; George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, Metaphors We Live By (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980), 25. 41 Joseph Grady, “Foundations of Meaning: Primary Metaphors and Primary Scenes” (PhD diss., University of California, Berkley 1997), esp. 128–32. 42 On the role of metaphor in diachrony, see Sweetser, From Etymology to Pragmatics. 43 Eve Sweetser, “Grammaticalization and Semantic Bleaching,” in Proceedings of The Fourteenth Annual Meeting of the Berkeley Linguistics Society, February 13–15, 1988: General Session and Parasession on Grammaticalization, ed. Shelley Axmaker, Anne Jaissser, and Helen Singmaster (Berkeley: Berkeley Linguistics Society, 1988), 400.

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result is a semantic extension in a lexeme’s network that is metaphorical in nature (e.g., on the table vs. on the contrary). Metaphorical extensions are especially frequent in spatial grams, where the source and target domains of a metaphor are exploited to provide structure and salience to a novel meaning in a switch context.44 In Gestalt grouping, figures are categorized based on a process of perceptual organization that involves assigning shared properties, such as physical dimension (proximity/common region), appearance (similarity), or function (common fate).45 This is particularly important for understanding the role of around-region as a catalyst for the emergence of topic in περί’s lexical network. According to Gestalt principles, “elements in a scene which are closer together will be seen as belonging together.”46 Recall that the περί preposition phrase can construe the circumference of a Landmark as the path of a motion event. It is this spatio-geometric relation that constitutes the source domain of the metaphor behind topic. The hypothesis offered here is that an area metaphor was responsible for desemanticization in the lexical network. In particular, it appears that the metaphor topic of discussion is area covered during motion motivated metaphorical extension in the lexical network (see figure 5.3).47 This metaphor is a species of the metaphor communication is motion along a path. It maps the dynamics of visual attention onto conceptual attention by recruiting from the schematic properties of around-region to allocate cognitive attention over an aboutness relation. In other words, topic is construed as the path along which new information moves as it is added to the common ground. On this hypothesis, topic emerged as an image-schematic transformation of around-region, generalizing and then metaphorically extending its spatial properties to accomplish new purposes in Greek discourse. Although space limitations prevent us from exploring this further, it appears this began with a series of bridging contexts in which a subtle but incremental shift in functional parameters began to structure conceptual rather than visual attention.48 The end result was a metaphorical extension in the lexical network that mapped spatial reference onto cognitive reference.

44 E.g., the metaphor control is up has generated novel meaning in the lexical networks of the English over (“I rule over him”), French sur (Je règne sur lui), and Hebrew ‫ )אני שולט עליו( על‬. It is not a coincidence that each of these languages recruits from vertical space to code control, topic, or superiority. Common processes of human conceptualization lie behind language structure and use. 45 Kurt Koffka, Principles of Gestalt Psychology (London: Routledge, 1935; repr., 2013). 46 Vyvyan Evans, Cognitive Linguistics: A Complete Guide, 2nd ed. (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2019), 62; Leonard Talmy, The Targeting System of Language (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2018), esp. 377; Daniel Casasanto, “Similarity and Proximity: When Does Close in Space Mean Close in Mind?,” Memory & Cognition 36 (2008): 1047–56. 47 Oana David, “Metaphor in the Grammar of Argument Realization” (PhD diss., University of California, Berkley 2016), 102–3; Grady, “Foundations of Meaning,” 130. A similar metaphor likely lies behind the preference for relexicalizing topical participants as proximate demonstratives, e.g., οὗτος. 48 An identical process occurred with the English preposition about: “Verb-preposition complexes such as tell about and forget about illustrate [. . .] the shift from external to perceptual and cognitive

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Figure 5.3: topic of discussion is area covered during motion.

5.6 The Notion of topic Literature on topichood is unquenchably vast.49 Linguists have discovered the formal realization of topics can vary with each language and that no single definition appears to be descriptively adequate for cross-linguistic data.50 One reason may be that the notion of topic itself is scalar and manifests prototype effects.51 There also appear to be different types of topics across the world’s languages: “The most often mentioned aspects of categorization are the distinction between (i) sentence-external and sentence-internal topics, (ii) aboutness-topics vs. frame-setters, (iii) topics bound to givenness vs. context-independent topics, and (iv) contrastive topics vs. noncontrastive topics. The proposed topic types or distinctions are generally based on specific properties of topic-related structures attested in a certain language.”52

reference. The shift is facilitated by the construction of about with the verb under nuclear scope, so that its trajector is a nonmaterial process rather than a concrete participant [. . .] the orientation performed by about is now based in the metalinguistic or textual domain, situating a linguistic element rather than a physical entity”; O’Dowd, Prepositions and Particles, 159. 49 “Linguists have essentially given up on a rigorous definition of topics  – almost everyone [.  .  .] mentions the aboutness condition and then moves on to more mundane matters of topichood and topicalization”; Maria Polinsky, review of Information Structure and Sentence Form: Topic, Focus, and the Mental Representations of Discourse Referents, by Knud Lambrecht, Language 75, no. 3 (1999): 572, DOI: 10.2307/417062. See also Valéria Molnár, Verner Egerland, and Susanne Winkler, Architecture of Topic, Studies in Generative Grammar 136 (Berlin: De Gruyter Mouton, 2019); Nomi Erteschik-Shir, Information Structure: The Syntax-Discourse Interface, Oxford Surveys in Syntax and Morphology 3 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). 50 John Myhill, “Typology and Discourse Analysis,” in The Handbook of Discourse Analysis, ed. Heidi E. Hamilton and Deborah Tannen (New York: Wiley, 2008), 163–64. 51 Joachim Jacobs, “The Dimensions of Topic-Comment,” Linguistics 39, no. 4 (2001): 643, DOI: 10.1515/ling.2001.027. 52 Valéria Molnár, Verner Egerland, and Susanne Winkler, “Exploring the Architecture of Topic at the Interface of Grammar and Discourse,” in Architecture of Topic, eds. Molnár, Egerland, and Winkler, 30.

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However, a common feature in proposed definitions is that topic is a pragmatic notion (“aboutness”) with discourse constraints such as degree of activation (e.g., given vs. new), location in memory store, and retrievability from global context. A useful and precise definition is given by Joachim Jacobs:53 1. Informational Separation: “In (X Y), X is informationally separated from Y iff the semantic processing of utterances of (X Y) involves two steps, one for X and one for Y.” 2. Predication: “In (X Y), X is the semantic subject and Y the semantic predicate iff (a) X specifies a variable in the semantic valency of an element in Y, and (b) there is no Z such that (i) Z specifies a variable in the semantic valency of an element in Y and (ii) Z is hierarchically higher in semantic form than X.” 3. Addressation: “In (X Y), X is the address for Y iff X marks the point in the speaker– hearer knowledge where the information carried by Y has to be stored at the moment of the utterance of (X Y).” 4. Frame-Setting: “In (X Y), X is the frame for Y iff X specifies a domain of (possible) reality to which the proposition expressed by Y is restricted.” In sum: a constituent may be assigned the interpretation topic if it is informationally distinct, can be distinguished from the semantic predicate, the predicate is filed in the memory store under that constituent, and the proposition is only felicitous with reference to that constituent. Notice that each of these criteria belongs to the pragmatics of an utterance, rather than to its semantics. For this reason, in the description below I adopt the approach proposed by Strawson-Reinhart: topic is a discourse-pragmatic notion of what an utterance is about.54 The notion topic can be divided into further detail by distinguishing between about topics and stage topics.55 About topics are given information that a speaker uses to manage the common ground of the discourse.56 They may be semantically definite or indefinite, have different discourse properties (e.g., degree of activation), and different levels of syntactic integration, but in each case they are presupposed information that is retrievable from the global context, the memory store, or the mental encyclopedia.57 About topics can be further separated according to their formal and 53 Jacobs, “Dimensions of Topic-Comment,” 645, 647, 650, 656. 54 In contrast to grammatical or semantic definitions. The aboutness criteria can also be used to evaluate the truth-value of a sentence. Erteschik-Shir, Information Structure, 20–22; Knud Lambrecht, Information Structure and Sentence Form: Topic, Focus, and the Mental Representations of Discourse Referents, CSL 71 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1996), 118. 55 Erteschik-Shir, Information Structure, 19. Because of their controversial nature, stage topics are covered in a separate section below. 56 Manfred Krifka, “Basic Notions of Information Structure,” Acta Linguistica Hungarica 55, no. 3–4 (2008): 243–76, DOI: 10.1556/aling.55.2008.3-4.2. The notion given here includes both discourse-old (previously mentioned) and presupposed but inactive information. 57 Michael Rochemont, “Giveness,” in The Oxford Handbook of Information Structure, ed. Caroline Féry and Shinichiro Ishihara (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 46. See also Jaako Leino, “In-

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discourse-pragmatic features into sentence topics and discourse topics.58 Both of these types of about topic correlate with degree of accessibility in Talmy Givón’s Topic Accessibility Scale (figure 5.4):

Figure 5.4: Topic Accessibility Scale.59

There is a dependent relationship in discourse between a referent’s definiteness, activation state, and familiarity, which is reflected in the code’s formal features and information structure properties. Givón’s Topic Accessibility Scale provides a crucial set of predictions based on this relationship. For example, it predicts that reduced referents (e.g., him) will be dispreferred for discourse topics like the topicalization construction. Instead, they are preferred for sentence topics, which tend to be clause-medial because the referent is already accessible and depends for its salience on coreference in the more local domain. Likewise, the topicalization construction should trend toward fuller noun phrases because it must update the activation state of a topic in the extended domain. The same is not true of sentence topics, which may be null or reduced. Finally, when grammatically indefinite, the referent should still receive an interpretation as a specific indefinite because it remains accessible (e.g., via the mental encyclopedia or memory store). Each of these properties hold true for the περί preposition phrase. Notice in (16) how the referents must receive a specific interpretation despite the absence of formal features otherwise:

formation Structure,” in The Oxford Handbook of Construction Grammar, ed. Graeme Trousdale and Thomas Hoffmann (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 331: “While presupposition and assertion relate to propositions and, for example, their givenness and acceptability, identifiability and activation relate to referents and their discourse properties.” 58 The notion sentence topic includes the topic of individual clauses as well as entire sentences. 59 Givón attributes the cross-linguistic data to an iconicity principle, but see Haspelmath’s useful criticism of this principle; Talmy Givón, Topic Continuity in Discourse: A Quantitative Cross-Language Study, TSL 3 (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 1983), 18; Martin Haspelmath, “Frequency vs. Iconicity in Explaining Grammatical Asymmetries,” Cognitive Linguistics 19, no. 1 (2008): 1–33, DOI: 10.1515/ COG.2008.001.

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(16) διαλεγομένου δὲ αὐτοῦ περὶ δικαιοσύνης καὶ ἐγκρατείας καὶ τοῦ κρίματος τοῦ μέλλοντος, ἔμφοβος γενόμενος ὁ Φῆλιξ ἀπεκρίθη (Acts 24:25) Now as he reasoned about righteousness and self-control and the coming judgement, Felix, becoming alarmed, answered The sentence topics (the Landmarks) are all given, and yet vary in grammatical definiteness. This is a useful example of the predictions made by Givón’s hierarchy. In order for this sentence to be felicitous, the grammatically indefinite nouns δικαιοσύνης and ἐγκρατείας must be assigned an interpretation as specific indefinites: They must have a known denotation. The reason is that the περί preposition phrase maintains and promotes topics but does not introduce them: It preserves rather than creates the activation state of a noun phrase referent. If the referent is not grammatically or semantically definite, it must still belong to the common ground and therefore be assigned a specific interpretation since it remains identifiable. This explains the grammatical definiteness of the topic noun phrase in (17): (17) Περὶ δὲ τῆς φιλαδελφίας οὐ χρείαν ἔχετε (1Thess 4:9) Now concerning brotherly love, you have no need. In the topicalization construction we find fuller noun phrases because of a restriction created by information structure properties: Greek is a topic-prominent language and therefore a noun phrase generally requires an update to its activation state before it can be promoted to the left-periphery. Without such an update, the sentence is judged infelicitous in the discourse and pragmatic clash results.60 This is a good example of why a discourse-pragmatic definition of topic is needed. Although the Strawson-Reinhart approach is not unproblematic, no definition of topic is, and for our purposes, it is useful because it can be operationalized for the semantic description of περί.61

5.6.1 Overview of topic The περί preposition phrase was productive in Greek discourse for topic-management in all domains of reference.62 In each domain it involves a salience relation between

60 Adele E. Goldberg, Constructions at Work: The Nature of Generalization in Language, Oxford Linguistics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), e.g., 131. 61 Particular features of the Strawson-Reinhart approach adopted here are indebted to Erteschik-Shir, Information Structure. 62 “The range from local to extended is a scale, with the most local domain being, for instance, the arguments of a single predicate, and progressively more extended domains bringing in the adjuncts of the predicate, elements in other clauses, and finally (as discourse is considered) elements in other

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given referents at the grammar-discourse interface. Although the activation state can be scalar, the referent of a περί preposition phrase must be retrievable from the common ground via global context, memory store, or the mental encyclopedia. This is true regardless of which domain the coreference may belong to. The vast majority of tokens for περί in postclassical Greek are reserved for topic. This is linked morphologically to the genitive case, though exceptions apply.63 In the local domain it involves an active noun phrase referent that is usually the co-referential object argument of a single predicate and therefore marked by an obligatory reflexive construction. This same is not true in the extended domain, where the referent does not receive corresponding marking. However, when used to maintain topic-NP continuity, the referent in a περί preposition phrase is usually reduced, since in the extended domain “it is expected that reference will be made back to a participant who has already been introduced into the discourse.”64 Further distinctions can be made for topic-NP continuity in the extended domain depending on whether coreference involves clauses, sentences, or broader units of discourse. From a diachronic perspective, topic is usually distinguished by structural location and level of syntactic integration. Although the code has changed (e.g., Standard Modern Greek για), in the history of Greek sentence topics are fully integrated and clause-medial, while discourse topics are typically reserved for the left-periphery.65 For example, sentence topics assign the topic-NP information structure properties and a grammatical role within the clause while the topicalization construction assigns similar properties but leaves a corresponding gap at the extraction site.66 A sketch of περί’s role in the topic inventory is provided below.

5.6.2 Sentence Topics Following Reinhart’s about test67 for determining sentence topic, we may propose a περί test for ancient Greek: if the sentence under question can be embedded in a

sentences.” Naturally the exact cutoff point between domains is gradient. Bernard Comrie, “Reference-Tracking: Description and Explanation,” Language Typology and Universals 52 (1999): 338, DOI: 10.1524/stuf.1999.52.34.335. 63 Topic sometimes licenses the accusative case. This is especially frequent in the Atticists. For examples, see BDAG, 798. 64 Comrie, “Reference-Tracking,” 342. 65 Exceptions apply, e.g., Right Dislocation. See also Stavros Skopeteas, “Information Structure in Modern Greek,” in Féry and Ishihara, Oxford Handbook of Information Structure, 691. 66 Similarly, Greek disallows preposition stranding, and so wh-words pied-pipe περί-PPs to the leftperiphery, e.g., περὶ οὗ/ὧν. 67 Tanya Reinhart, “Pragmatics and Linguistics: An Analysis of Sentence Topics,” Philosophica 27 (1981): 64–68. See also Lambrecht, Information Structure, 152.

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matrix clause containing περί, then the noun phrase following περί is the sentence topic: καὶ ἔλεγεν αὐτοῖς κύριός ἐστιν τοῦ σαββάτου ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου (Luke 6:5) And he said to them, “The son of man is Lord of the Sabbath.” ~καὶ ἔλεγεν περὶ τοῦ υἱοῦ τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ὅτι κύριός ἐστιν τοῦ σαββάτου ~And he said about the son of man, “He is Lord of the Sabbath.” As noted above, as a sentence topic, the noun phrase referent is always assigned a grammatical function within the clause in order to maintain a topic in the sentence. This is not always identical to the grammatical subject.68 For this reason a sentence topic can belong to either the local or intermediate domains of reference, though not the extended domain. One crucial difference between sentence and discourse topic is that the sentence topic is not always identical to the current discourse topic in the extended domain, but it is always identical to the grammatical subject in the most local domain. Sentence topics share several features with discourse topics and can be difficult to distinguish because both have a pragmatic rather than a formal definition. They are distinguished by their information structure properties: – Sentence topics typically track a topic-NP in a single proposition in order to maintain (but never update) its activation state. – Discourse topics anchor a series of propositions in the extended domain. They can maintain and sometimes update the activation state of a noun phrase referent in order to promote it to new topic. These properties explain why sentence topics are represented in the most local domain but discourse topics typically are not, why discourse topics can involve topic-switching but sentence topics cannot, and why discourse topics include promoted constituents but sentence topics do not. Naturally, there is not an exact boundary between sentence topics and discourse topics, and so only schematic properties can be given. Providing more detail than this is beyond the scope of this chapter.

68 “Since sentences may have more than one topic, the ‘main’ topic (often the syntactically highest one, i.e., a subject or one that is topicalized) is the pivot for truth value assessment”; Nomi Erteschik-Shir, “Stage Topics and Their Architecture” in Architecture of Topic, eds. Molnár, Egerland, and Winkler, 224.

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5.6.2.1 Local Domain In the most local domain, a reflexive construction is obligatory because it is coreferential with a subject that fills two different semantic roles and therefore receives more marking69: (18) οὐδὲν περὶ ἑαυτοῦ λέγει ὡς ὄντος τινὸς ἢ εἰδότος τι (Epictetus, Ench. 48.2) He says nothing regarding himself as if he were someone or knew something (19) αὐτὸς περὶ ἑαυτοῦ λαλήσει (John 9:21) He will speak for himself This typically involves a reduced referent because the activation state of a noun phrase in the local domain is very high: (20) ἄρα οὖν ἕκαστος ἡμῶν περὶ ἑαυτοῦ λόγον δώσει τῷ θεῷ (Rom 14:12) So then each of us will give an account of himself to God (21) καλῶς ἂν ποιήσαις [. . .] ἀξιώσας Ἕρμιππον περὶ τῆς ἀποδημίας τὴν ταχίστην, εἵνα τὰ ἴδια διαθέμενος τὰ σώματα καταστήσω περὶ ἐμαυτοῦ (PSI 4.424 [TM  2107], third century BCE) Please [. . .] ask Hermippos quickly about life abroad, so that after disposing of my property, I may appoint slaves for myself. It can also be preposed to assign focus: (22) σὺ περὶ σεαυτοῦ μαρτυρεῖς (John 8:13) You testify about yourself! As a comparison, note (23): (23) Ἀριστοτέλει τῷ φιλοσόφῳ τοῦτο προσεμαρτύρησεν Ἀντίπατρος γράφων περὶ αὐτοῦ μετὰ τὴν τελευτήν (Plutarch, Comp. Arist. Cat. 2.354) To Aristotle the Philosopher Antipas bore this witness, writing concerning him after his death

69 Comrie, “Reference-Tracking,” 338.

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Why does (23) receive less marking than (21)? The reason is simple: What would be disallowed in the local domain is obligatory in the intermediate domain because the pronoun is the anaphor of a constituent in another clause. Although as sentence topic the περί preposition phrase allows coreference in both local and intermediate domains of reference, the markedness of the pronoun in (21) has a cognitive basis since it concerns the assignment of multiple semantic roles to a single referent. The lack of corresponding markedness in (23) has a discourse basis since it concerns co-reference between clauses.

5.6.2.2 Intermediate Domain In the intermediate domain περί tracks a noun phrase referent and its anaphora in order to manage the memory store and maintain topic-noun-phrase (topic-NP) continuity between clauses that typically represent a single proposition. This is distinguished from the extended domain where it maintains or else updates a topic-NP in order to anchor a series of propositions.70 The distinction between local and intermediate domain is scalar and difficult to distinguish in most cases. One definite feature of the intermediate domain is that the topic-NP is not coreferential with the grammatical subject of the matrix clause (as required in the more local domain): (24) Ἀσπάζεται ὑμᾶς Ἀρίσταρχος ὁ συναιχμάλωτός μου καὶ Μᾶρκος ὁ ἀνεψιὸς Βαρναβᾶ περὶ οὗ ἐλάβετε ἐντολάς (Col 4:10) Aristarchus my fellow prisoner greets you as does Mark who is called Barnabas (about whom you received instructions) The περί preposition phrase, as with the about preposition phrase, is preferred for the subject matter of a durative emotion event: (25) ἤδη καὶ περὶ τῆς ἐγγινομένης χρονικῆς διαθέσεως ἐν τῇ ἐγκλίσει διαποροῦσί τινες (Appolonius Dyscolos, Syntax 3.98) Some are confused about the attribution of a temporal value to this mood71

70 Lambrecht refers to this as “a simple proposition via biclausal syntax”; Knud Lambrecht, “A Framework for the Analysis of Cleft Constructions,” Linguistics 39, no. 3 (2001): 466, DOI: 10.1515/ ling.2001.021. 71 The translation in (25) is indebted to Geoffrey Horrocks, although it appears incorrect to render περί with the English preposition by. In a recent corpus study of 520 million words of English, Eunmi Kim demonstrates that less intense, long-term emotions collocate with the English about rather than the preposition by. The hypothesis offered is that about is a multidimensional preposition that allows extension across space, while at and by are zero-dimensional points. About is therefore more fitting

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As in the local domain, the περί preposition phrase can be preposed to assign focus here as well: (26) καθὼς τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον περὶ αὐτοῦ ἐλάλησεν (1Clem. 16:2) Even as the Holy Spirit spoke concerning him And as in the local domain, a grammatically indefinite noun phrase must be assigned a specific interpretation: (27) καὶ αὐτὸς δὲ ὁ δεσπότης τῶν ἁπάντων περὶ μετανοίας ἐλάλησεν μετὰ ὅρκου (1Clem. 8:2) Now, the master of the universe himself spoke about repentance with an oath In every case, the noun phrase is retrievable from the memory store (28), the common ground (29), or the mental encyclopedia (30): (28) γραφεῖσαν ἡμῖν ἐπιστολὴν περὶ τοῦ ἀντιλεγομένου σί̣ του ὃν ἀπέσταλκας πρὸς ἡμᾶς (P.Hib. 1.82 [TM 8231], 238 BCE) They wrote a letter to us about the disputed grain which you have sent to us (29) ὁ βασιλεὺς περὶ τούτου πεμψάτω πρὸς ἡμᾶς (Ezra 5:17 LXX) Let the king send to us concerning this matter (30) Τοὺς νεωτέρους ὡσαύτως παρακάλει σωφρονεῖν περὶ πάντα σεαυτὸν παρεχόμενος τύπον καλῶν ἔργων (Titus 2:6–7)72 Likewise urge the young men to be wise, with respect to everything showing yourself to be a model of good works The reduced referents in (29) and (30) are a useful example of the site from which the noun phrase is extracted in the topicalization construction. In each case, the noun phrase is located at a clause-medial site, assigned a grammatical role in the clause,

for durative emotion events; Eunmi Kim, “Causality-Encoding of at and by in Emotion Constructions in English,” Australian Journal of Linguistics 37, no. 1 (2017): 1–18, DOI: 10.1080/07268602.2016.1169974; Geoffrey Horrocks, “Byzantine Literature in ‘Classicised’ Genres: Some Grammatical Realities (V–XIV CE),” in Varieties of Post-Classical and Byzantine Greek, ed. Klaas Bentein and Mark Janse, Trends in Linguistics 331 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2020), 165. 72 The structural ambiguity can trigger both stage topic and focus interpretations. This may be deliberate.

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and enjoys a high degree of activation. It is these features that distinguish it from the extended domain.

5.6.3 Extended Domain In the extended domain of reference, the περί preposition phrase is reserved for discourse topics. In the data below, I review stage topics and highlight the role of the περί preposition phrase in topicalization.

5.6.3.1 Stage Topics (Temporal) The περί preposition phrase can code a temporal frame within which a predication holds.73 This is referred to as a stage topic.74 stage topics are treated here as an edgecase between intermediate and extended domains of reference, since they appear to belong to either classification. Unlike About Topics, Stage Topics must be distinguished by their semantics rather than their level of syntactic integration. However, they share several features with About Topics. In the intermediate domain of reference, stage topics are assigned a grammatical role in the clause: (31) καὶ ἐξελθὼν περὶ τρίτην ὥραν εἶδεν ἄλλους (Matt 20:3) And going out about the third hour, they saw each other stage topics can also be extracted to the left-periphery where they are syntactically unintegrated with the rest of the sentence. Their presence at the boundary of new sections is a clear example of their location in the extended domain of reference: (32) περὶ δὲ ἡλίου δυσμὰς ἔκστασις ἐπέπεσεν τῷ Αβραμ (Gen 15:12 LXX) Now around sunset a vision fell upon Abraham Although not frequent, the περί preposition phrase as a stage topic persists in learned discourse well into the early medieval period:

73 Consider Chafe’s definition of topic: “a spatial, temporal, or individual framework within which the main predication holds”; Wallace Chafe, “Givenness, Contrastiveness, Definiteness, Subjects, Topics and Point of View,” in Subject and Topic, ed. Charles N. Li (New York: Academic Press 1976), 50–51. 74 Erteschik-Shir, Information Structure, 19.

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(33) ὀψίας δὲ ἤδη περὶ ἡλίου δυσμὰς ἐμηνύθη μοι (Julian, Letter to the Senate, 284b) Now it was already evening, when about sunset it was disclosed to me The difference between topicalization and stage topic is essentially semantic. Stage topics never involve participants but rather provide a temporal or locative setting for a proposition.

5.6.3.2 Discourse Topics As mentioned above, discourse topics can be distinguished from sentence topics by their information structure properties. This is reflected in their leftmost position in the clause, exclusive site in the extended domain, their possible lack of coreference with the grammatical subject, and their use to promote new topics rather than maintain old ones. As a discourse topic, the περί preposition phrase is typically reserved for the topicalization construction, which extracts a given but moribund noun phrase referent from its canonical site in the matrix clause in order to promote and then maintain it as a discourse topic.75 Topicalization is distinguished from Left Dislocation by the fact that the ‘extraction’ leaves a gap site in the matrix clause.76 There are also different information structure properties: topicalization is given information that updates the activation state of a noun phrase referent in order to promote it to discourse topic, while Left Dislocation is typically topic-establishing.77 For this reason the topicalized noun phrase is not assigned a grammatical role within the clause. Its role as a discourse topic is fundamentally pragmatic and therefore restricted to the extended domain.78

75 Jacobs, “Dimensions of Topic-Comment,” 641. On preposition phrase topicalization, see Kordula de Kuthy and Andreas Konietzko, “Information Structural Constraints on PP Topicalization from NPs,” in Molnár, Egerland, and Winkler, Architecture of Topic, eds. Molnár, Egerland, and Winkler, 203–22. 76 “The sentence fragment following a topical element in the precore slot [. . .] must be pragmatically interpretable as being about the precore slot element or the head noun”; Robert D. van Valin and Randy J. LaPolla, Syntax: Structure, Meaning, and Function, CTL (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1997), 627. 77 Michelle. L. Gregory and Laura A. Michaelis, “Topicalization and Left-Dislocation: A Functional Opposition Revisited,” Journal of Pragmatics 33, no. 11 (2001): 1665–706, DOI: 10.1016/S03782166(00)00063-1; Adele E. Goldberg, Explain Me This: Creativity, Competition, and the Partial Productivity of Constructions (Princeton: Princeton University Press 2019), 4. 78 Katalin É. Kiss, Discourse Configurational Languages, Oxford Studies in Comparative Syntax (Oxford: Oxford University Press 1995), 6. The notion of Configurational versus Nonconfigurational languages is a problematic description of word order, e.g., Axiotis Kechagias, “Regulating Word Order in Modern Greek: Verb Initial and Non-Verb Initial Orders and the Conceptual-Intentional Interface” (PhD diss., University of London, 2015), esp. 16. However, the term Discourse Configurational appears

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5.6.3.3 Topicalization The topicalization construction is typically preferred when the discourse topic is moribund and the felicitousness of the proposition might be questionable as a result. “Moribund” means not that the referent is unknown but that its activation state is steadily expiring between propositions and requires an update before it can be promoted to discourse topic. This involves extracting the preposition phrase from the matrix clause to the left periphery where attention operations assign it the greatest degree of prominence in the clause. There it manages the common ground by establishing the felicity conditions of a new series of propositions. This explains why the Trajector-Landmark relation must be inverted (περί Landmark Trajector vs. Trajector περί Landmark): the salience of the Landmark as given information must precede a focal proposition as new information in order to anchor it to the discourse. It also provides a crucial difference between sentence and discourse topic: as a sentence topic the περί preposition phrase maintains the activation state of a referent restricted to a clause-medial position in more local domains, while as a discourse topic the περί preposition phrase involves updating the activation state of the same referent in more extended domains. Topicalization typically involves raising a new discourse topic in order to address or terminate a Question-under-Discussion (QUD).79 It also triggers a new set of felicity conditions. In order for new propositions to be added to the common ground, they must now be about the Landmark: (34) περὶ ἧς σωτηρίας ἐξεζήτησαν καὶ ἐξηραύνησαν προφῆται οἱ περὶ τῆς εἰς ὑμᾶς χάριτος προφητεύσαντες (1Pet 1:10) Concerning this salvation, the prophets who prophesied about the grace that is yours searched and inquired The example in (33) lacks a discourse marker or disjunctive because the discourse topic (ἧς σωτηρίας) has been raised from the comment of the previous proposition

to be descriptively adequate, although not unproblematic. See Kiss Discourse Configurational Languages, 122; David Goldstein, Classical Greek Syntax: Wackernagel’s Law in Herodotus (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 35–43. 79 Goldstein, 121–33. The QUD is the communicational goal of a conversational exchange or section of discourse. Questions-under-Discussion can be divided into sublevel and higher-order QUDs; Craige Roberts, “Information Structure in Discourse: Towards an Integrated Formal Theory of Pragmatics,” Semantics & Pragmatics 5, no. 6 (2012): 1–69, DOI: 10.3765/sp.5.6.

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in order to address an entailed Question-under-Discussion.80 Because it is a form of topicalization, new felicity conditions are also created: The comment is now judged felicitous with reference to the new discourse topic. Yet this also raises an interesting question: Why does the Landmark receive fuller reference in (34) than (35)? (35) Περὶ οὗ πολὺς ἡμῖν ὁ λόγος καὶ δυσερμήνευτος λέγειν (Heb 5:11) About this we have much to say and it is difficult to explain The reason is that the fuller reference in (34) involves raising a new discourse topic, while the reduced reference in (35) preserves the activation state of a current discourse topic. As we noted earlier, both facts are predicted by Givón’s Topic Accessibility Scale: the specificity of the referent depends on pragmatic constraints, such as discourse function and degree of activation. This also explains why Left Dislocation was dispreferred to establish a new topic in (36): (36) περὶ τῶν διεσταμένων συνχωρῖ ὁ Νῖλος αὐτόθεν ἄκυρον εἶναι ἣν ἀνενηνόχασιν αὐτῶι (BGU 4.1124 [TM 18566], 18 BCE)81 About the things agreed upon, Nilos admits what they have reported to him is obviously invalid. Topicalization with the περί preposition phrase does not introduce a brand-new referent.82 The noun phrase referent in (36) is already salient via the memory store, and thus Left Dislocation is dispreferred.

80 That is, a sub-QUD. Not all QUDs are explicit. Roberts (67): “Hence, a strategy of inquiry will have a hierarchical structure, a set of questions partially ordered by entailment.” Many QUDs are entailed by the higher-order QUD, and are addressed in turn as the discourse develops. 81 A modern example of these preposed topic prepositional phrases can be given from German: Über Neubaustrecke besteht zumindest in großen Teilen mmernoch [die Einigkeit], dass man sie bauen möchte (trans. “There is to at least a considerable extent a consensus about the new railroad tracks that people want to build them”); de Kuthy and Konietzko, “Information Structural Constraints,” 212. 82 The presence of a preposition phrase distinguishes noncontrastive topicalization from hanging topics. These are usually isolated to informal registers and constitute “unplanned discourse” in topic-prominent languages. Their use is frequent in documentary papyri; Jeanette K. Gundel, “Universals of Topic-Comment Structure,” in Studies in Syntactic Typology, ed. Michael Hammond, Edith Moravcsik, and Jessica Wirth, TSL 17 (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 1988), 238; Elena Maslova and Giuliano Bernini, “Sentence Topics in the Languages of Europe and Beyond,” in Pragmatic Organization of Discourse in the Languages of Europe, ed. Giuliano Bernini and Marcia L. Schwartz (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2006), 74–79.

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When used to terminate a previous Question-under-Discussion, and raise a new one, topicalization often involves a discourse marker or disjunctive alongside a περί preposition phrase.83 As noted above, it is preferred over topic-establishing constructions like Left Dislocation because the raised discourse topic is already a given referent. As we saw earlier, it must be grammatically definite or receive a specific interpretation: (37) Περὶ δὲ τῶν τραγῳδῶν, φησὶν ὁ Πολύβιος (Polybius, Hist. 30.12) Now concerning the tragedians, Polybius says (38) περὶ δὲ Ισμαηλ ἰδοὺ ἐπήκουσά σου (Gen 17:20 LXX) Now concerning Ishmael, behold I have heard you Note in (39) the presence of a μὲν-solitarium, which marks the discourse topic (τούτων) as only a partial answer to the current Question-under-Discussion.84 The topicalized περί preposition phrase triggers a new set of felicity conditions: (39) οὐ μὴν ἀλλὰ περὶ μὲν τούτων γέγραφα Λυκόφρονι καὶ Ἀπολλωνίωι (P.Col. 4.88 [TM 1801], 243 BCE) Nevertheless, concerning the things above, I have written to Likophronos and Apollonios Topicalization can also reflect an author’s presuppositions about the knowledge state of his audience. In the New Testament, famously, Paul uses the topicalized περί preposition phrase to pilot a sequence of discourse topics in order to address open questions in the Question-under-Discussion stack. With each freshly raised discourse topic, a previous Question-under-Discussion is terminated, a new Question-under-Discussion emerges, and new felicity conditions are triggered as a result: (40) Περὶ δὲ ὧν ἐγράψατε, καλὸν ἀνθρώπῳ γυναικὸς μὴ ἅπτεσθαι (1Cor 7:1) Now concerning the things about which you wrote: it is good for a man to not touch a woman

83 Nariyama refers to this as the “syntacticization of discourse factors in clause-internal grammar”; Shigeko Nariyama, Ellipsis and Reference Tracking in Japanese, Studies in Language Companion Series 66 (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2003), 45. See also Talmy Givón, Syntax: An Introduction (Amsterdam: John Benjamins 2001), 262. 84 Goldstein, Classical Greek Syntax, 132–33.

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(41) Περὶ δὲ τῶν εἰδωλοθύτων, οἴδαμεν ὅτι πάντες γνῶσιν ἔχομεν (1Cor 8:1) Now concerning food offered to idols, we know that we all have knowledge (42) Περὶ δὲ τῶν πνευματικῶν, ἀδελφοί, οὐ θέλω ὑμᾶς ἀγνοεῖν (1Cor 12:1) Now concerning spiritual gifts, brothers, I do not want you to be ignorant This explains why Paul prefers the περί preposition phrase in (40–42) rather than another topic-establishing construction: Each discourse topic is already salient because it is retrievable via the common ground. It can therefore be raised to terminate a previous Question-under-Discussion and establish a new one.85

5.7 Causer, Benefactive, Purpose? Finally, one contributing factor to the chaos of the lexicons is the notion that the περί preposition phrase codes a causer, benefactive, or purpose of some state of affairs.86 It is not clear what criteria was used to individuate these senses in the lexical network. It appears more likely that what was attributed to περί as code is actually an invited inference, a semantic property of the predicate, or an asymmetry between περί and a purported English equivalent.87 The view proposed here is that causer, benefactive, and purpose are usually utterance-token meanings – preferred interpretations that are provisional, defeasible, and isolated to bridging rather than switch contexts (e.g., p ⇒ q).88 In the history of Greek, they arise from the intricacies of topic as a discourse-pragmatic phenomenon but fail to be conventionalized and therefore never formally enter the lexical network. If these meanings were coded, they would not be cancelable.89 Yet we see that when certain discourse-pragmatic conditions 85 Matthias Irmer, Bridging Inferences: Constraining and Resolving Underspecification in Discourse Interpretation, Language, Context, and Cognition 11 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 2011), 177–78. 86 I wish to thank Kevin Grasso and Michael Aubrey for their helpful comments on the data analyzed in this section. To my knowledge, the only linguistic analysis of περί is Aubrey and Aubrey, Greek Prepositions in the New Testament. They suggest benefactive and purpose as possible in New Testament data, although they make no strong claim about it in the lexical network. 87 Because of their role in semantic change, Particularized implicatures are treated here as invited inferences; Elizabeth Closs Traugott, “Rethinking the Role of Invited Inferencing in Change from the Perspective of Interactional Texts,” Open Linguistics 4 (2018): 19–34, DOI: 10.1515/opli-2018-0002. 88 I.e., the interpretation q is pragmatically licensed without necessarily eliminating interpretation p. These tokens often involve ambiguity and can represent an intervening stage of semantic change; Elizabeth Closs Traugott and Richard B. Dasher, Regularity in Semantic Change, CSL 97 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 16–19. 89 Mira Ariel, Defining Pragmatics, Research Surveys in Linguistics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 42.

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fail to obtain, causer, benefactive, and purpose also fail to obtain. This creates a problem for traditional accounts of the lexical network. Consider (43): (43) κύριος πολεμήσει περὶ ὑμῶν καὶ ὑμεῖς σιγήσετε (Exod 14:14 LXX) The LORD will fight περί you and you will be silent. A benefactive interpretation is felicitous and so the L2 gloss for is fitting. However, the lexicons err by conflating this gloss with the meaning of the L1. It is not περί as code that contributes a benefactive meaning. Rather, benefactive is assigned to (43) because of an invited inference: p(The LORD will fight topic [you]) +> q(the LORD will fight benefactive[you]) The περί preposition phrase simply codes an aboutness relation between Trajector and Landmark. A benefactive interpretation is assigned to that relation as an utterance-token meaning triggered by the second clause in the utterance (the LORD will fight περί topic and topic will be silent). Without the second clause, benefactive would not obtain as a preferred interpretation: one can fight topic[a] without [a] being a benefactive, for example, when [a] is stolen or enslaved as a result.90 Benefactive is not coded in (43) but arises as an invited inference once the second clause is added to the common ground. Notice other interpretations could be assigned: p(The LORD will fight topic[you]) +> q(the LORD will fight causer[you]) Yet this too cannot be evidence of causer as a distinct sense. Causer like benefactive would only obtain in this context as an inference. This is clear because it is in fact canceled by the next clause: καὶ ὑμεῖς σιγήσετε. That is, what the second clause would contribute to the common ground would no longer be clear, and would therefore be judged infelicitious infelicitous. The presence of other pragmatically licensed interpretations creates a problem for (43) as an example of either benefactive or cause. Yet what about benefactive verbs? (44) παρακαλῶ σε περὶ τοῦ ἐμοῦ τέκνου, ὃν ἐγέννησα ἐν τοῖς δεσμοῖς, Ὀνήσιμον (Phlm 10) I plead with you περί my child, whom I have begotten in chains, Onesimus (45) καὶ εὔχομαι πάντοτε περὶ τῆς ὑγιείας σου (P.Giss.Apoll. 13 [TM 19419], second century CE) And I pray always περί your health 90 The gloss for translates this inference rather than the preposition itself.

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There is no reason to think benefactive obtains as code in these examples. Rather, it is a property of the predicate. The περί preposition phrase is preferred because these verbs select some subject matter as their argument and the περί preposition phrase codes this aboutness relation.91 In (44) and (45), we assign the interpretation benefactive because of an invited inference that arises from discourse-pragmatic considerations (e.g., Onesimus is a slave), not because the περί preposition phrase codes this meaning. Notice that benefactive can be canceled: ~I plead with you περί my child [. . .], that you destroy him.92 ~And I pray always περί your health, that it fail.

These tokens continue to illustrate the point made earlier: as code the περί preposition phrase contributes an aboutness relation between Trajector and Landmark and nothing more. It is the pragmatic features of the utterance that trigger a benefactive reading of this relation. We have not yet seen an example that proves a distinct benefactive sense inheres in semantic memory. What about causer? (46) καὶ ἤτασεν ὁ θεὸς τὸν Φαραω ἐτασμοῖς μεγάλοις καὶ πονηροῖς καὶ τὸν οἶκον αὐτοῦ περὶ Σαρας τῆς γυναικὸς Αβραμ (Gen 12:17) And God struck pharaoh and his house with great and grievous afflictions περί Sarah, Abraham’s wife93 It is clear that περί does not belong to the set of overt causative constructions in Greek, such as lexical causatives or connectives.94 Although different levels of granularity are possible, I follow Phillip Wolff and define causation as the absence of an intervening stage between an initial causer and the final causee.95 Other conditions can 91 See also Josephus Ant. 5.4: καὶ παρεκάλει χαριζομένους τῇ τε ἐκείνου προνοίᾳ μηδ᾽ ὅτε ἀπέθνησκε περὶ αὐτοὺς (“And he appeals [to them] regarding the goodwill of that man whose foresight περί them did not fade even when he died”). Though they behave as nominals, deverbal nouns (προνοίᾳ) can retain verbal properties – in this case, selecting some subject matter. As with (32)–(33), benefactive is a defeasible inference. 92 Although silly, we can imagine cases where both canceled implicatures are felicitous, e.g., a sentence from a letter in which the future father of Hitler writes to a reluctant assassin, or an imprecation against a mortal enemy. 93 E.g., The Lexham English Septuagint, ed. Ken M. Penner and Rick Brannan, 2nd ed. (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2020): “because of Sarai the wife of Abram.” 94 Elitzur A. Bar-Asher Siegal and Nora Boneh, Perspectives on Causation: Selected Papers from the Jerusalem 2017 Workshop (Cham: Springer Nature, 2020); David Michael Pesetsky, Zero Syntax: Experiencers and Cascades, Current Studies in Linguistics 27 (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1996), 57–60. 95 Wolff, “Direct Causation in the Linguistic Coding and Individuation of Causal Events,” Cognition 88, no. 1 (2003): 39, DOI: 10.1016/S0010-0277(03)00004-0.

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also obtain: the temporal precedence of the causer or a counterfactual entailment (had event A not occurred, neither would event B).96 Example (46) meets the temporal precedence and counterfactual entailment criteria, but any number of intervening stages can be imagined between the proposed causer and causee. At best Sarah is a necessary though not sufficient condition for the state of affairs: a reason rather than a causer. We can also ask: Why prefer περί for causer when a prototypical causative construction (e.g., a lexical causative or connective) can code the same relation explicitly? Rather, (46) is an aboutness relation that is felicitous under the same pragmatic conditions as (43). causer can be canceled: ~God struck pharaoh and his house with great and grievous afflictions περί Sarah. Her brother Nelson caused this to happen.

On this reading, Nelson caused God to strike pharaoh and is therefore the causer, not Sarah. Notice too that a benefactive reading is possible (and the most likely candidate for a preferred interpretation): ~God struck pharaoh and his house with great and grievous afflictions περί Sarah and she was saved.

The possibility of multiple pragmatically licensed interpretations means (46) is ambiguous and does not code causer: p(God struck pharaoh [.  .  .] topic[Sarah]) +> q(God struck pharaoh [.  .  .] benefactive[Sarah]) ∨ q(God struck pharaoh [. . .] causer[Sarah])

Therefore, (46) is not an example that causer obtains in the lexical network. The metonymic Landmark Sarah seems (on a broader reading of the discourse) to be merely an enabling condition or causal factor: a reason for rather than the causer of the state of affairs. Due to the formal constraints of linguistic causation described above, causer does not obtain at all in this case, while benefactive and reason can arise only as invited inferences that resolve the aboutness relation. These facts also explain why the περί preposition phrase does not code a causer with change of state verbs: (47) καὶ εἰσῆλθεν ὁ θεὸς πρὸς Αβιμελεχ ἐν ὕπνῳ τὴν νύκτα καὶ εἶπεν Ἰδοὺ σὺ ἀποθνῄσκεις περὶ τῆς γυναικός ἧς ἔλαβες (Gen 20:3 LXX) And God came to Abimilech in a dream at night and said, “Behold, you are going to die περί the woman whom you took The περί preposition phrase is preferred because the αrea metaphor behind topic structures the salience of an aboutness relation between the unaccusative ἀποθνῄσκεις and 96 Pesetsky, Zero Syntax, 57–60.

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the Landmark. Yet this cannot be evidence for causer as a distinct sense that inheres in semantic memory. Causer can be canceled in the same way as before: ~You are going to die περί the woman whom you took, but Abraham will be the cause of this.

As with (46), the περί preposition phrase simply codes an aboutness relation. The reason interpretation is assigned to the Landmark based on an invited inference triggered by the proposition’s location in the global context. Neither (46) nor (47) provide evidence that the περί preposition phrase can code the causer of some state of affairs.97 So far, neither benefactive nor causer seem to obtain as a semantic extension in the lexical network. What about purpose? (48) Μὴ σχίσωμεν αὐτόν ἀλλὰ λάχωμεν περὶ αὐτοῦ τίνος ἔσται (John 19:24) Let us not tear it apart, but let us cast lots περί it [to determine] whose it will be Again, we find an invited inference at work. As with (43), the event takes place with regard to the topic Landmark, but purpose arises only as an inference triggered by a transfer of possession. Without it, purpose can easily be canceled: ~let us cast lots περί it [to determine] who will destroy it This is a useful example of the περί test mentioned earlier. The περί preposition phrase is preferred because it codes the sentence topic: It was with reference to the Landmark that they cast lots. Other meanings may arise, but not as code. Similar facts are found in (49): (49) ἀπόδος τὰς γυναῖκάς μου καὶ τὰ παιδία περὶ ὧν δεδούλευκά σοι (Gen 30:26 LXX) Give me my wives and my children περί whom I served you A purpose reading is licit. Yet, benefactive is also possible. This is a hallmark sign of pragmatic meaning, which is indeterminate and inferred. Benefactive cannot obtain as code because it is cancelable: ~Give me my wives περί whom I served you and I will dispose of them

97 We should pause when proposed tokens for causer are in fact the prototypical topicalization construction, e.g., 2Macc 4:43 Περὶ δὲ τούτων ἐνέστη κρίσις πρὸς τὸν Μενέλαον (Lexham English Septuagint: “A lawsuit against Menelaus began because of these events”).

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Likewise, a purpose interpretation is felicitous because it is triggered as an inference by the subordinate clause (δεδούλευκά σοι). The περί preposition phrase simply codes the sentence topic. Additional meaning is inferred: p(Give me my wives [. . .] topic[whom] I served you +> q(Give me my wives [. . .] benefactive[whom] I served you) ∨ q(Give me my wives [. . .] purpose[whom] I served you) Again, we find no evidence for a distinct purpose sense in the lexical network because these meanings obtain only as inferences. Although the brief account provided here may be proven wrong in future studies, these examples do not appear to support three distinct semantic extensions from topic. To summarize: Causer, benefactive, and purpose interpretation of the περί preposition phrase are utterance-token meanings that are metalinguistic in nature. They arise as invited inferences that obtain in bridging contexts. Their meanings are never conventionalized in the lexical network. As such, they simply represent the pragmatic potential of topic in Greek discourse where the περί preposition phrase recruits from the area metaphor to ground the salience of some agentive predicate (new information) by construing it as sharing a common area with a topic Landmark (given information). The exact reason for this aboutness relation is triggered by properties of the utterance itself.

5.8 Proposed Lexical Network As we can see, topic may deserve a complex entry, but the περί preposition phrase does not. The lexical network is simple. In fact, I propose only three distinct senses existed during the postclassical period:

Figure 5.5: The proposed lexical network of περί.

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Other proposed senses are simply inferences that arise as metalinguistic meanings, and therefore never enter the lexical network. Additionally, the senses above should not be confused with English glosses such as around or about, which have distinct lexical networks of their own. Other equivalents (e.g., by) are sometimes based on a misunderstanding of the schematic properties of both the L1 and L2 preposition. Finally, semantic descriptions of the περί preposition phrase must distinguish between code and inference and the broader intricacies of topic as a discourse-pragmatic phenomenon. What has been attributed to the lexical network is often an inference triggered by properties of the utterance itself, rather than by the περί preposition phrase as code.

5.9 Conclusion Are more than twenty subheadings needed to explain the lexical network of περί? The answer given here is an emphatic no. The lexical network is simple. It is the usage profile of the περί preposition phrase at the grammar-discourse interface that can be quite complex. From a research standpoint, much more remains to be said about the role of the περί preposition phrase in Greek discourse. Further studies would improve on this one by examining how it interfaces with the topic inventory in Greek, comparing results with cross-linguistic evidence, as well as giving further attention to its role in cognitive systems like attention and memory. Likewise, lexicons would benefit from providing a more accurate portrait of this preposition by situating it in its historical context as a property of Greek discourse. No description of its usage profile can be complete without it.

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William A. Ross

6 Construals of Faith in ἐν and ἐκ Prepositional Constructions “Prepositions are a trap for the translator. They often don’t mean what they seem to mean, and we cannot consistently translate a preposition in one language by one particular preposition in another.”1 This observation encapsulates an anxiety all too familiar to biblical linguists and exegetes, who have long recognized the semantic mismatch between Greek and English prepositions. Greek lexicons have often (and rightly) borne the brunt of criticism for undue multiplication of meanings attributed to prepositions, and for wrongly categorizing their use in the New Testament.2 Perhaps with too much confidence in these very resources, many exegetes have not remained innocent of poor engagement with and translation of Greek prepositions themselves. In light of these challenges, the aim of this essay is deceptively simple. The discussion that follows will identify and categorize all instances where πίστις acts as the complement in a prepositional construction headed by either ἐν or ἐκ in the New Testament.3 The choice of prepositions for this investigation is motivated partly by their relatively high frequency with πίστις and also for the sake of simplicity given their association with a single case.4 More significantly for the task of interpretation, these prepositional constructions were chosen owing to their involvement with several

1 Edward R. Hope, “Translating Prepositions,” BT 37, no. 4 (1986): 402, DOI: 10.1177/026009438603700401. Cf. Constantine R. Campbell, “Prepositions and Exegesis: What’s in a Word?,” in Getting into the Text: New Testament Essays in Honor of David Alan Black, ed. Daniel L. Akin and Thomas W. Hudgins (Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications, 2017), 39. 2 Early examples include J. A. H. Tittmann, “On the Force of the Greek Prepositions in Compound Verbs, as Employed in the New Testament,” The Biblical Respository 9 (1833): 45; G. B. Winer, A Treatise on the Grammar of New Testament Greek, Regarded as a Sure Basis for New Testament Exegesis, trans. W. F. Moulton, 3rd German ed., 9th English ed. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1882), 487. 3 Although other prepositions appear in constructions with πίστις, as shown below, they are not discussed here. I speak here of prepositions heading constructions, but others approach things differently. Stanley E. Porter considers the nominalized element of a prepositional phrase (not the preposition itself) to be the head term; Stanley E. Porter, “Greek Prepositions in a Systemic Functional Linguistic Framework,” BAGL 6 (2017): 21–22. This approach derives in part from the view that a preposition is governed by – and thus helps manifest the meaning of – its case; see Stanley E. Porter, Idioms of the Greek New Testament, 2nd ed., BLG 2 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994), 140; so also Campbell, “Prepositions,” 43. Pietro Bortone agrees, but points out that preposition combination with case is not always strictly semantically motivated; Pietro Bortone, Greek Prepositions from Antiquity to the Present, Oxford Linguistics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 16–20. 4 With the exception of διά (19×), the prepositions ἐν (15×) and ἐκ (23×) occur most frequently with πίστις in the New Testament. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110777895-006

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theologically debated texts. While all texts with these constructions are discussed to some degree, most attention here goes to the texts in which the sense of ἐν or ἐκ becomes less clear and even appears to overlap with the meaning of other prepositions. It is these situations that tend to coincide with the theologically debated texts, often involving uses of ἐν and ἐκ traditionally considered instrumental, as well as texts bound up with the so-called πίστις Χριστοῦ debate.5 The aim here is to account for such usage in terms of Prototype Theory, thereby applying and elaborating upon the semantic descriptions offered elsewhere in the present volume. By limiting senses only to those that are conceptually motivated extensions, Prototype Theory offers a corrective measure for the tendency to unnecessarily multiply the meanings of prepositions in Greek lexicography. As a result, many translations that are assumed or are perhaps simply traditional must come under renewed scrutiny as textual interpretation is more rigorously oriented in terms of Greek (not English) semantic structure. In this way, Prototype Theory is a kind of semantic stud-finder, helping to more accurately align modern hermeneutical competence with ancient linguistic competence and drawing attention to hollow-sounding areas behind the wall of information presented in Greek lexicons.

6.1 Pistis in New Testament Prepositional Constructions Before moving into textual and semantic analysis, it is worth noting too that the understanding of Greek prepositions promoted in this volume is not entirely novel. Even beginning Greek students will perceive the fundamental compatibility of the localist hypothesis in linguistics with traditional pictorial learning aids.6 In fact, there is remarkable complementarity between Cognitive Linguistic applications of Prototype Theory and the description of prepositional semantics given in Greek grammars from more than a century past. For example, the classicist Herbert W. Smyth understood that prepositions “express primarily notions of space, then notions of time,

5 Of the Pauline texts most discussed in the πίστις Χριστοῦ debate (Gal 2:16,20; 3:22; Rom 3:22,26; Phil 3:9; Eph 3:12; Jas 2:1), four are discussed here. For a recent summary of this debate and a helpful contribution, see Jeanette Hagen Pifer, Faith as Participation: An Exegetical Study of Some Key Pauline Texts, WUNT 2/486 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2019). 6 See, e.g., the diagram in Bruce M. Metzger, Lexical Aids for Students of New Testament Greek (Princeton: Theological Book Agency, 1969), 80. On the localist hypothesis see Hadumod Bussmann, Routledge Dictionary of Language and Linguistics, trans. and ed. Gregory P. Trauth and Kerstin Kazzazi (New York: Routledge, 1996), 702–3.

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and finally are used in figurative relations.”7 More recent grammarians also tend to describe prepositions in similar terms, even when not necessarily subscribing to thoroughgoing localist semantics. Stanley Porter, for example, speaks of a “fundamental or ‘local’ semantic feature” of prepositions that can have “metaphorical extensions” conditioned by syntax and context.8 This consensus should be reassuring insofar as it demonstrates that many Greek scholars have instinctively understood the basic premises of Prototype Theory for prepositions yet without its specific framework and vocabulary. The lexical item πίστις appears seventy-seven times as the complement in a prepositional construction in the New Testament.9 The distribution of usage appears in Table 6.1, along with a preliminary identification of semantic roles of the prepositional phrase. Semantic roles are not identical to construals, but can help categorize them and thus guide more detailed discussion.10 Much could be said about the data presented here, but a few comments must suffice. The most frequent prepositions with πίστις in the New Testament are ἐκ with twenty-three examples and διά (+ gen.) with twenty examples, followed by ἐν with fifteen. All other prepositions occur far less frequently and, when combined, account

7 Herbert W. Smyth, Greek Grammar, rev. ed. (New York: American Book Company, 1920; repr., 1956) §1637. Similarly, A. T. Robertson spoke of a “ground-meaning” of prepositions that, he believed, must always be taken into consideration; A Grammar of the Greek New Testament in Light of Historical Research, 3rd rev. and expanded ed. (New York: Hodder  & Stoughton, 1919), 568. These descriptions are fascinating, but also must be understood in their historical context. See the discussion in Silvia Luraghi, On the Meaning of Prepositions and Cases: The Expression of Semantic Roles in Ancient Greek, SLCS 67 (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2003), 11. Bortone, Greek Prepositions, 47–53, esp. 49. 8 Porter, Idioms, 142. So also Campbell, “Prepositions,” 44. Murray J. Harris has similar views, stating that the “primary representation” of prepositions is “always local” (Prepositions and Theology in the Greek New Testament: An Essential Reference Resource for Exegesis [Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2012], 29). Porter points out elsewhere that Cognitive Linguistics “has reinforced what we have already realized about how various elements are conceptualized in relation to each other, and how we metaphorically transfer or extend core meanings” (“Greek Prepositions,” 34). Cf. Bortone, Greek Prepositions, xii, 42, 302–3. 9 Search performed with BibleWorks 10 using NA28, from which all New Testament citations are drawn. Results were compared with those of Stanley E. Porter and Andrew W. Pitts, “Πίστις with a Preposition and Genitive Modifier: Lexical, Semantic, and Syntactic Consideration in the Πίστις Χριστοῦ Discussion,” in The Faith of Jesus Christ: Exegetical, Biblical, and Theological Studies, ed. Michael F. Bird and Preston M. Sprinkle (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2009), 49–50. They identify eighty instances, including twenty-two that are articular, thirty-three that are anarthrous, the eight debated πίστις Χριστοῦ texts, and seventeen instances of what they call πίστις as a “relator” with a preposition. The difference between their figures and mine lies in their inclusion of Rom 4:12 (which is debatable), their exclusion of the second prepositional construction in Rom 4:16, and my exclusion of Acts 26:18 (owing to the instrumental function of πίστις in the dative case modifying the prepositional complement τοῖς ἡγιασμένοις). 10 Luraghi treats semantic roles as prototype categories in themselves, of which certain construals are more or less good exemplars (Meaning of Prepositions, 18).

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Table 6.1: Πίστις in New Testament prepositional constructions. Preposition

Frequency

Roles

References

ἐκ

23

cause 14 source 9

Rom 1:17 (2×); 3:26,30; 4:16 (2×); 5:1; 9:30,32; 10:6; 14:23 (2×); Gal 2:16; 3:7,8,9,11,12,22,24; 5:5; Heb 10:38; Jas 2:24

διά + gen.

20

instrument 15 path 4 cause 1

Rom 1:12; 3:22,25,30,31; 2Cor 5:7; Gal 2:16; 3:14,26; Eph 2:8; 3:12,17; Phil 3:9; Col 2:12; 1Thess 3:7; 2Tim 3:15; Heb 6:12; 11:33,39; 1Pet 1:5

ἐν

15

location 9 manner 4 accompaniment 2

1Cor 16:13; 2Cor 13:5; Gal 2:20; 1Tim 1:2,4; 2:7,15; 3:13; 4:12; 2Tim 1:13; Tit 1:13; 3:15; Jas 1:6; 2:5; 1Pet 1:5

κατά + acc.

5

conformity 4 beneficiary 1

Matt 9:29; Tit 1:1,4; Heb 11:7,13

περί + acc.

4

patient

Acts 24:24; 1Tim 1:19; 6:21; 2Tim 3:8

ἀπό

2

source

Acts 13:8; 1Tim 6:10

ἐπί + dat.

2

location grounds

Acts 3:16; Phil 3:9

μετά + gen.

2

manner accompaniment

Eph 6:23; 1Tim 1:14

εἰς

2

goal temporal

Rom 1:17; Gal 3:23

ὑπέρ + gen.

1

patient

1Thess 3:2

χωρίς

1

accompaniment

Heb 11:6

for only about twenty-five percent of the total number of texts listed. As one of the three most frequent prepositions with πίστις as a complement, διά deserves similar attention as that given to ἐν and ἐκ here. Where διά appears in the texts discussed below, however, some brief comments will be offered primarily by way of contrast. But further investigation must await future work.

6.2 Construals of ΠΙΣΤΙΣ in ἘΝ-Constructions The spatial prototype for ἐν is widely agreed. Speaking of classical usage but with equal relevance to the postclassical phase of the language, Geoffrey Horrocks maintains that the Landmark in an ἐν-construction “is viewed as a volume or demarcated area (‘with

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contents’) at which some other object is located.”11 In other words, the Landmark is some variety of a container with a Trajector inside it. Other construals of ἐν diverge in some way from the container prototype by varying certain features of the construal (e.g., boundedness, interiority, etc.) or by metaphorical extension, and these variations produce different senses of the lexical item in context. The fifteen instances of an ἐν-construction with πίστις in the New Testament may be categorized into three semantic roles as an organizational tool for analyzing the nuances of the construals in specific contexts.

6.2.1 Location Construals The most frequent of the semantic roles of an ἐν-construction with πίστις is what is traditionally labeled location. Admittedly, it is somewhat unsatisfying to use this semantic role as a category in the present discussion, as all ἐν-constructions involve spatially organized construals owing to the container prototype concept. Moreover, all ἐν-constructions discussed here involve conceptual metaphor because the Landmark πίστις is an abstract entity. But the examples in this section are nevertheless viewed as a location not only because of the nature of the Trajectors and the context, but also since the construals involved share an interiority feature. There are two construals of an ἐν-construction in this role, which are labeled bounded container and graded domain. The most salient difference in features between the two, for which examples are given below, is the presence or absence of (1) a solid boundary and (2) graded centrality. The bounded container construal is close to the prototypical concept for ἐν, except a restriction for complete bounded containment on all sides (i.e., a dimensionality feature) seems irrelevant. It is the presence of the exterior Landmark boundary that is the most prominent feature, such that the status of being in or out for the Trajector is binary (Figure 6.1). There is no partial interiority. This construal is licensed by the nature of the Trajectors as concrete entities as well as by the spatial implications of the verbal predicates involved: στήκω “stand,” εἰμί “be,” μένω “remain” or “stay.”12

Figure 6.1: bounded container. 11 Geoffrey Horrocks, Space and Time in Homer: Prepositional and Adverbial Particles in the Greek Epic, Monographs in Classical Studies (New York: Arno Press, 1981), 198. See also Luraghi, Meaning of Prepositions, 82. 12 On the significance of context and lexical semantics in determining prepositional meaning, see Campbell, “Prepositions,” 44–47. Note that this figure and the next are meant to portray a flat Landmark domain with the Trajector located in its center, like a marble sitting on a flat, circular surface.

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Examples of the bounded container construal include the following texts:13 (1) Γρηγορεῖτε, στήκετε ἐν τῇ πίστει, ἀνδρίζεσθε, κραταιοῦσθε. (1Cor 16:13) [You (Trajector) must] Keep alert, stand firmly in the faith [Landmark], be courageous, be strong. (2) Ἑαυτοὺς πειράζετε εἰ ἐστὲ ἐν τῇ πίστει, ἑαυτοὺς δοκιμάζετε· (2Cor 13:5a) Examine yourself if you [Trajector] are in the faith [Landmark], test yourself. (3) σωθήσεται δὲ διὰ τῆς τεκνογονίας, ἐὰν μείνωσιν ἐν πίστει καὶ ἀγάπῃ καὶ ἁγιασμῷ μετὰ σωφροσύνης· (1Tim 2:15) But she will be saved by bearing children, if they [Trajector] remain in faith [Landmark] and love and holiness with self-control. In (1)–(3), πίστις is construed as a bounded container that represents a belief system that the Trajector, in this case members of the Christian community, is either fully inside or fully outside. In the context of each text, being in the Landmark is presented as the more favorable position, one that requires alertness, courage, strength, and self-scrutiny to maintain. In this sense, there is a kind of interaction between the Landmark, which places limits upon the status of the Trajector, and the agency of the Trajector to remain within those limits. The second spatial construal of an ἐν-construction is graded domain, which extends from bounded containment. There is family resemblance between the two construals in that the Landmark has a demarcated area that surrounds and conditions the Trajector in both. While interiority remains a salient feature of the graded domain as a Landmark, the construal now has fuzzy boundaries. Thus, the binary positional status of bounded containment is exchanged for degree of centrality. This new construal is licensed by the nature of the Trajector, whose qualities are construed as fitting within the Landmark as an evaluative domain. Examples include:

13 All translations are the author’s unless otherwise noted. I have supplied Landmark and Trajector in brackets where appropriate to facilitate discussion if they are explicitly mentioned. For the sake of simplicity, I have chosen to translate πίστις throughout as “faith,” although as Israel Muñoz Gallarte observes, the “meaning of the Greek lexeme πίστις remains one of the most controversial questions in semantic-linguistic studies of the New Testament” (“The Meaning of Πίστις in the Framework of the Diccionario Griego-Español Del Nuevo Testamento,” in Akin and Hudgins, Getting into the Text, 179). He goes on to provide the basic definition: “The state of intellectual and active adhesion to someone or something, translated ‘fidelity,’ ‘faith,’ or ‘devotion’” (188).

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(4) Τιμοθέῳ γνησίῳ τέκνῳ ἐν πίστει, χάρις ἔλεος εἰρήνη ἀπὸ θεοῦ πατρὸς καὶ Χριστοῦ Ἰησοῦ τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν. (1Tim 1:2) To Timothy a true child [Trajector] in faith [Landmark], grace, mercy, and peace from God the father and Christ Jesus our Lord. (5) Μηδείς σου τῆς νεότητος καταφρονείτω, ἀλλὰ τύπος γίνου τῶν πιστῶν ἐν λόγῳ, ἐν ἀναστροφῇ, ἐν ἀγάπῃ, ἐν πίστει, ἐν ἁγνείᾳ. (1Tim 4:12) Let no one look down on your youth, but be an example [Trajector] for believers in word, in conduct, in love, in faith [Landmark], in purity. (6) ἀκούσατε, ἀδελφοί μου ἀγαπητοί· οὐχ ὁ θεὸς ἐξελέξατο τοὺς πτωχοὺς τῷ κόσμῳ πλουσίους ἐν πίστει καὶ κληρονόμους τῆς βασιλείας ἧς ἐπηγγείλατο τοῖς ἀγαπῶσιν αὐτόν; (Jas 2:5) Listen, my beloved brothers, has God not chosen those poor in the world to be rich ones [Trajector] in faith [Landmark] and heirs of the kingdom that he promised to those who love him? (7) οἱ γὰρ καλῶς διακονήσαντες βαθμὸν ἑαυτοῖς καλὸν περιποιοῦνται καὶ πολλὴν παρρησίαν ἐν πίστει τῇ ἐν Χριστῷ Ἰησοῦ. (1Tim 3:13) For those serving well acquire a good position for themselves and great confidence [Trajector] in faith [Landmark] that is in Christ Jesus. (8) εἰς ὃ ἐτέθην ἐγὼ κῆρυξ καὶ ἀπόστολος, ἀλήθειαν λέγω οὐ ψεύδομαι, διδάσκαλος ἐθνῶν ἐν πίστει καὶ ἀληθείᾳ. (1Tim 2:7) For this I was appointed a preacher and apostle (I speak the truth, I am not lying), a teacher [Trajector] of the gentiles in faith [Landmark] and truth. (9) μηδὲ προσέχειν μύθοις καὶ γενεαλογίαις ἀπεράντοις, αἵτινες ἐκζητήσεις παρέχουσιν μᾶλλον ἢ οἰκονομίαν θεοῦ τὴν ἐν πίστει. (1Tim 1:4) Nor pay attention to myths and endless genealogies, which promote pointless speculation instead of the administration [Trajector] of God in faith [Landmark]. In all examples but (5), the ἐν-construction modifies a nominal phrase (e.g., τέκνον, substantive πλούσιος, παρρησία, etc.).14 In each one, the preposition prompts the

14 In (5) it is more grammatically accurate to say that ἐν πίστει and the parallel prepositional constructions modify γίνομαι, but the predicate nominative τύπος is in a marked position in the clause for emphasis.

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graded domain construal, in which the Landmark πίστις establishes a demarcated area within which the Trajector is located (Figure 6.2).

Figure 6.2: graded domain.

In this construal, the Trajector is what it is only because it is situated at the center of the graded domain. If the Trajector moves toward the periphery of the Landmark, it is increasingly less likely to be categorized as belonging to that domain. Thus, the construal of the Trajector is one of quality/ies in accordance with its degree of centrality in the Landmark, which is grammaticalized using nonverbal phrases in every case.15

6.2.2 Manner Construals Examples (8) and (9) above illustrate the fuzzy boundary between the location and manner semantic roles, which, when the Landmark is an abstract nominal like πίστις, depends on the nature of the Trajector.16 Note that the Trajectors involved in (8) and (9) – διδάσκαλος and οἰκονομία – straddle the boundary between verbal and nominal categories. A similar instance of a graded domain construal in the fuzzy area between location and manner roles occurs in (10) below, in which the ἐν-construction modifies a substantival participle. While the graded domain construal of a location role is more associated with the qualities of nonverbal phrases, when it is related to verbal events this construal of the ἐν-construction shifts to the more abstract manner role. (10) ἄσπασαι τοὺς φιλοῦντας ἡμᾶς ἐν πίστει. Ἡ χάρις μετὰ πάντων ὑμῶν. (Tit 3:15b) Greet [Trajector] those who love us in faith [Landmark]. May grace be with you all.

15 I.e., there are no other nonverbal ἐν-constructions in the New Testament. 16 Luraghi, Meaning of Prepositions, 47 (see also 28–30). On manner and how it relates to attendant circumstances and location, see Bernd Heine, Ulrike Claudi, and Friederike Hünnemeyer, Grammaticalization: A Conceptual Framework (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), 159.

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(11) Ὑποτύπωσιν ἔχε ὑγιαινόντων λόγων ὧν παρ᾽ ἐμοῦ ἤκουσας ἐν πίστει καὶ ἀγάπῃ τῇ ἐν Χριστῷ Ἰησοῦ· (2Tim 1:13) Keep a standard of correct statements that you heard [Trajector] from me in the faith [Landmark] and love that are in Christ Jesus. (12) αἰτείτω δὲ ἐν πίστει μηδὲν διακρινόμενος· ὁ γὰρ διακρινόμενος ἔοικεν κλύδωνι θαλάσσης ἀνεμιζομένῳ καὶ ῥιπιζομένῳ. (Jas 1:6) But let him ask [Trajector] in faith [Landmark], doubting nothing, since the doubter is like a wave of the sea that is blown and driven by the wind. (13) ἡ μαρτυρία αὕτη ἐστὶν ἀληθής. δι᾽ ἣν αἰτίαν ἔλεγχε αὐτοὺς ἀποτόμως, ἵνα ὑγιαίνωσιν ἐν τῇ πίστει (Tit 1:13) This testimony is true. For this reason, correct them rigorously, so they may be healthy [Trajector] in the faith [Landmark].17 The graded domain construal can function as a manner role for similar reasons to location. The Landmark is a demarcated area that surrounds the Trajector, which in these cases is the verbal event along with its agent, and that grades and thus limits the category of the action or state in view.18

6.2.3 Accompaniment Construals The last two examples of πίστις in an ἐν-construction are construals in an accompaniment role. Luraghi defines this role as an animate agent (Trajector) performing an action together with a nonanimate entity (Landmark).19 The accompaniment role is an extension from the bounded container construal and will be called bounded proximateness: (14) καὶ αὐτὸ τοῦτο δὲ σπουδὴν πᾶσαν παρεισενέγκαντες ἐπιχορηγήσατε ἐν τῇ πίστει ὑμῶν τὴν ἀρετήν, ἐν δὲ τῇ ἀρετῇ τὴν γνῶσιν (2Pet 1:5) And for this reason, applying every effort to supply virtue [Trajector] in your faith [Landmark], and in virtue knowledge 17 This example may not represent an ἐν-construction originally, as the preposition is omitted in Sinaiticus and several cursives. If the verbal predicate in (13) is construed as binary, it may be better categorized as a bounded container construal, in which the Trajector either is or is not healthy/ sound and therefore only either fully inside or fully outside the Landmark (πίστις). 18 Luraghi, Meaning of Prepositions, 88. 19 Luraghi, 28.

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In this construal, a demarcated area remains a feature of the Landmark, but the interiority feature is exchanged for proximateness. The variation between the two construals is licensed by the context, in which the verbal complement in (14), ἐπιχορηγέω “supply,” “supplement,” prompts a spatial representation without a constraint for interiority.20 Yet the two construals bear family resemblance in that both bounded containment and proximateness features are binary. Notably, 1:6–7 of the same passage in (14) repeat this construal with more Landmarks and Trajectors: [. . .] and in knowledge [Landmark] self-control [Trajector], and in self-control [Landmark] endurance [Trajector], and in endurance [Landmark] godliness [Trajector], and in godliness [Landmark] brotherly affection [Trajector], and in brotherly affection [Landmark] love [Trajector].

Figure 6.3 presents an approximation of this passage, in which the arrows indicate the verbal action of adding one element to the other successively:21

Figure 6.3: Landmark/Trajector bounded proximateness in 2Peter 1:5–7.

The construal entails not just proximity, however, for which μετά would likely have been chosen as in (3). There is a contact feature that entails both binariness and control of each Landmark with respect to its Trajector. The control in view, however, is not cumulative because there is no interiority in the construal. Note the difference in meaning if the ἐν-constructions in 2Pet 1:5–7 are taken as construing a set of bounded containers, as in Figure 6.4, where the arrow again indicates the verbal action.

20 The construal is easily mismatched with English, however. The selectional restrictions of “supply” and “supplement” in translating ἐπιχορηγέω prefer placing the Greek prepositional complement (πίστις) in the English object position – in which it occupies an instrumental semantic role – and placing the Greek object (ἀρετή) in the English prepositional complement position. Cf. RSV, ESV. 21 I have chosen “proximateness” over “proximity” because, in my judgment, the latter implies gradation rather than binariness.

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Figure 6.4: Landmark/Trajector bounded containment in 2 Peter 1:5–7.

Construed as a bounded container, πίστις must be the primary Landmark into which all the other elements fit. Yet there is no indication in the context that πίστις should exert control over or otherwise limit all of the other Trajectors (which themselves become a Landmark in turn), as is implied in the interiority feature of the bounded containment construal. Rather, the control of each Landmark consists in its capacity to confer the status of accompaniment on its successive Trajector. The final text is the most difficult to categorize and is (perhaps therefore) the subject of debate. The ἐν-construction in Gal 2:20 has traditionally been translated as an instrument (i.e., “by” faith).22 However, nothing in the context requires this reading, which shifts the metaphorical representation further away from the container prototype than necessary.23 The context of the preceding verse in which Paul is crucified “with Christ” (Χριστῷ συνεσταύρωμαι), along with the bounded container construals of the intermediate ἐν-constructions (ἐν ἐμοὶ [. . .] ἐν σαρκί) facilitate con-

22 See Luraghi, Meaning of Prepositions, 93 for a discussion of ἐν in possible instrumental roles under certain contextual conditions. She notes that instrument extends from comitative to manner, citing several typological studies in support of this conceptual schema (28). Her evaluation is that “Instrument is mostly encoded through the plain dative [. . .]. The only alternative way of expressing Instrument in Classical Greek is through diá, ‘through’, with the genitive” (321–22). Robertson, who was willing to speak of an instrumental function for ἐν, simultaneously insisted that “all the N. T. examples of ἐν can be explained from the point of view of the locative” (Grammar, 589–90). Conradus Rossberg was also reserved in giving only five possible examples, noting that, “the instrumental uses of the preposition ἐν is rarely found in this era” [original Latin: “Instrumentalis usus εν praepositionis his temporibus rarius invenitur”] (De Praepositionum Graecarum in Chartis Aegyptiis Ptolemaeorum Aetatis Usu [Jena: Neuenhahn, 1909], 28). So also Félix-Marie Abel, who says, “This sense [the local sense] is naturally connected with the idea of accompaniment that expresses ἐν as synonymous with σύν or μετά [. . .] instrumental-comitative is rare outside of Semitism” [French original: “a ce sens [the local sense] se rattache naturellement l’idée d’accompagnement qu’exprime ἐν comme synonyme de σύν ou de μετά [. . .] comitatif-instrumental rare in dehors du sémitisme”] (Grammaire du grec biblique suivie d’un choix de papyrus, 2nd ed., ÉtB [Paris: J. Gabalda, 1927], 212). 23 Acts 26:18 provides a useful example of the choice of grammatical distinction between instrumental and accompaniment roles involving πίστις: τοῦ λαβεῖν αὐτοὺς ἄφεσιν ἁμαρτιῶν καὶ κλῆρον ἐν τοῖς ἡγιασμένοις πίστει τῇ εἰς ἐμέ, “that they might receive forgiveness of sins and a portion among those who are sanctified by faith in me.”

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ceptualizing ἐν πίστει in 2:20 in spatial terms. Thus, the sense of the ἐν-construction in (15) seems closer to the bounded proximateness construal of an accompaniment role.24 (15) ζῶ δὲ οὐκέτι ἐγώ, ζῇ δὲ ἐν ἐμοὶ Χριστός· ὃ δὲ νῦν ζῶ ἐν σαρκί, ἐν πίστει ζῶ τῇ τοῦ υἱοῦ τοῦ θεοῦ τοῦ ἀγαπήσαντός με καὶ παραδόντος ἑαυτὸν ὑπὲρ ἐμοῦ. (Gal 2:20) Yet I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. So the life I now live in the flesh, I live [Trajector] with faith [Landmark] in the son of God who loved me and surrendered himself on my behalf. There are similarities in this context to that of the manner examples above, especially the nature of the Trajector as the verbal event and its agent. However, the presence of the lengthy phrase (τῇ τοῦ υἱοῦ τοῦ θεοῦ) modifying πίστις discourages reading the entire prepositional construction as functioning in a manner role. This analysis suggests that translating the ἐν-construction in Gal 2:20 with “by” to represent an instrument role for πίστις does not accurately represent the construal involved in the Greek text, and in fact may inappropriately alter it. Careful engagement with ἐν-constructions should privilege the spatial prototype and place the burden of proof for instrumental uses squarely upon context and features of the Landmark. All the more so since postclassical Greek had unambiguous forms for encoding an instrument semantic role, such as the plain dative or διά plus genitive.25 It seems more accurate to understand the “living” event discussed in (15) as characterized by the ongoing accompaniment of πίστις, a bounded proximateness construal that suggests “with” as an appropriate gloss of ἐν. That is, “the life I now live [. . .] I live with faith [not by faith] in the son of God.” This may seem like a subtle distinction. So be it. But the difference in construals is nevertheless important. In the context of the πίστις Χριστοῦ debate, the discussion of Gal 2:20 is almost entirely focused upon the genitive phrase itself and the further modifiers τοῦ υἱοῦ τοῦ θεοῦ. Virtually no attention goes to the semantic role of the ἐν-construction. It is, by and

24 In his summary of the DGENT entry, Muñoz Gallarte considers πίστις in Gal. 2:20 “a conviction in something else,” a sense of the lexical item that fits well as a Landmark in the bounded proximateness construal (“Meaning,” 186). A similar construal appears in English sentences like “Jackie lives with the conviction that she must reduce her carbon footprint,” in which the conviction constitutes a qualification of her action that is constantly present. 25 Luraghi, Meaning of Prepositions, 321–22.

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large, simply assumed to be instrumental in function.26 If, however, the construal is in fact bounded proximateness as proposed here, then the subjective genitive interpretation of the phrase becomes very obscure, perhaps even impossible: (?) The life I now live [. . .] I live with the faithfulness of the son of God

The result is not only (close to) ungrammatical in English translation, but more importantly it is conceptually incoherent. The incoherence arises because, in the context of Gal 2:20, the subjective genitive reading relies on the secondary agency associated with an instrumental semantic role, a reading that is incompatible with the bounded proximateness construal. One can certainly live “with” one’s own convictions, but what would it mean to live “with” someone else’s faithfulness? Perhaps that is a question for theologians to ponder. But from a linguistic perspective, the subjective genitive translation is effectively incoherent unless the ἐν-construction is taken as instrumental, which appears to be unwarranted in Gal 2:20.

6.2.4 A Map of ἘΝ Construals The relationships among the construals of ἐν-constructions with πίστις as a complement can be represented as follows (Figure 6.5):

Figure 6.5: Semantic extension of ἐν with πίστις compliment.

6.3 Construals of ΠΙΣΤΙΣ in ἘΚ-Constructions As shown in table 6.1 above, among prepositional constructions with πίστις as a complement ἐκ is the most frequent, occurring twenty-three times. Aside from ἐν, the only other preposition to occur with similar frequency is διά, which will be discussed at

26 E.g., Richard B. Hays, The Faith of Jesus Christ: The Narrative Substructure of Galatians 3:1–4:11, Biblical Resource Series (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 153–56; Jermo van Nes, “‘Faith(fulness) of the Son of God’? Galatians 2:20b Reconsidered,” NovT 55 (2013): 127–39, DOI: 10.1163/1568536512341418. Cf. A. van de Beek, “The Reception of Galatians 2:20 in the Patristic Period and in the Reformation,” AcT 34, suppl. 19 (2014): 42–57.

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points below in relation to the πίστις Χριστοῦ debate.27 Along these lines, exegetes have already noticed the prevailing importance of the phrase ἐκ πίστεως in Pauline theology.28 Similar to ἐν, the spatial prototype for ἐκ is widely agreed. Silvia Luraghi notes that the local meaning is “‘out of’, ‘from the interior of’,” and thus the preposition prototypically functions in a source semantic role.29 The prototype concept of ἐκ is very similar to that of ἐν, except for the introduction of a motion feature of the Trajector away from and out of the interior of the Landmark.30 Other construals diverge in some way from the prototype by varying the features involved (e.g., source-pathgoal, part-whole) or by metaphorical extension, giving rise to a different sense of the lexical item in context. Like ἐν, the instances of an ἐκ-construction with πίστις in the New Testament may be categorized into three semantic roles as an organizational tool for analyzing the nuances of the construals in specific contexts. Unlike ἐν, however, the most frequent use of ἐκ in these examples is as a metaphorical cause, even though that construal remains spatially structured insofar as events are represented as “moving entities that proceed from a source.”31 Semantically speaking, the construals discussed below have less distinct boundaries between them than those discussed above for ἐν-constructions (Figure 6.5). For that reason, the texts below are ordered in terms of how well they exemplify the construal under discussion.

6.3.1 Source Construals There are nine examples of an ἐκ-construction in a source semantic role. It bears repeating that from the perspective of Prototype Theory, although some uses better exemplify a spatial meaning than others, all instances of an ἐκ-construction involve spatially structured construals owing to the family resemblance among them. At the same time, all examples below involve conceptual metaphor because the Landmark πίστις is an abstract entity that is represented in conceptually spatial ways. The first construal appears in (16)–(21) and may be called origin. 27 Given this debate, below the relevant subjective/objective genitive phrases are left untranslated. 28 James D. G. Dunn points out that ἐκ πίστεώς is “the most common of Paul’s prepositional πίστις terms” and “ clearly a key phrase in Paul’s understanding of his central theme on God’s saving righteousness (Rom 1:17; Gal 2:16) and appears intensively in the passages in which πίστις Χριστοῦ features most strongly (Romans 3–4; Galatians 3)” (“ΕΚ ΠΙΣΤΕΩΣ: A Key to the Meaning of ΠΙΣΤΙΣ ΧΡΙΣΤΟΥ,” in The Words Leap the Gap: Essays on Scripture and Theology in Honor of Richard B. Hays, ed. J. Ross Wagner, C. Kavin Rowe, and A. Katherine Grieb [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008], 358). 29 Luraghi, Meaning of Prepositions, 95. 30 Luraghi, 95; Horrocks, Space and Time, 235. 31 Luraghi, Meaning of Prepositions, 100. On spatial causes, see also ch. 9 by Michael and Rachel Aubrey in this volume, specifically §9.9.2.

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(16) δικαιοσύνη γὰρ θεοῦ ἐν αὐτῷ ἀποκαλύπτεται ἐκ πίστεως εἰς πίστιν (Rom 1:17a) For in it the righteousness of God [Trajector] is made known from faith [Landmark] to faith. (17)

Διὰ τοῦτο ἐκ πίστεως, ἵνα κατὰ χάριν, εἰς τὸ εἶναι βεβαίαν τὴν ἐπαγγελίαν παντὶ τῷ σπέρματι (Rom 4:16a) For this reason, it [i.e., the promise (Trajector), cf. 4:13] is from faith [Landmark], that it might be according to grace, so that the promise might be guaranteed to all the descendants

(18) ἀλλὰ συνέκλεισεν ἡ γραφὴ τὰ πάντα ὑπὸ ἁμαρτίαν, ἵνα ἡ ἐπαγγελία ἐκ πίστεως Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ δοθῇ τοῖς πιστεύουσιν. (Gal 3:22) But the scripture confines everything under sin, that the promise [Trajector] from faith [Landmark] Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ might be given to those who believe. (19) ὁ δὲ νόμος οὐκ ἔστιν ἐκ πίστεως, ἀλλ᾽ ὁ ποιήσας αὐτὰ ζήσεται ἐν αὐτοῖς. (Gal 3:12) Yet the law [Trajector] is not from faith [Landmark], rather “The one who does them will live with them.” (20) Τί οὖν ἐροῦμεν; ὅτι ἔθνη τὰ μὴ διώκοντα δικαιοσύνην κατέλαβεν δικαιοσύνην, δικαιοσύνην δὲ τὴν ἐκ πίστεως (Rom 9:30) What will we say then? That the gentiles who did not pursue righteousness obtained righteousness, even a righteousness [Trajector] from faith [Landmark]? (21) ἡ δὲ ἐκ πίστεως δικαιοσύνη οὕτως λέγει· μὴ εἴπῃς ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ σου· τίς ἀναβήσεται εἰς τὸν οὐρανόν; τοῦτ᾽ ἔστιν Χριστὸν καταγαγεῖν· (Rom 10:6) But the righteousness [Trajector] from faith [Landmark] says this, “Never say in your heart ‘Who will go up into heaven?’” That is, to bring Christ down. Each of these examples contains one of three possible Trajectors, each of which is associated with theological themes of major significance in the New Testament: δικαιοσύνη “righteousness,” ἐπαγγελία “promise,” and νόμος “law.”32 A source construal prototypically occurs in contexts of concrete and bounded spatiality. The

32 Moreover, note how a clear contrast is established in these texts: on the one hand, δικαιοσύνη and ἐπαγγελία originate from πίστις, but νόμος does not.

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origin construal is an extension from this prototype and associated with nonconcrete relationships, but has family resemblance by retaining a feature for initial interiority. Yet there is variation as well. The origin construal arises in the examples above because of the abstract nature of Trajector and Landmark, as well as the absence of boundedness and the lack of restriction for motion. This construal is represented in Figure 6.6, in which the grey chevron indicates origination but not necessarily motion.33

Figure 6.6: The origin construal.

This origin construal is best exemplified in (16), where the verbal predicate ἀποκαλύπτω designates the Landmark as an area from which the event originates. While the Trajector is portrayed as being in motion owing to the adjoining εἰς-construction, that motion is not forced by the Landmark. As shown below, it is the absence of the force feature in the origin construal that differentiates it from a cause construal. Note also that in the event structure of (16), the emergence of the Trajector (δικαιοσύνη θεοῦ) also affects an implied experiencer, all of which occurs within the bounded container of the gospel (ἐν αὐτῷ, cf. 1:16). The other examples of the origin construal have similar features, although no others involved motion, as they are grammaticalized in a nonverbal predicate or as a modifier in a larger nominal phrase. The second construal of a source semantic role appears in three texts, and may be called partitive. In each one, the Trajector and Landmark are related as partwhole, respectively, with some intrinsic attribute(s) shared between them. Notably, the shared attribute involved in (22)–(24) is the same every time, namely the covenantal relationship between Abraham and early Christians.

33 The source construal has interiority and boundedness, while origin is neutral as to the former and lacks the latter (i.e., the Trajector may begin inside the Landmark, which has no clear boundary). The cause construal is the same as origin except is also has the force feature that makes the event necessary (e.g., “It got dark because he blew out the candle”), while reason (which is an extension of origin) has no force (e.g., “The grass is long because no one has cut it”).

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(22) οὐ τῷ ἐκ τοῦ νόμου μόνον ἀλλὰ καὶ τῷ ἐκ πίστεως Ἀβραάμ, ὅς ἐστιν πατὴρ πάντων ἡμῶν (Rom 4:16b) [so that the promise might be certain] not only to those of the law but also to those [Trajector] of the faith of Abraham [Landmark], who is father of us all. (23) γινώσκετε ἄρα ὅτι οἱ ἐκ πίστεως, οὗτοι υἱοί εἰσιν Ἀβραάμ (Gal 3:7) Know, then, that those [Trajector] of faith [Landmark], these are children of Abraham (24) ὥστε οἱ ἐκ πίστεως εὐλογοῦνται σὺν τῷ πιστῷ Ἀβραάμ (Gal 3:9) So those [Trajector] of faith [Landmark] are blessed with the faith of Abraham34 Similar to the origin construals above, all examples of a partitive construal of πίστις are grammaticalized as a modifier in a larger nominal phrase. As seen in these examples, the partitive construal has an initial interiority feature for the Trajector, but no restriction for contact or plexity, and the motion feature is absent. Although these varied features cannot all be represented simultaneously, a basic depiction of the construal is presented in Figure 6.7.35

Figure 6.7: The partitive construal.

The best example of a partitive construal is (22), in part because of the contrast set up in the context between τῷ ἐκ τοῦ νόμου (“those of the law”) and τῷ ἐκ πίστεως Ἀβραάμ (“those of the faith of Abraham”), which constitute two sets of Landmarks and Trajectors in partitive relationship. However, the nominal phrase in which the second ἐκ-construction occurs contains the further description of Ἀβραάμ as “father of us all.” This modifying phrase requires construing the two sets as distinct parts of

34 Translating Ἀβραάμ as genitive in parallel with 3:7, which the partitive construal facilitates. 35 In discussing plexity, Luraghi states that Landmarks can be “conceived as ‘multiplex,’ or ‘uniplex’ [. . .] consisting of separate items, or of a non-analyzable whole (e.g., count vs. mass nouns)” (Meaning of Prepositions, 25).

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a larger whole – in this case a biological family conceptualized in covenantal terms – thus involving features that extend from the origin construal. A similar context arises in Gal 3:1–18 involving the Abrahamic covenant and the contrast of νόμος with πίστις, in which (23) and (24) appear in close succession, facilitating the same partitive construal.

6.3.2 Cause Construals The final category of ἐκ-constructions discussed here is the most frequent of all thus far, with fourteen instances occurring in a cause semantic role. Within this category there are two identifiable construals, although these differ only slightly in the nature of the Landmark and Trajector involved. The first construal occurs five times and may be called motivation, as in (25)–(28): (25) ὁ δὲ διακρινόμενος ἐὰν φάγῃ κατακέκριται, ὅτι οὐκ ἐκ πίστεως· πᾶν δὲ ὃ οὐκ ἐκ πίστεως ἁμαρτία ἐστίν. (Rom 14:25) But someone who doubts is condemned if they eat, since it [Trajector1] is not out of faith [Landmark1]. Now whatever [Trajector2] is not out of faith [Landmark2] is sin. (26) ὁ δὲ δίκαιός μου ἐκ πίστεως ζήσεται, καὶ ἐὰν ὑποστείληται, οὐκ εὐδοκεῖ ἡ ψυχή μου ἐν αὐτῷ. (Heb 10:38) But “My righteous one [Trajector] will live out of faith [Landmark],” and if he is reluctant my soul has no pleasure in him. (27) ἡμεῖς γὰρ πνεύματι ἐκ πίστεως ἐλπίδα δικαιοσύνης ἀπεκδεχόμεθα. (Gal 5:5) For by the Spirit, out of faith [Landmark] we [Trajector] eagerly await the hope of righteousness. (28) διὰ τί; ὅτι οὐκ ἐκ πίστεως ἀλλ᾽ ὡς ἐξ ἔργων· (Rom 9:32a) Why [did Israel not obtain a law of righteousness although they pursued it]? Because [they (Trajector) did] not [do it] out of faith [Landmark] but out of works. The two ἐκ-constructions in (25) and the one in (26) furnish the best examples of the motivation construal. Here the Trajector is an event (with its agent) that is construed as a moving entity originating from πίστις as a Landmark. In this sense, motivation has family resemblance to origin, except here the Trajector as the agent of the verbal predicate is internal to the Landmark. There is also the addition of a control feature for the Landmark, indicated by the gray chevrons in Figure 6.8.

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Figure 6.8: The motivation construal.

In this construal, it is the presence of the control of the Landmark in relation to the Trajector that brings about the event, functioning as a form of motivation for the agent as conscious and volitional entity (cf. Matt 12:34,35; 2Cor 2:4; 2Tim 2:22). For an English example with a similar spatial motivation construal, consider the sentences “Jack refused to sleep in the dark out of fear” or “They donated everything out of love.” James D. G. Dunn edges close to recognizing the motivation sense in his discussion of ἐκ πίστεως as encapsulating a “defining character to converts’ daily living.”36 The context of both (25) and (26) facilitates this construal because it involves precisely such Trajector agents that ignore or resist (e.g., ὑποστέλλω) the control of the πίστις Landmark, an event that is associated with sin and divine displeasure. As a result, broadly speaking, these ἐκ-constructions function semantically in a cause role. The last two texts above are perhaps less exemplary of the construal primarily because the grammatical context is more ambiguous (27) or terse (28).37 The second construal of an ἐκ-construction in a cause semantic role may be called spatial cause. The differences between this construal and the motivation construal include, first, the noninternal location of the Landmark in relation to the Trajector, as well as the addition of motion and force features. Just as motivation resembles the origin construal – but with the addition of motion and control – the spatial cause construal does also, except with the addition of motion and force instead. The texts include the following:

36 Dunn contrasts this idea with the parallel Pauline phrase ἐκ νόμου, but includes under this rubric all texts in which this construction occurs. With this broad understanding, he goes on to concede that “it is much harder to see how Christ’s faithfulness could provide a defining character to converts’ daily living in the same way as the law with its extensive coverage of so many aspects of life” (“ΕΚ ΠΙΣΤΕΩΣ,” 359). 37 It is possible that the second ἐκ-construction with ἔργον in (28) is better categorized as origin if the Landmark in that construal is understood to switch to δικαιοσύνη (cf. Rom 9:30) in the context of the clause, rather than the event Landmark of the verbal predicate in the first ἐκ-construction with πίστις.

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(29) εἰς τὸ εἶναι αὐτὸν δίκαιον καὶ δικαιοῦντα τὸν ἐκ πίστεως Ἰησοῦ (Rom 3:26b) In order that he might be just and the one who justifies [Trajector] someone owing to faith [Landmark] Ἰησοῦ. (30) ἢ Ἰουδαίων ὁ θεὸς μόνον; οὐχὶ καὶ ἐθνῶν; ναὶ καὶ ἐθνῶν, εἴπερ εἷς ὁ θεὸς ὃς δικαιώσει περιτομὴν ἐκ πίστεως καὶ ἀκροβυστίαν διὰ τῆς πίστεως. (Rom 3:29–30) Or is he God of the Jews only? Is he not also of the gentiles? Yes, also of gentiles. Seeing as God is one, who will justify the circumcision [Trajector] owing to faith [Landmark] and the uncircumcision through faith. (31) Δικαιωθέντες οὖν ἐκ πίστεως εἰρήνην ἔχομεν πρὸς τὸν θεὸν διὰ τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ (Rom 5:1) Therefore, having been justified [Trajector] owing to faith [Landmark], we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. (32) εἰδότες [δὲ] ὅτι οὐ δικαιοῦται ἄνθρωπος ἐξ ἔργων νόμου ἐὰν μὴ διὰ πίστεως Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, καὶ ἡμεῖς εἰς Χριστὸν Ἰησοῦν ἐπιστεύσαμεν, ἵνα δικαιωθῶμεν ἐκ πίστεως Χριστοῦ καὶ οὐκ ἐξ ἔργων νόμου, ὅτι ἐξ ἔργων νόμου οὐ δικαιωθήσεται πᾶσα σάρξ. (Gal 2:16) Yet knowing that someone is not justified from works of the law but rather through faith Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, we also have believed in Christ, that we might be justified [Trajector] owing to faith [Landmark] Χριστοῦ and not owing to works of the law, since owing to works of the law not a single person will be justified. (33) προϊδοῦσα δὲ ἡ γραφὴ ὅτι ἐκ πίστεως δικαιοῖ τὰ ἔθνη ὁ θεός, προευηγγελίσατο τῷ Ἀβραὰμ ὅτι ἐνευλογηθήσονται ἐν σοὶ πάντα τὰ ἔθνη· (Gal 3:8) Now the scripture, foreseeing that God justifies [Trajector] the gentiles owing to faith [Landmark], preached the gospel to Abraham beforehand: “In you all the nations will be blessed.” (34) ὥστε ὁ νόμος παιδαγωγὸς ἡμῶν γέγονεν εἰς Χριστόν, ἵνα ἐκ πίστεως δικαιωθῶμεν· (Gal 3:24) So the law became our guardian until Christ, that we might be justified [Trajector] owing to faith [Landmark]. (35) ὁρᾶτε ὅτι ἐξ ἔργων δικαιοῦται ἄνθρωπος καὶ οὐκ ἐκ πίστεως μόνον (Jas 2:24) You see that someone is justified [Trajector] owing to works and not owing to faith [Landmark] only.

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(36) καθὼς γέγραπται· ὁ δὲ δίκαιος ἐκ πίστεως ζήσεται (Rom 1:17b) As it is written: “The righteous will live [Trajector] owing to faith [Landmark].” (37) ὅτι δὲ ἐν νόμῳ οὐδεὶς δικαιοῦται παρὰ τῷ θεῷ δῆλον, ὅτι ὁ δίκαιος ἐκ πίστεως ζήσεται· (Gal 3:11) Now that in the law no one is justified by God is obvious, for “The righteous will live [Trajector] owing to faith [Landmark].” In (28)–(37) the spatial cause meaning of the ἐκ-constructions has been translated “owing to” as an attempt to represent the construal.38 Remarkably, except for (36) and (37), both of which are citations of Hab 2:4, all of the examples of a spatial cause construal of an ἐκ-construction modify δικαιόω. In the construal, the Landmark is unrestricted for boundedness and initial interiority, but has the motion and force features as indicated by the solid line with arrows in Figure 6.9.

Figure 6.9: The spatial cause construal.

The Landmark (in this case πίστις) is represented as the space from which the event of the verbal predicate (in this case δικαιόω) is compelled, a phenomenon found cross-linguistically with cause semantic roles.39 As mentioned above, this construal is very similar to origin (cf. Figure 6.6) except motion is present along with a feature for force. While it may seem unusual to understand πίστις as a cause of justification, commentators have long acknowledged at least the implication of this construal, even while typically assuming an instrument role as discussed below.40 But the spatial 38 The OED defines the phrase “owing to” with “attributable to; derived or arising from; caused by; consequent on [. . .] in consequence of; on account of; because of.” http://www.oed.com/view/ Entry/135493. 39 See Bortone, Greek Prepositions, 70, 75. 40 E.g., J. B. Lightfoot states that “[f]aith is strictly speaking only the means, not the source of justification. The one preposition (διὰ) excludes this latter notion, while the other (ἐκ) might imply it” (St. Paul’s Epistle to the Galatians: A Revised Text with Introduction, Notes, and Dissertations, 10th ed. [London: Macmillan, 1896], 115; emphasis original).

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cause construal does appear to better explain other uses of ἐκ with δικαιόω, as in Matt 12:37 where it is traditionally understood as an instrument as well.41 The ἐκ-constructions in (36) and (37) are the less exemplary of the construal because the future tense-form of the verbal predicate (ζήσεται) allows different understandings of modality in the context. On the one hand, it may be taken as directive or obligative (i.e., “the righteous one is required to live motivated out of faith”), yet on the other hand could be understood as epistemic (i.e., “the righteous one can expect to live [vs. die] because of faith”).42 In the former, the verbal aspect is understood as imperfective and facilitates a motivation construal as in (26). In the latter, the aspect is understood as perfective and facilitates a spatial cause construal.43 Thus the terse context of (36) and (37) makes the construal ambiguous as to whether the Landmark has either control or force in relation to the Trajector, illustrating the fuzzy boundary between the motivation and spatial cause construals, respectively.

6.3.3 A Map of ἘΚ-Construals The relationships among the construals of ἐκ-constructions with πίστις as a complement can be represented as follows (Figure 6.10):

Figure 6.10: Semantic extension of ἐκ with πίστις compliment.

41 “But I tell you, that for every careless word that they speak, everyone will give an account of their speech in the day of judgment, for ἐκ your words you will be justified [δικαιωθήσῃ] and ἐκ your words you will be condemned” (Matt 12:36–37). 42 The latter translation is suggested by Stanley E. Porter, The Letter to the Romans: A Linguistic and Literary Commentary, New Testament Monographs 37 (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2015), 58–59. One way to understand the spatial cause construal of (36) and (37) is as follows: one will “live from faith” in the same sense that one can “die from smoke inhalation,” a semantic point expanded below. This scriptural text has received a tremendous amount of attention and linguistic scrutiny, but these preliminary comments must suffice here. For a recent treatment and relevant literature see Porter, who highlights the role of the future tense-form and points out that “the lexicogrammar of this verse [i.e., Hab 2:4 as cited in Rom 1:17 and parallels] is indecisive” (58). 43 In the context of (26) the subsequent verbal predicate (ὑποστέλλω “be reluctant, shrink back”) facilitates the motivation construal. Porter likewise argues that “‘by faith’ for Paul is a causal expression,” citing Rom 1:17; 3:26,30; 9:30; 10:6, the first three of which are included here under spatial cause construals (Letter to the Romans, 58–60).

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6.3.4 Further Considerations for Translation and Theology The spatial cause construal of ἐκ-constructions may seem somewhat difficult to grasp, and for good reason. In their comprehensive grammar, Rodney Huddleston and Geoffrey K. Pullum note that the preposition from has not been grammaticalized in English conventions as a cause.44 This claim is somewhat overstated, however, as the examples in (38) show: (38) (a) (b) (c) (d) (e)

He died from smoke inhalation. Peter was distraught from the loss of his wife. Jane got sick from all that sugar. We both got black eyes from playing rugby. All of the tomato plants looked parched from thirst.

One might quibble with certain of these examples, with (b) and (e) sounding perhaps slightly unusual or especially casual to some English speakers. By substituting “out of” for “from,” further examples come to mind, as in (39): (39) (a) They abandoned the project out of frustration. (b) Grandma kicked the cat out of anger. (c) Pizza cutters were invented out of necessity. All of these examples in (38) and (39) contain construals similar to the spatial cause in (29)–(35) above and provide a semantic analogue in English to the sense of the ἐκ-constructions. Nevertheless, this kind of construal is limited in frequency since contemporary English tends to disprefer grammaticalizing cause semantic roles spatially using origin construals, and instead tends to select other kinds of representations.45 Given this linguistic mismatch between Greek and English prepositions, Bible translations struggle to render certain ἐκ-constructions in a way that conveys the

44 Huddleston and Pullum, The Cambridge Grammar of the English Language (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 656. 45 However, certain varieties of contemporary English (i.e., within certain sociolects and/or registers) have been shown to select spatially structured cause expressions with more frequency. See Elisabeth Sommer, “Prepositions in Black English Vernacular,” SECOL Review 15, no. 2 (1991): 183–99; Eve V. Clark and Kathie L. Carpenter have also demonstrated that children between two and four years of age more frequently select a source construal of a cause expression; “The Notion of Source in Language Acquisition,” Language 65 (1989): 1–30; Clark and Carpenter, “On Children’s Uses of from, by and with in Oblique Noun Phrases,” Journal of Child Language 16 (1989): 349–54, DOI: 10.1017/ S030500090001045X. See also the literature cited by Bortone on the generous cross-linguistic evidence for the spatial cause construal as well (Greek Prepositions, 70, 75–76).

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metaphorical representation as a spatial cause, whether with πίστις or other lexical items (cf. 2Cor 9:7). This difficulty is apparent in the πίστις texts in (29)–(35), where the presence of δικαιόω creates the expectation for an instrument expression owing to general theological and English Bible literacy. As an example, in no major English translation is Rom 5:1 from (31) rendered as a spatial cause: we are justified by faith (RSV) we have been justified through faith (NIV) having been justified by faith (NAS) we have been justified by faith (ESV, NAB) we have been made righteous through his faithfulness (CEB) we have been declared righteous by faith (CSB) being justified by faith (KJV) being iustified by faith (Geneva Bible 1560) that we are iustified by faith (Tyndale 1534)

In every case there is a mismatched representation where the English instrumental construal “by” or “through” stands in place of the Greek spatial cause construal of ἐκ.46 To be sure, faith (πίστις) is indeed grammaticalized as an instrument of justification in certain New Testament texts. But for this construal Paul selects the plain dative (Rom 3:28) or διά (Rom 3:30; Gal 2:16; cf. Eph 2:8). Whether or not an ἐκ-construction is used to grammaticalize instrument at all in postclassical Greek is a question to be left for another occasion, though one may reasonably doubt it. The more immediate question is whether any ἐκ-construction with πίστις as a complement in the New Testament qualifies as or even invites such an instrumental construal outside of fossilized Bible translation traditions. Based on the analysis presented above, it would seem that the answer to this question is negative. This suggestion raises important considerations for the πίστις Χριστοῦ debate. The analysis of ἐν-constructions above has already indicated the importance of a unified explanation of prepositional semantics for this debate in the context of Gal 2:20. The appearance of an ἐκ-construction with πίστις as a complement in three more of the πίσιτς Χριστοῦ texts (Gal 2:16; 3:22; Rom 3:26) further highlights the importance of prepositional semantics for questions of major theological significance. The present essay is not the place to explore such questions in depth. But there is clear need for greater attention to the differences among Greek prepositions and to intentionality on the part of the New Testament authors in their selection. That is, in much of the literature related to the πίστις Χριστοῦ debate, almost no attention has been given to the meaning of the prepositions that head the important phrases involved.

46 This same misrepresentation occurs in all these English translations for examples (29)–(35). Interestingly, the 1952 RSV renders Rom 3:30 as “he will justify the circumcised on the ground of their faith.”

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The prepositions are largely overshadowed by the theological question of the genitive reading as well as Paul’s “justification talk.”47 One particularly pervasive oversight in the πίστις Χριστοῦ debate is the lack of consideration of semantic distinctions between ἐκ and διά. Both are treated as instrumental almost without question, even when they appear side-by-side with πίστις, as in Gal 2:16 and Rom 3:30. In the early days of the πίστις Χριστοῦ debate, George Howard considered this variation a “peculiar change of idiom” and proclaimed that “διά and ἐκ can be taken in the same category (cf. Rom. 3:30).”48 The discussion of these same passages in relation to δικαιόω in particular, Charles H. Cosgrove claims that “the apostle expresses the relationship between justification and works or faith always in terms of means or instrumentality.”49 More recently, although Francis Watson affirms that if “we are to understand Paul’s language, we must not neglect his prepositions,” he immediately goes on to do precisely that as he asserts that “διὰ [τῆς] πίστεως is simply a variant of ἐκ πίστεως.”50 Similarly, in his analysis of the relevant texts, R. Barry Matlock acknowledges Paul’s “recurrent pattern” of setting πίστις and νόμος “in antithesis,” and states that this occurs “with instrumental ἐκ or διά (or occasional stylistic variants).”51 Precisely the same point has been made by Douglas A. Campbell, who maintains that “Paul seems to employ a stylistic variation in some of these texts, using διά instead of ἐκ πίστεως.”52 In his extended argument pressing the importance of the ἐκ πίστεως construction in Pauline theology, Dunn gives no

47 A phrase borrowed from James B. Prothro, “The Strange Case of Δικαιόω in the Septuagint and Paul: The Oddity and Origins of Paul’s Talk of ‘Justification,’” ZNW 107 (2017): 48–69, DOI: 10.1515/ znw-2016-0003. A seminal article in this debate by Greer M. Taylor leaves prepositions out of the discussion entirely; “The Function of ΠΙΣΤΙΣ ΧΡΙΣΤΟΥ in Galatians,” JBL 85 (1966): 58–76. Similarly, in his dissertation, Faith of Jesus Christ, originally published in 1983, Hays leaves prepositional semantics almost completely undiscussed, along with Gal 2:16. Note that the πίστις Χριστοῦ debate has a third and often neglected view, as recently rearticulated by Kevin Grasso, “A Linguistic Analysis of πίστις Χριστοῦ: The Case for the Third View,” JSNT 43 (2020): 108–44, DOI: 10.1177/0142064X20949385. His proposal for “Christ-faith” as a rendering for πίστις Χριστοῦ seems compatible with the semantic analysis presented here. Grasso gives some attention to prepositions, but almost exclusively as complements to the verb πιστεύω. 48 Howard, “On the ‘Faith of Christ,’” HTR 60 (1967): 460, DOI: 10.1017/S0017816000003916 (emphasis added). He continues saying, “but neither can be construed as synonymous with εἰς,” the contrast with which is the focus of the “peculiar change” he detects (460). 49 Cosgrove, “Justification in Paul: A Linguistic and Theological Reflection,” JBL 106 (1987): 659 (emphasis added). He treats ἐκ and διά as synonyms a few pages later (662). 50 Watson, “By Faith (of Christ): An Exegetical Dilemma and Its Scriptural Solution,” in Faith of Jesus Christ, 148 (emphasis added). 51 Matlock, “The Rhetoric of Πίστις in Paul: Galatians 2.16, 3.22, and Philippians 3.9,” JSNT 30, no. 2 (2007): 181, DOI: 10.1177/0142064X07084775 (emphasis added). 52 Campbell, The Deliverance of God: An Apocalyptic Rereading of Justification in Paul (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2013), 378 (emphasis added).

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attention at all to the switch to διά in his treatment of Gal 2:16, incredibly speaking instead of “repetition.”53 Commentaries do not tend to grant any more credibility to a possible difference in prepositional meaning between ἐκ and διά in these two texts, regardless of the author’s view of πίστις Χριστοῦ. J. B. Lightfoot felt it was “almost impossible to trace the subtle process which has led to the change of prepositions” in Gal 2:16, for Paul uses them “indifferently.”54 Richard N. Longenecker agrees that ‘‘ἐκ and διά are used interchangeably” in this verse.55 Douglas J. Moo believes that ἐκ “probably has an instrumental force” and thus treats it the same as διά.56 So also Marinus C. de Boer, who (somewhat puzzlingly) thinks ἐκ may be translated “on the basis of” “as a result of” or even “by means of” “without substantially altering the meaning.”57 As for Rom 3:30, there has been more consideration of a meaningful difference between ἐκ and διά.58 Yet only a small minority of commentators – dating back to Theodore of Mopsuestia (Commentarii in Novum Testamentum PG 66:796) – defend such a distinction.59 A considerable majority, dating back to Augustine (Spir. et litt. 29.50), feel instead that the difference in Rom 3:30 is merely stylistic. Moo, for one, states that “none of the suggested distinctions makes very good sense; the change in prepositions is probably simply a stylistic variation.”60 Joseph A. Fitzmyer also suggests that the varied selection of ἐκ and διά is “merely a literary variant to suit the contrast [between circumci-

53 Dunn states that repetition is a common “means of emphasis” that also applies to “διὰ/ἐκ πίστεως Ἴησοῦ (Χριστοῦ) references in Romans (3:22, 26),” effectively treating διά and ἐκ as synonyms; “ΕΚ ΠΙΣΤΕΩΣ,” 365 (emphasis added). 54 Lightfoot, Galatians, 115 (emphasis added). 55 Longenecker, Galatians, WBC 41 (Dallas: Word Books, 1990), 88 (emphasis added). Note that, somewhat oddly, he takes both to mean “based upon” (88). 56 Moo, Galatians, BECNT (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2013), 162. 57 De Boer, Galatians: A Commentary, NTL (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 143 n. 7 (emphasis added). 58 A conversation entangled in the history of antisemitism. See John G. Gager, The Origins of Anti-Semitism: Attitudes toward Judaism in Pagan and Christian Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1983), 61–62, 251–52, 305 n. 1. 59 Theodore states Ἐπὶ τῶν Ἰουδαίων τὸ, ἐκ πίστεως, τέθεικεν, ὡς ἄν ἐχόντων μὲν ἑτέρας ἀφορμὰς πρὸς δικαίωσιν, [. . .] ἐπὶ δὲ τῶν Ἑλλήνων διὰ τῆς πίστεως, “About the Jews, he has written ‘from faith,’ as if they had other opportunities for justification[. . .]. But about the Greeks he has written ‘through faith.’” Modern commentators include, e.g., Adolf Schlatter, Gottes Gerechtigkeit, 2nd ed. (Stuttgart: Calwer, 1952), 155–56; and Theodor Zahn, Der Brief des Paulus an Die Römer (Leipzig: G. Boehme, 1925), 205–6. Stanley K. Stowers suggests Paul uses ἐκ and διά in reference to Jews and gentiles, respectively; “ΕΚ ΠΙΣΤΕΩΣ and ΔΙΑ ΠΙΣΤΕΩΣ in Romans 3:30,” JBL 108 (1989): 655–74. 60 Moo, The Epistle to the Romans, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 252 (emphasis added). Also note literature cited there.

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sion and uncircumcision].”61 Porter is one of the few to point out that the “alternation between the two prepositions that Paul uses raises the question of whether there is a subtle difference in their meaning,” but then comments that “this may simply be a stylistic alteration of two prepositions with a sense of agency or means.”62

6.4 Conclusion Because choice implies meaning, variation in prepositional selection must likewise imply difference in meaning, difficult though it may be either to detect or represent in translation. Moreover, although the difference may turn out to be more or less significant for interpretation, this should be demonstrated rather than assumed, especially in the context of consequential theological debate. On this point the exhortation of F. A. Adams is fitting: To say that Prepositions cannot ever be interchanged would be a very rash statement; but before adducing examples in proof of a possible interchange the critic should see well that he understands the Greek, not through an English translation of it.63

The significance of the New Testament writer’s selection of different prepositions in these and similar texts must receive more scrutiny. Those involved in the πίστις Χριστοῦ debate would do well to apply this mindset rather than too quickly rushing past prepositions toward the phrase for which the debate is named. The analysis above using Prototype Theory as a way of modeling prepositional semantics offers one attempt at doing so, and points toward further avenues of study in postclassical Greek lexicology and biblical interpretation.

61 Fitzmyer, Romans: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 33 (New York: Doubleday, 1992), 365 (emphasis added). He also cites James D. G. Dunn, Romans 1–8, WBC 38A (Dallas: Word Books, 1988), 189; Otto Kuss, Die Briefe an Die Römer, Korinther Und Galater, RNT 6 (Regensburg: Pustet, 1940), 178; and Marie-Joseph Lagrange, Saint Paul: Épître aux Romains, 4th ed., ÉtB (Paris: J. Gabalda, 1931), 80. Richard N. Longenecker does maintain a distinction between ἐκ and διά, but again translates the former using “on the basis of,” a questionable gloss found only suggested for Rev 20:12 and 2Cor 8:13 in BDAG (3h) (The Epistle to the Romans: A Commentary on the Greek Text, NIGTC [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2016], 450–51). 62 Porter, Letter to the Romans, 101. Porter leans toward the former possibility. 63 Adams, The Greek Prepositions: Studied from Their Original Meanings as Designations of Space (New York: D. Appleton, 1885), 117.

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Bibliography Abel, Félix-Marie. Grammaire du grec biblique suivie d’un choix de papyrus, 2nd ed. ÉtB. Paris: J. Gabalda, 1927. Adams, F. A. The Greek Prepositions: Studied from Their Original Meanings as Designations of Space. New York: D. Appleton, 1885. Beek, A. van de. “The Reception of Galatians 2:20 in the Patristic Period and in the Reformation.” AcT 34, suppl. 19 (2014): 42–57. Bortone, Pietro. Greek Prepositions from Antiquity to the Present. Oxford Linguistics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. Bussmann, Hadumod. Routledge Dictionary of Language and Linguistics, translated and edited by Gregory P. Trauth and Kerstin Kazzazi. New York: Routledge, 1996. Campbell, Constantine R. “Prepositions and Exegesis: What’s in a Word?” In Getting into the Text: New Testament Essays in Honor of David Alan Black, edited by Daniel L. Akin and Thomas W. Hudgins, 39–54. Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications, 2017. Campbell, Douglas A. The Deliverance of God: An Apocalyptic Rereading of Justification in Paul. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2013. Clark, Eve V., and Kathie L. Carpenter. “The Notion of Source in Language Acquisition.” Language 65 (1989): 1–30. Clark, Eve V., and Kathie L. Carpenter. “On Children’s Uses of from, by and with in Oblique Noun Phrases.” Journal of Child Language 16 (1989): 349–64. DOI: 10.1017/S030500090001045X. Cosgrove, Charles H. “Justification in Paul: A Linguistic and Theological Reflection.” JBL 106 (1987): 653–70. De Boer, Marinus C. Galatians: A Commentary. NTL. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011. Dunn, James D. G. Romans 1–8. WBC 38A. Dallas: Word Books, 1988. Dunn, James D. G. “ΕΚ ΠΙΣΤΕΩΣ: A Key to the Meaning of ΠΙΣΤΙΣ ΧΡΙΣΤΟΥ.” In The Words Leap the Gap: Essays on Scripture and Theology in Honor of Richard B. Hays, edited by J. Ross Wagner, C. Kavin Rowe, and A. Katherine Grieb, 351–66. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008. Fitzmyer, Joseph A. Romans: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 33. New York: Doubleday, 1992. Gager, John G. The Origins of Anti-Semitism: Attitudes toward Judaism in Pagan and Christian Antiquity. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1983. Grasso, Kevin. “A Linguistic Analysis of πίστις Χριστοῦ: The Case for the Third View.” JSNT 43 (2020): 108–44. DOI: 10.1177/0142064X20949385. Hagen Pifer, Jeanette. Faith as Participation: An Exegetical Study of Some Key Pauline Texts. WUNT 2/486. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2019. Harris, Murray J. Prepositions and Theology in the Greek New Testament: An Essential Reference Resource for Exegesis. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2012. Hays, Richard B. The Faith of Jesus Christ: The Narrative Substructure of Galatians 3:1–4:11. Biblical Resource Series. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002. Heine, Bernd, Ulrike Claudi, and Friederike Hünnemeyer. Grammaticalization: A Conceptual Framework. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991. Hope, Edward R. “Translating Prepositions.” BT 37, no. 4 (1986): 401–12. DOI: 10.1177/026009438603700401. Horrocks, Geoffrey. Space and Time in Homer: Prepositional and Adverbial Particles in the Greek Epic. Monographs in Classical Studies. New York: Arno Press, 1981. Howard, George. “On the ‘Faith of Christ.’” HTR 60 (1967): 459–84. DOI: 10.1017/ S0017816000003916.

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Huddleston, Rodney, and Geoffrey K. Pullum. The Cambridge Grammar of the English Language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002. Kuss, Otto. Die Briefe an Die Römer, Korinther und Galater. RNT 6. Regensburg: Pustet, 1940. Lagrange, Marie-Joseph. Saint Paul: Épître aux Romains, 4th ed. ÉtB. Paris: J. Gabalda, 1931. Lightfoot, J. B. St. Paul’s Epistle to the Galatians: A Revised Text with Introduction, Notes, and Dissertations, 10th ed. London: Macmillan, 1896. Longenecker, Richard N. Galatians. WBC 41. Dallas: Word Books, 1990. Longenecker, Richard N. The Epistle to the Romans: A Commentary on the Greek Text. NIGTC. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2016. Luraghi, Silvia. On the Meaning of Prepositions and Cases: The Expression of Semantic Roles in Ancient Greek. SLCS 67. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2003. Matlock, R. Barry. “The Rhetoric of Πίστις in Paul: Galatians 2.16, 3.22, and Philippians 3.9.” JSNT 30, no. 2 (2007): 173–203. DOI: 10.1177/0142064X07084775. Metzger, Bruce M. Lexical Aids for Students of New Testament Greek. Princeton: Theological Book Agency, 1969. Moo, Douglas J. The Epistle to the Romans. NICNT. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996. Moo, Douglas J. Galatians. BECNT. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2013. Muñoz Gallarte, Israel. “The Meaning of Πίστις in the Framework of the Diccionario Griego-Español Del Nuevo Testamento.” In Getting into the Text: New Testament Essays in Honor of David Alan Black, edited by Daniel L. Akin and Thomas W. Hudgins, 179–90. Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications, 2017. Nes, Jermo van. “‘Faith(fulness) of the Son of God’? Galatians 2:20b Reconsidered.” NovT 55 (2013): 127–39. DOI: 10.1163/15685365-12341418. Porter, Stanley E. Idioms of the Greek New Testament, 2nd ed. BLG 2. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994. Porter, Stanley E. The Letter to the Romans: A Linguistic and Literary Commentary. New Testament Monographs 37. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2015. Porter, Stanley E. “Greek Prepositions in a Systemic Functional Linguistic Framework.” BAGL 6 (2017): 17–43. Porter, Stanley E., and Andrew W. Pitts. “Πίστις with a Preposition and Genitive Modifier: Lexical, Semantic, and Syntactic Consideration in the Πίστις Χριστοῦ Discussion.” In The Faith of Jesus Christ: Exegetical, Biblical, and Theological Studies, edited by Michael F. Bird and Preston M. Sprinkle, 33–53. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2009. Prothro, James B. “The Strange Case of Δικαιόω in the Septuagint and Paul: The Oddity and Origins of Paul’s Talk of ‘Justification.’” ZNW 107 (2017): 48–69. DOI: 10.1515/znw-2016-0003. Robertson A. T. A Grammar of the Greek New Testament in Light of Historical Research, 3rd ed. New York: Hodder & Stoughton, 1919. Rossberg, Conradus. De Praepositionum Graecarum in Chartis Aegyptiis Ptolemaeorum Aetatis Usu. Jena: Neuenhahn, 1909. Schlatter, Adolf. Gottes Gerechtigkeit: Ein Kommentar zum Römerbrief, 2nd ed. Stuttgart: Calwer, 1952. Smyth, Herbert W. Greek Grammar, rev. ed. New York: American Book Company, 1920. Repr., 1956. Sommer, Elisabeth. “Prepositions in Black English Vernacular.” SECOL Review 15, no. 2 (1991): 183–99. Stowers, Stanley K. “ΕΚ ΠΙΣΤΕΩΣ and ΔΙΑ ΠΙΣΤΕΩΣ in Romans 3:30.” JBL 108 (1989): 655–74. Taylor, Greer M. “The Function of ΠΙΣΤΙΣ ΧΡΙΣΤΟΥ in Galatians.” JBL 85 (1966): 58–76. Theodore of Mopsuestia. Commentarii in Novum Testamentum. PG 66:702–968. Tittmann, J. A. H. “On the Force of the Greek Prepositions in Compound Verbs, as Employed in the New Testament.” The Biblical Repository 9 (1833): 45–66.

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Watson, Francis. “By Faith (of Christ): An Exegetical Dilemma and Its Scriptural Solution.” In The Faith of Jesus Christ: Exegetical, Biblical, and Theological Studies, edited by Michael F. Bird and Preston M. Sprinkle, 147–63. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2009. Winer, Georg B. A Treatise on the Grammar of New Testament Greek, Regarded as a Sure Basis for New Testament Exegesis, translated by W. F. Moulton, 3rd German ed., 9th English ed. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1882. Zahn, Theodore. Der Brief des Paulus an die Römer. Leipzig: G. Boehme, 1925.

Bonnie Howe

7 “Why Do You Eat and Drink with Tax Collectors and Sinners?”

How Prepositions Shape Social Space and Norms in Luke Prepositions, those powerful little workhorse words: They do so much work, we should pay them extra.1 This chapter will focus on how these little words lend shape and structure to the social norms embedded in Luke, whose Gospel highlights the plight of the stranger, the poor, and the marginalized. The core methodological question is: How can Cognitive Linguistic models help interpreters understand the social-relational usages of prepositions, and how are these usages related to the spatial-locative meanings of prepositions? But the Cognitive Linguistics method investigation is in service of a deeper aim, noticing the roles prepositions play in the communication of social norms in Luke. I’m interested in English translations and interpretations of the New Testament, but this study must begin with the postclassical Greek text. The inquiry will center on four focal texts from Luke’s Gospel: 5:29–32 Levi’s Banquet 7:36–50 Simon the Pharisee’s House: The Woman with the Alabaster Jar 15:1–2 Grumbling Motif 19:1–10 Encounter with Zacchaeus Each of these pericopes depicts a meal scene involving a clash or dispute about proper hosting and the guest list. The aim is to discover how prepositions contribute to Luke’s portrayal of: 1. Peoples’ responses to Jesus, particularly where he is a stranger or an outsider; 2. Jesus’s own behavior with strangers and outsiders in Luke; 3. Responses to Jesus’s disciples as both insiders and outsiders.

7.1 Methods and Tools This study relies on tools from an array of complementary models for understanding prepositions. No single method or model suffices to address the questions about how

1  “‘That’s a great deal to make one word mean,’ Alice said in a thoughtful tone. ‘When I make a word do a lot of work like that,’ said Humpty Dumpty, ‘I always pay it extra.’”; Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and through the Looking Glass (Boston: Lothrop Publishing Company, 1898), 164. Unless otherwise noted, all translations are from the NRSV. The Greek text is SBLGNT unless otherwise noted. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110777895-007

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the spatial-locative meanings of prepositions are related to social-relational usages of those same prepositions. Nevertheless, the spatial-locative is our starting point, the diving board from which we plunge into the social-relational zone. The core Cognitive Linguistics claim about prepositions is that specification of place is conceptual, and that language and embodied spatial cognition are inseparably entwined. Annette Herskovits demonstrated that prepositions have prototypical spatial meanings that can be extended beyond the geometric/spatial domain; her work is key to this study.2 Closely related to Herskovits’s work is the study of how prepositions evoke image schemas and evoke force dynamic meanings.3 Prepositional polysemy is another given. Cognitive Linguistics research shows that polysemy arises from radial category structures and prototypes. Claudia Brugman and George Lakoff’s work in this area coheres with Herskovits’s models as they explain how less central and metaphorical understandings of “over” extend from a central, prototypical case.4 Their work grounds this present study, as does the work of Mark Johnson and Eve Sweetser on metaphorical uses and meanings of prepositions.5 I rely also on Hubert Cuyckens’s work on metonymy and prepositions as mappings within rather than between source domains and as sometimes more fundamental than metaphorical meanings.6 Another methodological key is the observation that prepositions evoke mental spaces and that they participate in conceptual networks and blending.7 Semantic frames that structure input spaces in mental space blends can be evoked by preposi2  Annette Herskovits, Language and Spatial Cognition: An Interdisciplinary Study of the Prepositions in English, Studies in Natural Language Processing (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986). 3  For a definition of “image schema” see Mark Johnson, The Body in the Mind: The Bodily Basis of Meaning, Imagination and Reason (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987), 28–29. Also see George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, Philosophy in the Flesh (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999), 77, 117, 508–9. See also Raymond W. Gibbs and Herbert L. Colston, “The Cognitive Psychological Reality of Image Schemas and Their Transformations,” in Cognitive Linguistics: Basic Readings, ed. Dirk Geeraerts, CLR 34 (Berlin: De Gruyter Mouton, 2006): 239–68. Regarding force dynamics, see Leonard Talmy, “Force Dynamics in Language and Cognition,” Cognitive Science 12, no. 1 (1988): 49–100, DOI: 10.1016/0364-0213(88)90008-0; and Talmy, Towards a Cognitive Semantics, vol. 1, Concept Structuring Systems, Language, Speech, and Communication (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2000). 4  Claudia Brugman and George Lakoff, “Cognitive Topology and Lexical Networks,” in Lexical Ambiguity Resolution: Perspectives from Psycholinguistics, Neuropsychology, and Artificial Intelligence, ed. Steven L. Small et al., (San Mateo, CA: Morgan Kaufmann Publishers, 1988): 477–508. 5  On schemata for spatial orientation, see Johnson, The Body in the Mind, 30–37. Regarding coordinated spatial metaphors, see Eve Sweetser, “‘The Suburbs of Your Good Pleasure’: Cognition, Culture and the Bases of Metaphoric Structure,” in The Shakespearean International Yearbook, vol.4: Shakespeare Studies Today, ed. Graham Bradshaw et al. (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing, 2004): 24–55. 6  Hubert Cuyckens, “Metonymy in Prepositions,” in Perspectives on Prepositions, ed. Hubert Cuyckens and Günther Radden, Linguistische Arbeiten 454 (Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag; Walter de Gruyter, 2002): 259. 7  Gilles Fauconnier and Mark Turner, The Way We Think: Conceptual Blending and the Mind’s Hidden Complexities (New York: Basic Books, 2002).

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tions, and this study repeatedly turns to Fillmorean frame analysis and to the scenarios that frames evoke.8 Finally, this study explores some of the roles prepositions play in narrative structures, as they participate in narrative fragmentation and coherence.9 These are the main pieces in the toolkit I use to notice how prepositions work in the focal texts studied here. I see these as compatible or complementary tools, not competing theories vying for supremacy, for no one model suffices to do all the work, and yet all belong under the wide umbrella of Cognitive Linguistics.

7.1.1 More on Mental Spaces and Blending Each of the models employed in this study is grounded in a general theory of mental spaces and cognitive or conceptual domains. In this theoretical framework, it is understood that underneath linguistic usages and semantic domains lie cognitive, mental domains or “spaces.” It is about the way people think. Gilles Fauconnier said, “Mental spaces are partial structures that proliferate when we think and talk, allowing a fine-grained partitioning of our discourse and knowledge structures.”10 That is, mental spaces permeate all human linguistic expressions and discourse. Mental spaces connect, clash, network, and blend in a number of ways, so Cognitive Linguistics practitioners have devised ways of noticing and analyzing those patterns. Metaphor, metonymy, prototypes, force-dynamic and image schemas, frames and the roles they project – all of these are reflective and evocative of mental spaces people use to think, interpret, and communicate. Fauconnier and Mark Turner developed ways to notice and track the proliferation of mental spaces and the interactions between them. Their Conceptual Blending model is especially useful for analyzing how we read and interpret written discourse like the New Testament. It is the ability to blend mental spaces that allows some readers to connect the lowly and marginalized in the New Testament text with people seeking respect and welcome in their own contexts. Our concern does not stop at the level of interpretation and analysis, though. Blends prompt and inform our actions. It is not only metaphors that we live by, but an array of mental space blends, as well. One central goal of this study, then, is to point to some ways that prepositions evoke and contribute to mental space blends.

8 Charles Fillmore, “Frame Semantics,” in Linguistics in the Morning Calm (Seoul: Hanshin Publishing Company, 1982): 111–37. 9  Barbara Dancygier, The Language of Stories: A Cognitive Approach (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). 10  Gilles Fauconnier, Mappings in Thought and Language (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1997), 11.

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7.2 Preview: Focal Prepositions Many prepositions occur in the focal texts, but it turns out that certain ones are key: μετά, ἐν, and εἰς, plus an array of compound verbs with prepositional prefixes, especially verbs belonging to the semantic domain of Hospitality. In these texts, Jesus eats with sinners, but he doesn’t just eat and drink with them. He welcomes himself in, and welcomes others in. Jesus does this over and over again, so that his including and simply being present with all sorts of people at meals becomes characteristic of him and central to his ministry. His disciples are also known to display this same kind of behavior. The challenge in Luke 5:29–32 was directed at the Twelve: “Why do you [plural] eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?” That text is exhibit A. Let us begin there.

7.3 Prepositions at Levi’s Banquet Focal Text, #1 Καὶ ἐποίησεν δοχὴν μεγάλην Λευὶς αὐτῷ ἐν τῇ οἰκίᾳ αὐτοῦ· καὶ ἦν ὄχλος πολὺς τελωνῶν καὶ ἄλλων οἳ ἦσαν μετʼ αὐτῶν κατακείμενοι. 30 καὶ ἐγόγγυζον οἱ Φαρισαῖοι καὶ οἱ γραμματεῖς αὐτῶν πρὸς τοὺς μαθητὰς αὐτοῦ λέγοντες· Διὰ τί μετὰ τῶν τελωνῶν καὶ ἁμαρτωλῶν ἐσθίετε καὶ πίνετε; 31 καὶ ἀποκριθεὶς ὁ Ἰησοῦς εἶπεν πρὸς αὐτούς· Οὐ χρείαν ἔχουσιν οἱ ὑγιαίνοντες ἰατροῦ ἀλλὰ οἱ κακῶς ἔχοντες· 32 οὐκ ἐλήλυθα καλέσαι δικαίους ἀλλὰ ἁμαρτωλοὺς εἰς μετάνοιαν. (Luke 5:29–32) 29

Then Levi gave a great banquet for him in his house, and there was a large crowd of tax collectors and others sitting at the table with them. The Pharisees and their scribes were complaining to his disciples, saying, “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?” Jesus answered, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I have come to call not the righteous but sinners to repentance.”

7.3.1 Setting a Scene Levi, a tax collector, throws a big party in his house with Jesus as guest of honor. But notice the rest of the guest list: Levi also invites his tax collector friends μετʼ αὐτῶν κατακείμενοι “to recline with them,” that is, to dine. This causes the Pharisees and scribes to complain about the company Jesus and Levi and the Twelve keep. Jesus responds with words that acknowledge the challenge to his honor, but he frames his actions in terms of addressing need: the sick needing healing, sinners needing repentance. Righteousness is mentioned. Social ethics is a central topic.

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7.3.2 Spatial Location before Social-Cultural Location Look first at the phrase ἐν τῇ οἰκίᾳ “in the house” or sometimes “at home.” This phrase, iterations of which show up in several household meal scenes in Luke (5:29– 32; 7:31–35,36–50; 15:1–31; 19:1–10), invites us to notice both spatial-locative meanings of ἐν and how they are linked to social-relational meanings. On one level, Levi’s house is simply a location, a space one can be in. Herskovits’s analysis of how prepositions work is insightful and foundational. She makes the basic case that specification of place is conceptual and outlines the notions of geometric meaning and ideal meanings in locative expressions. Listen to Herskovits: The ideal meaning of a preposition is a geometrical idea, from which all uses of that preposition derive by means of various adaptations and shifts. An ideal meaning is generally a relation between two or three ideal geometric objects (e.g., points, lines, surfaces, volumes, vectors).11

In other words, prepositions evoke specialized Idealized Cognitive Models.12 The preposition ἐν has an essential, prototypical meaning – it evokes a conceptual space, with an inside and therefore an outside. The Idealized Cognitive Models it evokes is a Container schema, a type of image schema. But there are at least two steps here. How might interpreters understand that Levi’s house is a container, and that this is a metaphor? Readers blend the mental spaces evoked by the phrase ἐν τῇ οἰκίᾳ. Immediately, effortlessly, the very basic spatial concept that ἐν, “in” evokes is blended with οἰκίᾳ, “house.” The words prompt readers to compose a picture – even a moving visual scene – of a house someone enters. In fact, it is not a generic house, it is Levi’s house, ἐν τῇ οἰκίᾳ αὐτοῦ· “in his house.” Is this the type of “in” usage Herskovits calls “Person in Institution” or “Participant in Institution” – or something else? One could argue that the ancient Near Eastern household is a kind of institution, but I’m not sure that’s necessary, and it might be anachronistic. At this point, let us simply notice Herskovits’s prescient assertion that social-relational “in” meanings are linked to some geometric ideal conceptual meaning, to what she calls the preposition’s essential meaning.13 Herskovits’s analysis of English “in” is instructive. She observes that even with regard to “spatial entity in area” usages, “what is relevant to human life in that space is inclusion in.”14 Herskovits meant physical, spatial inclusion. But this scenario is not merely about spatial location; it concerns inclusion or exclusion from the social-rela-

11  Herskovits, Language and Spatial Cognition, 39. See also p. 30, regarding place as conceptual. 12  Idealized Cognitive Models are defined by George Lakoff in Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things: What Categories Reveal about the Mind (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987). 13  Herskovits, Language and Spatial Cognition, 155. 14  Herskovits, 153.

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tional activity that occurs in the house and the religious/cultic safety and purity that the house should represent.

7.3.3 Prepositions and Social Meanings: Διὰ τί Διὰ τί μετὰ τῶν τελωνῶν καὶ ἁμαρτωλῶν ἐσθίετε καὶ πίνετε;

(Luke 5:30b)

Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?

Consider now this move from the geometric-spatial meanings to the social-cultural carefully. Focus on the question about the guest list for Levi’s banquet; it is evidence of social and religious tension. The Pharisees and scribes want to know why Jesus’s disciples eat and drink with the tax collectors and sinners. In this cultural context, a participant may enter Levi’s house if and only if he or she belongs there or is invited to enter. And notice the second-person plural “you all.” Jesus’s disciples are joining him in this eating-with-sinners behavior, so they too are being questioned: Διὰ τί – woodenly, “Through what?” or “Why?” This is a challenge to both their honor and Jesus’s honor. As his disciples, they stand for him and are implicated in their teacher’s behavior. In fact, the question Διὰ τί has tremendous social significance. It triggers a cultural frame, an Honor Challenge. We’ll have more to say about frames in a moment, but let us pause to notice that a preposition helped evoke that social-relational, cultural frame.

7.3.4 What’s the Problem with μετά? The Pharisees’ problem revolves around a preposition, μετά, “with.” What kind of prepositional usage is this genitive μετά “with”? It signals more than physical proximity. Clearly, in this narrative context, the complaint is about social-relational “withness.” Why do you eat and drink with sinners? Even the traditional reference volumes list this verse with the social, not merely locative, meaning of μετά: “in company with.” How is the social meaning linked conceptually to spatial-physical proximity? Herskovits would say that the social-relational “with” has its conceptual roots in – is an extension of – the spatial geometric concept that is the prototypical meaning of the preposition. Her model coheres with Cuyckens’s analysis of English “with,” which recognizes five senses or types of meaning: ACCOMPANIMENT, INSTRUMENT, MANNER, CIRCUMSTANCE, and CAUSE.15

15  Cuyckens, “Metonymy in Prepositions,” 259, capitalization his.

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7.3.5 Metaphor and Metonymy Luke’s μετά, used in the spatial sense, fits Cuyckens’s accompaniment type. It may also fit the circumstance type. Cuyckens points to metonymic linkages in “with” usages, too. When circumstance and manner are each part of one Idealized Cognitive Model – in the same domain – a metonymic relationship is displayed: Circumstance FOR Manner. Cuyckens argues: “When the semantic relation between two concepts can be motivated metaphorically as well as metonymically, the metonymic relation, which is based on contiguity within one domain, is more fundamental/basic than the metaphoric relation, which is based on mapping between two conceptual domains, precisely because conceptual contiguity often reflects a physical contiguity in extralinguistic reality.”16 Is this usage of μετά in Luke 5:30 metaphorical or metonymic? It is not an either-or matter. If the spatial-locative meaning is prototypical, then as the usage of with is extended to the more abstract social-relational domain, we are indeed performing a mapping between domains. It is a metaphorical move because it entails blending aspects of two domains.17 But as Cuyckens suggests, the single-domain metonymy is an underlying basis for the cross-domain metaphor. People try to be near those to whom we are socially close, and tend typically to gain added depth of social relationship with people to whom we are regularly near. In terms of family, we begin our lives physically close to people to whom the social world says we are close. All of this primary human embodied experience grounds some basic metaphors: social accompaniment is physical-spatial contiguity and group membership is containment.18 Now consider again Herskovits’s notion of essential physical-spatial meaning and the proposed linkage to social-cultural meanings. The preposition ἐν plus οἶκος “house” evokes a physical-spatial frame of containment (with respect to house) and a social-cultural frame of inclusion (household). Several additional cultural frames are also evoked; looking at those more closely may help us understand how μετά is working here. More must be said about frames.

16  Cuyckens, 263. 17  René Dirven, “Dividing Up Physical and Mental Space into Conceptual Categories by Means of English Prepositions,” in The Semantics of Prepositions: From Mental Processing to Natural Language Processing, ed. Cornelia Zelinsky-Wibbelt, Natural Language Processing 3 (Berlin: De Gruyter Mouton, 1993): 73–98. 18  Regarding philosophical and neuroscientific grounding for an embodied mind perspective, see Mark L. Johnson and Don M. Tucker, Out of the Cave: A Natural Philosophy of Mind and Knowing (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2021).

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7.3.6 Framing Meals, Framing Households Location matters in this social-cultural world, especially as it pertains to ritual purity. It is not the menu with which the Pharisees have a problem, it is the venue (a tax collector’s home) and the guest list (tax collectors and sinners). Pharisees and scribes in Luke, as in the other Gospels, do not approve of a righteous rabbi being invited to dine and associate with “sinners” in the home of a tax collector. Perhaps they’d heard that Levi had undergone some kind of transformation. But they apparently expected that if Levi had repented, he’d have left his tax collecting ways and dropped his social associations with those people. They would expect Levi to show signs of being restored to right standing through observance of their customs surrounding purity of meals and guarding honor. These constitute social-cultural and semantic frames.

7.3.6.1 Defining Semantic Frames For Charles Fillmore, a frame is “a system of categories structured in accordance with some motivating context.”19 He also said it this way: A frame is “any system of concepts related in such a way that to understand any one of them you have to understand the whole structure in which it fits.”20 The Gestalt quality is key. Introducing one item in a frame makes all of the other items (concepts) in the frame available, and yet the whole can be simpler than its constituent parts. The meaning of Tuesday depends on a Days of the Week frame; divorce doesn’t make sense without the Marriage frame. It’s not an entirely novel or isolated observation that humans have systematic and organized ways of categorizing and communicating content. Schemas, scripts, scenarios, ideational scaffolding, cognitive models (Idealized Cognitive Models), and folk theories – Fillmore said that all of these were congruent with what he meant by “frames.” Fillmore’s process in developing this Frame Semantic approach is instructive. In the beginning, he was asking the kinds of questions ethnographers ask, and applying them to his study of languages. Here is his guiding question: “What categories of experience are encoded by the members of this speech community through the linguistic choices that they make when they talk?”21 As interpreters attempt to locate and name frames in New Testament texts, they are asking this same question. What categories of experience are encoded by Luke and the members of his community through the linguistic choices – including the prepositions – Luke made when he wrote his Gospel?

19  Fillmore, “Frame Semantics,” 111. 20  Fillmore, 119. 21  Fillmore, 111.

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The frame model displays some keys to what makes this kind of study cognitive: Words represent categorizations of experience. Each experience has a “motivating situation occurring against a background of knowledge and experience.”22

Fillmore was interested in that motivating situation and in the fact that words only work via a shared experience, so-called background knowledge. Absent knowledge of that background – for example, eating with ceremonially unclean sinners jeopardizing a Pharisee’s clean status – readers cannot fully understand biblical scenarios and will misinterpret. Many modern Bible readers may not pick up the social-cultural frames motivating this situation. I said above that the question Διὰ τί μετὰ τῶν τελωνῶν, “Why with tax collectors?” triggered a semantic frame concerning Honor Challenge. Figure 7.1 displays a partial analysis, showing how we might name the frame, specify Frame Elements (FEs), and identify Lexical Units (LUs) evoking those elements.23

Figure 7.1: Frame: Honor challenge.

How do prepositions fit into frames? In particular contexts, they have the potential power to trigger entire frames. On the geometric-topological-spatial plane, they can trigger conceptual frames like Containers, Lines, and Points on lines. We said that ἐν evoked the concept of a physical space. But in Luke 5:30b, we have διά and μετά working to evoke both physical-locative concepts and socio-cultural frames. In fact, 22  Fillmore, 111. 23  The matter is even more complex: “Why do you do X?” works as a challenge via speech-act frame metonymy. Barbara Dancygier and Eve Sweetser, “Grammatical Construction and Figurative Meanings,” in Figurative Language, CTL 2 (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2014), 127–61. Sweetser points out that “Why do you […]” could be an informational question like the English, “What are you doing?” Readers’ interpretations will differ, depending on which cultural and semantic frames are activated for them and by them. Also see Paul Kay and Charles Fillmore, “Grammatical Constructions and Linguistic Generalizations: The What’s X Doing Y? Construction,” in Language 75, no. 1 (1999): 1–33, DOI: 10.2307/417472.

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Honor Challenge is a subframe of the Honor and Shame cultural frame. Other related subframes include: Family Honor, Household Honor, and – central to the type-scenes in view – Household Meal.

7.3.7 Metonymies and Frames Revisited Cuyckens alerted us to the metonymic power prepositions can have. Metonymy works by linking two elements of the same domain or frame. Sometimes, one Frame Element stands for the whole frame: Part for Whole. In other cases, two Frame Elements are linked. Figure 7.2 lists some of the metonymies in Luke 5:29–32.

Figure 7.2: Frame Metonymies in Luke 5:29–32.

7.3.8 A Prepositional Prefix on a Compound Verb Κατακείμενοι is a compound verb, a participle with a prepositional prefix, κατά. The spatial-physical sense of κατά in κατακείμενοι contributes to the meaning evoked; this preposition’s essential spatial meaning is something like English “down”. But we are working with this text, and within the cultural context of first-century Palestinian customs, so we do not get to stop at discussing the geometrical schemas evoked. These guests are reclining, perhaps around a low table (no table word occurs here).  This would be a conventional cultural script or scene for Luke and his first readers. The compound verb κατακείμενοι triggers a first-century Household Meal frame (a subframe of Hospitality). As stated earlier, metonymic relationships occur within conceptual frames. These frames provide the social-cultural background meaning – the socio-cultural world – that the lexical usage evokes.

7.3.8.1 Excursus: About Compound Verbs Johannes P. Louw cautioned against a certain form of the etymological fallacy, the attempt to derive the “real” or “hidden” meaning of a word from its morphology.

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Louw observed that the meaning of English “butterfly” is not derived from butter + fly and neither do we understand English “understand” by adding under + stand. In the case of compound verbs, we cannot deduce meanings from constituent parts in a simplistic manner. Thus, Louw regarding the meaning of ἀπόστολος: That is to say, from the meaning “special messenger” we can progress to ἀπόστολος as the term used to signify this meaning, but we cannot “analyze” the constituent parts of ἀπόστολος and think that the sum total of the data provides the meaning of ἀπόστολος.24

Our analytical approach must begin with usage in particular contexts. Since no speakers are available for interviews, or to check translations, it is crucial that New Testament words are read and interpreted as used in context. Reading in context involves seeing the relationships between frames.25 Louw also made this assertion: “It is a basic principle of modern semantic theory that we cannot progress from the form of a word to its meaning. Form and meaning are not directly correlated.”26 Louw thought it imperative to focus on language in use, rather than on some symbolic system or set of abstract propositions.27 Cognitive Linguists would agree with Louw, provided the qualifier, “directly,” is accentuated. Linguistic structures do express meaning; that is their function. When the connections between form and meaning are scrutinized, it appears that semantic domains and subdomains are built on – have their origins in – embodied human categories and understandings. Cognitive linguists would argue that forms carry meaning, and that this meaning contributes to the overall meaning of a given word. Prepositional prefixes on compound verbs in postclassical Greek, then, do conventionally represent meaning. Our task is to discern what those conventions are, and then how in each usage those conventions are both reinforced and adhered to or are altered or adapted.

24 Johannes P. Louw, Semantics of New Testament Greek, Semeia St 11 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1982), 28. 25 Eve Sweetser observes that to understand how this compound verb works, we need to notice relationships between frames – the physical-spatial one that ἀπό belongs to, and the frame or frames that στέλλω evokes. When they are compounded, a new frame comes to dominate the sense of the word (pers. comm). 26 Louw, Semantics of New Testament Greek, 29 (emphasis added). 27 Louw, 23–31. And see Maria del Carmen Guarddon-Anelo’s essay using Cognitive Grammar to show that when prepositions become prefixes they change the meanings of specific verbs to which they’ve been attached; Guarddon-Anelo, “The Role of Metonymy and Metaphor in Grammaticalization: Expression of Aspect,” Australian Journal of Linguistics 31, no. 2 (2011): 211–31, DOI: 10.1080/07268602.2011.560829.

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7.3.9 Recap The study started with a look at Luke 5:29–32, describing the scene and noticing the physical, spatial-locational work that the prepositions ἐν and μετά do. They evoke place, which is indeed a basic human conceptual category. Then I argued that there was more than meets the physical-spatial eye. These prepositions can also evoke certain social-cultural frames. The analysis revealed frame metonymies (which stay within one domain) and metaphors (which map elements from one domain or frame onto another). Prepositions in the focal text worked with other words in phrases and sentences and in the larger cotextual context to evoke the Honor Challenge frame. Ἐν and οἶκος were key to locating the kinds of physical and social spaces interpreters need to notice. But also important in this story is the role prepositions play as prefixes in compound verbs.

7.3.9.1 Running Simulations Rather than Decoding Words The prepositions μετά and ἐν do carry spatial-locative meaning in this pericope, but – crucially – they also contribute to the build-up of a social-relational scenario structured by semantic frames that modern readers will not understand by simply looking up definitions of English prepositions and applying them to “translate” the Greek. Attempts to decode the Greek in word-by-word fashion will fail. The caution I’m raising is about more than choice of analytical models. It is about how language works, how words mean, and how reading works. Listen to Benjamin K. Bergen, who directs the Language and Cognition Lab at the University of California, San Diego: If meaning is based on experience with the world – the specific actions and percepts an individual has had – then it may vary from individual to individual and from culture to culture. And meaning will also be deeply personal […] the processes of meaning are dynamic and constructive. It’s not about activating the right symbol, it’s about dynamically constructing the right mental experience of the scene.28

Because so much of Scripture is narrative material, it would be wise to pay attention to what researchers are finding out about how readers process not just single words or

28  Benjamin K. Bergen, Louder than Words: The New Science of How the Mind Makes Meaning (New York: Basic Books, 2012), 16.

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phrases, but stories, narratives.29 Readers don’t just decode words, they are running simulations.30

7.3.9.2 Revised Research Questions Going forward, I want to try to discern whether what Herskovits and Cuyckens are seeing in English prepositions matches what is happening conceptually with postclassical Greek ἐν and μετά. But I am also interested in how prepositions contribute to the social ethic displayed in the narrative as it is built up in specific pericopes and in Luke’s Gospel as a whole. Regarding what Herskovits calls “normal situation types,” it is important to notice when and how locative expressions are coordinated with a speaker’s purpose and viewpoint. These are important aspects of meaning attached to or prompted by prepositions.

7.4 Focal Text #2: Proximity, Touch, and Purity Consider another of the Meal Hospitality type-scenes in Luke. Again, the focus is on how prepositions are functioning, with particular interest in discovering any impact on social-ethical aspects or implications of the narrative.

7.4.1 The Preamble: Familiar Story? Ἠρώτα δέ τις αὐτὸν τῶν Φαρισαίων ἵνα φάγῃ μετʼ αὐτοῦ· καὶ εἰσελθὼν εἰς τὸν οἶκον τοῦ Φαρισαίου κατεκλίθη. (Luke 7:36) One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee’s house and took his place at the table.

In the preamble to this fairly extensive story Jesus is invited into a Pharisee’s home, to recline at the table and eat with the invited guests, as was the custom. A Meal Hospital-

29  In a study done at Washington University in St. Louis, fMRI scans tracked brain activity as people read short stories and processed individual words. They found that readers simulate each new situation encountered in a narrative; Nicole K. Speer et al., “Reading Stories Activates Neural Representations of Visual and Motor Experiences,” Psychological Science 20, no. 8 (2009): 989–99, DOI: 10.1111/j.1467-9280.2009.02397.x. 30  “The power of stories lies in the brain’s capacity to imaginatively simulate the behaviors being narrated […]. We do not passively comprehend stories, but mentally engage in simulations of the action”; Warren Brown and Brad Strawn, The Physical Nature of Christian Life: Neuroscience, Psychology, and the Church (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 82.

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ity type-scene is again evoked, along with the associated frames. This is the basic communicative context of the scene. Readers should be able to imagine the surroundings, the stock characters, and to anticipate the kinds of conventional actions and interactions that might take place. Alert readers could very well be expecting some Pharisees to grumble, mutter, and complain. The type-scene’s conventional Frame Elements are available as soon as just one is used in this new context. But with this iteration, readers must wait a bit for the conflict and complaints to manifest themselves.

7.4.2 Μετά Again Ἠρώτα δέ τις αὐτὸν τῶν Φαρισαίων ἵνα φάγῃ μετʼ αὐτοῦ·φάγῃ μετʼ αὐτοῦ

(Luke 7:36a)

One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him

To eat with him (genitive) signifies more than location or spatial proximity; it is social being-with that is meant. Again, it is imperative that readers pick up both the physical-spatial and the social-cultural meanings prompted by the prepositions. A larger challenge to translators and interpreters is this: How can we avoid producing translations that flatten out the scene in ways that cause readers to miss the culturally specific features in the text?

7.4.3 The Significance of εἰς: Morality, Hospitality, and Prepositions εἰσελθὼν εἰς τὸν οἶκον

(Luke 7:36c)

entering into the house

Jesus is invited in; he goes into the Pharisee’s home. Now the preposition is accusative εἰς rather than ἐν: He is going to or going into, entering the house. Motion into is evoked. Jesus is entering the building or dwelling complex, but also the social space which would, again, have been carefully guarded and arranged. At this point, this investigation has only looked at the prologue to the pericope. As the story unfolds, prepositions continue to provide physical-spatial location cues, while at the same time they contribute to the discourse’s depiction of social-relational interaction, and even of characters’ moral status.

7.4.4 Location and Force Dynamics in the Alabaster Jar Story Now consider how Cognitive Linguistics analysis might enable interpreters to tease apart the ways prepositions are working in the story by looking at four discrete

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functions: evocation of the spatial-physical concepts; metonymy; metaphor; and force dynamics. There will be overlaps here, where words and phrases evoke more than one of these features all at once.

7.4.4.1 Location 1: Physical-spatial ἐν τῇ πόλει ἁμαρτωλός

(Luke 7:37a)

in the city a sinner

A woman known in this city to be a “sinner” enters. Ἐν τῇ πόλει carries a geometric-topological meaning. But there’s more. See §7.4.4.2. Location 2, below. ἐπιγνοῦσα ὅτι κατάκειται ἐν τῇ οἰκίᾳ τοῦ Φαρισαίου

(Luke 7:37b)

having found out that [he would] be dining in the home of the Pharisee

The woman learned that Jesus was dining in Simon the Pharisee’s house. Again, ἐν τῇ οἰκίᾳ opens up a space; the house is a physical container. She knows Jesus is in this house, and she plans to enter it. For readers, Simon’s house also is conceptually now a container in which the participants are located and the action happens. The compound verb κατά + κείται < κειμάι, “recline, be at table” relies on κατά for evocation of locative meaning. Then the reader’s visual attention is directed toward just two characters in the scene, Jesus and a woman. καὶ στᾶσα ὀπίσω παρὰ τοὺς πόδας αὐτοῦ

(Luke 7:38)

and stationing herself behind, at/next to his feet

The woman’s location behind, ὀπίσω (an adverb) and at, παρά Jesus’s feet indicates spatial location.31 At the same time, behind, at his feet indicates her social location, and her deference to Jesus’s superior status as honored guest. She stands because in this kind of scenario as a woman she lacks the social standing to recline with the male guests. Thus, lower bodily location (reclining) correlates with higher status in this socio-cultural setting. But the woman still goes next to the foot end of his couch. Since his body is reclining, she’s taking the “foot” end, corresponding to what would be the lower end if he were standing up. Is the conventional axis rotated here? οἱ συνανακείμενοι λέγειν ἐν ἑαυτοῖς those dining together began to say among themselves

31  On projective prepositions, see Herskovits, Language and Spatial Cognition, 156–92.

(Luke 7:49a)

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The focus shifts yet again when the narrator turns our attention – both gaze and auditory attention – toward those “reclining together” as they say something to each other among themselves. The prepositional prefix σύν puts conceptual pressure on the verb, lending shape to the way the (postclassical Greek) reader construes the action. English translations such as “at the table” may lose the sense of contiguity and close proximity as well as the Purity and Honor frames the Greek verb can evoke. Again, the specific, culturally embedded frames are keys to meaning. εἰσῆλθόν σου εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν

(Luke 7:44)

I entered your house.

This phrase was discussed briefly above. The prepositional prefix gives us the spatial concept into (a container) and compounded with the verb we get motion into. ὕδωρ μοι ἐπὶ πόδας οὐκ ἔδωκας

(Luke 7:44b)

you did not give water for my feet

We could translate, “You did not give me water for my feet,” but the English sense is more, “You did not pour water on my feet” or simply, “You did not wash my feet,” with the implication that the host made a terrible mistake with this omission. The spatial-locative εἰσῆλθόν σου εἰς οἰκίαν evokes the place of the action and interpersonal interaction. Again, there is evidence of what Herskovits says can be expected, as prepositions help readers with representations of scenes.32Εἰς (in εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν, 7:44) opens up a container schema: Simon’s house is (conceptually) a container in which the participants are located and the action happens. There are also indications in the text of proximity of participants to each other, one participant “turning toward” another, and movement into rather than out of the space.

7.4.4.2 Location 2: Metonymic Location The locative meaning of the expressions ἐν τῇ πόλει ἁμαρτωλός “a sinner from the city” and παρὰ τοὺς πόδας αὐτοῦ “at his feet” are metonymic for the social-relational-cultural Status frame meaning: Place for Status. The spatial physical meanings (physical features of house or objects) are metonymical when they stand for particular aspects of wider the social-cultural meanings. The metonymy could be named placement [at table] for social status. It was argued above that the preposition ἐν helps evoke a location, but in this context it also marks the social location of the woman. She has a certain reputation in this city. As a key participant in the drama, she is a narrative anchor character;

32  Herskovits, Language and Spatial Cognition, 100.

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her traits, including her moral character, enter the space with her.33 The host Pharisee, Jesus, and the woman are each anchor characters exhibiting particular cultural roles. That is, they are stock characters whose features are projected – moral essence intact – into a narrative space. They stand metonymically for certain moral statuses and qualities. The text is also showing us lots of metonymies based on categories. In the scene there is only one outcast and one named Pharisee, Simon, but readers can conclude that Jesus’s behavior says something about his attitude toward both larger groups – Outcasts or Sinners, as well as Pharisee and their scribes.

7.4.4.3 Location 3: Metaphorical Location Prepositions express schematic spatial relations but can be used metaphorically to allow more abstract concepts to be understood in terms of physical objects and spatial relations. We move into the metaphorical zone when more than one domain is involved in the mapping. Consider the metaphor social groups are containers. In this sense, the “Pharisees and scribes” metaphorically comprise a social container. In the alabaster jar story, as in all of these meal type-scenes, Jesus enters both the actual house, the actual physical container, and the social circle of the host Pharisees. But he also enters, scandalously, the social container of the “sinners” who comprise a social circle of Outcasts. The rudimentary logic entailed in a container schema requires that if there is an “in” or “inside,” there is an “out” or “outside.” There are built-in constraints, such as that one entity cannot canonically be both “in” and “out” at the same time. But when that container logic is mapped onto the social domain, one begins to see how socially confusing Jesus’s social behavior is for the in-group Pharisees. Jesus is crossing basic social-cultural boundaries when he permits this “woman of the city” to stand next to him, and even to touch him. In fact, she crosses social role expectations as she attends to him. Let us revisit εἰσῆλθόν σου εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν (Luke 7:44). Jesus physically entered the Pharisee’s house, but in this social-cultural world, that action evokes Household Hospitality and Honor Challenge frames, and a conventional script is available for application to this new event report. Jesus entered the man’s home, and therefore by conventional expectation for honorable hosts, Simon should have done the honorable thing, and ordered his servants to wash Jesus’s feet. The preposition and the compound verb do not do all the work in that evocation, but they contribute powerfully to it. ὕδωρ μοι ἐπὶ πόδας οὐκ ἔδωκας You gave me no water for my feet/You didn’t wash my feet

33  Dancygier, Language of Stories, 42–44.

(Luke 7:44)

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Under Location 1 (§7.4.4.1), it was noted that the water was “for” (not just “on”) my feet. But more significantly, here Jesus is telling a story within the story. The narrator allows Jesus’s voice and viewpoint to authoritatively interpret what just happened. Hospitality and Honor frames are activated, and the implication is clear: Simon has failed to honorably fulfill his hosting duties. But scandalously, the woman of the city (read: impure) has done the honors. She has taken the Host role, when the actual dinner host failed to fulfill it. This is frame disturbance, and it works via playing with the conventional frame, substituting unconventional slot fillers.

7.4.4.4 Force Dynamics, Agency, and Honor Challenge Framing The force dynamics model Leonard Talmy devised allows us to direct our attention beyond the spatial arrangements per se, to notice the forces and resistances involved in causation.34 Talmy pointed to the ways prepositions impose “configurational structure,” lending spatial and temporal cues for how to construe scenes. But prepositions can also contribute to force dynamic features of social interactions and causal relations in a given situation or scenario. As with Herskovits’s analysis of the relationship between metaphorical usages and the more basic spatial-physical or geometrical and topographical concepts prepositions evoke, so too with Talmy’s analysis of force dynamics. Concrete physical force dynamics can give rise to metaphorical usage in psychological and social domains. Even Talmy’s “fundamental” force dynamic scene involves two “participants” – the Agonist and the Antagonist. Talmy notes that in English, speakers use words like push and pressure to express sociodynamic concepts. For example: That woman is pushy. Teenagers are particularly susceptible to peer pressure. The US is putting pressure on Cuba again.

In this focal Lukan text, there is no single Greek word analogous to “push” or “put pressure on,” but the face-to-face encounter between Jesus and a woman who enters the home of a particular Pharisee (instead of the Pharisees as a group or category) is fraught with social pressure, norms, and expectations. That Simon should control the space in his own household is a cultural given, and the first readers would likely have sensed that trouble was coming as this scene was set up.

34  Talmy argued that force dynamics was a fundamental linguistic category integral to thinking about expressions of causation. He finds systematic semantic patterns in the language expressing force in the physical realm but also in the social world and demonstrates parallelisms between physical and psychosocial force; Talmy, “Force Dynamics in Language and Cognition.”

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Near the end of the story, Jesus points out repeatedly that she performed x hosting task, but you did not (Luke 7:44–46): ὕδωρ μοι ἐπὶ πόδας οὐκ ἔδωκας·

(7:44c)

you gave me no water for my feet/You didn’t wash my feet αὕτη δὲ τοῖς δάκρυσιν ἔβρεξέν μου τοὺς πόδας

(7:44d)

but she wet my feet with her tears/she washed my feet with her own tears φίλημά μοι οὐκ ἔδωκας αὕτη δὲ ἀφʼ ἧς εἰσῆλθον

(7:45)

you did not greet me with a kiss, but from the time I came in she οὐ διέλιπεν καταφιλοῦσά μου τοὺς πόδας has not stopped kissing my feet ἐλαίῳ τὴν κεφαλήν μου οὐκ ἤλειψας·

(7:46a)

you did not anoint my head with oil αὕτη δὲ μύρῳ ἤλειψεν τοὺς πόδας μου

(7:46b)

but she anointed my feet with precious ointment

The adversative particle δέ (a little word, but not a preposition) does a lot of work here. It structures a sharp “on the one hand […], but on the other hand” contrast. Talmy calls English “but” a “logic-gator” with which the flow of the argument is directed.35 Here, Jesus’s opposition to the Pharisee’s behavior is expressed. Jesus puts pressure on his host to change his future actions as well as his intentions toward and evaluation of Jesus and the woman. Deficits in the host Pharisee’s behavior toward a guest who should have been honored are exposed and cataloged.

7.4.5 Recap Prepositions in a narrative help readers understand how participants and objects in a scene affect one another, both physically and socio-dynamically. In this story, when Jesus moves into the Pharisee’s space, he alters the Honor/Shame moral status of the space, as does the woman’s entry, and the Pharisee resists those dynamics, commenting negatively on them. The prepositions in this pericope lend essential conceptual structure to the picture, allowing readers to imagine the scene with specific visual, auditory, and tactile cues. At the same time, they contribute powerfully to social-cultural frame evocation, directing attention to particular frame elements. Image schemas, metonymy,

35  Talmy, Towards a Cognitive Semantics, 452–53.

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metaphor, and force dynamics are all at work. We have located significant implications for moral status and agency and the shape of the moral community in this story. All of this is partially, but significantly, communicated via the prepositions and compound verbs with prepositional prefixes.

7.5 Focal Text #3: The Grumbling Motif Ἦσαν δὲ αὐτῷ ἐγγίζοντες πάντες οἱ τελῶναι καὶ οἱ ἁμαρτωλοὶ ἀκούειν αὐτοῦ. καὶ διεγόγγυζον οἵ τε Φαρισαῖοι καὶ οἱ γραμματεῖς λέγοντες ὅτι Οὗτος ἁμαρτωλοὺς προσδέχεται καὶ συνεσθίει αὐτοῖς. (Luke 15:1–2) Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

7.5.1 Tannehill’s Type-Scenes and Dancygier’s Cognitive Analysis of Stories Parallel to Fillmore’s semantic frame model with its scripts and scenarios is the “typescene” model. I have borrowed that model and used it in tandem with Fillmore’s frames for a couple of reasons. Many biblical scholars will have some familiarity with Robert Alter’s and Robert Tannehill’s use of this method. It is an apt model for studying how repeated scenes work in narrative discourse. Tannehill defines “typescene” as a narrative technique “of forming episodes from a set of motifs which can be repeated with variations. This allows a skillful writer to emphasize and enrich the narrative portrait of a leading character by using the motifs again.”36 In Luke, meal scenes where Jesus encounters certain sorts of people (Pharisees, sinners, tax collectors), who issue honor challenges, constitute a type-scene. The type-scene model also coheres with literary scholar Barbara Dancygier’s cognitive model for narrative analysis. Dancygier studies modern literature, which she finds severely fragmented. New Testament discourse is also fragmented. Writers and readers alike need cues in order to build up coherent stories. Repeated motifs and scenes with stock characters, Dancygier shows, provide “coherence links” and “narrative anchors.”37 Again, the basic mechanism is frame metonymy, whereby one single element (narrative anchor or link) can cue the larger narrative frame. For the present study, I am interested in seeing how prepositions contribute to the Household Meal type-scenes in Luke. Turning, then, to Luke 15:1–2, a complaint 36  Robert C. Tannehill, The Narrative Unity of Luke-Acts (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1986), 18 n. 8, 105; and see Robert Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative (New York: Basic Books, 1981), 47–62. 37  Dancygier, Language of Stories, 42.

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is raised about Jesus that sounds familiar: “He welcomes and eats with sinners.” In the passage from Luke 5, their complaint was addressed to Jesus’s disciples, in Honor Challenge fashion. In this second version of the type-scene, the narrator allows us to overhear grumbling among the Pharisees themselves (διεγόγγυζον control > cause/ agency

ἐκ, ἀπό

Trajector out of/from Landmark

One object proceeds from another

Source propels Trajector > event causes event

διά

Trajector through Landmark

Path exerts control over a traveler’s direction

Path > intermediary/ reason

ἐν

Trajector in Landmark

Container places boundaries on its contents.

Boundedness > control > cause

clauses default to ὑπό,55 other Greek prepositions provide alternative ways for construing causation, especially if the event involves a more complex causal structure than the prototypical transitive. This is the case for a verb like δικαιόω. The volitional agent who renders judgment often does so in relation to other causal information. Moreover, the information status of the agent (i.e., the judge or council of elders) tends to be assumed knowledge. This results in a situation in which δικαιόω passive constructions tend to focus on other causal elements: evidence, domain of judgment, intervening participants, or relevant constraints on the final verdict. The interpretation and evaluation of these elements relies on the socio-cultural knowledge activated by the verb: the courtroom frame and its various entailments. Together, they form a coherent structure that motivates various prepositional usage patterns with δικαιόω in passive constructions.

Bibliography Bybee, Joan. “Mechanisms of Change in Grammaticalization: The Role of Frequency.” In Frequency of Use and the Organization of Language, 336–57. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007. Cienki, Alan. “Frames, Idealized Cognitive Models, and Domains” In The Oxford Handbook of Cognitive Linguistics, edited by Dirk Geeraerts and Hubert Cuyckens, 170–87. Oxford Handbooks in Linguistics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007. Danove, Paul. Grammatical and Exegetical Study of New Testament Verbs of Transference: A Case Frame Guide to Interpretation and Translation. Studies in New Testament Greek 13. New York: T&T Clark, 2009. Dunn, James D. G. The Epistle to the Galatians. BNTC. London: Continuum, 1993. Evans, Vyvyan, and Melanie Green. Cognitive Linguistics: An Introduction. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2006. Feldman, Jerome A. From Molecule to Metaphor: A Neural Theory of Language. Cambridge: MIT Press, 2006.

55 Much like the English “by” phrase, ὑπό occurs with a wide variety of verbs. It is not limited lexically but occurs as the standard means to express cause/agency in passive constructions.

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Fillmore, Charles, Paul Kay, and Mary Catherine O’Connor. “Regularity and Idiomaticity in Grammatical Constructions: The Case of Let Alone.” Language 64, no. 3 (1988): 501–38. DOI: 10.2307/414531. García-Miguel, José M. “Clause Structure and Transitivity.” In The Oxford Handbook of Cognitive Linguistics, edited by Dirk Geeraerts and Hubert Cuyckens, 753–81. Oxford Handbooks in Linguistics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007. Garnsey, Peter, and Richard Saller. The Roman Empire: Economy, Society and Culture, 2nd ed. Berkeley: University of California, 2014. Goldberg, Adele E. Constructions at Work: The Nature of Generalization in Language. Oxford Linguistics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006. Harris, Murray J. Prepositions and Theology in the Greek New Testament: An Essential Reference Resource for Exegesis. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2012. Huddleston, Rodney, and Geoffrey K. Pullum. A Student’s Introduction to English Grammar. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. Johnson, Mark. The Body in the Mind: The Bodily Basis of Meaning, Imagination, and Reason. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987. Keenan, Edward L., and Matthew S. Dryer. “Passive in the World’s Languages.” In Language Typology and Syntactic Description. Vol. 1, Clause Structure, edited by Timothy Shopen, 2nd ed., 325–61. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007. Lakoff, George, and Mark Johnson. Metaphors We Live By. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980. Lakoff, George, and Mark Johnson. Philosophy in the Flesh. New York: Basic Books, 1999. Langacker, Ronald. Concept, Image, and Symbol: The Cognitive Basis of Grammar. CLR 1. Berlin: De Gruyter Mouton, 1991. Langacker, Ronald. Foundations of Cognitive Grammar. Vol. II, Descriptive Application. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1991. Langacker, Ronald. “Clause Structure.” In Cognitive Grammar: A Basic Introduction, 354–405. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008. Luraghi, Silvia. “Agency and Causation.” EGLL 1:65–72. Luraghi, Silvia. “Spatial Metaphors and Agenthood in Ancient Greek.” In 125 Jahre Indogermanistik in Graz, edited by Christian Zinko and Michaela Ofitsch, 283–98. Graz: Leykam, 2000. Luraghi, Silvia. On the Meaning of Prepositions and Cases: The Expression of Semantic Roles in Ancient Greek. SLCS 67. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2003. Macwhinney, Brian. “Emergentist Approaches to Language” In Frequency and the Emergence of Linguistic Structure, edited by Joan Bybee and Paul Hopper, 449–70. TSL 45. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2001. Saldarini, Anthony J. “Sanhedrin.” ABD 5:975–79. Talmy, Leonard. Towards a Cognitive Semantics. Vol. 1, Concept Structuring Systems. Language, Speech, and Communication. Cambridgeː MIT Press, 2000. Taubenschlag, Raphael. The Law of Greco-Roman Egypt in the Light of the Papyriː 332 B.C.–640 A.D., 2nd ed. Warsaw: Polish Scientific Publishers, 1955. Twelftree, Graham H. “Sanhedrin.” DNTB, 1061–65. Wansink, Craig S. “Roman Law and Legal System.” DNTB, 984–92. Ward, Gregory, Betty Birner, and Rodney Huddleston. “Information Packaging.” In The Cambridge Grammar of the English Language, edited by Rodney Huddleston and Geoffrey K. Pullum, 1363–447. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002. Watson, Duane F. “Roman Social Classes.” DNTB, 999–1004. Weaver, P. R. C. “Social Mobility in the Early Roman Empire: The Evidence of the Imperial Freedmen and Slaves.” Past & Present 37 (1967): 3–20. http://www.jstor.org/stable/650020.

Erin M. Heim

10 The “Ins” and “Outs” of Matthew 15:1–20: Insights on Prepositions from Prototype Theory and Metaphor Theory 10.1 Introduction: Metaphor Theory, Prototype Theory, and Biblical Studies Over the past twenty-five years, the field of Biblical Studies has become increasingly open to, and influenced by, the field of Cognitive Linguistics. Biblical scholars with a wide range of interests have mined the field of Cognitive Linguistics for new insights, new frameworks, and new methodologies to apply to the study of biblical texts.1 My own interest lies primarily in Pauline metaphor, which has taken me into the world of philosophical and cognitive research on metaphors – a sister discipline of Prototype Theory.2 Cognitive approaches to metaphor argue that metaphors are powerful cognitive instruments that shape things like perception, emotion, identity, and so forth.3 For their part, Prototype Theorists argue that prepositions in Koine Greek are rooted in a conceptual metaphor, and that conceptual metaphor thus constrains and construes the meaning of Greek sentences.4 The set of questions that governs Metaphor Theory is distinct from Prototype Theory’s framework, yet the two are undoubtedly related. Both branches share a common belief that language draws upon and evokes

1 Examples of studies that make use of Metaphor Theory and Cognitive Linguistics include: Allison Gray, Psalm 18 in Words and Pictures, BibInt 127 (Leiden: Brill, 2013); Nijay Gupta, Worship That Makes Sense to Paul: A New Approach to the Theology and Ethics of Paul’s Cultic Metaphors, BZNW 175 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2010). Bonnie Howe, Because You Bear This Name: Conceptual Metaphor and the Moral Meaning of 1 Peter, BibInt 81 (Leiden: Brill, 2006); Albert H. Kamp, Inner Worlds: A Cognitive-Linguistic Approach to the Book of Jonah, trans. David Orton, BibInt 68 (Leiden: Brill, 2004); Mary Therese DesCamp, Metaphor and Ideology: Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum and Literary Methods through a Cognitive Lens, BibInt 87 (Leiden: Brill, 2007); Kirsten Marie Hartvigsen, Prepare the Way of the Lord: Towards a Cognitive Poetic Analysis of Audience Involvement with Characters and Events in the Markan World, BZNW 180 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2012); Gregory P. Fewster, Creation Language in Romans 8: A Study in Monosemy, Linguistic Biblical Studies (Leiden: Brill, 2013); Anne-Mareike Wetter, “On Her Account”: Reconfiguring Israel in Ruth, Esther, and Judith, LHBOTS 623 (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2015). 2 See Dirk Geeraerts, Cognitive Linguistics: Basic Readings, CLR 34 (Berlin: De Gruyter Mouton, 2008). 3 See Erin Heim, Adoption in Galatians and Romans: Contemporary Metaphor Theories and the Pauline Huiothesia Metaphors, BibInt 513 (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 80–117. 4 See Silvi Luraghi, On the Meaning of Prepositions and Cases: Semantic Roles in Ancient Greek, SLCS 67 (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2003); Dirk Geeraerts, Prospects and Problems of Prototype Theory, Linguistics 27.4 (Berlin: De Gruyter Mouton, 1989). https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110777895-010

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deeply rooted conceptual metaphors,5 and both disciplines also affirm that language is constructive rather than merely descriptive.6 Moreover, biblical scholars currently working with Metaphor Theory share a common goal with those working with Prototype Theory: namely, each group is attempting to shift the center of gravity within biblical studies to an approach to Koine Greek that takes the findings of Cognitive Linguistics seriously. In what follows, I, a scholar of biblical metaphor, will attempt to join forces with scholars working with Prototype Theory, bringing both Cognitive Metaphor Theory and Prototype Theory to bear on Matt 15:1–20, in order to showcase the fruitfulness of cognitive approaches for biblical exegesis.

10.1.1 Cognitive and Philosophical Approaches to Metaphor Before proceeding to the exegesis of Matt 15:1–20, it is important to raise a preliminary question about cognitive approaches to metaphor and their relationship to philosophy of language. Since Prototype Theory argues that there are root conceptual metaphors underlying prepositions, and since these root conceptual metaphors also form the basis for textual metaphors in Matt 15:1–20,7 it is first necessary to illuminate the relationship between conceptual metaphors as discussed by Cognitive Linguists and the literary metaphors discussed by philosophers of language. Some of the most important and influential philosophers of language have argued persuasively that meaning lies not within an individual word or lexeme, but instead in the interplay between words in a phrase, utterance, or sentence.8 In Cognitive Linguistics, the bulk of the discussion surrounding metaphors has been driven by the view that language is grounded in key conceptual metaphors, which are not necessarily expressed in an utterance at all.9 In short, cognitive theories of metaphor are concerned with deep internal structures in the body and brain rather than with the study of external linguistic utterances that have characterized philosophical approaches to metaphor.10

5 See Adele E. Goldberg, ed., Cognitive Linguistics: Critical Concepts in Linguistics, 5 vols. (London: Routledge, 2011). 6 See George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, Metaphors We Live By, 2nd ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003); George Lakoff and Mark Turner, More Than Cool Reason: A Field Guide to Poetic Metaphor (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989); see also Mark Turner, Death Is the Mother of Beauty: Mind, Metaphor, Criticism (Christchurch: Cybereditions, 2000); Benjamin K. Bergen, Louder than Words: The New Science of How the Mind Makes Meaning (New York: Basic Books, 2012), Raymond W. Gibbs, Jr., ed., The Cambridge Handbook of Metaphor and Thought (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008). 7 See Heim, Adoption in Galatians and Romans, 26–77. 8 See Janet Martin Soskice, Metaphor and Religious Language (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985), 43–51; I. A. Richards, The Philosophy of Rhetoric (London: Oxford University Press, 1965), 89–112. 9 See Heim, Adoption in Galatians and Romans, 113–16. 10 See Donald Davidson, “What Metaphors Mean,” in The Philosophy of Language, ed. A. P. Mar-

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This shift in emphasis from philosophical to cognitive approaches is traceable in the emergence of three key publications on metaphor: the first and second editions of Metaphor and Thought (1979, 1993), and the Cambridge Handbook of Metaphor and Thought (2008). The shift from philosophical to cognitive approaches, driven in large part by the seminal work by George Lakoff and Mark Johnson (Metaphors We Live By),11 is clearly documented in these three publications. The first edition of Metaphor and Thought, edited by Andrew Ortony, is devoted entirely to philosophical approaches to metaphor.12 The second edition of Metaphor and Thought, also edited by Ortony, includes some insights from Cognitive Linguistics, but groups them under the subheading “Metaphor and Representation,” and reserves “Metaphor and Meaning” for those essays written by philosophers of language.13 The book’s outlook is clear: meaning is a semantic issue that can be separated from the “representation” of metaphor in cognition. Moreover, the second edition of Metaphor and Thought was published in 1993, which was a full thirteen years after Lakoff and Johnson’s original publication of Metaphors We Live By, and yet the effects of Lakoff and Johnson’s groundbreaking work had not yet been felt beyond the world of Cognitive Linguistics. However, the tide was turning. By the time the Cambridge Handbook of Metaphor and Thought was published in 2008, Lakoff and Johnson’s influence is evident on almost every page. Indeed, in the introduction Gibbs remarks, “much has changed in the world of metaphor since 1993 [. . .] many of the authors in this volume view metaphor as part of a larger system of human cognition and communicative practices [. . . and see] metaphor as a natural outcome of human minds.”14 Strikingly, the sections of Gibb’s edited volume that deal with meaning and understanding are dominated by Cognitive Linguists rather than philosophers of language, and their essays are supported by a large body of empirical studies that show the centrality of conceptual metaphor in human cognition.15

tinich, 5th ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 473–84; Max Black, Models and Metaphors: Studies in Language and Philosophy (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1962); Soskice, Metaphor and Religious Language. 11 George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, Metaphors We Live By, 1st ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980). 12 Andrew Ortony, ed., Metaphor and Thought (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979). 13 E.g., John R. Searle, “Metaphor,” in Ortony, Metaphor and Thought, 83–111; David E. Rumelhart, “Some Problems with the Notion of Literal Meanings,” in Ortony, Metaphor and Thought, 2nd ed., 71–82; Max Black, “More About Metaphor,” in Ortony, Metaphor and Thought, 2nd ed., 19–41. 14 Gibbs, Cambridge Handbook of Metaphor and Thought, 3–4. 15 E.g., George Lakoff, “The Neural Theory of Metaphor,” in Gibbs, Cambridge Handbook of Metaphor and Thought, 17–38; Gilles Fauconnier and Mark Turner, “Rethinking Metaphor,” in Gibbs, Cambridge Handbook of Metaphor and Thought, 53–66; Walter Kintsch, “How the Mind Computes the Meaning of Metaphor: A Simulation Based on LSA,” in Gibbs, Cambridge Handbook of Metaphor and Thought, 129–42; Raymond W. Gibbs Jr., and Teenie Matlock, “Metaphor, Imagination, and Simulation: Psycholinguistic Evidence,” in Gibbs, Cambridge Handbook of Metaphor and Thought, 161–76.

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The shift in the center of gravity for metaphor studies has significant ramifications for biblical scholars, but in biblical studies the center of gravity has not yet shifted toward cognitive approaches.16 Metaphor is still viewed by many as ornamental, or as “a sort of happy extra trick with words.”17 By and large, biblical studies still engages textual metaphors with tools fitted for historical-grammatical exegesis, and typically does not treat conceptual metaphors at all. To be sure, historical-grammatical exegesis of biblical metaphors has an important contribution to make; such exegesis illuminates the underlying models of a metaphor and places these models within a wider social and historical context.18 However, historical-grammatical exegesis is insufficient for the task of explaining how both conceptual metaphors and textual metaphors function constructively to create meaning for language-users. In regard to prepositions, Prototype Theory exposes similar deficiencies in historical-grammatical exegesis with regard to their underlying conceptual metaphors. Thus, it is appropriate to combine Prototype Theory and Metaphor Theory as complementary cognitive approaches to biblical exegesis to illuminate areas hiding in the shadows created by the light of historical-grammatical methods.

10.1.2 Metaphorical Meaning: Textual Metaphors, Lexemes, and Utterances However, one further caveat is needed before combining Prototype Theory and cognitive approaches to metaphor in an exegesis of Matt 15:1–20. Although Cognitive Linguistics has much to offer biblical studies, it is unwise to entirely dispense with philosophical approaches to texts. There are a few key elements that we risk losing in the shift. As noted above, philosophical approaches to metaphor, and indeed to texts more generally, examine the relation of words, metaphor, and meaning. Philosophers of language have frequently raised questions such as, “Can individual words have metaphorical meaning?” or “Does metaphorical meaning require us to supply a frame?” With numerous philosophers of language, I would argue that a metaphor cannot be a single word (prepositions included); instead, a metaphor’s meaning lies at the level of an utterance.19 Taking Janet Martin Soskice’s definition, a metaphor is “that figure of

16 There are certainly some notable exceptions emerging in both Old and New Testament studies. See n. 1 for some examples. However, these monographs have not yet begun to influence mainstream biblical scholarship. 17 Richards, Philosophy of Rhetoric, 90. N.B., Richards himself does not subscribe to such a sentiment. 18 See Heim, Adoption in Galatians and Romans, 118–56. 19 See Soskice, Metaphor and Religious Language, 4351; Richards, Philosophy of Rhetoric, 99–112; Heim, Adoption in Galatians and Romans, 42.

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speech whereby we speak about one thing in terms which are seen to be suggestive of another.”20 What Soskice’s work helpfully reveals is that a metaphor’s semantic meaning lies in the interanimation of the words in the utterance,21 rather than in any individual word.22 Moreover, Soskice argues that a textual metaphor consists of a tenor and a vehicle. A metaphor’s tenor is, in short, its subject. In Soskice’s definition, the tenor is the “one thing,” that is being spoken about. Significant for our exegesis, a metaphor’s tenor need not be present in the text, but rather it is the subject to which a metaphorical utterance refers.23 According to Soskice’s definition, a metaphor’s vehicle is the “terms which are seen to be suggestive of another.” Thus, in any given text, it is possible to identify the vehicle because it is often a term present in the text, or occasionally, one alluded to by the text.24 Furthermore, according to Soskice, a metaphor (consisting of a tenor and a vehicle) relies upon and evokes an underlying model (or models). A model is an object or a state of affairs that exists in the real world.25 Significantly then, according to Soskice and others, it is possible to identify and delineate a textual metaphor precisely. However, Cognitive Linguists have not focused primarily on textual metaphors, but instead have sought to analyze conceptual metaphors. These conceptual metaphors are not features of texts, but instead are features of the cognitive processes at play in language use. Despite the fact that philosophers of language are asking a different set of questions than Cognitive Linguists, there are significant areas of overlap, particularly in the relation between a textual metaphor and its underlying model. An underlying model, in Soskice’s view, structures the “intercourse of thoughts,”26 which at least hints at cognitive processes rather than merely semantic features. Therefore, probing and clarifying the overlap between philosophical and cognitive approaches to metaphor is an important preliminary step, particularly when analyzing a text rife with textual metaphors and undergirded by clearly identifiable conceptual metaphors, such as Matt 15:1–20. To illustrate the importance of this assertion for examining the metaphorical meaning constructed by both the textual metaphors and the root conceptual metaphors underlying the prepositions in Matt 15:1–20, a simpler, nonprepositional example is first required. If we take, for example, the radial network of “somersault” from Dirk Geeraerts’s contribution to the Tyndale House Workshop in

20 Soskice, Metaphor and Religious Language, 15. 21 See Soskice’s extended discussion on this in Metaphor and Religious Language, 43–51. 22 Pace Black, Models and Metaphors. 23 See Gregory W. Dawes, The Body in Question: Metaphor and Meaning in the Interpretation of Ephesians 5:21–33, BibInt 30 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 27; Soskice, Metaphor and Religious Language, 45–47 24 See the examples in Soskice, Metaphor and Religious Language, 43–51. 25 See Dawes, Body in Question, 38. 26 Soskice, Metaphor and Religious Language, 45.

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Greek Prepositions,27 the surrounding context of “somersault” determines whether the phrase is a conventional use (e.g., “my three-year-old bumped his head while he was somersaulting off of the couch”) or metaphorical (e.g., “I was doing somersaults last night trying to prepare something intelligent to say to all of you today.)” The first sentence communicates that my son was physically doing somersaults, and in the second sentence it is unlikely that the sentence communicated that someone was physically somersaulting down the hall.28 Yet in both sentences, “somersault” still evokes the image of someone somersaulting. Moreover, in the second sentence, the word “somersault” does not, in itself, mean “scrambling to put something together,” but nevertheless, that is what the sentence conveys. Therefore, the meaning of the metaphor “I was doing somersaults” lies in the complete utterance rather than in the individual lexeme “somersault.” If we were to apply Soskice’s definition to the second sentence, the vehicle of the metaphor would be “doing somersaults,” and the tenor of the metaphor might be something like “engaging in strenuous mental activity in preparation for a speech.”29 However, this type of textual metaphor is distinct from the conceptual metaphors Cognitive Linguists like Lakoff and Johnson have in mind,30 and thus also distinct from the conceptual metaphors that Prototype Theory posits for prepositions.31 Yet, the two types of metaphors are related in several important ways. What links the two examples is the underlying model “somersault,” which both a Cognitive Linguist and a philosopher of language would agree is “an acrobatic maneuver where someone rotates his or her body 360 degrees, with one’s feet going over one’s head,” or something similar. However what Cognitive Linguists are quick to point out is that the model “somersault” is not evoked semantically, as if a person were thinking of “somersault” in terms of its linguistic description, but rather through something Cognitive Linguists call “embodied simulation.”32 In short, Cognitive Linguistics has shown that when a brain reads the word “somersault,” it does not process the word in terms of a semantic definition, but rather simulates the action of doing a somersault, which then creates the experience of somersaulting in the brain of the reader/hearer. This is intuitively the case in an example like “somersault,” which is very difficult to define semantically, but not at all difficult to mentally simulate. However, many Cognitive

27 Geeraerts, “The Structured Nature of Prepositional Meaning” (paper presented at the Tyndale House Workshop in Greek Prepositions, Cambridge, England, 30 June–1 July 2017). 28 It is worth pointing out here that the phrase “somersaulting off of the couch” contains a prototypical sense of “off,” and treats the couch as a bounded container from which “my son” was emerging. 29 I will also point out here that this paraphrase that glosses the “meaning” of “I was doing somersaults” may pinpoint the referent more precisely, but it does so at the expense of the specific mental simulation evoked by the word “somersault.” 30 See Lakoff and Johnson, Metaphors We Live By, 2nd ed., 3–7, 14–21, 106–14. 31 See Luraghi, Meaning of Prepositions. 32 For an introductory overview see Bergen, Louder Than Words.

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Linguists argue that all language is processed in this way.33 Root conceptual metaphors such as “happy is up,” “sad is down,” “important is central,” and so forth likewise evoke a mental simulation in the brain of the reader/hearer when they are drawn upon in linguistic utterances. This is readily apparent in expressions like “over the moon” for happiness, or “I’m feeling low” for sadness or depression, but many more examples could be given.34 Indeed, the prevalence of identifiable root conceptual metaphors leads many Cognitive Linguists to argue that conceptual metaphors ground our basic orientation to the world.35 Such root metaphors, Cognitive Linguists argue, are even operative in words as basic as prepositions, which have a prototypical sense that is metaphorically extended through a radial network. Since textual metaphors rely on models and on root conceptual metaphors, an exegete must identify these metaphors in order to ascertain what mental simulations are likely operating for the readers/hearers of any given text. In the exegesis below I will show the fruitfulness of such an endeavor for biblical studies.

10.1.3 Connecting the Disciplines: What Metaphor Theory Can Add to Exegesis of Prepositions It is my aim to show in the analysis below that Metaphor Theory and Prototype Theory can be employed as complementary tools in biblical exegesis. However, before proceeding to the exegesis of Matt 15:1–20, a few further preliminary remarks are necessary to illuminate how these sister disciplines fit together, or how they may be fitted together by biblical scholars utilizing them in exegesis. First, we must differentiate between the textual metaphors that are the subject of philosophy of language and the conceptual metaphors of Cognitive Linguistics. Prototype Theory, which posits that words have a prototypical sense that is metaphorically extended, is dealing primarily with conceptual metaphors rather than textual metaphors. For example, according to Silvia Luraghi the Greek preposition ἐν has a prototypical sense of something being bound within a container.36 This prototypical sense is seen most clearly when a Trajector is physically within a Landmark (e.g., ἐβαπτίζοντο ἐν τῷ Ἰορδάνῃ “they were baptized in the Jordan” Matt 3:6). However, whereas traditional lexicography posits different, nonspatial senses for ἐν,37 Prototype Theory argues that these seemingly

33 See Bergen for a discussion and analysis of this research. 34 See Zoltán Kövecses, Metaphor and Emotion: Language, Culture, and Body in Human Feeling (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000). 35 See esp. Lakoff and Johnson, Metaphors We Live By, 56–60; Seana Coulson, “Metaphor Comprehension and the Brain,” in Gibbs, Cambridge Handbook of Metaphor and Thought, 177–94. 36 See Luraghi’s discussion on prototypical extensions of ἐν (Meaning of Prepositions, 12–13, 84–94). 37 See, e.g., Daniel Wallace, Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics: An Exegetical Syntax of the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1997), 355–89.

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“nonspatial” uses are, in fact, metaphorical extensions of ἐν’s prototypical meaning, which is that of a bounded container. For example, in Matt 5:34–36, Jesus commands his disciples not to swear “ἐν τῷ οὐρανῷ [. . .] ἐν τῇ γῇ [. . .] ἐν τῇ κεφαλῇ σου,” which is typically translated in English with the gloss “by heaven [. . .] by earth [. . .] by your head.” However, Prototype Theory rightly questions if the English preposition “by” adequately communicates ἐν’s prototypically spatial sense. In this instance, there are clear markers of a spatial sense of ἐν in the context of the verse. In the case of ἐν τῷ οὐρανῷ, the reason one should not invoke heaven in an oath is because “it is the throne of God,” which is a reference to the “furniture” of the place, likewise “the earth” is described as God’s “footstool.” Moreover, even τῇ κεφαλῇ is described in terms of its physical appearance. These physical descriptors of each sphere in which one might possibly swear an oath point to the boundedness of the oath within each respective sphere, which thus points to a metaphorical extension of ἐν as a container metaphor rather than a nonspatial sense of means or agency. Therefore, the conceptualization of the command in Greek may place far more emphasis on the container in which the oath is sworn than the English gloss “by” communicates. Thus far in the example above, the discussion of the metaphorical extension of ἐν in Matt 5:34–36 has not ventured beyond the boundaries of Prototype Theory. However, combining Metaphor Theory at this point can add a measure of clarity and depth to Prototype Theory’s analysis. These conceptual metaphors are not linguistic; indeed, most Cognitive Linguists posit that these conceptual metaphors may be nonverbal, but linguistic utterances point to their existence as part of the brain’s framework of orientation.38 In Matt 5:34–36, the command not to swear by heaven, earth, or even one’s own head draws upon several possible root conceptual metaphors, including control is up, ideas are locations, and causation is control over an entity relative to a location. The most salient conceptual metaphor for Matt 5:34–36 is causation is control over an entity relative to a location, which Cognitive Linguists group under the larger category of event structure conceptual metaphors.39 This conceptual metaphor underlies English phrases like “he gave me the run-around,” or “she ran circles around me.” The conceptual metaphor control is up is seen in English phrases like “I have control over him,” or “He is under my power.” Ideas are locations is expressed in phrases like “we’re getting off track,” or “don’t jump to conclusions.” As is the case in Matt 5:34–36, there are often numerous conceptual metaphors operating for any one utterance, and each contributes to the overall force of the linguistic utterance. In Matt 5:34–36, the conceptual metaphor, control is up, is seen clearly in the concentric spaces that are all shown to be outside the control of the human subject.

38 See Lakoff, “Neural Theory of Metaphor,” 17–38; Lakoff and Johnson, Metaphors We Live By; Fauconnier and Turner, “Rethinking Metaphor,” 53–66. 39 Lakoff and Johnson, Metaphors We Live By, 56–86.

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In these verses, the one who is clearly in control is God, who is described as seated “in heaven,” and the realm of earth is God’s footstool (5:35). Likewise, it is God in heaven who has control over the subject’s head, rather than the subject himself. Thus, all three admonishments draw upon and reinforce the conceptual metaphor control is up. The second conceptual metaphor, ideas are objects, is clearly seen in the way swearing is conceptualized in the passage. Here, Matthew points out three specific locations that act as bounded locations for the swearing, which points to “swearing” as an object that exists within these bounded locations. Moreover, the ancients were told not to swear falsely but to ἀποδίδωμι (“carry out”) what they had sworn to the Lord. The verb ἀποδίδωμι arguably conceptualizes the content of the oath as an object that can be moved to completion along a path. Note here also that the prepositional prefix of ἀποδίδωμι reinforces the ideas are objects metaphor by denoting the “oath” as the Trajector (object) that moves away from the beginning of the path (Landmark) toward its goal of completion. Finally, the event structure metaphor causation is control over an entity relative to a location provides the linchpin to the cognitive schema evoked by this short example. The example’s repeated use of ἐν (ἐν τῷ οὐρανῷ [. . .] ἐν τῇ γῇ [. . .] ἐν τῇ κεφαλῇ σου) makes clear that the efficacy of swearing an oath is being conceptualized in terms of control over locations (i.e., the prototypical meaning of ἐν). Strikingly then, the inefficacy of swearing an oath is illustrated precisely through the Agent’s inability to control the three locations in the example. He or she should not swear by heaven (because heaven is the seat of God’s reign), he or she should not swear by earth (because he or she is unable to exert control over the earth), and indeed, he or she should not even swear by his or her own head because there too, he or she lacks the ability to control it. These three locations in Matt 5:32–34 that are conceptualized by the preposition ἐν point to the presence of the root metaphor causation is control over an entity relative to a location, which grounds the entire example. Moreover, this example highlights the need for exegetes to pay attention to the metaphorical extensions of prepositions in order to clarify and highlight the presence of root conceptual metaphors that underlie textual utterances. Thus, combining the insights of Prototype Theory with Cognitive Metaphor Theory hands the exegete a powerful set of tools with which to probe aspects of the text that are typically left untouched by historical-grammatical exegesis.

10.1.4 Linking Textual Metaphors, Conceptual Metaphors, and Metaphorical Extensions of Prepositions: Another Brief Example As is the case in the example above, when Cognitive Linguists speak about metaphors, they are typically speaking of conceptual metaphors rather than textual metaphors, yet in our exegesis of Matt 15:1–20 it is helpful to keep both types of metaphors

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in view for two primary reasons. First, the prepositions in Matt 15:1–20 create textual metaphors that form the backbone of Jesus’s admonishment of the Pharisees. Taking one example, Matthew’s quotation from Isa 29:13 contains the metaphorical phrase “ἡ δὲ καρδία αὐτῶν πόρρω ἀπέχει ἀπʼ ἐμοῦ” (“but their heart is far from me”).40 In this phrase, there are two different levels of metaphor operating. The first is on the level of the text, and the second is on the deeper level conceptual metaphors that the surface metaphors draw upon to construct meaning. In this utterance, the Pharisees’ disposition toward God is being spoken about in terms of their hearts being far from God. The metaphor “ἡ δὲ καρδία αὐτῶν πόρρω ἀπέχει ἀπʼ ἐμοῦ (‘but their heart is far from me’)” picks out a number of models, including καρδία (heart – which is plainly part of the Pharisees’ anatomy, yet here it certainly does not imply that their physical hearts are in a separate location than the rest of their bodies) and πόρρω ἀπέχει ἀπʼ ἐμοῦ (which is a powerful phrase consisting of three separate terms communicating distance and separation). The combination of terms evokes a heart not only distant from God (ἐμοῦ), but indeed a heart that is intentionally withholding itself from God. This sense is intensified by the combination of the prepositional-prefixed verb ἀπέχω and the preposition ἀπό. However, this textual metaphor “their heart is far from me” works not only because the audience can think of the Pharisees’ disposition in terms of “heart is far from me,” but because the textual metaphor draws upon two root conceptual metaphors that underlie this utterance: important is central and emotional closeness is physical Closeness.41 Moreover, in analyzing this particular metaphorical utterance, it is apparent that the preposition ἀπό and the prepositional-prefixed verb ἀπέχω both rely upon and evoke the prototypical sense of ἀπό. This prototypical sense, which communicates that a “Landmark/Agent is the initiating/starting point in the space where the event originates,” in the case of Matt 15:8 identifies God (ἐμοῦ) as the Landmark, and “their heart” (καρδία αὐτῶν) as the Trajector. The metaphor works precisely because the prototypical sense of ἀπό clearly identifies God as the Landmark and focus of the metaphorical utterance, and then speaks of relational distance in terms of the physical distance communicated by the prepositions. In this case then, the prototypical sense of ἀπό is metaphorically extended to imply relational distance rather than communicating something about the spatial relationship between a Landmark and a Trajector. Moreover, this extension of ἀπό’s prototypical sense as a marker of distance between a Landmark and a Trajector is combined with other root conceptual metaphors of emotion and intimacy (emotional closeness is physical closeness; important is central) to communicate the relational distance between the Pharisees and God. Undoubtedly much more could be said here, but the foregoing 40 For a compelling treatment of the function of Matthew’s quotation of Isa 29:13 see Richard B. Hays, Echoes of Scripture in the Gospels (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2016), 131–33. Unless otherwise noted, all translations are mine. 41 See the discussion on these two metaphors in Kövecses, Metaphor and Emotion, 87–113.

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example provides a clear starting point from which to analyze several other key metaphors that draw upon prototypical meanings of prepositions in Matt 15:1–20.

10.2 Conceptual Metaphors and Prepositions in Matthew 15:1–20 The example above contains all three types of metaphor under consideration: textual metaphor, conceptual metaphor, and a metaphorical extension of a prototypical meaning of a preposition, and this is by no means an uncommon occurrence. Indeed, the frequent collocation of these three types of metaphors indicates that those studying metaphors would do well to also attend to the presence of prototypical extensions within a given text. Thus, in the brief exegesis below I will highlight two main contributions the prepositions make to the overall scene in Matt 15:1–20 when viewed through the lens of Prototype Theory, and how their prototypical sense interacts with textual and conceptual metaphors throughout the passage. First, prepositions are the key factor in how the scene is construed spatially and, as an extension of their spatial senses, the prepositions also communicate social boundaries and emotional intimacy or distance between Agents. Second, the prepositions in Matt 15:10–20 point to a particular conception of a person (a theological anthropology) that is apparently a correction of the Pharisees’ understanding.

10.2.1 Prepositions and Spatial Construal, Intimacy, and Boundary Construction In Matt 15:1–20, prepositions play a large role in the construal of the overall scene. Strategic uses of ἀπό, πρός, ἐκ, and εἰς throughout the passage communicate spatial relationships between Agents and Landmarks, and they communicate intimacy and social boundaries between Agents. The prototypical senses of the prepositions figure prominently in the scene’s construal, so it is necessary to briefly mention them here. Recall that the prototypical sense of ἀπό is that a “Landmark/Agent is the initiating/ starting point in the space where the event originates.” The prototypical sense of πρός “denotes directionality” toward and against, and “implies a position or movement of a trajector relative to the exterior (as opposed to the interior) of a landmark.”42 The preposition ἐκ profiles motion out of a Landmark, accessing a container schema whereby the container exerts control over the Trajector that is exiting.43 In the koine

42 Luraghi, Meaning of Prepositions, 284. 43 Luraghi, 118.

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period, the preposition εἰς marks out direction toward a Landmark, but as Luraghi observes, “the relation of inclusion of the trajector by the Landmark is less important in the case of εἰς [. . .] in some occurrences it is not implied that the particle profiles final contact of the trajector with the landmark.”44 The scene begins with the phrase “Τότε προσέρχονται τῷ Ἰησοῦ ἀπὸ Ἱεροσολύμων Φαρισαῖοι καὶ γραμματεῖς (“Then the Scribes and Pharisees came near to Jesus from Jerusalem”). Perhaps on the surface this statement seems like an innocuous remark that only gives disinterested geographical information. However, given that the phrase is used to introduce an argument over ἡ παράδοσις τῶν πρεσβυτέρων (“the traditions of the elders”), it is likely fraught with further significance. The use of ἀπό marks Jerusalem as the Landmark, and in the context of Matt 15:1–20, it makes clear that Jesus and his disciples are operating outside of the sanctioned center of Jewish religious life. Through the use of ἀπό, the action of the scene is shifted away from Jerusalem as the Pharisees make their way down into the Galilee. In other words, the religious elite from Jerusalem have come down to check up on Jesus, and they brought their controversy over handwashing with them. The shift in location in the text indicates that the controversy will be settled on Jesus’s terms and in Jesus’s place, rather than on the terms of the religious elite. When the Pharisees confront Jesus, he responds that their heart is far from God (ἡ δὲ καρδία αὐτῶν πόρρω ἀπέχει ἀπʼ ἐμοῦ). The repetition of ἀπό here communicates that though the Pharisees have come from Jerusalem to the Galilee (προσέρχονται τῷ Ἰησοῦ) they have not, in fact, come toward Jesus with their hearts, and thus toward God. Instead, they remain “far from” him. In contrast to ἀπό, which is used of the religious elite, Jesus’s call to the crowd uses the prepositional-prefixed verb προσκαλέομαι, which here means “to call to,” or possibly “to invite.” The prefix πρός signals Jesus’s desire for the crowd to come near to him, and strikingly, the Pharisees are seemingly included in the crowd of people (15:12). However, despite moving toward Jesus in response to his invitation, the Pharisees “stumble” over his words (σκανδαλίζω), and Jesus calls them “blind guides” (τυφλοὶ ὁδηγοί). Because the Pharisees cannot find their way to Jesus, nor can they lead others to Jesus, Jesus commands his disciples to “let them alone” or possibly “desert them” (ἄφετε αὐτούς), again invoking a verb with an ἀπό prefix. The combination of prepositions and prepositionally prefixed verbs has several significant effects in this scene. First, the movement “from Jerusalem” (ἀπὸ Ἱεροσολύμων) toward Jesus shifts the center of religious activity from its sanctioned spot in Jerusalem into the Galilee and onto the person of Jesus. Second, the prepositions make clear that nearness to God is synonymous with nearness to Jesus. Thus, the scene is governed by movement “away from” and “movement toward” Jesus, which draws upon the conceptual metaphor important is central. By shifting their Landmarks

44 Luraghi, 107 (emphasis added).

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to Jesus, the prepositions ἀπό and πρός reinforce the centrality of Jesus by spatially construing the scene so that he is the fixed point, and the actions of the Trajectors are described in relation to him. Moreover, the prototypical senses of ἀπὸ and πρός are metaphorically extended to describe relational distance between Jesus (the Landmark) and the scene’s various agents (Trajectors). The Pharisees’ hearts are “far from him,” and the disciples are commanded to “desert” them. Thus, the emotional relationship between Jesus and the Pharisees is conceptualized in terms of physical proximity (emotional closeness is physical closeness), and because Jesus is the fixed point in the scene, his relationship to the Pharisees is presented as normative for his followers. The prepositions in the passage underscore that because the disciples have aligned themselves with Jesus (important is central), they consequently are relationally distanced from the Pharisees. The prepositions ἀπό and πρός thus mark out the scene’s twin themes of rejection and acceptance, which are construed metaphorically as movement toward and away from Jesus. In so doing, the prepositions are a contributing factor in the clear boundary that is erected between those who accept Jesus’s teaching and are therefore near to him and to God, and those who reject Jesus’s teaching and remain far off.

10.2.2 Prepositions and the Metaphorical Conception of the Person The final point in this brief survey of prepositions and metaphors in Matt 15:1–20 pertains to the text’s construal of persons and bodies in verses 10, 17, 18, and 19. The two most prominent prepositions in these verses are ἐκ and εἰς. In this brief span, the preposition ἐκ occurs nine times (either on its own or in a prepositional-prefixed verb), and the preposition εἰς occurs six times (either on its own or in a prepositionalprefixed verb). Recall again that these two prepositions have different conceptual metaphors underlying them. The preposition εἰς marks out direction without profiling contact with a Trajector, whereas ἐκ draws upon a container/source conceptual metaphor. In this passage, the difference between these two conceptual metaphors constructs a concept of the human body in which outside factors (such as eating with unwashed hands) are passed through the body (the body is a conduit), whereas internal factors (such as evil intentions, murder, and so forth) are produced from within a person (the body is a container). The body’s potential to be both a conduit and a container has profound implications for Matthew’s concept of personhood, and in this brief treatment I can only gesture at some possible conclusions. First, it is key to note that Jesus is apparently correcting the Pharisees’ assumption regarding what defiles the body. The Pharisees have begun the controversy by charging that Jesus’s disciples do not wash their hands before eating (15:2), from which we can conclude that the Pharisees believed that the body is defiled by external

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factors.45 This is confirmed when the Pharisees not only are unable to accept Jesus’s teaching on the body and ritual purity, but indeed take offense to it (15:12). Perhaps then, in the Pharisees’ conception, the body acts as a container for external contaminants whereby the contaminants come into the body and remain there, polluting and defiling the body. According to this view, the body is both permeable and corruptible by outside forces in the world, and therefore must be protected and insulated in order to be kept pure. However, given the prevalence of the language of moral defilement in the Old Testament (e.g., Psalm 24:4; Isa 1:16; Hag 2:14) the Pharisees should have concerned themselves with protecting their bodies from both external sources of impurity and defilement and internal sources of sin.46 Yet, in the course of their interaction with Jesus in Matt 15:1–20, it is clear that their preoccupation with external sources of defilement has blinded them and become a stumbling block for keeping the commandments of God (15:3,14). Among other things, in this passage Matthew paints the Pharisees as those who have a fundamental misconception of the body’s relationship to sin and purity,47 and Matthew’s prepositions in the passage contribute substantially to Jesus’s correction of this misconception. As a corrective of the Pharisees’ view, Jesus puts forth a concept of the body that shows it to be impermeable to external factors that, at least according to the Pharisees in this passage, cause ritual impurity. Jesus twice repeats these similar phrases: “it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person” (οὐ τὸ εἰσερχόμενον εἰς τὸ στόμα κοινοῖ τὸν ἄνθρωπον) and “do you not know that all that goes into the mouth enters the belly and goes out into the sewer?” (οὐ νοεῖτε ὅτι πᾶν τὸ εἰσπορευόμενον εἰς τὸ στόμα εἰς τὴν κοιλίαν χωρεῖ καὶ εἰς ἀφεδρῶνα ἐκβάλλεται;). Drawing on the prototypical sense of εἰς, it is apparent here that Jesus is communicating that any substance that enters the body is not contained or retained by the body. The body does not act as a container for external objects and thus cannot be defiled by anything external. Thus, the repetition of εἰς in these phrases reinforces Jesus’s view that the body acts as an impermeable conduit for things that typically would have been viewed as contaminants. In contrast, Jesus makes it quite clear that the body can be contaminated “from the inside.” The two εἰς phrases above have two counterpart ἐκ phrases: “that which comes out of the mouth defiles a person” (τὸ ἐκπορευόμενον ἐκ τοῦ στόματος τοῦτο κοινοῖ τὸν ἄνθρωπον) and the much lengthier phrase:

45 See Lev 11:17; Donald A. Hagner remarks “Defilement here refers to being made ritually unclean or impure [. . .] through what goes into one’s mouth” (Matthew 14–28, WBC 33 [Dallas: Word Books, 1995], 432). 46 See Ulrich Luz, Matthew 8–20: A Commentary, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2001), 334. 47 See Hagner, who observes, “sin is an interior matter that concerns the evil thought, words, and deeds that come from the heart. Moral righteousness is thus far more important than ritual purity” (Matthew 14–28, 437).

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But the things coming out of the mouth come out of the heart, and that defiles a person. For from the heart comes forth evil thoughts, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, false witness, blasphemy. These are things that defile a person. τὰ δὲ ἐκπορευόμενα ἐκ τοῦ στόματος ἐκ τῆς καρδίας ἐξέρχεται, κἀκεῖνα κοινοῖ τὸν ἄνθρωπον. ἐκ γὰρ τῆς καρδίας ἐξέρχονται διαλογισμοὶ πονηροί, φόνοι, μοιχεῖαι, πορνεῖαι, κλοπαί, ψευδομαρτυρίαι, βλασφημίαι. ταῦτά ἐστιν τὰ κοινοῦντα τὸν ἄνθρωπον.48

In both of these phrases, the body has been reconceptualized from the conduit (communicated by the εἰς phrases) to a container, and indeed to a container that is the source of myriad vile actions. These vile actions are likewise conceptualized as substances that are pouring forth from the body-container (evil thoughts, murder, adultery, and so forth). Moreover, these vile substances are said not only to pour forth from the mouth (ἐκ τοῦ στόματος) but are ultimately sourced in the heart (ἐκ τῆς καρδίας ἐξέρχεται), which draws again on the conceptual metaphor important is central. One interesting ramification of Jesus’s statement here is that impurity has been internalized and conflated with sin (evil thoughts, murder, adultery, etc.), instead of being contracted through contact with external objects. In Jesus’s schema, the body that can no longer be defiled in the ways outlined in the Old Testament law (see esp. Lev 17:14–16) is nevertheless defiled (κοινόω) by sin. Moreover, the repetition of ἐκ in these verses makes clear that the heart, which is the center of a person, is the source of defilement. W. D. Davies and Dale Allison observe that at the center of Jesus’s moral teaching “was the demand for integrity, for harmony between thought and act.”49 Consequently, what Matt 15:17–20 makes clear is that there will be harmony between a person’s interior and exterior, whether for good or for ill. Spatially conceived through the passage’s prepositions, the heart that is far from God is likewise the heart that is blind to the true nature of purity and defilement. For those whose hearts are far from God, the heart itself is the source of a person’s defilement. Finally, Jesus’s corrective in Matt 15 enables us to draw an interesting conclusion regarding the relationship of bodies and persons. Although it may seem at first blush that Jesus is putting forth a sharply dualistic conception of the self where the internal and “nonmaterial” is valued over against the physical body, a close reading shows that the opposite is, in fact, the case. Though the preposition ἐκ shifts the focus to the “interior” of a person (the “heart”), what is located in the heart nevertheless proceeds from “the mouth,” thereby becoming exterior. Moreover, these vile substances in the heart are said to “defile a person” (κοινοῖ τὸν ἄνθρωπον). This phrase is most naturally taken to mean that a person becomes ritually impure. Thus, the vile things that proceed from the heart defile a whole person; the physical body and the inner self

48 Luz observes that this vice list “concentrates [. . .] on sins against the second Decalogue tablet” (Matthew 8–20, 334). 49 Davies and Allison, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel according to Saint Matthew, vol. 2, Commentary on Matthew VIII–XVIII, ICC (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1991), 539.

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are inextricably connected. Therefore, Jesus here affirms a typically Jewish view of embodiment while simultaneously transforming several important elements. Impurity is sourced in the heart rather than in the world, and bodies are defiled by vile substances that proceed from the inside rather than by “unclean” external substances. Yet, the potential for the physical body to be defiled remains.

10.3 Conclusion The foregoing essay has sought to sketch briefly some possible contributions that Prototype Theory and Metaphor Theory might make to the exegesis of biblical texts. The insights drawn above are by no means intended to be exhaustive; there is certainly much more to say about the role prepositions play in narrative construal, boundary construction, and Matthew’s conception of persons and bodies. Instead, this brief exegesis is intended as a model and a guide to exegetical insights heretofore unexplored or underappreciated. The field of Cognitive Linguistics has opened, and continues to open, exciting new possibilities for biblical scholars. By attending closely to the underlying conceptual metaphors, both in prepositions and in other utterances, biblical scholars can emerge from the exegetical text with a more holistic reading that encompasses not only the cognitive content of the text, but also attends to its social, emotional, and relational dimensions. In short, these methods of analysis are useful tools in the exegetical toolbox, and training to use them is certainly worth the effort.

Bibliography Bergen, Benjamin K. Louder than Words: The New Science of How the Mind Makes Meaning. New York: Basic Books, 2012. Black, Max. Models and Metaphors: Studies in Language and Philosophy. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1962. Black, Max. “More about Metaphor.” In Metaphor and Thought, edited by Andrew Ortony, 2nd ed., 19–41. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993. Coulson, Seana. “Metaphor Comprehension and the Brain.” In The Cambridge Handbook of Metaphor and Thought, edited by Raymond W. Gibbs Jr., 177–94. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Davidson, Donald. “What Metaphors Mean.” In The Philosophy of Language, edited by A. P. Martinich, 5th ed., 473–84. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008. Davies, W. D., and Dale C. Allison. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel according to Saint Matthew. Vol. 2, Commentary on Matthew VIII–XVIII. ICC. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1991. Dawes, Gregory W. The Body in Question: Metaphor and Meaning in the Interpretation of Ephesians 5:21–33. BibInt 30. Leiden: Brill, 1998. DesCamp, Mary Therese. Metaphor and Ideology: Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum and Literary Methods through a Cognitive Lens. BibInt 87. Leiden: Brill, 2007.

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Fauconnier, Gilles, and Mark Turner. “Rethinking Metaphor.” In The Cambridge Handbook of Metaphor and Thought, edited by Raymond W. Gibbs Jr., 53–66. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Fewster, Gergory P. Creation Language in Romans 8: A Study in Monosemy. Linguistic Biblical Studies 8. Leiden: Brill, 2013. Geeraerts, Dirk. Prospects and Problems of Prototype Theory. Linguistics 27.4. Berlin: De Gruyter Mouton, 1989. Geeraerts, Dirk. Cognitive Linguistics: Basic Readings. CLR 34. Berlin: De Gruyter Mouton, 2008. Geeraerts, Dirk. “The Structured Nature of Prepositional Meaning.” Paper presented at the Tyndale House Workshop in Greek Prepositions. Cambridge, England, 30 June–1 July 2017. Gibbs, Raymond W., Jr., ed., The Cambridge Handbook of Metaphor and Thought. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Gibbs, Raymond W., Jr., and Teenie Matlock. “Metaphor, Imagination, and Simulation: Psycholinguistic Evidence.” In The Cambridge Handbook of Metaphor and Thought, edited by Raymond W. Gibbs Jr., 161–76. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Goldberg, Adele E., ed., Cognitive Linguistics: Critical Concepts in Linguistics, 5 vols. London: Routledge, 2011. Gray, Allison. Psalm 18 in Words and Pictures. BibInt 127. Leiden: Brill, 2013. Gupta, Nijay. Worship That Makes Sense to Paul: A New Approach to the Theology and Ethics of Paul’s Cultic Metaphors. BZNW 175. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2010. Hagner, Donald A. Matthew 14–28. WBC 33. Dallas: Word Books, 1995. Hartvigsen, Kirsten Marie. Prepare the Way of the Lord: Towards a Cognitive Poetic Analysis of Audience Involvement with Characters and Events in the Markan World. BZNW 180. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2012. Hays, Richard B. Echoes of Scripture in the Gospels. Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2016. Heim, Erin. Adoption in Galatians and Romans: Contemporary Metaphor Theories and the Pauline Huiothesia Metaphors. BibInt 153. Leiden: Brill, 2017. Howe, Bonnie. Because You Bear This Name: Conceptual Metaphor and the Moral Meaning of 1 Peter. BibInt 81. Leiden: Brill, 2006 Kamp, Albert H. Inner Worlds: A Cognitive-Linguistic Approach to the Book of Jonah, translated by David Orton. BibInt 68. Leiden: Brill, 2004. Kintsch, Walter. “How the Mind Computes the Meaning of Metaphor: A Simulation Based on LSA.” In The Cambridge Handbook of Metaphor and Thought, edited by Raymond W. Gibbs Jr., 129–42. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Kövecses, Zoltán. Metaphor and Emotion: Language, Culture, and Body in Human Feeling. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Lakoff, George, and Mark Turner. More Than Cool Reason: A Field Guide to Poetic Metaphor. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989. Lakoff, George, and Mark Johnson. Metaphors We Live By, 1st ed. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980. 2nd ed., 2003. Lakoff, George. “The Neural Theory of Metaphor.” In The Cambridge Handbook of Metaphor and Thought, edited by Raymond W. Gibbs Jr., 17–38. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Luraghi, Silvia. On the Meaning of Prepositions and Cases: The Expression of Semantic Roles in Ancient Greek. SLCS 67. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2003. Luz, Ulrich. Matthew 8–20: A Commentary. Hermeneia. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2001. Ortony, Andrew, ed. Metaphor and Thought. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979. Richards, I. A. The Philosophy of Rhetoric. London: Oxford University Press, 1965.

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Rumelhart, David E. “Some Problems with the Notion of Literal Meanings.” In Metaphor and Thought, edited by Andrew Ortony, 2nd ed., 71–82. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993. Searle, John R. “Metaphor.” In Metaphor and Thought, edited by Andrew Ortony, 2nd ed., 83–111. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993. Soskice, Janet Martin. Metaphor and Religious Language. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985. Turner, Mark. Death Is the Mother of Beauty: Mind, Metaphor, Criticism. Christchurch: Cybereditions, 2000. Wallace, Daniel. Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics: An Exegetical Syntax of the New Testament. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1997. Wetter, Anne-Mareike. “On Her Account”: Reconfiguring Israel in Ruth, Esther, and Judith. LHBOTS 623. London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2015.

Jonathan T. Pennington

11 Cognitive Linguistics and Greek Prepositions: A New Testament Perspective Being invited to participate in the 2017 workshop on Greek prepositions and Cognitive Linguistics in Cambridge, England, was a delight both personally and professionally. It was enjoyable to be with friends both old and new, and the things I learned have continued to bear fruit in my teaching and research. My role at the workshop was more on the receiving than the contributing end of the spectrum. I was asked to participate and then at the close of the workshop to offer a brief response from my perspective as a New Testament scholar and teacher. The first part of the following essay consists of my brief remarks on that occasion. The second part is a further exploration done subsequent to the workshop, exploring briefly how some of the ideas from the workshop might inform our reading of the Greek text of 1John.

11.1 Remarks In the preparatory reading, through the papers, and from the workshop discussion I learned much about the field of Cognitive Linguistics. My brief remarks will center on how Cognitive Linguistics can inform two other nodes of thought: Greek pedagogy and translation, and biblical hermeneutics.

11.1.1 Greek Pedagogy and Translation For nearly twenty years I have been teaching postclassical Greek and through countless experiences I have stumbled upon ways to describe the mismatch between the Greek and English language systems. Whether it be comparing the tripartite English article system (definite, indefinite, nonarticle) with the Greek bipartite (articular, anarthrous) or the significance of the Greek middle voice versus its absence in English, I have often found myself drawing Venn diagrams and talking about ships crossing in the night to explain the noncoextensive (and at times, nontranslatable) relationship of Greek and English. Reading about Cognitive Linguistics and listening to the workshop papers have affirmed several intuitions I have had about the Greek-English relationship, and more importantly, have provided me with some specific language and concepts to

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explain these phenomena.1 The Cognitive Linguistic (and Metaphor Theory) grammar of “frames” and “construals” have given me a way to articulate what is happening when we try to compare languages, letting them be different construals of reality. Closely related, especially because I function in a world where the purpose of learning postclassical Greek is not primarily for reading Greek itself but for translation and exegesis, I have long been frustrated with the flat-footed rhetoric of many, especially in the United States, concerning Bible translation. This has led me to broader reading in translation theory, including one of my favorite authors, Umberto Eco. After reading in Cognitive Linguistics in preparation for this workshop I went back to my copy of Eco’s, Experiences in Translation and read again with new eyes things he says there.2 In this short but dense book Eco rejects Walter Benjamin’s notion of a reine Sprache, a pure universal (even mystical) language, or Mentalese. Eco notes that while content might be translated, this is not the same thing as saying that one utterance in a language is equivalent to another. “If it is impossible to speak of equivalence in meaning [across languages], one should then say that every language has its own genius (as Humboldt said) or, rather, that every language expresses a different world-view (Sapir-Whorf hypothesis).”3 Eco goes on to explore the different connotations of French bois, English, wood, timber, woods, compared to the Italian bosco and German Holz or Wald. None of these are truly equivalent because of the different situated contexts and because of the different ways they map reality. Add to this the complexity of putting these words into sentences that are (inevitably) embedded in certain cultural contexts, such as the story la belle au bois dormant. This French phrase evokes a whole story that goes by a less descriptive title in English, Sleeping Beauty, which we may note, makes no reference to where she is sleeping. Eco notes, “Therefore, translating is not only connected with linguistic competence, but with intertextual, psychological, and narrative competence.”4 This is remarkably similar to what I have since learned about in Cognitive Linguistics. Thus, once again, this reading and workshop have given me another set of vocabulary (or frame or construal!) to approach, understand, and articulate what is happening in the complex art of translation.

1 For readers who are just entering their understanding of the field of Cognitive Linguistics, I cannot recommend highly enough Dirk Geeraerts’s and Hubert Cuyckens’s introductory essay, “Introducing Cognitive Linguistics,” in The Oxford Handbook of Cognitive Linguistics, ed. Geeraerts and Cuyckens, Oxford Handbooks in Linguistics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 3–21. It was an honor and delight to have Dirk present at the workshop. 2 Umberto Eco, Experiences in Translation (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2008). 3 Eco, 12. 4 Eco, 13.

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11.1.2 Biblical Hermeneutics The preceding comments lead directly into my second node for discussion, the closely related topic of biblical hermeneutics. Over the years I have been greatly helped by a number of people along the journey toward understanding the art of hermeneutics. These resources range from the church fathers to many philosophers of language and literature, including Hans-Georg Gadamer, Paul Ricouer, and Charles Taylor. Once again, Eco has also been of help to me with his idea of the Model Reader and encyclopedic context.5 Eco utilizes the distinction between reading texts from a dictionary perspective as opposed to an encyclopedic one. A dictionary model focuses on words as if they are constrained by a particular definition and can be accessed by looking them up in a dictionary. The encyclopedic model reads texts aware of and sensitive to the broad cultural network of evocations that are functioning whenever real, embodied authors write and readers read, what Eco calls the cultural encyclopedia. This has proven for me to be very helpful as a mode for interpreting the biblical texts in a way that is more than modern historical backgrounds, but takes texts seriously in their historical context and seeks to listen to authors, but with a sensitivity to language and the complexity of how communication occurs. The intersection of these ideas with Cognitive Linguistics is immediately striking. From my reading in Cognitive Linguistics, it appeared to me to be an approach that was saying many similar things about the nature of the communicative act but without any apparent dialogue with the more philosophical side of this discussion. It seems that Cognitive Linguistics has gone the way of many other fields of study in the humanities with its desire to ground everything in empirical, physiological studies. This can be seen in the broad turn in psychology toward neurology and, closer to home with Cognitive Linguistics, in Metaphor Theory finding scientific grounding in experiential studies such as those of Benjamin Bergen.6 While I think there are definite advantages to this kind of move (not the least of which is access to greater “scientific” funding), I think this turn typically results in and perpetuates a mode of inquiry that is lacking a cohesive metaphysic. I have greatly benefited from all the reading I have done in Cognitive Linguistics, but I think the field can only be enhanced, deepened, and broadened by engaging with the more philosophical side of language. I encourage a healthy dialogue between the “soft” and “hard” sciences in this field of inquiry.7

5 For a brief discussion on this one may consult the introduction to my The Sermon on the Mount and Human Flourishing: A Theological Commentary (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2017). 6 Benjamin Bergen, Louder than Words: The New Science of How the Mind Makes Meaning (New York: Basic Books, 2012). 7 I should note that in the subsequent panel discussion of my remarks at the workshop, Dirk Geeraerts acknowledged that Cognitive Linguistics did originally have roots in the philosophy of language, even though it does not appear as clearly now. He went on to say that actually some people in this field

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11.2 Application to 1John: ἐν and ἐκ I have noted already how the perspective and grammar of Cognitive Linguistics can have a positive impact on the theoretical side of understanding New Testament Greek. In this final section of the essay, I will apply some of the concepts from the discussion of Cognitive Linguistics at the workshop to the use of the prepositions ἐν and ἐκ in the New Testament book called 1John. This brief exploration is a logical next step from the workshop because of its focus on Greek prepositions and because both ἐν and ἐκ received treatment in papers there. In the case of ἐκ, 1John has a surprisingly high number of occurrences: over twenty times in this short epistle (see Table 11.1).8 More important than mere frequency, however, is what seems to be an intentional usage of this preposition in phrases that emphasize the origin or even nature of some person or being. This proves to be an important part of 1John’s stark dualistic theology, emphasizing a sharp contrast between everything in the world as being either aligned with God or opposed to him. Thus, we find ἐκ used to describe which side of the ledger various individuals or beings are to be classified, with no option in between: Table 11.1: ἐκ with persons or beings in 1John. Aligned with God

Aligned with the devil/evil one/world

2:16 (“of the Father”) 2:21 (“of the truth”) 3:9 (“of God”; 2×) 3:10 (“of God”) 3:24 (“of the Spirit”) 4:1 (“of God”) 4:2 (“of God”) 4:3 (“of God”) 4:4 (“of God”) 4:6 (“of God”; 2×) 4:7 (“of God”; 2×) 4:13 (“of his Spirit”) 5:1 (“of God”) 5:4 (“of God”) 5:18 (“of God”; 2×) 5:19 (“of God”)

2:16 (“of the world”) 3:8 (“of the devil”) 3:12 (“of the evil one”) 4:5 (“of the world”)

do think more philosophically, though the primary interlocutors today are phenomenologists and anthropologists such as Maurice Merleau-Ponty and Pierre Bourdieu. 8 The occurrences of ἐκ in 1John are: 2:16 (“of the world”); 2:21 (“of the truth”); 3:8 (“of the devil”); 3:9 (“of God”; 2×); 3:10 (“of God”); 3:12 (“of the evil one”); 3:19 (“of the truth”); 3:24 (“of the Spirit”); 4:1 (“of God”); 4:2 (“of God”); 4:3 (“of God”); 4:4 (“of God”); 4:5 (“of the world”); 4:6 (“of God”; 2×); 4:7 (“of God”; 2×); 4:13 (“of his Spirit”); 5:1 (“of God”); 5:4 (“of God”); 5:18 (“of God”; 2×); 5:19 (“of God”).

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Either explicitly or implicitly every creature is either “born from/of” God or from the devil or world. This stems from the broader Johannine theme of Jesus as the only begotten Son of God (this origin implies shared nature in Johannine theology) in contrast to Jesus’s enemies who, although being of Jewish descent, according to Jesus do not have Abraham as their father but rather the devil (John 8:44, ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς τοῦ διαβόλου). Further, Johannine theology extends this idea to emphasize that because of the coming of Jesus the Son into the world, some humans come to have a new and second birth that is οὐκ ἐξ αἱμάτων (“not of blood”) and οὐδὲ ἐκ θελήματος σαρκός (“not of the will of the flesh”) and οὐδὲ ἐκ θελήματος ἀνδρός (“not of the will of man”), but rather, ἐκ θεοῦ (“of God”; John 1:13). First John continues this idea, emphasizing this same distinction in a polemical way. The preposition ἐκ is the third most common preposition in the New Testament, accounting for 8.8 percent of the total “proper” preposition uses, with more than one third of its occurrences in the Johannine corpus alone.9 In Michael and Rachel Aubrey’s essay in this volume, “Spatial Profiling: ἐκ, ἀπό and Their Entailments in Postclassical Greek” (§4), they label one category “origin constructions,” which they describe as abstract relations that go beyond concrete spatial interactions. Here, origin is understood as the point or place where an entity begins, arises, or is derived. This is a standard understanding of one function of ἐκ and one that accords with the uses I have identified above in 1John.10 Using more specific language from within a Cognitive Linguistics framework, we can say that the Landmarks of 1John are most frequently God, with a few important instances of the opposite, while the Trajectors are almost always a person upheld as an exemplar, either positively or negatively. At the level of describing the function of ἐκ in 1John, in my mind there is no distinct advantage of a Cognitive Linguistics approach to other modern linguistic modes. However, at the larger conceptual level, I find the Cognitive Linguistics framework enables us to speak organically about the relationship of the author’s grammatical choices and his construal of the world. John’s idiolectic usage is strong and manifest, and the patterned use of ἐκ with its origin sense accords well with John’s framing of the world in stark oppositional dualities. This framing of the world for John is embedded in his varied usage of prepositional phrases with reference to God, including the apparent distinction he makes between ἐκ θεοῦ, ἀπὸ θεοῦ, and παρὰ θεοῦ.11 9 These statistics come from Murray Harris, Prepositions and Theology in the Greek New Testament: An Essential Reference Resource for Exegesis (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2012), 103. Harris follows the modern classification of “proper” prepositions (as opposed to “improper”) as ones that can also serve as prefixes in compound words. Whether 1John’s more frequent usage of ἐκ reflects Semitic enhancement and/or Septuagintal influence is worthy of further study. 10 Robert Yarbrough notes that ἐκ θεοῦ and ἐκ τοῦ θεοῦ only occur in writings traditionally ascribed to John and Paul and not at all in the LXX, though the nearly synonymous ἀπὸ θεοῦ does occur. Robert W. Yarbrough, 1–3 John, BECNT (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2008), 221 n. 3. 11 Yarbrough observes the difference the Johannine literature makes between ἐκ θεοῦ and ἀπὸ θεοῦ, the former reserved for believers being “of God” in a different sense than Jesus being “from God” (ἀπὸ

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When we turn to the preposition ἐν in 1John, we find that once again there appears to be an intentional idiolectic usage at work that corresponds to a particular construal of the world. In the New Testament, ἐν is by far the most common proper preposition, accounting for 26.5 percent of all proper prepositions. It is also very frequent in the Septuagint, in part because it is often used to translate the Hebrew preposition be.12 In postclassical Greek, ἐν has a wide variety of uses, much more diverse than it did in Classical Greek. This great elasticity, however, eventually contributes to its demise (along with its related dative case) in later Greek.13 First John uses ἐν very frequently, occurring seventy-nine times (in forty-seven verses, often with two, three, or four ἐν phrases in one verse) in this epistle.14 Using Cognitive Linguistics categories, the prototypical idea of ἐν appears to be locative, though there are certainly many other uses including temporal, instrumental, and respect, even if one understands these as derivative from the locative. This locative prototypicality is borne out in 1John quite dominantly with fifty-nine of its seventy-nine occurrences clearly functioning as locative (albeit always metaphorically so, not in physical spaces).15 Two other of 1John’s ἐν phrases reside in an ambiguous space between temporal and locative, one referring to Jesus’s presence/ coming (2:28) and the other to the day of judgment (4:17).16 Only four of 1John’s seventy-nine ἐν phrases function instrumentally (once in 3:18 and three times in 5:6), and in each instance they are rather unexpected and unneeded. In 3:18, 1John’s hearers are exhorted to love not only in speech (two instrumental stand-alone datives, λόγῳ [. . .] γλώσσῃ), but also in deed and truth (ἔργῳ καὶ ἀληθείᾳ). The latter phrase is clearly parallel to the earlier datives; it does not seem necessary to use ἐν to communicate the same idea. In 5:6, 1John describes Jesus Christ as having come “by/through water and blood” (δι᾽ ὕδατος καὶ αἵματος). The immediately preceding phrase explains that it is not only through water (οὐκ ἐν τῷ ὕδατι μόνον), but again, through water and blood (ἐν τῷ ὕδατι καὶ ἐν τῷ αἵματι). Inexplicably, 1John changes prepositions from διά to ἐν in these otherwise identical phrases.

θεοῦ) as in John 3:2; 13:3; and 16:30 (1–3 John, 221 n. 4). I would add the further distinction from παρὰ θεοῦ as in John 1:6 where John the Baptist is said to have been sent from God (ἀπεσταλμένος παρὰ θεοῦ). 12 Harris, Prepositions, 115. 13 See Harris, 116; Jean Humbert, La disparition du datif en grec (1er au Xe siècle), Collection Linguistique (Paris: É. Champion, 1930). 14 There are also an additional eleven occurrences in the even shorter 2John and 3John. 15 Of these fifty-nine metaphorical locative uses, most of them refer to truth or love or darkness being in someone, very often using the Johannine favorite verb, μένω, “to remain.” 16 Interestingly, both of these verses refer to having confidence (παρρησία), i.e., not being ashamed, in God’s/Jesus’s presence, using the parallel phrases of ἐν τῇ παρουσίᾳ (2:28) and ἐν τῇ ἡμέρᾳ τῆς κρίσεως (4:17). I analyze these as ambiguously between temporal and locative because, although they are using ἐν plus the dative to refer to a time, in both cases the conceptual sense is in the presence of God, and thus also locative.

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The remaining fourteen instances of ἐν in 1John are found in one phrase, ἐν τούτῳ.17 This Johannine favorite is used as a marker to advance the argument and can usually be easily understand in a nonprototypical logical instrumental sense, “by this.” That is, in eleven of the fourteen occurrences this is clearly how the phrase is functioning.18 Eight times ἐν τούτῳ is followed immediately by a form of γινώσκω (“to know”), thus it is ἐν τούτῳ (“by this”) that something is known. Two more times the same sense is communicated with a form of φανερός/φανερόω, thus something is made known, revealed ἐν τούτῳ, “by this” (3:10; 4:9). In 4:17 we read that it is ἐν τούτῳ that love is made complete, followed by an explanatory comment. Thus, in at least these eleven occurrences of ἐν τούτῳ there is a consistent Johannine pattern of using ἐν τούτῳ as a logical marker. This leaves three uses of ἐν τούτῳ (2:4,5a; 4:10) that at first appear to be exceptions to the logical instrumental sense, but upon closer examination may indeed follow the same pattern. In 4:10 the text reads ἐν τούτῳ ἐστὶν ἡ ἀγάπη, and most translations render this more like a demonstrative or some kind of metaphorical locative rather than a logical instrumental, thus, “This is love” (NIV), “Love consists in this” (CSB), “Herein is love” (KJV), “In this is love” (RSV; ESV). I would suggest, however, that ἐν τούτῳ ἐστὶν ἡ ἀγάπη is actually shorthand for the longer phrase that appears in parallel just above in 4:9, ἐν τούτῳ ἐφανερώθη ἡ ἀγάπη τοῦ θεοῦ ἐν ἡμῖν, where the ἐν τούτῳ is clearly functioning as “by this.” First John 4:10 assumes the same sense as 4:9 with an implied ἐφανερώθη. Thus, the ἐν τούτῳ in 4:9 and 4:10 are both part of 1John’s patterned use of this phrase and the better translation of 4:10 is “By this, love is made clear: not that we loved God, but that he loved us.” We have remaining then, just two instances of 1John’s ἐν τούτῳ (2:4,5a) that are not typically translated as “by this.” It is of course possible that 1John is simply not consistent in his pattern and these two are exceptions. But in light of the strong repetition, it is worth at least considering whether these two occurrences also have the logical instrumental sense. Typically, in both cases ἐν τούτῳ is translated with reference to a generic person in view, “in this one,” “in this person,” “in them [sg.].” Thus, the NIV reads: “Whoever say, ‘I know him,’ but does not do what he commands is a liar, and the truth is not in that person [ἐν τούτῳ]. But if anyone obeys his word, love for God is truly made complete in them [ἐν τούτῳ]. This is how [ἐν τούτῳ] we know

17 This favorite of 1John occurs in 2:3,4,5 (2×); 3:10,16,19,24; 4:2,9,10,13,17; 5:2. A few Greek manuscripts and versions have another instance of ἐν τούτῳ at the end of 4:6, while the NA28 critical reading has the odd and very infrequent ἐκ τούτου. This latter phrase appears only five other times in the New Testament, four of which are in John’s Gospel. Yarbrough (1–3 John, 230) rightly observes that it seems more likely that a scribe would change the rare ἐκ τούτου to the recurrent and common 1John phrase ἐν τούτῳ. With the strong manuscript support in favor of the less common and unexpected ἐκ τούτου, this is a reasonable judgment, even though on internal grounds the ἐν τούτῳ makes more sense. 18 These clear logical “by this” uses are 2:3,5b; 3:10,16,19,24; 4:2,9,13,17; 5:2.

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we are in him.” I suggest that it is possible to understand and render both of these instances like the rest of the occurrences in this short letter (and like it appears in 2:5b). In 2:4 it is reasonable to understand an implied “made clear” (φανερός) as elsewhere, thus, “The one who says, ‘I know him,’ and yet does not keep his commands is a liar, and by this, the truth is not made clear.” Similarly, in 2:5 we can understand and render the translation: “Whoever does not keep his word, truly by this the love of God is not perfected (in us). By this we know that we are in him.” This connects this verse to its identical idea in 4:17 and also renders the back-to-back instances of ἐν τούτῳ in the same way as “by this.” Admittedly, in 2:4–5 there are some necessary assumptions about the interconnectedness of the ideas throughout the letter and the use of shorthand expressions to refer to the fuller explications of the same ideas. I simply offer these as possible ways to understand 1John’s language that accord with its strong idiolectic pattern of ἐν τούτῳ used as a logical marker. I will conclude on that note. What I offered here by way of a brief exploration of two of the prepositions in the little epistle of 1John is merely an attempt to look with fresh, Cognitive Linguistics-inspired glasses at how 1John’s idiolect may be functioning. But whatever patterns are there are but one writer’s idiolect and must be allowed to be only that. Steven E. Runge sums up well the importance of understanding various language construals for reading texts well: “Languages, and even cultures within a single language, can differ in how metaphors like the container notion [and we can expand this to any prepositional notion] are implemented. These mismatches, if unrecognized, can obscure the meaning of prepositions.”19 Along with the conceptual idea of Cognitive Linguistics, I do think 1John’s language both reflects and affects a particular construal of the world, and an examination of his patterned usage of ἐν and ἐκ helps us construct his theological worldview. The Cognitive Linguistics approach gives us a grammar and perspective for allowing postclassical Greek – and I would say, 1John’s own version of Greek – to be read and interpreted on its own terms.

Bibliography Bergen, Benjamin K. Louder than Words: The New Science of How the Mind Makes Meaning. New York: Basic Books, 2012. Eco, Umberto. Experiences in Translation. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2008. Geeraerts, Dirk, and Hubert Cuyckens. “Introducing Cognitive Linguistics.” In The Oxford Handbook of Cognitive Linguistics, edited by Dirk Geeraerts and Hubert Cuyckens, 3–21. Oxford Handbooks in Linguistics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007. Harris, Murray J. Prepositions and Theology in the Greek New Testament: An Essential Reference Resource for Exegesis. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2012.

19 Runge, “εἰς and ἐν from a Cognitive and Prototype-Theoretic Perspective” (paper presented at the Tyndale House Workshop in Greek Prepositions, Cambridge, England, 30 June–1 July 2017).

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List of Contributors Michael G. Aubrey Linguist, International Translation Resources, SIL International Rachel E. Aubrey Linguist, International Translation Resources, SIL International Erin Heim Tutor in Biblical Studies, Wycliffe Hall, Oxford Bonnie Howe Adjunct Professor of Ethics and Biblical Studies, New College Berkeley Patrick James Teacher of Classics, Haileybury College Jonathan T. Pennington Associate Professor of New Testament Interpretation and Director of Research Doctoral Studies, Southern Baptist Theological Seminary Richard A. Rhodes Professor Emeritus of Linguistics and Associate Dean in the College of Letters and Science, University of California, Berkeley William A. Ross Associate Professor of Old Testament, Reformed Theological Seminary, Charlotte Steven E. Runge Professor of Biblical Languages, Grace School of Theology Travis Wright Ph.D. Candidate, University of Cambridge

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110777895-013

Source index New Testament Books Matthew 1:22 2:1 2:17 3:4 3:6 3:13 4:1 4:18 5:1 5:15 5:25 5:32–34 5:34–36 6:5 6:10 7:6 7:13 8:24 8:28 8:32 9:15 9:29 10:19 10:28 11:7 11:16 11:19 12:34–35 12:36–37 12:37 13:1 13:4 14:25 14:25–26 14:26 15 15:1–20 15:2 15:3 15:8 15:10 15:10–20 15:12

60n63, 222 206 48n31 90 247 26 51 39 186 32 186 249 248 186 18, 23 40 219n21 60, 186 40 190 57 126 29 59, 81 60 231 230 141 144n41 144, 230 186 29 45 192 45, 59, 59n59 8 241–42, 244–45, 247, 249–54 253 254 250 253 251 252

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110777895-014

15:14 15:17 15:17–20 15:18 15:19 16:21 17:9 17:27 18:16 20:3 20:20 20:23 21:19a 22:33 23:7 26:44 26:58 26:61 26:69 26:69–75 27:35 27:41 28:4 28:14

Mark 1:13 1:16 2:8 2:26 3:5 3:8 3:34 4:1 4:4 5:29 5:34 6:34 7:30 8.31 8:38 9:9 10:22 10:24

254 253 255 253 253 51–52 187 192 32 106, 186 61 50 25 31 55 77 33, 45 220n23 18, 23 34 48n31 53 59, 59n59, 81 27, 61

18, 51 39, 190 206 28 30–31 93 91 186, 191 25 58 58, 215 30 27 52 206 61 30 31

286 

10:25 10:46b 11:1 12:17 14:13 15:1 15:31 15:38 16:9

Luke

1:26 1:29 1:70 2:21 2:35 2:47 4:2 5 5:2 5:5 5:9 5:19 5:29–32 5:30 5:30 5:36 6:1 6:5 6:6–11 7:16 7:18 7:31–35 7:35 7:36 7:36–50 7:36 7:37 7:38 7:44 7:44–46 7:49 8:7 8:14 8:18 8:23 8:29 8:37

 Source index

220 25 43 31 43 53 53 71 61

53–54, 214 30 223n29 55 72 31 51 173 26 31 31 221 153, 156–57, 162, 164 158–59, 161 161 27 199, 219 102 43 24 42 157 230n44 165 153, 157 166 167, 206 167 168–69 171 167 60 60 57n55 192 60 59

9:22 9:33 9:43 9:45 10:22 10:31a 12:4 12:4–5 12:17 12:32 12:58 13:12 14:8 14:23b 14:31 15:1–2 15:1–31 15:16 16:18 17:11 17:25 19:1–10 19:3 19:4 19:5–7 19:9 19:29 19:41 19:42 21:24 21:26 22:49 23:35 24:1 24:6 24:13 24:31

John

1:6 1:13 1:14 1:35 1:48 1:49–50 2:15 2:19 3:2 4:3–4

47–49, 51–53, 60–61, 63 57n55 30n30 57n55 55 21 81 59 206 42n17 57 61 55 20 194 153, 172 157 61 53 220, 220n22 53 153, 157 175 174 175 176 42 30 57n55 204 59 204 53 27 18 43 72n19

264n11 263 58 42 212 60n62 73 29 264n11 219n19

New Testament Books 

4:20 4:41 6:3 6:65 6:70 8:13 8:44 9:21 11:18 12:36 13:3 14:21 15:27 16:30 19:24 19:38 21:2 21:6 21:7

Acts

1:9 1:23 2:19 2:22 2:43 3:1 3:2 3:16 3:24 4:9 4:36 5:19 7:38 9:25 9:33 10:17 10:33 11:19 12:2 13:4 13:8 13:13 13:23 13:31 13:38 14:14 15:2 15:3

187 221 187 81 75 103 263 103 72 57n55 264n11 48 76 264n11 115 59 42 80 190

72n19 55 34 53 222 28 78 126 78 32 55, 64 220n23 187 219n21 77 53–54, 60–61 54, 62n73 56, 215 204 53–54 126 87 74 28 230 55 55n49 53

15:4 15:31 15:33 15:40 16 16:4 17:14 19:26 19:34 20:9 22:6 22:18 23:10 24:19 24:24 24:25 26:18 27:41 28:3

Romans 1:12 1:17

2:2 2:18 3–6 3:4 3:6 3:9 3:22 3:24 3:25 3:26 3:28 3:29–30 3:30 3:31 4:12 4:16 4:25 5 5:1 5:9 6:6 6:7 6:16 6:16–20

 287

60 30 53 55 227 54 26 198 28 217 90 71 23 73 126 100 125n9, 133n23 60 80

126 126, 136n28, 137, 143, 144n42, 144n43 233 74 233 235 233 233 124n5, 126, 148n53 232–33, 236 126 124n5, 126, 142, 144n43, 146, 148n53 146 142 126, 144n43, 146–48, 146n46, 148n59, 228 126 125n9 125n9, 126, 137, 139 233 236 126, 142, 146, 236 236 233 230, 231n45 233 233

288 

 Source index

6:23 9:30 9:32 10:6 13:1 14:12 14:23 14:25 15:15 15:24 15:31

233 126, 137, 141n37, 144n43 126, 140 126, 137, 144n43 61 103 126 140 55 53–54 57n55

1 Corinthians 1:9 1:30 2:6 3:13 7:1 8:1 9:5–6 10:17 12:1 12:16 16:13

223 58, 61n69 206 201 110 111 55n49 76 111 76 126, 128

2 Corinthians 1:16 2:4 3:3 5:7 7:9 8:13 9:7 13:5

Galatians 2:16

2:17 2:20 3:1–18 3:7 3:8 3:9 3:11 3:12

53–54 141 186 126 216 149n16 146 126, 128

124n5, 126, 136n28, 142, 146–48, 147n47, 147n51, 231 235 124n5, 126, 133–35, 134n24, 135n26, 146 140 126, 139 126, 142 126, 139 126, 143, 234 126, 137

3:14 3:18 3:22 3:23 3:24 3:26 4:4 5:4 5:5

Ephesians 2:8 3:12 3:17 4:31 6:23

126 74 124n5, 126, 137, 146, 147n51 126 126, 142 126 73 235 126, 140

126, 146 124n5, 126 126 57n55 126

Philippians 3:9

Colossians 2:12 4:10

124n5, 126

126 104

1 Thessalonians 1:8 3:1 3:2 3:7 4:9 5:22

55 43 126 126 100 72

2 Thessalonians 3:6

1 Timothy 1:2 1:4 1:14 1:19 2:7 2:15 2:16 3:13 4:12 6:10 6:21

57n55

126, 129 126, 129 126 126 126, 129 126, 128 234 126, 129 126, 129 126 126

New Testament Books 

2 Timothy 1:13 2:22 3:8 3:15

Titus 1:1 1:4 1:13 2:6–7 3:15

Philemon 10

Hebrews 5:4 5:11 6:12 10:28 10:38 11:6–7 11:13 11:33 11:39

James 1:6 1:13

1:14 2:1 2:5 2:24 3:4

1 Peter 1:5 1:7 1:10

2 Peter 1:5 1:5–7 2:22

126, 131 141 126 126

126 126 126, 131 105 126, 130

112

55 109 126 32 126, 140 126 126 126 126

126, 131 37n1, 47, 50–51, 63–64, 217, 224n31 50–51, 218, 224n31 124n5 126, 129 126, 142 60n63

126 201, 222 108

131 132 40

1 John

1:7 2:3 2:4–5 2:16 2:21 2:28 3:8–9 3:10 3:12 3:16 3:18 3:19 3:24 4:1–7 4:2 4:9–10 4:13 4:17 5:1 5:2 5:4 5:6 5:18–19

2 John 2 John 12

3 John 3 John

Revelation Rev 3:12 3:18 4:2 4:9–10 5:9 6:16 7:10 9:18 12:6 14:1 14:3 14:4 14:10

90n25 265n17–n18 265–66, 265n17–n18 262, 262n8 262, 262n8 56, 264 262, 262n8 262, 262n8, 265n17–n18 74, 262, 262n8 265n18, 265n17 264 262n8, 265n17–n18 262, 262n8, 265n17–n18 262, 262n8 265n17–n18 265, 265n17–n18 262, 262n8, 265n17–n18 264, 265n17–n18, 266 262, 262n8 265n17–n18 262, 262n8 264 262, 262n8

264n14 222

264n14

60n62 49n36 80, 201 45 45 58 72n19 45 217 49 189 58 57–58 200

 289

290 

 Source index

18:10 18:15 18:17 19:21 20:1 20:9 20:12 20:15 21:2 21:10

46, 59, 221 46, 59 46 80 199 49n36 146n61 190 49, 49n36, 63 49, 63

Old Testament Books Exodus 23:7

Leviticus 11:17 17:14–16

227n40

254n45 255

Deuteronomy 25:1

2 Samuel 15:4

Psalms 24:4 51:4 82:3

Isaiah 1:16 5:23 43:26

Micah 6:11

Haggai 2:14

227n40

227n40

Septuagint (LXX) Genesis 8:4 12:17 15:12 17:20 30:3 30:26 45:15

Exodus 2:3 3:2 7:24 12:9–10 14:14 21:10 23:5 23:7 29:4 29:32 38:21

Leviticus 11:7 26:2

Numbers 254 227n40 227n40

254 227n40 227n40

20:27–28 22:23

26 201 89n23 201 112 213 212 228, 232, 232n47 25n25 25n25 25

40 59n58

187 21

Deuteronomy 2:27 14:8 17:6 19:15 25:1

Joshua 227n40

189 113 106 110 114 115 31

10:28

21 40 32 32 227n40

203

2 Kingdoms 254

9:7 [2Sam] 17:8 20:19

15 40 40

Septuagint (LXX) 

21:7 [2Sam] 30 22:38 40

3 Kingdoms 11:29 [1 Kgs] 18:28 19:15 [1 Kgs] 22:19

Tobit 4:12 6:17

Judith 2:12 9:10 12:20 13:14

Esther 4:16

21 203 20 91

73 75

197 197 81 197

28

1 Maccabees 1:17 2:66 3:37 5:5 5:28 6:39 6:46 7:14 7:28 8:6 8:23 9:1 9:15 9:68 10:82 10:85 12:9 12:48 13:22 14:1 15:17 16:8

194–95 79 71 200 201 80 213 194 194 46–47, 47n26 192 77 46–47, 47n26, 64 46–47, 47n26 46–47, 217 204 195 204 221 195 77 81

2 Maccabees 4:3 4:43 5:16 13:1 15:35

222 115n97 198 92 215

4 Maccabees 17:22

Psalms 50:6 79:14 140:3

Job

12:5 18:11 40:25

Proverbs 11:22

233n50

235 40 88n17

48 89n23 88n17

40

Psalms of Solomon 2:16

Sirach

26:29 41:17 41:18–26

Hosea 1:7

Micah 6:11

Habakkuk 2:4 3:16

Isaiah 1:29 20:1

225

230 56 56

203

234

143, 144n42 216

56n52 216

 291

292 

29:3 29:13

Jeremiah 1:18 12:13

Ezekiel 16:12 16:15

 Source index

89 250, 250n40

59n58 56

89 228

Morning Hymn (Odes) 6:16

216

Other Ancient Authors Aristeas, Letter of Aristeas 33

232

Aristophanes, Wasps (Vesp.) 205–206 206

43 44

Augustine, De spiritu et littera 29.50

148

Chariton, Chaereas and Callirhoe 7.6.4

90

Clement, 1 Clement 8:2 16:2 45:4

105 105 214

Codex Alexandrinus 45–46, 48, 52, 57, 60n65 Codex Bezae 45, 45n21, 48n31, 52, 55–57, 57n53, 61, 63–64 Codex Claromontanus 54, 61 Codex Climaci Rescriptus Graecus 48n31, 65, 278 Codex Ephraemi Rescriptus 45, 45n21, 60n64 Codex Sinaiticus 45–46, 49n36, 50, 55, 56n52, 57, 60n64, 60n65, 63, 131n17

Codex Vaticanus 45–48, 54–55, 56n52, 57, 60n64–n65, 61 Codex Washingtonianus 45, 52, 57, 60n64

Diognetus 9.4

236

Epictetus, Enchiridion 48.2

103

Hero Mechanicus, Belopoeica 97.5

41

Herodotus, Histories 1.131.2 1.34.2 1.36.1 1.38.1 2.12.1 4.70.1 5.99.1 5.108.2

188 205 188 205 189 204 195n21 195, 195n21

Homer, Odyssey (Od.) 2.5 4 4.310

39n8 40n10 39n8

Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 4.46 5.22 5.4 9.187 9.228

232n47 91 113n91 228 214

Josephus, Jewish War 3.313

213

Justin, Dialogue with Trypho 2.2

88n14

Mishnah Sanhedrin 4:1–4

227n37

Other Ancient Authors 

Philo, On the Special Laws

Plutarch, De superstition

Philo, That Every Good Person Is Free

Polybius, Histories

1 298

114

225

232

Plato, Symposium 175a4–5 203b8–9 219b6–7 222e11–12 222e2 222e4–5 223b4–5

44–45 44–45 44–45 44–45 44–45 44–45 44–45

Plutarch, Comparatio Aristidis et Catonis 2.354

103

171.12

5.66 30.12

89n23

92 110

Shepherd of Hermas, Mandate V.i.7

225

Simeon, Testament of Simeon 6.1

231n45

Xenophon, Anabasis 4.7.6

40–41

 293

Topic index affix 94, 177, see also prefix and preverb agent 7, 37, 46–64, 57n55, 60n63, 79, 81, 116, 131, 134, 140–41, 198, 204, 209–11, 211n6–n8, 214, 216–18, 221–25, 221n25, 228–29, 232, 238–39, 249–51, 253 – agenthood 211n7–n8, 233, 240, 277 – agentive 116, 218, 225, 232 – nonagentive 225 Allison, Dale C. 255, 256 Allison, Gary 241n1, 257 Alter, Robert 172, 177 ana ἀνα 12, 33, 33n32, 186, 188 animacy  – animate 60n63, 79, 81, 131, 204, 214, 221–22, 225 – inanimate 55–56, 58, 60n63, 131, 202, 204, 213, 217, 221–22, 225 anta ἄντα 39–40, 39n8, 40n9–n10 anti ἀντί 39–41, 40n10–n11, 41n14, 42, 42n17 apo ἀπό 7–8, 12, 26, 26n25, 27–28, 30n30, 33, 37–38, 37n2, 42, 45–64, 47n26, 49n36, 57n55, 59n59, 60n64, 60n65, 67, 68n5, 69–83, 70n13, 70n15, 72n19, 77n28, 90, 93, 126, 129, 163n25, 175, 185, 201–2, 211, 214–19, 215n13, 221, 224n31, 225, 228, 230–31, 231n45, 235–36, 238–39, 250–53, 263, 263n10–n11, 280 – agent 211, 214–18 – ἀπό vs. ὑπό 37–64, 218,224n31 – cause 79–81, 230–31, 238 – distance 250–53 – origin 73–74, 263 – partitive 75–76 – source 71–73, 126 – temporal 76–79 area 18, 21, 23, 25, 25n25, 27, 29, 35, 87, 89, 92–97, 116, 126, 128, 130–32, 138, 157, 180, 186, 189–92, 206 Ariel, Mira 111n89, 117 around 12, 25n25, 85, 88–91, 88n15, 88n19, 89n23, 94, 95n38, 96, 106, 117, 162, 179, 181, 206, 248 aspect 29, 44, 89n23, 144, 163n27 associative plural construction 87, 87n13, 118 attendant circumstance 130n16 https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110777895–015

Attic Greek 2, 38–39, 41–42 – Attic-Ionic 39 – Atticists 101n63 – Atticize 88, 218 Aubrey, Michael 7, 8, 11n1, 37, 46n22, 67, 95n38, 111n86, 117, 136n31, 209, 263 Aubrey, Rachel 7, 8, 11n1, 37, 46n22, 67, 95n38, 111n86, 117, 136n31, 209, 263 Autenrieth, Georg 39n8, 40n9, 40n10, 64 avo ἄνω 33–34 Barr, James 2n4, 10 Beekes, Robert S.P. 39n6, 39n7, 64, 69n9, 82 behind 41, 41n14, 44, 61, 79, 167 benefactive 111–16, 111n86, 113n91 beneficiary 126 Bergen, Benjamin K. 164n28, 176, 177, 242n6, 246n32, 247n33, 256, 261, 266 Bernini, Giuliano 109n82, 119 Black, David Alan 2n4, 10, 123n1, 150, 151 Black, Matthew 47n29, 64 Black, Max 243n10, 243n13, 245, 256 Blass, Friedrich 37n2, 64 Boneh, Nora 113n94, 120 Boroditsky, Lera 28n26, 36 Bortone, Pietro 2, 10, 37n2, 64, 70, 77, 82, 88n14, 94n34, 117, 123n3, 125n7, 125n8, 143n39, 145n45, 150 boundedness 21, 24, 88n19, 127, 138, 138n33, 143, 183–89, 192–93, 199, 203, 205, 215, 219, 237, 239, 248 Bowen, Anthony J. 42n16, 64 Brenda, Maria 67n1, 82 Brennan, Susan E. 183n14, 207 Brown, Warren S. 165n30, 177 Brugman, Claudia 11, 23–24, 35, 154, 177 Buck, Carl Darling 41n12, 64 Bussmann, Hadumod 124n6, 150 Bybee, Joan 223n27, 223n30, 239 Byzantine Greek 38, 48n31, 70, 105n71, 119, 275 Campbell, Constantine R. 3n4, 10, 123n3, 125n8, 127n12, 150 Campbell, Douglas A. 147, 150 Cánovas, Cristóbal Pagán 15n15, 36 Carpenter, Kathie L. 145n45, 150 Casasanto, Daniel 96n46, 117

296 

 Topic index

categorize 96, 123, 125, 127, 130, 131n17, 133, 136, 141n37, 160 – categorization 4, 11n4, 17, 23, 23n17, 36, 86, 86n5, 97, 120, 161, 278, 281 cause 7–8, 29, 38, 51, 53, 55–56, 58–59, 59n59, 67, 70n15, 79–82, 79n32, 94, 111–16, 115n97, 126, 136, 136n31, 138, 138n33, 140–41, 143–46, 143n38, 144n42–n43, 145n45, 156, 158, 166, 202, 209–11, 213–24, 219n19, 220n22, 221n25, 228–39, 230n43, 234n53, 239n55, 254 – cause expressions 79–81 – spatial cause 136n30, 141, 143–46, 144n42–n43, 145n45 Chadwick, John 38, 47n27, 64 Chafe, Wallace 106n73, 117 change of state 7, 72, 82, 114, 198, 209, 216–17, 219n20, 224–25, 225n34, 228, 232 Cienki, Alan 226n36, 239 circumstance 4, 14, 130, 158–59, 228, 232, 237 Clark, Eve V. 145, 150 Clark, Herbert H. 28n26, 35, 145n45, 150 Claudi, Ulrike 94n34, 119, 130n16, 150 Clausner, Timothy C. 11n4, 35 Cognitive Linguistics 1–12, 2n4, 3n5, 11n4, 14, 15n10, 24, 35–37, 67n2, 67n4, 68n6, 75n24, 83, 88n19, 96n46, 99n59, 118, 120, 124, 125n8, 153–55, 154n3, 166, 176, 178–82, 179n1, 182n8, 182n11, 184–85, 184n17, 207, 209n1, 224n32, 226n36, 239–40, 241–44, 241n1–n2, 242n5, 246–47, 256–57, 259–64, 260n1, 261n7, 266, 270–74, 277–79, 281–82 collective noun 75, 193–94, 206 Colston, Herbert L. 15n10, 35, 154n3, 178 Colvin, Stephen 41n12, 64 comitative 133n22, 185, 193–95, 198–99, 202–203, 205 common ground 96, 98, 100–101, 105, 108, 111–12, 182, 183n14, 198 compound verb 39–40, 53, 55, 61, 123n2, 151, 156, 162, 163n25, 164, 167–69, 172–75, 263n9, 281 Comrie, Bernard 101n62, 101n64, 103n69, 117 concept/conception 2n4, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11n2, 11n4, 12, 17, 22, 24, 36, 67–68, 80–82, 85n2, 117, 127, 136, 154n3, 157–61, 167–70, 174–76, 178, 182n8, 185, 209n1, 211,

213n11, 219–20, 237, 240, 242n5, 253–54, 256–57, 259, 262, 269, 271, 273, 276, 281 conceptual 4–6, 8, 13n7, 24n22, 36, 71–72, 76, 79, 82, 86–87, 92, 94n34, 96, 107n78, 119, 124, 125n8, 127, 130n16, 133n22, 135–36, 140, 150, 154–55, 154n7, 157–59, 157n11, 159n17, 161–62, 164–65, 167–68, 171, 173–76, 174n39, 178, 180n7, 181n7, 186, 197, 209, 211, 211n8, 216, 220, 234, 241–53, 241n1, 255–57, 263, 264n16, 266, 271–72, 274–75, 277, 280 – conceptual representation 5 – conceptual structure 4, 6, 75 – conceptualization 5, 68–69, 88n15, 95, 96n44, 120, 174, 182–83, 248, 280, see also metaphor conceptual blend 8, 15n12, 154–55, 154n7, 157, 159, 174, 176, 178, 216, 272 conceptual Ground 173–74, 174n39 construal 4–6, 8–9, 11n4, 20–22, 49, 59, 72n18, 81, 123, 125–28, 125n10, 130–41, 131n17, 132n20, 134n24, 138n33, 139n34, 141n37, 143–46, 173, 179, 181–82, 185–86, 189–207, 191n20, 210–11, 214, 216, 218–20, 224, 230–31, 233, 238–39, 253, 256, 260, 263–64, 266 – cause construal 138, 138n33, 140, 220 – location construal 127 – source construal 145n45 – spatial cause construal 141, 143–46, 144n42–n43, 145n45 – spatial construal 128, 181, 189, 205, 251 construction 5, 7, 11n3, 15n8, 16, 36, 40n10, 97n48, 103, 104n70, 105n71, 107n77, 118–19, 125n9, 182n12, 207, 216, 226–27, 233, 275–77 – associative plural construction 87 – boundary construction 9, 251, 256 – cause construction 79, 113–14 – comitative construction 195 – grammatical construction 161n23, 178, 223n28, 240, 271–72, 275 – origin construction 73, 75n25, 76, 263 – partitive construction 75–76 – passive construction 209–11, 210n5, 211n8, 214, 217–18, 222–23, 229, 230n43, 238–39, 239n55 – reflexive construction 101, 103 – source construction 71, 78

Topic index 

– temporal construction 7, 76, 82 – topicalization construction 99–101, 105, 107–8, 110–11, 115n97 – transference construction 81 – εἰς-construction 138 – ἐκ-construction with πίστις 123–24, 123n3, 135–41, 141n36–n37, 143–47 – ἐν-construction with πίστις 123–24, 123n3, 126–35, 129n14, 130n15, 131n17 construction grammar 87n13, 99n57, 100n60, 118–19, 223n27, 240, 273, 277 contact 13–14, 16, 27, 32, 62, 67–69, 79, 81–82, 89–90, 92, 94, 132, 139, 180, 183, 185–86, 188–93, 198, 205, 215, 252–53, 255 container 5, 8, 17–18, 21–23, 29, 67, 67n3, 69–70, 72–74, 76, 78–80, 82, 90, 127–28, 131–33, 131n17, 138, 157, 161, 167–69, 176, 180–87, 180n7, 181n7, 190–91, 197–200, 205–6, 233–36, 238–39, 246n28, 247–48, 251, 253–55, 266 – container schema 5, 8, 17, 69, 73, 76–78, 80, 82, 157, 168–69, 176, 233, 251 – noncontainer 70 containment 13, 15n12, 17–18, 67, 69–70, 90, 127, 128, 132–33, 159, 184–87, 190–91, 193–94, 196, 198, 205–6 control 8, 67, 69, 79, 81, 94, 95n44, 132–33, 140–41, 144, 170, 184, 197–201, 203, 211–14, 211n8, 213n10, 219, 234–35, 237–39, 248–49, 251 – CONTROL IS UP metaphor 96n44, 248–49 coreference 63, 99, 101, 103–4, 107 Cosgrove, Charles H. 147, 150 Cotterell, Peter 2n4, 10 Coulson, Seana 247, 257 count vs. mass 139n35 Cox, Claude E. 48n33, 64 Croft, William 3n5, 9, 10, 11n4, 35, 85n2, 117 Cruse, D. Alan 3n5, 9, 10 Cunliffe, Richard J. 39, 40n9, 64 Cusic, David 89n23, 118 Cuyckens, Hubert 9, 154, 158, 159, 162, 165, 178, 182n8, 182n11, 184n17, 207, 224n32, 226n36, 239, 240, 260n1, 266 Dana, Harvey E. 12n5, 35 Dancygier, Barbara 155n9, 161n23, 169n33, 172, 173n38, 174, 175n42, 178

 297

Daniel, Michael 87n13, 118 Danove, Paul 215n14, 239 dative 39–40, 42–45, 48, 59, 125n9, 133n22, 134, 146, 176, 193–94, 195n21, 197–98, 203–4, 211n6, 264, 264n16 David, Oana 95n47, 118 Davids, Peter H. 37n1, 64 Davidson, Donald 244, 256 Davies, W.D. 255, 256 Dawes, Gregory W. 245n23, 245n25, 256 de Boer, Marinus C. 148, 150 Debrunner, Albert 37n2, 64 DesCamp, Mary Therese 241n1, 256 dia διά 7–8, 12, 21, 43, 48n31, 59, 123n4, 128, 131, 134–35, 137, 140, 142, 147n49, 148n53, 148n59, 149n61, 151, 156, 195, 218–23, 219n19, 219n21, 220n22–n23, 223n29, 225–26, 228–29, 232n46, 264, 280 – channel 8, 197–98, 201, 212, 219–23, 231–33, 236–39 – reason 228 – social meaning 158, 161, 173 – with pistis 123n4, 125–26, 135, 143n40, 146–49 diachronic 2, 7, 38, 61, 67, 77, 82, 85, 93, 101, 214, 224n31 Diggle, James 6n6, 10, 37n3, 64 Dines, Jennifer 48n33, 64 direction 68–69, 72, 183, 219, 232n47, 239, 251–53 – unidirectional 219, 220n21 – multidirectional 220 Dirven, René 9, 68n6, 79n31, 81n33, 83, 159n17, 178 discourse see also topic, 7, 69n8, 76, 79, 85–86, 96, 98–102, 97n49–n50, 97n52, 99n57, 99n59, 104–109, 108n78–n79, 109n80, 109n82, 110–11, 110n83, 111n85, 113–14, 116–17, 155, 166, 172–74, 179, 182n9, 183, 200, 210, 226 distance 61, 67–69, 71–72, 72n19, 76, 82, 86, 216, 227, 237, 250–51, 253 domain 5–6, 8, 11n4, 15, 35, 68, 72, 74–75, 77–78, 82, 86–87, 95–96, 98–108, 127–28, 127n12, 130–31, 154–56, 159, 162–64, 169–70, 195, 202, 209, 211, 219–20, 220n22–n23, 223, 226n36, 227, 234–35, 237–39, 270 – graded domain 127–28, 130–31

298 

 Topic index

Dowty, David R. 29n27, 35 Dryer, Matthew S. 87n13, 118, 210n5, 214n12, 240 Dunn, James D.G. 136n28, 141, 147, 148n53, 149n61, 150, 227n40, 239 Eckhoff, Hanne M. 68n5, 83 Eco, Umberto 260–261, 266 Egerland, Verner 97n49, 97n52, 102n68, 107n75, 118, 119 eis εἰς 12, 16, 20–21, 26–28, 33–34, 51, 59, 71, 75, 77, 92, 108, 126, 129, 133n23, 137–38, 142, 147n48, 156, 165–66, 168–69, 174, 180, 185–96, 191n20, 204, 221, 223, 228, 251–55, 266n19, 267, 279 ek ἐκ 7–8, 12, 28, 31, 33, 35, 49–50, 49n36, 58, 61, 67, 68n5, 69–83, 70n13, 70n15, 77n28, 90–91, 123–26, 123n4, 135–37, 136n28, 139–41, 141n36–n37, 142–48, 143n40, 144n41, 147n49, 148n53, 148n59, 149n61, 150–51, 180, 193–94, 196, 199, 214–19, 215n13, 232n46, 236, 251, 253–55, 262–63, 262n8, 263n9–n11, 265n17, 266, 271, 280 – agent 53, 211, 214–17 – cause 79–81, 140, 230–31 – origin 73–74, 263 – partitive 42, 43n18, 75–76, 139 – source 21, 69, 71–73, 136, 185–89, 201–202, 211, 214–15, 219, 228, 236, 238–39, 251, 253–55 – temporal 76–79 – with pistis 123, 123n4, 124–26, 135–49 embodied 4, 9, 11n4, 36, 38, 71n17, 83, 87, 154, 159n18, 163, 177, 179n2, 207, 223, 246, 261, 281 – embodied experience 5, 73, 159, 179, 200, 209 – embodied simulation 164–65, 165n30, 176, 243n15, 246–47, 246n29, 257, 273, 275 – embodiment 4, 69, 87, 95, 256 emotion 29, 30n30, 31, 59, 81, 95n40, 104, 104n71, 105n71, 216, 241, 247n34, 250–51, 250n41, 253, 256 en ἐν 7–8, 11–12, 16, 18, 21–25, 22n16, 29n29, 32–34, 38, 41–43, 43n20, 54–58, 60, 71, 78–79, 90n25, 91, 104, 112, 114, 123–38, 123n4, 129n14, 130n15, 131n17, 133n22–n23, 140, 142–43, 146, 156–57, 159, 161, 164–68, 175–76, 180–81, 183, 185–206, 213, 216,

219, 225, 228, 230, 232–39, 232n48, 247–49, 247n36, 262, 264n16, 265n17, 266n19, 279 – cause 233–39 – in 1 John 264–66 – socio cultural 157–59, 164, 175 – temporal 28–29 – with pistis 123–35 Engberg-Pedersen, Elisabeth 28n26, 35 epi ἐπί 12–13, 15–16, 18, 23, 25–34, 25n25, 30n30, 45, 56, 61, 77, 80, 89–90, 92, 126, 148n59, 168–69, 171, 174, 180, 186–89, 191–92, 199, 213, 221 Erteschik-Shir, Nomi 97n49, 99n54, 99n55, 100n61, 102n68, 106n74, 118 Evans, Vyvyan 3n5, 9, 10, 11, 36, 71n17, 79n30, 83, 96n46, 118, 179, 180, 182, 183n14, 183n15, 207, 209n1, 239 exo ἔξω 33–35 experiential/encyclopedic knowledge see knowledge Fauconnier, Gilles 154n7, 155, 178, 243n15, 248n38, 257 Feldman, Jerome A. 223n30, 239 Fewster, Gergory P. 241n1, 257 figure 14–15, 15n12, 67n2, 96 Fillmore, Charles 24n23, 24n24, 35, 36, 155, 160–161, 172, 178, 223n28, 240 Fitzmyer, Joseph A. 148–149, 150 force 67n3, 138, 138n33, 141, 143–44, 154–55, 154n3, 166–67, 170, 170n34, 172, 175–76, 211, 213, 213n11, 237, 239 force dynamic 8, 154–55, 154n3, 166–67, 170, 170n34, 172, 175–76, 178, 213n11, 280 foreground 14, 179, 181–83 frame 5, 8, 11n4, 24–25, 24n23–n24, 36, 75, 97–98, 106, 154–55, 155n8, 158–64, 160n19, 161n23, 163n25, 166, 168–73, 176, 178, 218, 224, 226–27, 226n36, 229–31, 230n43, 233–36, 238–39, 244, 260, 270, 272, 277, 279 – frame setting 97–98 – physical-spatial frame 159–60 – semantic frame 154–55, 161, 161n23, 164, 172, 224, 227, 230n43, 231, 234 – socio-cultural frame 158–62, 164, 171, 173, 176, 224, 226, 238 frame element 161–62, 166, 171, 173

Topic index 

Fraser, B. L. 6n6, 10, 64 Funk, Robert W. 37n2, 64 Gager, John G. 148n58, 150 Gallarte, Muñoz 128n13, 134n24, 151 García-Miguel, José M. 224n32, 240 Garnsey, Peter 227, 240 Geden, Alfred S. 38n5, 47, 48n30, 60n67, 65 Geeraerts, Dirk 1, 3n5, 9, 10, 154, 178, 182n8, 182n11, 184n17, 207, 224n32, 226n36, 239, 240, 241n2, 241n4, 245, 246n27, 257, 260n1, 261n7, 266 genitive 40, 42–45, 45n21, 47, 57–58, 60–61, 75n24, 83, 125–26, 125n9, 135, 136n27, 139n34, 147, 151, 221–22, 278–79 – partitive genitive 42, 43n18, 47, 64 – subjective genitive 135, 136n27 – with ἀπό 7, 37–38, 42, 57–58, 64 – with διά 133n22, 134, 219–20, 219n21, 220n22 – with ἐκ 42, 43n18 – with ἐπί 45 – with μετά 158, 166 – with παρά 45 – with περί 101 – with ὑπό 7, 37–38, 44, 47, 58, 60 George, Coulter H. 37n2, 62, 64 Gestalt 67, 96, 96n45, 119, 160, 276 Gibbs, Raymond W. 15n10, 36, 67n4, 83, 154n3, 178, 242n6, 243, 247n35, 256, 257 Givón, Talmy 94n35, 99–100, 109, 110n83, 118 goal 8, 68, 71–72, 78–79, 89, 126, 136, 183, 193–94, 219, 219n19–n20, 220n23, 221, 231, 237–38, 249 – goal-oriented 71 Goldberg, Adele E. 87n13, 100n60, 107n77, 118, 223n27, 240, 242n5, 257 Goldstein, David 108n78, 108n79, 110n84, 118 Grady, Joseph 67n4, 83, 95n41, 96n47, 118 grammatical role 101, 105–7, 214 grammaticalize 11n2, 33n31, 73, 86n7, 87n12, 94, 94n33–n35, 95, 95n43, 130, 130n16, 138–39, 145–46, 163n27, 211, 214, 223–24, 223n27, 226 Grasso, Kevin 111, 147n47, 150 Gray, Allison 241n1, 257 Green, Melanie 3n5, 9, 10, 209n1, 239 Gregory, Michelle L. 107n77, 118

 299

ground 14, 67n2, 76, 93, 125n7, 126, 146n46, 174, 174n39 Guarddon-Anelo, Maria del Carmen 86n7, 118, 163n27, 178 Gundel, Jeanette K. 109n82, 118 Gupta, Nijay 241n1, 257 Hagen Pifer, Jeanette 124, 150 Hagner, Donald A. 254n45, 254n47, 257 Harris, Murray J. 3n, 10, 37n2, 50–53, 65, 125n8, 150, 218, 240, 263n9, 264n12, 264n13, 266 Hartvigsen, Kirsten Marie 241n1, 257 Haspelmath, Martin 85n2, 86n7, 87n13, 94n35, 95n39, 99n59, 118 Hays, Richard B. 135n26, 136n28, 147n47, 150, 250n40, 257 Hebrew 21n15, 40, 96n44, 212, 234n53, 264 Heim, Erin 8, 241, 241n3, 242n6, 242n9, 244n18, 244n19, 257 Heine, Bernd 87n12, 94n34, 94n35, 94n36, 118, 119, 120, 130n16, 150 Hellenistic Greek 38, 41, 42n15, 65, 70–71, 87, 212n9, 217, 220, 220n22–n23, 227n38, 229, 229n41, 281 hermeneutics 9, 124, 261 Herskovits, Annette 8, 8n7, 10, 154, 157, 158, 159, 165, 167, 168, 170, 174, 176, 178 Hittite 39 Holton, David 70n13, 83 honor/shame, cultural frame 8, 56, 156, 158, 160–62, 164, 167–73, 175–77, 198, 264n16 Hoop, Helen de 75n22, 75n25, 83 Hope, Edward R. 123n1, 150 horizontal 8, 90, 185–86, 188–93, 196–97, 199, 202–3, 205 Horrocks, Geoffrey 48n32, 65, 83, 104n71, 105n71, 119, 126, 127n11, 136n30, 150 Howard, George 38n5, 65, 147, 150 Howe, Bonnie 7, 8, 11n1, 24, 36, 153, 241n1, 257 Huddleston, Rodney 145, 151, 210, 240 Hult, Karin 37n2, 65, Humbert, Jean 264n13, 267 Hünnemeyer, Friederike 94n34, 119, 130n16, 150 Idealized Cognitive Model 157, 157n12, 159–60, 226n36, 239, 270 image schema see schema

300 

 Topic index

inclusion/exclusion, cultural frame 8, 56, 157, 159, 176–77 instrument 8, 43, 60n63, 126, 133–34, 133n22, 143–44, 146, 158, 181n7, 197–200, 203, 221–22, 233, 237, 241 – instrumental 7, 39, 40n9, 59, 124, 125n9, 132n20, 133n22–n23, 134–35, 146–48, 181, 193, 197–99, 202, 233, 264–65 interiority 127–28, 132–33, 138–39, 138n33, 143 intermediary 8, 219, 221–23, 229, 232, 237–39 Irmer, Matthias 111n85, 119 Jackendoff, Ray 85, 85n1, 119 Jacobs, Joachim 97n51, 98, 98n53, 107n75, 119 James, Patrick 6–7, 6n6, 10, 37–64 Jannaris, Antonios N. 37n2, 61–62, 61n68, 65 Johannessohn, Martin 37n2, 65 Johnson, Mark 15n11, 28n26, 36, 75n23, 83, 95n40, 119, 154, 154n3, 154n5, 159n18, 178, 209n2, 211n8, 213n10–n11, 240, 242n6, 243, 243n11, 246, 246n30, 247n35, 248n38–n39, 257 Kamp, Albert H. 241n1, 257 Kappler, Werner 46, 46n23, 65 kata κατά 12, 21, 33, 44–45, 74, 92, 126, 137, 162, 167, 188, 190, 195, 232n47 kato κάτω 33–34, 71 Kay, Paul 161n23, 178, 223n28, 240 Kechagias, Axiotis 107n78, 119 Keenan, Edward L. 210n5, 214n12, 240 Kim, Eunmi 104n71, 105n71, 119 Kintsch, Walter 182n12, 207, 243n15, 257 Kiss, Katalin É. 207n78, 108n78, 119 knowledge experiential/encyclopedic knowledge 4–6, 11n4, 14, 25, 34–35, 86, 88, 70, 155, 161, 182–84, 188, 191, 210, 226–27, 239 – linguistic knowledge 4 – knowledge and conceptual domains 5, 11n4, 86 Koffka, Kurt 96n45, 119 Konietzko, Andreas 107n75, 109n81, 119 Kövecses, Zoltán 87n10, 119, 247n34, 250n41, 257 Krifka, Manfred 89n22, 98n56, 119 Kuhring, Gualtherus 37n2, 65 Kuss, Otto 149n61, 151 Kuteva, Tania 94n36, 118 Kuthy, Kordula de 107n75, 109n81, 119

Labov, William 86n6, 119 Lagrange, Marie-Joseph 149n61, 151 Lakoff, George 15, 15n9, 17n13, 22–23, 23n17, 28n26, 29n28, 36, 67n3, 75n23, 83, 95n40, 119, 154, 154n3–n4, 157n12, 177–78, 209n2, 211n8, 213n10–n11, 240, 242n6, 243, 243n11, 243n15, 246, 246n30, 247n35, 248n38–n39, 257 Lambrecht, Knud 97n49, 98n54, 101n67, 104n70, 119–20 landmark 5, 7, 14–16, 19, 21–22, 27, 31, 33–35, 67–74, 72n19, 76–78, 80–82, 87–95, 92n28, 95n38, 96, 100, 108–9, 112–16, 126–34, 127n12, 128n13, 131n17, 134n24, 136–44, 138n33, 139n35, 141n37, 182–86, 191–95, 198–203, 205–6, 211–16, 211n8, 219–24, 220n21, 230, 232–35, 239, 247, 249–53, 263 – agent landmark 211, 211n8, 216, 224, 250–51 – bounded landmark 7, 69, 72, 77, 82, 88, 92, 133–34, 134n24, 184–86, 191,198, 202–3, 206, 215, 219, 233–34 – bodies of water landmark 189–192 – cause landmark 80–81, 140, 212–14, 216, 222, 224, 235, 239 – fire landmark 199–202 – goal landmark 89, 252 – graded landmark 128, 130–31 – hands landmark 197–99 – militiary forces landmark 193–95 – mountains landmark 186–89 – path landmark 249 – source landmark 69, 72n19, 73, 78, 80, 82, 214 – topic landmark 115–16 – unbounded landmark 23, 92 – weapons landmark 202–205 Langacker, Ronald 11, 11n2, 12n6, 14, 36, 86n8, 119, 179, 209n1, 209n3, 224n32, 240 LaPolla, Randy J. 107n76, 121 Latin 38–39, 38n4, 39n7, 54–55, 61–62, 62n71, 133n22 Lawler, John 24n24, 36 Lee, John A.L. 42n16, 47n27, 65 left dislocation 107, 107n75, 109–10 Lehmann, Christian 94n33, 119 Leino, Jaako 99n57, 119 Levinsohn, Stephen H. 182n9, 207 Lewandowska-Tomaszczyk, Barbara 182n11, 207

Topic index 

lexical 1, 2n4, 7, 23, 24n24, 38, 40, 42n16, 82, 85–87, 86n4, 89n22, 93–96, 94n34–n35, 96n44, 96n47, 111–17, 111n86, 124n6, 125, 125n9, 127, 127n12, 134n24, 136, 146, 154n4, 154n4, 161–62, 182, 206, 226, 238, 239n55 lexical network 7, 85–87, 93–96, 94n34, 96n44, 111–12, 111n86, 114–17, 154n4 lexicography 1–2, 37n1, 47n27, 64, 85, 124, 247, 270 – lexicographer 1, 8, 11, 47, 180, 196, 205 Lightfoot, J. B. 143n40, 148, 148n54, 151 Lindner, Susan 11, 11n3, 23, 23n19, 36 location 8, 14, 27, 29, 34–35, 43–45, 56, 68–69, 71–72, 78, 87–95, 90n24, 92n27, 95n38, 126–27, 130–31, 130n16, 141, 157, 164, 166–67, 170, 175, 180–81, 183–84, 186–91, 198–201, 206, 211, 211n8, 215–16, 219n20, 220n23, 231, 234, 237, 248–50, 252 – metaphorical location 169, 237–38, 248–49 – metonymic location 168 – reference domain 106 – socio-cultural location 160 – structural location 101 locative 7–8, 15, 15n8, 28, 33, 39, 40, 43, 83, 92–93, 95, 107, 133n22, 153–54, 157–59, 161, 164–65, 167–68, 176–77, 264–65, 264n15–n16 Longenecker, Richard N. 148, 148n55, 149n61, 151 Louw, Johannes P. 162–63, 163n24, 163n26–n27, 178 Luraghi, Silvia 2, 2n1–n2, 3n4, 10, 70, 70n10–n12, 70n14–n15, 73, 73n20–21, 77, 77n26, 83, 88n14, 88n16, 88n18, 93n30, 119, 125n7, 125n10, 127n11, 130n16, 131, 131n18–n19, 133n22, 134n25, 136, 136n29–n31, 139n35, 151, 180n7, 181n7, 183n16, 197, 197n22–n23, 207, 209n4, 211, 211n6–n8, 216n15, 217n17, 220n22–n24, 221n25, 222n26, 233, 233n51, 240, 241n4, 246n31, 247, 247n36, 251n42–n43, 252, 252n44, 257 Lutz, Leonhard 94n34, 119 Luz, Ulrich 254n46, 255n48, 257 Macwhinney, Brian 223n30, 240 Mandler, Jean 13n7, 15n10–n11, 36

 301

Mangalath, Praful 182n12, 207 manner  – use of ἐν 126, 130–31, 134 – use of κατα- 45 – use of μετά 126, 158–59 – manner vs. attendant circumstance 130n16 – extension comitative to manner 133n22 Mantey, Julius R. 12n5, 35 map, mapping 8, 16, 22, 73, 78, 95–96, 154, 155n10, 159, 164, 169, 174, 176, 178, 211, 211n8, 213, 216, 220–21, 220n23, 228, 231, 237–38, 260, 272. – map source to target 6, 8, 78, 95–96, 159, 164, 169, 176, 211, 216, 220, 231, 237–38 – map of ἐν construals 135. – map of ἐκ construals 144 – metonymic mapping 154 Marchant, E.C. 42n17, 65 markedness 104 Marshall, I.Howard 38n5, 47, 48n30, 60n67, 65 Marshall, J. 41n14, 65 Martini, Carlo M. 47n29, 64 Maslova, Elena 109n82, 119 Matlock, R.Barry 147, 147n51, 151 Matlock, Teenie 28n26, 36, 243n15, 257 means 143n40, 147–49, 181–82, 198, 201–3, 221–22, 232, 236, 238, 248 Medieval Greek 70, 70n13, 77, 83, 88, 106, 274 mental space 8, 154–55, 157, 159n17, 173–74, 176, 178, 271 Mervis, Carolyn 23n17, 36 meta μετά 126, 132, 133n22, 156, 158–59, 161, 164–66, 173, 193–95 metaphor, conceptual 6–9, 24, 24n22, 27–28, 28n26, 31–32, 36, 73, 75n23, 76, 79n31, 82–83, 86n7, 87n10, 88n17, 94n32, 95n40–n42, 96n47, 118–20, 154n5, 155, 163n27, 164, 167, 172, 175n43, 176, 178, 180n7, 182, 193, 211n7–n8, 218, 223n30, 227n40, 234, 239–53, 242n6, 242n8, 242n10, 243n10–n15, 244n19, 245n20–n26, 246n30, 247n34–n35, 248n38–n39, 250n41, 255–58, 265–66, 264n15, 269–81 – AN INTERMEDIARY IS A CHANNEL FOR AN ULTIMATE CAUSE 222 – AREA metaphor 95–96, 114, 116 – ASSOCIATION IS CONNECTION 95 – BODIES ARE CONTAINERS 235, 253 – CATEGORIES ARE REGIONS 95

302 

 Topic index

– CAUSATION IS CONTROL OVER AN ENTITY RELATIVE TO A LOCATION 248–49 – channel metaphor 8, 198, 223, 231, 238 – COMMUNICATION IS MOTION ALONG A PATH 96 – container metaphor 8, 90, 181n7, 190, 193, 197, 199, 238, 248, 266 – CONTROL IS UP 96n44, 248–49 – courtroom metaphor 235 – EMOTIONAL CLOSENESS IS PHYSICAL CLOSENESS 250, 253 – EVENTS PROCEED FROM A SOURCE 216 – GROUP MEMBERSHIP IS CONTAINMENT 159 – HAPPY IS UP 247 – HONOR IS UP 175 – HOUSE IS A CONTAINER 157 – IDEAS ARE LOCATIONS 248 – IDEAS ARE OBJECTS 249 – IMPORTANT IS CENTRAL 247, 250, 252–53, 255 – location metaphor 237–38 – metaphor theory 9, 23, 241, 241n1, 241n3, 242–44, 247–49, 256, 260–61 – metaphor, list of key texts 243 – metaphoric extension 70, 73, 78, 95–96, 125, 125n8, 127, 136, 184–85, 214, 248–49 – metaphorical 29, 29n28, 35, 72, 96, 133, 146, 154, 169–70, 181, 190, 193–95, 201–203, 219, 244, 264 – REASONS ARE SUPPORTS metaphor 33 – SAD IS DOWN 247 – SIMILARITY IS PROXIMITY 95 – slavery metaphor 233 – SOCIAL ACCOMPANIMENT IS PHYSICAL-SPATIAL CONTIGUITY 159 – SOCIAL GROUPS ARE CONTAINERS 169 – source metaphor 201, 211, 238 – SPATIAL SUPERIORITY IS CONTROL 213n10, STATUS IS UP 175 – textual metaphor 244–45, 249–50 – THE BODY IS A CONDUIT 253 – THE OBJECT COMES OUT OF THE SUBSTANCE metaphor 75 – TIME IS SPACE metaphor 28, 79 – TOPIC OF DISCUSSION IS AREA COVERED DURING MOTION 96 – WHOLES ARE ORIGINS 75 metonymy 154–55, 164n6, 158n15, 162, 167, 171–72, 178, 271, 274 – metonymy in grammaticalization 86n7, 118, 163n27

– metonymy vs. metaphor 159 – metonymy, definition of 162 – PLACEMENT FOR SOCIAL STATUS 168 – speech-act frame metonymy 161n23 Metzger, Bruce M. 47n29, 64, 124n6, 151 Michaelis, Laura A. 107n77, 118 Modern Greek 61, 70n13, 83, 88, 94n33, 101, 101n65, 107n78, 119–20, 217, 274–75, 280 Moir, Ian A. 48n31, 65 Molnár, Valéria 97n49, 97n52, 102n68, 107n75, 118, 120 Moo, Douglas J. 148, 148n56, 148n60, 151 Moravcsik, Edith 87n13, 109n82, 118 motion 8, 15n12, 16, 43n19, 44–45, 59, 68–73, 80, 82, 88–90, 92, 94, 96–97, 136, 138–39, 141, 143, 166, 168, 175, 183, 193–94, 198, 215–16, 218–21, 237–38, 251 motivation 78, 140–41, 144, 144n43, 211, 225, 229, motivating context 160–61 Moulton, William F. 38n5, 47, 48n30, 60n67, 65, 123n2, 152 Muñoz Gallarte, Israel 128n13, 134n24, 151 Myhill, John 97n50, 120 Naber, Samuel Adrianus 37n2, 65 Nariyama, Shigeko 110n83, 120 narrative 9, 52, 135n26, 155, 158, 164–65, 165n29, 168–69, 171–74, 172n36, 174n39, 175n42, 219n19, 256, 260 narrative anchor 168–69, 172–75, 175n42 Narrog, Heiko 87n12, 94n35, 118, 120 Nes, Jermo van 115n26, 151 Nida, Eugene A. 23, 23n18, 36 Nikiforidou, Kiki 75n24, 83 nominal 61, 89n22–n23, 94, 113n91, 119, 129–30, 138–39, 209n4, 276 – nominalized 123n3, 232 nominative 129n14, 209–10, 209n4, 234n53 nonprototypical 224–25, 238, 265, see also prototype noun 7, 37–40, 40n10–n11, 42–45, 47, 55–58, 63, 100, 107n76, 113n91, 139n35, 181, 184–86, 196–97, 202–203 noun phrase 99–105, 107, 109, 145n45 O’Connor, Mary Catherine 223n28, 240 O’Dowd, Elizabeth 88n15, 92n28, 97n48, 120 Oakley, Todd V. 184, 184n17, 207

Topic index 

object 5, 14, 43, 59, 89, 101, 132n20, 209–10, 209n4, 224–25, 228 orientation 14, 67n3, 68, 70–72, 82, 97n48, 154n5, 185–86, 213–14, 247–48 orientation metaphor 211n8, 213n10 origin  – original meaning 95, 131m17, 149n63, 150, 163, 269 – WHOLES ARE ORIGINS metaphor 75 – with ἀντί 39, 40n10, 41n14 – with διά 238 – with ἐκ and ἀπό 7, 46, 49–56, 58, 61, 63, 70–71, 70n15, 73–76, 75n25, 73–76, 75n25, 79, 79n32, 82, 136, 138–41, 138n33, 141n37, 143, 145, 211–12, 215, 218, 250–51, 262–63 – with κατά 45 – with περί 87 – with ὑπό 53 papyrus 2, 48, 60n61, 92n29, 133n22, 150, 236n54, 240 – documentary papyri 45, 109n82, 48 – Papyrus 45 57 – Papyrus 46 54 – Papyrus 74 60n65 – Papyrus 75 57 para παρά 12, 23, 25–26, 25n25, 26n25, 29, 44–45, 54, 61–62, 131, 143, 167–68, 185, 190–91, 201, 232n47, 234, 263, 264n11 part-whole 67n3, 75, 136, 162 particle 11, 11n3, 88n15, 92n28, 97n48, 127n11, 171, 179, 182–83, 185, 197, 205, 252 partitive 7, 47, 47n26, 55, 58, 64, 70n15, 74–76, 75n22, 75n25, 82–83, 138, 274 – partitive genitive 42, 43n18, 47, 64 – partitive expression 74–75 – set vs. entity partitive 75–76 – partitive construal 139–40, 139n34 passive 46, 49–53, 55–57, 57n53, 58–59, 209–11, 211n6, 214, 214n12, 216–18, 222–25, 229–31, 236, 240, 275 – passive construction 209–11, 210n5, 211n8, 214, 217–18, 222–23, 229, 230n43, 238–39, 239n55 – passive verb 51, 55, 57, 63, 224 path 8, 18–22, 25–26, 29, 67–69, 88, 92, 92n28, 96, 180, 201, 237, 249 – grammaticalization path 73, 75, 82, 94, 211, 214

 303

– image schema 67n3, 88, 96, 182–84 – radial path 90, 90n24 – source-path-goal schema 8, 71, 78, 92, 136, 219, 219n19, 231, 238 – temporal path 77–78 – with διά 126, 212, 219–23, 220n21, 220n23, 232, 238–39 – with ἐκ 215 patient 126, 209–10, 214, 217, 224–25, 228 pedagogy 9, 259 Pennington, Jonathan T. 9, 259–67 peri περί 7, 12, 56, 78, 85–87, 85n3, 88n14–n15, 89–96, 89n23, 94n34, 99–117, 101n66, 104n71, 111n86, 113n91, 115n97, 126 Pesetsky, David Michael 113n94, 114n96, 120 philosophy 3, 159n18, 241–47, 261, 261n7, 262n7 pistis christou πίστις Χρίστου 7, 124, 124n5, 125n9, 134, 136, 136n28, 146–49, 147n47, 150–51, 271, 273, 279, 281 Pitts, Andrew W. 125n9, 151 place 43, 68, 90, 154, 157, 157n11, 164, 168, 174, 263 plexity 88, 139, 139n35 – multiplex 88, 139n35 – uniplex 88, 90, 139n35 plural 156, 158, 234n53 – associative plural construction 87, 87n13, 89, 89n23 Polinsky, Maria 97n49, 120 Porter, Stanley E. 123n3, 125, 125n8–n9, 144n42–n43, 149, 149n62, 151 possessor 81 pragmatic 3, 28n26, 35, 94n32, 95n42, 98–100, 101n67, 102, 107, 107n76, 107n77, 108n79, 109, 109n82, 112–20, 111n88–n89, 177, 269, 272–73, 278–80 – discourse-pragmatic 7, 86, 98–100, 107, 111, 113, 117 prefix 33, 35, 39, 42, 44, 63, 156, 162–64, 168, 172–73, 175, 186–89, 191, 191n20, 249–50, 252–53, 263n9, see also preverb – verbal prefix 33, 35, 186–89, 191 – prefix vs. preposition 33, 163n27, 263n9 – prefix ἀμφί 39 – prefix ἀνά 186, 188 – prefix ἀπό 63, 249–50, 252 – prefix διά 173 – prefix εἰσ- 33, 168, 191n20, 253

304 

 Topic index

– prefix ἐκ- 35, 253 – prefix κατά 162, 175, 187–88, 191–92 – prefix πρός 252 – prefix σύν 168 Pretor, A. 41n14, 65 preverb 42, 44, see also prefix – preverb ἀμφί 39 – preverb ἀπό 57, 61, 63 – preverbal 15n10, 36, 277 profile 5–8, 11, 18–19, 19n14, 21, 23, 25–27, 35, 67, 69, 71–72, 72n19, 79, 81, 91, 94, 117, 179–207, 195n21, 216–17, 219–20, 239, 251–52 – profiled relationship 5–6, 182, 198 – profiling 14–15, 17, 22, 25–27, 67, 71, 180, 185–94, 197–200, 202–5, 216, 253, 263 pronoun 42n17, 45, 85n2, 104 Prothro, James B. 147n47, 151 protoscene 183–85, 192–94, 196, 202, 205–7 prototype 5–6, 17–18, 18–19n4, 23, 86, 125n10, 126–27, 133–34, 138, 154, 181–82, 182n11, 205, 207, 224–25, 267, 277. – prototypical 8, 18, 69, 71, 73, 86, 114, 115n97, 127, 136–37, 154, 157–59, 174, 177, 185–87, 191, 197–98, 205–6, 209n4, 212–15, 224–25, 224n33, 232, 236, 238–39, 246n28, 247, 247n36, 248–51, 253–54, 264–65 – nonprototypical 224–25, 238, 265 – prototype semantics 8 – prototype effects 86, 97 prototype theory 8, 124–25, 136, 149, 176, 181, 205–6, 241–42, 241n4, 244, 246–49, 251, 256–57, 266n19, 272, 279 proximity 73, 95–96, 96n46, 117, 132, 132n21, 158, 165–66, 168, 185, 186, 190–91, 193, 201, 203, 205, 218, 253, 270 Pullum, Geoffrey K. 145, 145n44, 151, 210n5, 240 purity, cultural frame 129, 158, 160, 165, 168, 173, 254–56, 254n47 purpose 86–87, 94, 111–12, 111n86, 115–16 Question-under-Discussion 108–111, 108n79, 109n80 Radden, Günter 68n6, 79n31, 81n33, 83, 154n6, 178

radial network, radial category 5–6, 22–23, 31, 33, 35, 154, 182n11, 185, 207, 245, 247, 277 – radial extension 8, 182, 193, 202, 205–207 – radial path 88, 90 Rahlfs, Alfred 46, 46n24, 48, 65 Ramscar, Michael 28n26, 36 reason 15n11, 42n17, 51, 56–57, 80, 138n33, 154n3, 178, 220–21, 220n22, 221n25, 237–39, 242n6, 257, 275–76 – REASONS ARE SUPPORTS metaphor 33 – reason with διά 228–30, 232, 239 – reason with περί 114–15 Reinhart, Tanya 101, 101n67, 120 Reynolds, Jeremy R. 178 Rhodes, Richard A. 6, 8, 11–36, 24n24, 179–80, 179n1, 180n4–n7, 183, 183n16, 189–90, 190n19, 205 Richards, I. A. 242n8, 244n17, 244n19, 257 Riemann, O. 42n15, 65 Roberts, Craige 108n79, 109n80, 120 Robertson, A. T. 125n7, 133n22, 151 Rochemont, Michael 98n57, 120 Rosch, Eleanor 23n17, 36 Ross, William A. 1–9, 37n1, 123–50 Rossberg, Conradus 37n2, 65, 133n22, 151 Rumelhart, David E. 243n13, 258 Runge, Steven E. 1–9, 37n1, 179–207, 233, 233n52, 266, 266n19, 267 Saldarini, Anthony J. 227n38, 240 salience 5, 88, 93, 96, 99–100, 108–9, 111, 114, 116, 127–28, 179, 182, 188–89, 192, 198–99, 248 Saller, Richard 227n39, 240 schema, image schema 5, 11n4, 15–19, 15n10–n12, 22–23, 32, 35–36, 67, 67n3–n4, 69–73, 72n19, 76–78, 80–83, 87, 89n23, 91–96, 102, 117, 133n22, 154, 154n2–n3, 154n5, 155, 157, 160, 162, 168–69, 171, 176, 178, 183n16, 184, 184n17, 207, 215, 219–20, 227–28, 231, 233, 238, 249, 251, 255, 270, 273, 277–78 – schematic structure 7–8, 67, 70, 82, 176, 219, 238 – schematic elements and properties 78, 89n23, 92, 94–96, 102, 117 – schematize 5, 78, 94 – container schema 5, 8, 17, 69, 73, 76–78, 80, 82, 157, 168–69, 176, 233, 251

Topic index 

Schlatter, Adolf 148n59, 151 Schmid, Hans-Jörg 9 Schulze, Rainer 88n15, 120 Schwyzer, Eduard 37n2, 65 Searle, John R. 243n13, 258 semantic extension 95–96, 115–16, 135, 144, 197 semantic role 2n1, 10, 79n10, 81, 83, 89, 96, 103–4, 119, 125, 125n7, 125n10, 126–27, 130–31, 132n20, 133n22–n23, 134–36, 138, 140–41, 143, 145, 151, 181n7, 183n16, 207, 216n15, 221, 224, 228, 240, 241n4, 257, 277 Septuagint (LXX) 2, 21, 21n5, 25n25, 29, 29n30, 32, 33n32, 37n2, 42n16, 46, 46n23–n24, 47n25, 47n27, 48, 48n33, 56, 59, 60n61, 64–65, 88n17, 89, 89n23, 90, 105–6, 110, 112, 113n93, 114, 115, 115n97, 119, 147n47, 151, 202, 207, 212, 212n9, 216, 228, 232, 234n53, 235, 263n9–n10, 264, 270–71, 275, 277, 279–82 Siegal, Elitzur A.Bar-Asher 113n94, 120 Sihler, Andrew L. 39n7, 40n9, 65 Silva, Moisés 2n4, 10 simulation, mental 164–65, 165n30, 176, 243n15, 246–47, 246n29, 257, 273, 275 singular 39, 40n9, 89 Skopeteas, Stavros 101n65, 120 Smyth, Herbert W. 124, 125n7, 151 Sommer, Elisabeth 145n45, 151 Sommerstein, Alan H. 43n19, 65 Soskice, Janet Martin 242n8, 243n10, 244, 244n19, 245–46, 245n20–n21, 245n23–n24, 245n26, 258 source 6–8, 46, 53–55, 58, 59n59, 63, 67–69, 68n5, 70n15, 71–73, 72n19, 75–76, 78–83, 79n32, 96, 126, 136–38, 138n33, 143n40, 145n45, 150, 183, 201, 211, 214–16, 218–19, 219n19–n20, 220n23, 221, 229–31, 236–39, 253–56, 270, 280 – material source 72–73, 75–76 – source construction 71–73, 75 – source domain 6, 78, 96, 154 – spatial source 8, 78, 215, 238 – with ἐκ and ἀπό 7–8, 55, 58, 59n59, 63, 67, 69, 71–82, 126, 136–38, 201, 211, 214–16, 218–19, 230–31, 236–39, 253–56 source-path-goal schema 8, 71, 78, 136, 183, 219, 219n19, 221, 231, 237–38

 305

space 15n10, 18, 23, 28n26, 35–36, 39, 67, 68, 69n7, 71, 75–76, 82–83, 87n9, 87n11, 88, 90n24, 91n26, 92, 92n27, 93n31, 94n37, 96n44, 96n46, 104, 117–18, 120, 124, 127n11, 136n30, 143, 149n63, 150, 157, 159n17, 161, 167–71, 185–86, 206, 209, 219–20, 220n23, 223, 237, 248, 250–51, 264, 269–72, 274–75, 277, 280–81 – mental space 8, 154–55, 157, 159n17, 173–74, 176, 178, 271 – bounded space 8, 72, 184–86, 187–94, 198–200, 203, 205–6, 220, 238 – TIME IS SPACE metaphor 28, 79, 86n7, 87, 95n39, 205, 220n23 – space, conceptual domain 86–87, 86n7, 95, 95n39, 211, 223 – discursive space 95 – social space 153, 157, 164, 166, 170–71, 176 – narrative space 169, 174, 174n39 spatial 8–10, 8n7, 11n4, 28n26, 33, 36, 53, 60–61, 67–68, 67n1, 69n7, 71–73, 71n17, 72n19, 78–79, 79n31–n32, 82–83, 86–88, 86n4, 87n9, 92, 92n27, 94–96, 94n34, 94n37, 106n73, 120, 126–28, 132, 134, 136–37, 136n31, 141, 143–46, 144n42–n43, 145n45, 153–54, 154n2, 154n5, 157–59, 157n11, 157n13, 161–62, 163n25, 164, 166–70, 167n31, 168n32, 174n40, 175–86, 175n43, 179n2, 182n8, 183n16, 188–97, 199, 201, 203, 205, 207, 209, 211–15, 211n7–n8, 213n10, 218–20, 220n22–n23, 224, 233, 237–40, 247–48, 250–51, 253, 255, 263, 269, 274, 277–82 – nonspatial 68, 184, 214, 247–48 – spatial profile 67, 185, 196, 239, 263 – spatial prototype 6, 126, 134, 136 – spatial particle 179, 182–83 – spatial proximity 73, 166 – spatial-locative 8, 153–54, 157, 159, 164, 168, 176–77 – spatial configuration 8, 67–68, 72n19, 238 – spatial domain 15, 68, 78, 154, 220 – spatial cause 136n31, 141, 143–46, 144n42–n43, 145n45 – spatial scene 9, 11, 13, 67–68, 71n17, 83, 179–86, 179n2, 189–96, 199, 207, 211–12 – spatial source 8, 78, 215, 238

306 

 Topic index

– spatial relation 7, 47, 67–68, 71–72, 82, 87n9, 92n27, 169, 184, 186, 192, 194, 196–97, 199, 201, 203, 205, 207, 211, 237, 250–251 Speer, Nicole K. 165n29, 178 Steadman, Geoffrey 41n14, 65 Stone, E.D. 41n14, 65 Stowers, Stanley K. 148n59, 151 Strawn, Brad D. 165n30, 177 subject 45, 51, 98, 102, 102n68, 103–4, 106n73, 107, 209–11, 209n4, 210n5, 211n6, 214, 224–25, 228, 245, 247, 249 sun σύν 133n22, 168, 193, 195, 200 superiority 87, 96n44, 167, 211–12, 213n10, 214, 224, 237 surface 8, 16, 19–21, 19n14, 22n16, 27, 127n12, 157, 180, 186–92, 205 Svorou, Soteria 87n9, 87n11, 90n24, 91n26, 92n27, 93n31, 120 Swallow, Khena M. 178 Swart, Peter de 68n5, 83 Sweetser, Eve 11n1, 93, 94n32, 95n42–n43, 120, 154, 154n5, 161n23, 163n25, 175n43, 178 Swete, Henry B. 46, 46n23, 65, 207 Sykes, Simon 1 syntactic role 209, 209n4, see also grammatical role Talmy, Leonard 88n19, 94n37, 96n46, 120, 154n3, 170–71, 170n34, 171n35, 178, 213n11, 240 Tannehill, Robert C. 172, 172n36, 178 Taubenschlag, Raphael 236n54, 240 Taylor, Greer M. 147n47, 151 Taylor, John R. 67n2, 83, 86n5, 88n20, 120–21 telic 29, 29n29, 219n20, 232, atelic 89, 219, telicity 29, 29n29 temporal 28n26, 36, 89n22, 104, 114, 119, 170, 184, 211, 276, 278, see also time – temporal adverb 40, 86n7, 118, 274 – temporal duration 78, 220n23 – temporal sequence 79, 79n32, 215 – temporal stage topic 106–7, 106n73 – temporal use ἀπό 7, 70n15, 76–79, 79n32, 82 – temporal use εἰς 126 – temporal use ἐκ 7, 70n15, 76–79, 79n32, 82 – temporal use ἐν 28, 264, 264n16 – temporal use ἐπί 27–28 Thackeray, Henry St John 37n2, 48n33, 65

Thomason, Olga 68n5, 83 Thompson, Anne 1 time 28n26, 39, 42, 79n29, 89n23, 118, 124, 127n11, 136n30, 150, 264n16, 270, 272, 274, 275, see also temporal – bounded time 7, 77, 82 – TIME IS SPACE metaphor 28, 79, 86n7, 87, 95n39, 205, 220n23 – time (expressions of) 67, 70n15, 237 – time, period of 28–29, 40n11, 43 Tittmann, J.A.H. 123n2, 151 topic 7, 86, 94n34, 95–102, 96n44, 97n49, 97n51–n52, 98n53–n54, 99n59, 101n63, 101n67, 102n68, 104–112, 106n73, 107n75, 109n81–n82, 114–120, 270, 272–79 – about vs. stage topic 98–99, 98n55, 105n72, 106–107, 118 – sentence vs. discourse, topic 99–102, 99n58, 104, 106–111, 115–16 – topic accessibility scale 99 – topic continuity 99n59, 101, 104, 118 – topical participant 96n47, 107n76, 210, 214 – topicalization 97n49, 99–101, 105–110, 107n75, 107n77, 109n82, 115n97, 118–19, 273, 276 Toufexis, Notis 83 trajector 6, 8, 14–16, 22, 31, 33, 35, 67–74, 72n19, 76, 78, 80–82, 87–95, 97n48, 108, 112–13, 127–34, 127n12, 128n13, 131n17, 136–44, 138n33, 181–86, 189–95, 198–200, 202, 205, 211–16, 211n8, 219–24, 220n21, 230, 233, 238–39, 247, 249–53, 263 – trajector-landmark relation 22, 33, 35, 70, 76, 108, 132–33 transference 81, 215n14, 239 translation 1–2, 6–7, 9, 18, 21, 23n20, 37n1, 39–40, 40n10, 43n19, 44, 47n25, 48–49, 50n37, 51, 54, 55, 57, 71n16, 85, 89n21, 104n71, 123–124, 128n13, 135, 144n42, 145–46, 146n46, 149, 153, 153n1, 163, 166, 168, 177, 186n18, 197, 212, 212n9, 215n14, 250n40, 259–60, 260n2, 265–66 Traugott, Elizabeth Closs 111n87–n88, 121 truth-conditional semantics 3, 4 Tucker, Don M. 159n18, 178 Turner, Mark 154n7, 155, 178, 242n6, 243n15, 248n38, 257–58 Turner, Max 2n4, 10 Turner, Nigel 48n32, 60n62, 65

Topic index 

Twelftree, Graham H. 227n37, 240 Tyler, Andrea 9, 11, 11n4, 36, 71n17, 79n30, 83, 179–80, 179n2–n3, 182, 182n10, 182n13, 183n14–n15, 207 under 12, 14, 42–44, 60, 60n64–n65, 68, 179, 181, 186, 211–14, 211n8, 239, 248 Ungerer, Friedrich 9 upo ὑπό 7, 12, 26, 32, 37, 37n2, 38, 41, 43, 43n19, 44–55, 48n31, 50n37, 58, 60–64, 60n62–n65, 73, 137, 186, 198, 204–5, 211–14, 216–18, 222–24, 224n31, 225, 229, 230n43, 236–39, 239n55 van Beek, Lucian 39n6–n7, 64 van Valin, Robert D. 107n76, 121 Vandeloise, Claude 69n7, 83 Verspoor, Marjolijn 9 vertical 13, 90, 96n44, 183, 185–92, 205, 211n8 Wackernagel, Jacob 41–42, 42n15, 42n17, 65, 108n78, 118

 307

Wallace, Daniel 247n37, 258 Wansink, Craig S. 227n39, 240 Ward, Gregory 210n5, 240 Watson, Duane F. 227n39, 240 Watson, Francis 147, 147n50, 152 Weaver, P.R.C. 233n49, 240 Wetter, Anne-Mareike 241n1, 258 Wikgren, Allen 47n29, 64 Williams, Peter J. 1 Winer, Georg B. 123n2, 152 Winkler, Susanne 97n49, 97n52, 102n68, 107n75, 118–20 Wolff, Phillip 113, 113n95, 121 Wright, Travis 1, 7, 85–117 Yarbrough, Robert W. 263n10–n11, 265n17, 267 Zacks, Jeffrey M. 178 Zahn, Theodor 148n59, 152 Zervos, George T. 47n25, 65 Ziegler, Joseph 48n34, 65 Zlatev, Jordan 181n8, 207