Thursday, October 14, 2010

Non-Occurrence of "Lord" in the Four Gospels

The Four Evangelists
from
an Aachen Gospel, 820
(Image from Wikipedia)

In a post the other day when I was looking at "Yahweh" (יְהוָה, Yahweh) as the unexpressed Name of the "Son" in the Gospel of John, I noticed an intriguing point: The word "Lord," which in Greek is κύριος (Kyrios), does not occur from John 15:20 to 20:2 (and not clearly to Jesus from 14:22).

I decided to check the other gospels and discovered much the same ( with John having, arguably, the longest non-occurrence, though Mark is in some ways even more surprising):
Matthew: from 26:22 to 28:6 (except for 27:10 and 28:2, where they do not refer to Jesus)

Mark: from 13:35 to 16:20 (and with clear reference to Jesus, not from 11:3 to 16:20, but this would bear more examination, for "Lord" with clear reference to Jesus is surprisingly rare in Mark generally)

Luke: from 22:61 to 24:3 (though Luke differs in using the term with clear reference to Jesus in the passion narrative)
I'm not entirely sure what to make of this other than a passing notice that the term "Lord" (κύριος, Kyrios) is missing or rare in the passion narrative of all four gospels, possibly because Jesus is not generally being addressed by those who respect him, though this isn't the full answer since the narrator could have referred to him as "Lord" anyway, as in Mark 15:5, where it could have replaced "Jesus" quite easily:
But Jesus yet answered nothing; so that Pilate marvelled.

ὁ δὲ Ἰησοῦς οὐκέτι οὐδὲν ἀπεκρίθη ὥστε θαυμάζειν τὸν Πιλᾶτον.

But the Lord yet answered nothing; so that Pilate marvelled.

ὁ δὲ κύριος οὐκέτι οὐδὲν ἀπεκρίθη ὥστε θαυμάζειν τὸν Πιλᾶτον
Luke, for instance, uses "Lord" twice in 22:61, a passage from the trial scene:
And the Lord turned, and looked upon Peter. And Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said unto him, Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice.

καὶ στραφεὶς ὁ κύριος ἐνέβλεψεν τῷ Πέτρῳ καὶ ὑπεμνήσθη ὁ Πέτρος τοῦ λόγου τοῦ κυρίου ὡς εἶπεν αὐτῷ ὅτι Πρὶν ἀλέκτορα φωνῆσαι ἀπαρνήσῃ με τρίς
Otherwise, the term is largely missing from the passion narratives. Scholars must have noticed this before and offered explanations.

I'll have to look into this another time since I have another batch of grading now . . .

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Saturday, June 20, 2009

"Absence Present in the Text"

The Abstract Text
1 Belly band and 2 Flap
3 Endpaper and 4 Book cover
5 Top edge and 6 Fore edge
7 Tail edge and 8 Right page, recto
9 Left page, verso and 10 Gutter
(Image from Wikipedia)

I learn something new every day, even when I'm not looking to . . . as in several of those ten things above.

But that's not what I'm blogging about this fine morning. No. Rather, I merely intend to post another exchange that I had with the impressive E. Bruce Brooks, a scholar of Chinese who has made a foray into New Testament studies to test his principle of inconcinnity (and related principles) for finding layers in the growth of texts.

Professor Brooks recently remarked on the Synoptic Listserve (i.e., a scholarly listserve focusing on the textual interconnections among Matthew, Mark, and Luke) that "rejecting a source is one way of using it" -- by which he meant that an author can be aware of a source and yet reject it, and that this can tell us something about the author's views.

I was struck at the point made by Professor Brooks and commented (Synoptic-L Message #2245):
Is there an ambiguity about "source" here? If an account is not drawn upon by a writer, is it a source?

This gets us up to some rarefied heights. For instance, I publish a lot on John Milton (to such depths have I fallen), and I read many articles that I do not use. But what if -- and this has never happened -- I really hated an article by some scholar and refused to 'use' it even though I was implicitly arguing against it. Would that article be a source?

Are there three sorts of sources:
1. sources used (presence in text);
2. sources not used, ignored (absence in text); and
3. sources rejected, but not ignored (absence present in text)?
Number one is what I ordinarily consider sources. Number two is what I ordinarily do not consider sources. But number three? I haven't thought about this before, not very carefully, at least.
Professor Brooks replied (Synoptic-L Message #2248):
I had suggested that other texts which a later writer decides not to incorporate are sources of a sort.

JEFFERY: But what if -- and this has never happened -- I really hated an article by some scholar and refused to 'use' it even though I was implicitly arguing against it. Would that article be a source?

BRUCE: Absolutely. It is something out there which shapes the thing that is in here. If you hate your father, and arrange your whole life to be the opposite of what your father represents, are you being influenced by your father? The psychoanalytic profession, here (for once) with support from myself, would unhesitatingly say so.

JEFFERY: Are there three sorts of sources:
1. sources used (presence in text);
2. sources not used, ignored (absence in text); and
3. sources rejected, but not ignored (absence present in text)?
Number one is what I ordinarily consider sources. Number two is what I ordinarily do not consider sources. But number three? I haven't thought about this before, not very carefully, at least.

BRUCE: I very much like the phrase "absence present in text." And I don't promise not to use it in other contexts.
Professor Brooks goes on to make several more even more profound points, but I don't want to give him too much credit since my point in today's blog entry is to glorify myself.

I trust that I have succeeded . . . even if merely through a bit of reflected glory.

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Sunday, May 31, 2009

Reconstructing Words of Jesus in Aramaic?

Not how I learned it!
(Image from Wikipedia)

I take part not only in discussions on the Milton List but also on the Synoptic List, a listserve that focuses upon the literary connections among the gospels Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Lately, scholars on that list have been discussing whether Aramaic sayings of Jesus can be reconstructed from the Greek. Mr. Jack Kilmon thinks so, and he has some plausible arguments based on possible mistranslations from Aramaic into Greek that result in some of the "hard sayings of Jesus." For instance, Mr. Kilmon suggests that we look at Luke 14:26:

If any one comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. (RSV)

εἴ τις ἔρχεται πρός με καὶ οὐ μισεῖ τὸν πατέρα ἑαυτοῦ καὶ τὴν μητέρα καὶ τὴν γυναῖκα καὶ τὰ τέκνα καὶ τοὺς ἀδελφοὺς καὶ τὰς ἀδελφάς ἔτι τε καὶ τὴν ψυχὴν ἑαυτοῦ οὐ δύναται εἶναί μου μαθητής (mGNT)
As Mr. Kilmon points out, the Greek word for "hate" is "misei" (μισεῖ), but he suggests that the Aramaic work was "sana," and that Jesus was using an idiom: "This is a mistranslated idiom where the Aramaic word for 'hate' (sana) means to 'set aside'." Professor Mark Matson of Milligan College liked Mr. Kilmon's suggestions on recovering the Aramaic words of Jesus:

Here I can only join with an Amen. I think the gospels were clearly written in Greek. But the traces of Aramaic material do show in a number of places. Whether these are "sources" as we might imagine (e.g., written), or very strongly remembered oral remembrance I am not sure. It would be interesting to explore that.
Mr. Kilmon replied by means of analogy:

Mnemonic devices such as alliteration, paronomasia, assonance, rhyme and meter appear in back translations of "Jesus stuff" to his native Aramaic. These devices are very effective for accurate transmission. If I were to say:

"Roses are red, violets are blue;
You better be good or the devil will get you"
. . . you would remember it and pass it on fairly pristine. At some point, my profound saying would be written down but it would still preserve the syntax of orality.
Mr. Kilmon's suggestion on the Aramaic term "sana" has a certain plausibility and may very well be correct, but I wonder if the power of mnemonic devices ensure accurate transmission and if we can be certain of recovering the actual Aramaic. On the Synoptic List, I mostly just lurk and listen in on these learned discussions, but this time, I stood up on my hind legs and expressed my doubts publicly:

Jack Kilmon wrote:

"Roses are red, violets are blue;
You better be good or the devil will get you."
This is, of course, not only poetic but also wise . . . yet I think that an oral culture would very quickly 'improve' on it:

"Roses are red, violets are blue;
Better be good or the devil with you!"
The original would be forgotten, and any attempt to get back to the actual words of the historical Kilmon would be frustrated . . . though nobody would realize this.
Professor Bruce Brooks, of the University of Massachusetts, chimed in with a powerful amen:

I think Jeffery's point is very well taken. Rhyme may be a mnemonic aid, though whole traditions including the Homeric seem to have gotten along nicely without it, but when present, it does not protect the maxim in question from literary abrasion and change. The most famous poem of the Chinese poet Li Bwo, a little thing of four short lines, can be shown by early copies to have been worn down and trivialized from what is more likely to have been its original form to the form in which millions can recite it at the present moment. In much the way that Jeffery's improvisation suggests. Quotations, rhymed as well as unrhymed, from the early Chinese classics in the later Chinese classics, are sometimes inexact, not to mention quotations in less exalted contexts. Mediterranean examples might be multiplied as well.

For one reason and another, some types of material may survive repetition and transmission better than others, but there can be no guarantee, whether by genre or by form, of invariance under repetition and transmission. Life is simple, but not *that* simple.
And so it stands . . . next to me, still on my hind legs. I'd better get back down (such a stance being unseemly because seamy), but while I'm standing here, I'll offer a bit of mnemonic advice: remember to spell "mnemonic" with its silent "m" by recalling that "m" comes directly before "n" in the alphabet.

Oh, by the bye, William Wallace Denslow's illustrated version above of that rosy Mother Goose rhyme is obviously not the illustrious original because mnemonics favor the one that I grew up with: "Roses are red, / Violets are blue, / Sugar is sweet, / And so are you." Though there's something to be said for an anonymous competitor:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue;
Wish I were dead,
For you're not true.
I've even heard of a version having the "I" replaced by "you" . . . but such violence is foreign to true-blue, red-blooded, rosy-hued Mother Goose lyrics (as we all know from infancy).

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