Sunday Morning Greek Blog

November 1, 2022

Taking Time to Give Thanks (Luke 17:11–19; 2 Kings 5:11–15)

Filed under: 2 Kings,Biblical Studies,Greek,Life of Christ,Luke Gospel of,Miracles,New Testament,Old Testament,Thanksgiving — Scott Stocking @ 9:13 pm
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Sermon preached at Mt. View Presbyterian Church October 9, 2022, and again at Peace Presbyterian on October 16, 2022.

Click here to listen

I’m going to ask a rather personal question here, but you are in no way obligated to answer it. How many of you can say you were at a point in your life when you felt like you were scraping the bottom of the barrel? If you’ve never been there, that’s good. I have, and I don’t wish it on anybody. You pretty much go through the whole range of negative emotions, from depression, to feelings of worthlessness and hopelessness, to anger, jealousy, rage, just to name a few. In those times, it can be difficult to discern the presence of God, especially if you’re not a believer or have no historical connection to a church fellowship.

Author and lawyer John Kralik was one man who felt he’d hit the bottom of the barrel. His law firm was failing, his second marriage had ended with a bitter divorce, and his girlfriend left him to boot. He felt increasingly disconnected from his grown children, was overweight, and lived in a cheap, poorly maintained apartment. He faced the prospect of losing what little he had left and was desperately looking for solutions.

Touched by a thank you note he received from his ex-girlfriend for a gift he’d sent her, he thought perhaps he’d try the same thing. Instead of focusing on everything going wrong in his life, he decided perhaps he should start focusing on the things he did have and the things he could be grateful for. He set off on a mission to write a thank you note a day for a whole year, and it completely turned his life around. He documented his journey in a book titled A Simple Act of Gratitude: How Learning to Say Thank You Changed My Life.[1]

Today’s passage from Luke finds Jesus encountering not one, but ten lepers who have most likely reached the lowest point of their lives. They have essentially been barred from society and have no means to support themselves. And it would have been difficult for others to help them at a distance too. As they stand at a distance and cried out for mercy or pity, Jesus didn’t even need to touch them. All he said to them was to report to the priests, and the text says they were cleansed as they went. They believed in and acted on what Jesus said, so they were all healed by their faith. There’s no question about that.

Now you would think that when they were healed and had presented themselves to the priests as the law required (Leviticus 14), they all would have returned to thank the one who healed them. But only one returns, a Samaritan no less. We’re not told why the other nine don’t return, but Jesus seems to think they had the opportunity, and responsibility, to do so, not for his sake, but for his father’s sake. Maybe the Samaritan, as a “foreigner,” felt he had so much more to be grateful for since Jesus primarily had come for the Jews.

The story here is reminiscent of an Old Testament account of another foreigner who was healed of leprosy. In 2 Kings 5, we have the story of Naaman, a highly regarded commander in Aram’s army, who also happened to have leprosy. A servant girl Naaman had acquired from a raid on Israel, the northern kingdom, apparently had compassion for Naaman, in spite of her captivity, and suggested that if Naaman could go see Elisha in Samaria, he would be healed. The king of Aram consented to Naaman’s “road trip” to Samaria, and to show it was a good-faith mission, the king himself wrote a letter of recommendation to the king of Israel.

The king of Israel thought it was a bad omen and tore his robes. Elisha, however, wasn’t phased and instructed Naaman and his entourage to come to his home. Elisha gave him a simple instruction, similar to what Jesus had told the ten lepers: go wash in the Jordan River seven times.

This time, it was Naaman’s turn to be indignant. We’ll pick up the story in 2 Kings 5:11:

11 But Naaman went away angry and said, “I thought that he would surely come out to me and stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, wave his hand over the spot and cure me of my leprosy. 12 Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Couldn’t I wash in them and be cleansed?” So he turned and went off in a rage.

13 Naaman’s servants went to him and said, “My father, if the prophet had told you to do some great thing, would you not have done it? How much more, then, when he tells you, ‘Wash and be cleansed’!” 14 So he went down and dipped himself in the Jordan seven times, as the man of God had told him, and his flesh was restored and became clean like that of a young boy.

15 Then Naaman and all his attendants went back to the man of God. He stood before him and said, “Now I know that there is no God in all the world except in Israel. So please accept a gift from your servant.”[2]

I think it’s important to recognize in this story that Naaman may have gotten a second chance here. When the Lord sent the spies out to explore the Promised Land, 10 of the 12 spies didn’t want to do what God commanded them to do. And after all the pleading with God, the 10 still didn’t want to go, so God killed them and told the Jews, “Sorry, you’re going to have to wait 40 years now for your children to see the Promised Land. Most of you will be dead by the time you get there.” The Jews changed their minds pretty quickly at that point, but it was too late. Their first attempt to take the land ended miserably because God had removed his blessing.

Fortunately for Naaman, his servants had cooler heads, and they prevailed with Naaman. Naaman had to shake off his pride in his own homeland to wash in “God’s river,” the Jordan. When he realized his obedience paid off, he returned to Elisha and offered a gift of thanksgiving, which Elisha refused. He eventually negotiated a deal with Elisha to get some dirt from Samaria so he could build his own altar to the Lord in Aram as his expression of thanks.

We see many other examples in the Bible of those who faced difficult circumstances but always returned to God to give thanks when their prayers were answered. Hannah, the other wife of Elkanah in 1 Samuel, desperately wanted a son, so much so, that she dedicated her first-born son, Samuel, to the Lord’s service at the young age of 3. In chapter 2, we see Hannah’s prayer honoring God for giving her the son she desired. It sounds very much like the song another mother sang hundreds of years later when she realized her son was destined to serve God.

Mary’s song, after she realizes the full implications of her pregnancy with the Messiah, picks up some of the same themes as Hannah’s prayer: the Lord is glorified; the humble are exalted; the hungry are filled; the poor are provided for, while the rich are brought low. Even Zechariah’s song at the end of Luke 1 carries some of the same themes, but focuses on the salvation Mary’s son would bring to the world.

Both women faced incredible social and cultural challenges: A barren wife often felt shame for not producing a possible heir for her husband. Mary, on the other hand, was pregnant without being formally married to Joseph. Yet when both of them realized the important roles they played in their respective histories, they gave God the thanks and glory he deserved.

So how can we be a thankful people? What are the benefits of developing the character quality of gratefulness? Tony Robbins once said, “Gratitude is the antidote to the two things that stop us: fear and anger.”[3] If you have trouble thinking of things to be thankful for, one of the suggestions I’ve come across most often is to keep some kind of “gratefulness” journal. Some people who keep a journal set aside a corner or section of their journal to deal strictly with things they are grateful for. Sometimes, it may be something as simple as “I woke up today” or “I’m grateful for my friends.” Others who keep a prayer journal usually have a ready supply of answered prayers to be thankful for. Once you get in the habit of writing down and taking account of the things you’re thankful for, you will begin to see more and more opportunities to give and express thanks for.

Don’t be afraid to say thank you to someone who’s been kind to you in some way. One suggestion that intrigued me was to say “thank you” when you ask someone for help instead of apologizing for inconveniencing them.[4] Not only is that a more positive statement, but it also helps to build relationships. A few years ago, I put out a request to my small group for some help moving a king-size bed frame, mattress, and box springs. One of the guys who was relatively new to the group showed up, much to my surprise. I made sure to thank him, and we’ve become good friends in the group.

Being thankful can also help develop an attitude of humility, as we saw in Hannah’s and Mary’s prayers. In saying thank you, we recognize, in part, that we couldn’t do something for ourselves and needed someone else’s help. This in turn also leads to a greater sense of community as well. We recognize that we’re stronger together. As one blogger put it, we realize that we “don’t always have to be strong” and that we’re allowed to “break down” once in a while, perhaps even have a good cry with a friend,[5] especially in difficult times when we truly need the support of others.

Drilling a little deeper here, having this humility can also help us see that our perspective may be a bit distorted at times. Sometimes we get in a rut with an old or bad habit and have trouble seeing any other way to deal with a situation. When we get bogged down in those “stinkin’ thinkin’” patterns, that may be another time when counting your blessings can help get you out of a rut.

Dr. Kenneth Miller, who writes for Psychology Today, summarized some key points about gratitude after he found himself laid up for a few weeks after a 30-foot fall from a rock climbing wall. Miraculously, his injuries were relatively minor compared to what they could have been: 30 feet is considered the start of the “fatality zone” when it comes to falling a long distance. He had “cultivate gratitude as a way of coping with [his] injury.” One thing he had been learning from his recovery, is that “gratitude…can strengthen resilience and wellbeing.”[6]

One final thought here, and this is something that comes from the biblical passages we discussed, is that in all of those stories we read, the grateful person made an effort to reach out to the one they were grateful for. In the gospel account, the leper may have been completely destitute, so all he was able to do was come back and say “thank you.” He didn’t have the means to bring any other gift. Perhaps this is why Jesus questions the gratitude of the other nine: they could have at least done the minimum, especially since it seems Jesus was right there in the village with them all.

As I mentioned before, Naaman negotiated an acceptable gift not for Elisha, but for the Lord who had told Elisha to relay the cure-action to Naaman. Hannah dedicated her son to the service of God and wrote a prayer of thanksgiving and praise that was included in Samuel’s history. The same could be said of Mary’s song, except she really had no choice in the matter of dedicating her son to God’s service.

The point here is that it is important to reach out personally (or in the case of God, prayerfully) to those who deserve our thanks, and not just with the spoken word. Our actions can express a louder thank you than just our words. Now you don’t have write a thank you note a day, as John Kralik did. Nor do you have to literally give up your first born to God’s service. And neither do you have to buy the person you’re grateful for an expensive gift. Drop them a personal note; call them; stop by and see them as you’re able. This also will help you continue to build and develop relationships. And for those of us in the church, we know precisely how valuable such relationships are for the life of the congregation.

So let me close this morning by practicing what I preach. I want to thank the leaders at Mt. View for welcoming me back to the place where I first found faith and for the opportunity to share what I’ve learned about that faith and the God who is worthy of it in my nearly 60 years on earth. It was a year ago this weekend that I first filled the pulpit here, and I’ve learned and grown so much as a preacher, pastor, and scholar. I look forward to more Sundays with you as long as you’re willing to have me and as long as God gives me breath. Peace to you all! Go forth and give thanks! Amen!

Pastor Scott Stocking, M.Div.

My views are my own. I’m grateful for those whose views I shared and documented here for adding value to this message.

[1] Adapted from book review on Amazon.com accessed 10/08/22.

[2] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[3] Quoted in Learning to say thank you changed my life- How to cultivate a habit of gratitude (streaksoflight.com) accessed 10/08/22

[4] Learning to say thank you changed my life- How to cultivate a habit of gratitude (streaksoflight.com) accessed 10/08/22

[5] A Thank You Letter To The Person Who Changed My Life | Thought Catalog accessed 10/08/22

[6] What a 30 Foot Climbing Fall Taught Me About Gratitude | Psychology Today accessed 10/08/22

May 19, 2021

What Makes God Weep?

Filed under: Christology,Faith, Faithfulness,Greek,John Gospel of,Life of Christ,Miracles,Resurrection,Thanatology (Death) — Scott Stocking @ 6:00 am
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Sermon preached by Scott Stocking, Wheeler Grove Rural Church, January 17, 2021. This was the first Sunday the church was open after COVID.

Introduction

This past year has certainly been a challenging one for the world. Many of us know people affected by COVID, whether testing positive without any more symptoms than a few sniffles, to those who unfortunately lost loved ones or their own lives to the disease. My wife works in a skilled nursing facility in Omaha as an occupational therapist, and had to put on her “protective armor” to work with residents who tested positive for the disease.

Jill and I also have two friends who went to death’s door with the disease, but have or are making what seems to be full recovery. One friend’s wife had actually gone to talk to the funeral home before he rebounded. Another friend, just in that last few weeks, had been on a ventilator. Those who go on a ventilator have a 10% chance of survival. He eventually got off the ventilator and beat the odds, and at last report, he was doing quite well in rehab, just having his trach removed and talking up a storm with his family members.

It’s been an eye-opening experience for me, as I’ve never had two friends in one year come this close to death, and it reminds me both of how fragile life can be, and also how precious life is. In Jesus’s day, life was considered cheap. The philosopher Aristotle said, in so many words, you were born to either be an elite-class ruler or part of the masses of the lower-class ruled. There really wasn’t much of what we call the “middle class” in that day and age, socially or economically.

In the passage we’re looking at today, we see Jesus’s countercultural attitude toward life, at least countercultural in his day and age. Jesus did not think life was cheap. He valued the individual, regardless of their rank in life, and even regardless of the type of life they led. We will also see perhaps the most intense display of Jesus’s humanity as well as glimpses into his divine nature.

What Makes God Weep?

As we come to the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead in John 11, we will see the full range of Jesus’s human and divine natures. Even though “all the fullness of the Deity dwells within him,” he is still fully human as well, so much so that the Gospel writers record Jesus using the title “Son of Man” for himself.

The story starts at the beginning of chapter 11 when Jesus learns that Lazarus, perhaps his best friend outside of the circle of the apostles, is sick. Jesus doesn’t seem concerned however, and like the good friend he is, he intentionally delays going to see Lazarus. Wait, wha? [Pause for effect, pretend to be confused and reread that sentence.] The apostles don’t under Jesus’s delay, but only because he knows “this sickness will not end in death,” but “is for God’s glory.” He eventually says cryptically a few verses later that “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep,” but the apostles don’t pick up on the subtle reference. Jesus must tell them plainly a few verses later that “Lazarus is dead.”

Now it should not surprise us that Type A Martha, the control freak of the two sisters, is the one to go out and meet Jesus at the gate. Since it took Jesus four days from the time he got the news (at least from a human source) to go the two miles from Jerusalem to Bethany, Martha had plenty of time to think about what she’d say. Martha is chomping at the bit to make sure Jesus knows that because he wasn’t there, it’s all his fault that Lazarus died. Pretty harsh, right? In fact, Martha is so focused on getting these first few words out, that we get no indication in the story that she’s in mourning. I think most of us know that feeling: we get our adrenaline going about something peripheral such that we forget how we’re supposed to feel or what we’re supposed to say about whatever the core issue is that is truly impacting us emotionally.

But either Martha knows she’s stuck her foot in her mouth after that first statement, or she really has been thinking about what her second statement would be: “But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.” Does that statement represent genuine concern, or is it more like a backhanded control freak statement? “I’ve waited four days for you to get here, Jesus, so you owe me big time!”

But Martha does prove to have a heart of gold, a heart full of faith, and a desire for great theological conversation when she goes on to say, “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.” If there were other people within earshot of that statement, I’m sure it would have turned heads, especially if any of the crowd were Sadducees. This is exactly the reasoning Abraham used, according to the author of Hebrews, to not hesitate to obey God’s command to him to (almost-) sacrifice Isaac. As such, Martha is the personal recipient of one of Jesus’s seven “I am” statements in the Gospel of John: “I am the resurrection and the life.”

So to this point in the story, what do we see of Jesus’s divine and human natures? Someone brings him the message that Lazarus is dying, but Jesus is most likely already aware of this given what he says to his disciples about it. He doesn’t seem to be concerned about Lazarus dying, which, from a human perspective, might make him appear cold, matter-of-fact, and uncaring. If this were you or I, we’d want to make every effort to go see the friend on their deathbed. But his divine nature knows the end of the story. Jesus implicitly trusts in his heavenly Father that the end result will be for his glory.

So here we have Jesus, quite stoically handling the news of Lazarus’s death and just matter-of-factly stating that he is the resurrection and the life. That last claim, by itself and at face value, would have been absolutely astonishing to his listeners. Most 30-year-olds in Jesus’s day were typically closer to their death than their birth, and the cultures around the Jewish people had little regard for the sanctity of life, as my opening illustration revealed. So keep that and Jesus’s initial response in mind as we look at vv. 32–39 here. We pick up the story after Martha has gone to bring Mary back to see Jesus.

Read John 11:32–33a.

Notice that Mary’s first response to Jesus is identical to Martha’s, except that Mary is making no pretense about her sorrow. She’s bawling, and everyone with her is bawling. The text doesn’t say, but I’m pretty sure Martha is standing there trying to be the strong one: “I’m not going to cry in front of Jesus! I’m not going to cry in front of Jesus.” Truly there is great sorrow here, and this is one of the few times in the Gospels where we see Jesus come face to face with not just mourners, but mourners who are most likely among his closest friends outside his inner circle. In the next few verses, we get a profound insight into the depths of Jesus’s human nature. Back to vs. 33:

Read John 11:33-35

There it is: “Jesus wept.” The shortest verse in our English Bibles. Nine letters. Six consonants and three vowels in three syllables. Yet nothing is more poignant, nothing more revealing of the depth of human sorrow than weeping. And this isn’t some Hollywood zoom-in shot of Jesus’s face where he sheds one dramatic tear. Oh no! Jesus is in full-on weeping mode with his friends. And even though the story doesn’t say it, I think it’s safe to say that, to the extent Martha was trying to be the “strong one,” Martha’s floodgates open up here; she can’t hold it in any longer, and she begins to weep as well, perhaps precisely because Jesus wept. How profound it is when we see first hand that Savior of the world feels AND shows the same emotions that you and I feel at the death of a loved one. How profound to know that our God does NOT turn a blind eye to our sorrow and pain.

Now Jesus’s weeping is not a sudden outburst that isn’t expected in the story. John, in fact, is building up the tension in the story to that climax. Look back at the end of vs. 33: John says Jesus is “deeply moved” and “troubled.” In the original language of the Scripture, that word is perhaps the strongest expression of “negative” emotion one could have. In Matthew 9:30, Jesus “sternly warned” the blind man not to say who healed him. That would have been akin to Jesus saying something like, “Don’t you dare, in a million years, tell anyone who did this to you.” At Jesus’s anointing in Bethany, where the prostitute broke an alabaster jar over Jesus’s head and let the perfume run down him, we’re told that those present (except for Jesus) “rebuked her sharply,” probably even to the extent of cursing her or reminding her in no uncertain terms about her profession.

Some commentators here go as far as suggesting that Jesus may have “snorted” (their word, not mine) here. On the one hand, he could have been choking back the tears in light of all the weeping. On the other hand, and perhaps more importantly, Jesus may also be on the verge of cursing death itself here. The one who is the resurrection and the life, the one who knew he himself must suffer horribly and die on the cross, and who knew God would thus give him ultimately victory over death, must face the death of a friend nonetheless. He shows himself to be the great high priest, as he’s called in Hebrews 4:15, who is not “unable to empathize with our weaknesses,” who has been tempted as we are, and yet was without sin.

Now I want to suggest something here that has probably never occurred to you: The main focus of John’s account of this story here is NOT that Jesus raises someone from the dead eventually. Jesus has already done several amazing miracles to this point, building up to the raising of Lazarus as the greatest of his miracles. Another miracle? I’m impressed of course, but not surprised. John has already hinted to us that that is going to happen in the story, with Jesus’s “I am” statement and Martha’s statement. Keep in mind that John, in his short epistles toward the end of the NT, is fighting against Gnosticism, a belief that nothing done in the body matters at all for eternal salvation. When John says, “Jesus wept,” he’s acknowledging that God considers human life precious and valuable; that the body does matter for our earthly existence. That’s why “Jesus wept” is at the center of this whole story. He intends this show of Jesus’s humanity as the highlight and climax of the story.

This is all pretty intense, right? So if we’ve hit the climax, where do we go from here? Well, there is “the rest of the story” as Paul Harvey used to say. There is, as literature professors would put it, the “anticlimax.” Note a further expression of Jesus’s humanity in vs. 36: “See how he loved him.” That word for love there typically implies a brotherly or familial love. It’s not the self-sacrificing agape love, and it’s certainly not any kind of romantic love. It reveals the deep friendship that Jesus had (and will have again) with Lazarus.

Even some in the crowd in v. 37 echo Mary and Martha’s sentiment that Jesus could have kept him from dying. “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”

Read John 11:38–40

Once again, we see that word for “deeply moved” that we saw in v. 33. Jesus has still got some fire in him at this point. So when he asks for the stone to be taken away, I think he’s not just making a polite request here. I think he spoke it like I read it, with that “I’ve-had-enough-of-this” indignation. “Let’s get this over with; he’s been dead long enough.” Of course Martha, the rational one, has regained her composure in the time it took to walk over to the tomb, and isn’t too thrilled about consequences of removing the stone. That just stokes Jesus’s fire all the more. “I’m going to raise your brother and you’re worried it might stink a little bit?” I’m pretty sure that the “glory of God” at that point was not going to have any stink associated with it.

Read John 11:41–44

Now when I set out to write this sermon, I had intended to do the three shortest verses in the NT and tie them together in a neat little package. But the more I got into, the more the Spirit led me down the road I followed today, focusing on “Jesus wept.” One of the three shortest verses is “Pray continually,” or more literally, “pray without ceasing.” Jesus offers his prayer here. He doesn’t need to do this, because he knows God is always listening to him. But as he’s said all along in this story, his goal is to make sure God is glorified. He wants to leave no doubt in anyone’s mind that what is about to happen is not some magic trick or sleight of hand. This is God-power all the way, the “incomparably great [resurrection] power for us who believe,” as Paul tells the Ephesians.

In v. 43, Jesus’s fire is still going. Again, it’s not a polite request or, “Hey, Lazarus, ollie ollie ots and free.” Jesus booms with a loud, commanding voice, loud enough to literally wake the dead, “Lazarus, come out!” I think it’s interesting that the NIV here says “The dead man came out.” Umm, looks like he’s not dead any more. The more literal translation here is “the one who has been dead came out.” Can I get an “Amen”?

The third short verse precedes “pray continually” in 1 Thessalonians 5: “Rejoice always.” In the last part of v. 44, Jesus loses all the tension he’s been feeling to this point. I’m sure he’s got a huge smile across his face at this point, as do all those who’ve seen Lazarus rise from the dead and walk out of the grave. Jesus’s happiness, smile, and dare I say laughter are all additional profound insights into Jesus’s human side. The savior who weeps with us in our time of sorrow rejoices with us in our time of joy.

Conclusion/Call to Action

John 11 is a powerful story about Jesus’s love for a friend and his disgust with death and the seeming cheapness of life in the world around him. But how does that impact us today? What are steps that we can take as believers to promote the value of the individual, especially in this time when we’ve had to be isolated from ones we love?

In the ancient world, at and before the time of Christ, there were two practices that absolutely cheapened life. One of them was known as exposure. At that time, if you gave birth to a child you didn’t want, or the child was conceived in, shall we say, ill repute, it was legal, and in certain situation expected of you, to expose that infant to the elements and let the Fates decide what would become of the child. As Christianity took hold, Christians began to rescue these innocents. As Christianity grew and the concept that all life mattered began to take hold culturally, Constantine eventually outlawed the practice all together in the Roman empire.

The second practice was, in certain Greek democracies where they did not have the concept of freedom of speech, the casting of the ostraca. Ostraca were simply pieces of clay pots on which the voters (usually only “citizens”) wrote the name of a person whom they thought was not worthy of participating in their society any longer. The person receiving the most votes was “ostracized,” or banished from the city-state democracy. As you might imagine, the ancients had their share of folks on all sides who spread lies and misinformation about political enemies in order to influence who got voted off the island, so to speak.

In this day and age when our country is so divided on so many issues, it’s important that we learn how to not only respect our differences, but understand why each of us believes what we believe. Jesus’s disciples were a diverse group, from a hated tax collector to the lowly fishermen. My prayer is that we see the value in each and every individual and in what they bring to the table for the good of our Lord and our country. Peace to you all, and thank you for letting me share with you today.

Pastor Scott Stocking, M.Div.

My views are my own.

January 20, 2019

Indignant Jesus: The Variant Reading of Mark 1:41 (NIV & TNIV)

Filed under: Biblical Studies,Evangelism,Greek,Life of Christ,Luke Gospel of,Mark Gospel of,Miracles,New Testament,Textual Criticism — Scott Stocking @ 6:40 am
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[Author’s Note: Thank you to all who’ve made this the #1 post for 2021 through June. I trust you’re finding it helpful. I’m always curious to know how my posts are used and how you were referred to them, especially if they’re used as an assigned reading in a college class. I’m not seeking any compensation for such use; I’m trying to collect some data I can use to show potential employers my articles have academic value.]

I was rather surprised the other day when I read Mark 1:41 in the NIV (2011 edition). A man with leprosy came to Jesus and asked him to heal him. The NIV text says “Jesus was indignant,” but he still “reached out his hand and touched the man.” The obvious question here is, “Why was Jesus indignant?” After all, most other English translations of the Bible, as well as the eclectic Greek text, say “Jesus had compassion.” So how did the NIV committee arrive at the “indignant” translation?

The Variant Reading: External Evidence

In Mark 1:41, the editors of the United Bible Societies (UBS) Greek New Testament (GNT; Third and Fourth editions) have settled on σπλαγχνισθεὶς (splanchnistheis, from σπλαγχνίζομαι splanchnizomai, “I have compassion on”) for the original text. All but one Greek manuscript uses this word. The only Greek manuscript that doesn’t is Fifth Century Codex Bezae (identified as “D” in the UBS apparatus), which uses ὀργισθεὶς (orgistheis, from ὀργίζομαι orgizomai, “I am angry”; seventh line down, second Greek/Latin word respectively in the line). The parallel Latin text on the opposing page has iratus (pp. 557–8).

In the Third Edition, the editors were unsure they had restored the original text and gave it the lowest certainty rating possible: D (not to be confused with the apparatus designation of the same letter). In the Fourth Edition, however, the editors upgraded their certainty of σπλαγχνισθεὶς to B.

Now one might think the volume of the “external” evidence (that is, all of the documents that have σπλαγχνισθεὶς, and the relative age of those documents) might be enough to convince translators that Mark 1:41 should be translated “Jesus had compassion,” but external evidence does not always have the final word. Translators must also consider the “internal” evidence in support of a particular reading. Internal evidence considers such things as the surrounding context, parallel or similar passages, and any structural considerations.

Internal Evidence

Bill Mounce has a summary of the external issues in this passage, but he did not delve very deep into internal issues that may have influenced the Mark 1:41 NIV translation. In fact, I’m a bit surprised that Mounce himself was surprised to find the NIV had “Jesus was indignant,” because he was on the NIV translation committee! He may not have translated Mark, though, so I can’t be too hard on him, and the intermediate TNIV translation had already switched to “indignant” from the original NIV’s “compassion” before Mounce joined the NIV committee. One of the principles of determining the original reading (a process called “textual criticism”) is that the translator prefer the most difficult reading of the text. “Jesus was indignant” certainly fits that given the immediate situation in the verses. Add to that that it would have been very tempting for a copyist to “soften the blow” of ὀργισθεὶς by substituting σπλαγχνισθεὶς, since that is exactly what Jesus does in this situation.

According to Metzger’s A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament (the GNT editorial committee’s explanation of choices made among variant readings), they thought that Jesus’ “strong warning” in vs. 43 might be one piece of internal evidence to support ὀργισθεὶς. The editors also cite similar statements in Mark 3:5 and 10:14. I would add to this that the broader context of the passage would seem to hint that Jesus may indeed be indignant. In 35–37, Jesus goes off to a solitary place to pray, but his disciples come looking for him because everyone else is looking for Jesus. Jesus’s response in vs. 38 is telling: “Let us go somewhere else—to the nearby villages—so I can preach there also. That is why I have come.” And so he went out preaching and driving out demons. Verse 39 says nothing of Jesus healing people. In other words, it seems that Jesus wanted a break from the healing, because that wasn’t his main purpose while on Earth.

And so we come to the scene with the man with leprosy. Could it be that Jesus is indignant because he knows what will happen if he heals another person? It’s not that Jesus does not want to heal the man: it’s clear he’s willing to. But the man fails to heed Jesus’s “strong warning” not to tell anyone, and v. 45 says, “As a result, Jesus could no longer enter a town openly but stayed outside in lonely places.” He wanted to preach, but the crowds he was attracting with his healing were hindering that mission. I can see how that would make him indignant.

One other point that Mounce makes is that the BAGD lexicon does not list “indignant” as a meaning for ὀργισθεὶς. However, a couple other Scriptures outside of Mark may imply “indignation” more so than “anger.” The most significant of the 8 other occurrences of ὀργίζομαι is found in Luke 15:28, at the end of the story of the Prodigal Son. The older brother is “angry” for sure, to the point of “righteous indignation” for how his prodigal brother is treated. Luke 14:21 seems to carry the idea of indignation as well, where the master of the banquet brings in the commoners after his invited guests have turned down his generous invitation. Another Greek word, ἀγανακτέω (aganakteō), usually carries the sense of “indignant.”

Weighing the Evidence

Although between Metzger, the NIV translation, and my own contributions here, I think I’ve made a pretty solid case for choosing the less common variant ὀργισθεὶς, it is difficult to overlook the preponderance of external evidence for σπλαγχνισθεὶς. The most prominent uncial manuscripts are all contemporary with or earlier than D, so that is a significant strike against the argument from internal evidence. It is also possible that, if this was copied as someone read the text to roomful of scribes, the copyist of D misheard the person who was reading the text and used the wrong word. It’s possible the copyist still had in his mind words like ERCHetai and pARAKalōn from vs. 40 and prefixed the wrong, but similar sounding, root (ORG) to the istheis ending he heard. The parallel passages in Mt 8:2–4 and Lk 5:12–14 say nothing of Jesus’s attitude toward the situation, so there is no reason the copyist would have tried to change the word to harmonize the passage with parallel accounts.

Conclusion

As such, as much as I like the NIV and respect those I’ve read and have met on the translation committee, I must disagree with the translation “Jesus was indignant.” I think the weight and character of the external evidence outweighs the logic of the internal evidence. If we had more Greek manuscripts that had ὀργισθεὶς in that verse, it might be more compelling to accept “indignant.” But as it stands, I think the solid tradition of most English translations accepting the settled text of the GNT wins the day. Mark 1:41 should be translated “Jesus, having compassion, stretched out his hand….”

Pastor Scott Stocking, M.Div.

My opinions are my own.

February 21, 2011

Walking on Water (Matthew 14:29)

Filed under: Biblical Studies,Greek,Matthew Gospel of,Miracles,New Testament — Scott Stocking @ 5:10 pm
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From January 23, 2011.

This note may be more appealing to my Greek-geek friends (sadly, there are so few of us), but those of you who are tagged may appreciate an insight into textual criticism and some of the considerations that go into trying to decide what the original text of Scripture was when two or more later copies have “variant” readings. Many things are considered in deciding between two or more variant readings, but in a nutshell, the top three considerations are as follows:

  1.  The more difficult reading is preferred (i.e., the one that presents the most problems theologically or historically, because later copyists tended to simplify a text rather than make it more difficult to understand).
  2. The shorter reading is preferred (this may seem to contradict the previous one, but “simplifying” a text may have involved the copyist adding an extra word or two to make the text make sense in his mind).
  3. The dissonant reading is preferred (i.e., the reading that varies from other parallel accounts; the tendency was to bring all accounts of a story into harmony).

Having said all that, I came across an interesting variant in Matthew 14:29 today. It’s not one that would force a major paradigm shift for most, but I found it interesting nonetheless.

The KJV renders the passage, “And he said, Come. And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked on the water, to go to Jesus.”

The TNIV has, “‘Come,’ he said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus.”

At issue are the words in italics. The KJV states that Peter’s purpose (infinitive form) for walking on the water was to go to Jesus without implying that he completed the action, while the TNIV says Peter actually went (completed action form) to/toward Jesus and arrived at or very near his location on the water.

Ἐλθείν  (/el-THAIN/, infinitive meaning “to come” and often expressing purpose) is a well attested variant here. The difference in translation would be this: (a la TNIV, ἦλθεν /AIL-then/) “And he came to/toward” vs. (a la KJV) “in order to come to/toward” (I used my own translations here to emphasize the difference).

In the accepted reading (UBS4/NA27, the foundational Greek text for most modern Bible versions like the TNIV, and which in this verse follows the B text, Codex Vaticanus), depending on how the preposition is translated, Peter actually makes progress on the sea (or “water” as Matthew records Peter’s words) and gets close enough to Jesus for Jesus to reach out and save him.

The variant (textus receptus, which is the foundational Greek text for the KJV) only suggests Peter’s purpose for getting out onto the water, but it says nothing about his progress. Mark and John do not mention Peter’s attempt in the parallel accounts. The B reading is certainly more difficult, but the TR (which follows a correction of א, Codex Sinaitcus) reading is shorter, but in making it shorter, it also simplifies the more difficult concept that Peter walked on water just like Jesus. (The original א text has both Ἐλθείν and ἦλθεν.)

My heart would like to think that Peter actually did make some progress; the weight of the textual evidence in favor of the TR reading gives me pause, but the B reading is parallel to the verb for “walk” in the passage (also the same word used of Jesus walking on the water), so I’d have side with that. Peter does walk on the water, so he does make some progress toward Jesus, and perhaps even makes it all the way to Jesus before he begins to sink.

The bottom line is (and if you understood none of what I wrote above, please get this!), get out of the boat and come to Jesus. We may even get very close to Jesus and still find we lack faith, but all we need to do is cry out, and he will save us from the storms of life.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this.

Scott Stocking, M.Div.

How to Calm a Great Storm (Matthew 8)

Filed under: Biblical Studies,Greek,Hope,Life of Christ,Mark Gospel of,Matthew Gospel of,Miracles,New Testament — Scott Stocking @ 4:59 pm
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From January 16, 2011

Just few observations on some things I noticed in Matthew 8 earlier in the week.

 The “great storm” (σεισμός μέγας, seismos megas) of vs. 24 becomes a “great calm” (γαλήνη μεγάλη, galēnē megalē) in vs. 26 after Jesus rebukes the wind. The dynamically equivalent TNIV renderings of “furious storm” and “completely calm” for these two phrases are adequate, but they don’t reveal to the English-speaking reader that the same word was used to describe both storm and calm.

 Another thing I found interesting is that the story (pericope for my theologically minded friends) of the calming of the storm at sea is juxtaposed to the healing of the demon-possessed Gadarenes in 8:28-34. In the calming of the sea story, The disciples are afraid, and perhaps rightly so, that their lives are in danger in the storm. But Jesus’ presence should have strengthened them: that’s why he “says” to them (it is significant, I think, that he does not “rebuke” them as he does the storm) that they have “little-faith” (one word in Greek) and are “cowards.”

 Contrast that with the fate of the herd of pigs, who, when possessed by the demons cast out of the Gadarenes, ran off into the sea and drowned. The sea was already a place of superstition, but now the disciples had witnessed a herd of unclean animals drown in the sea. How did this affect them?

 In 9:1, (contrast 8:23), Matthew says that only Jesus got back into the boat and crossed back to Capernaum. There is no mention of the disciples getting in the boat with him this time. Even after witnessing Jesus calm the storm at sea, they were still (evidently) skittish about getting back in the boat with Jesus. In Mark’s version of the story (Mark 5), the healed demoniac does want to get in the boat with Jesus when he crosses over, but there is still no indication that the disciples did, although they had apparently caught up to him by Mark 5:31 (see also Luke 8 where the story follows a similar pattern to Mark’s account).

 How many of us have seen the great works of God yet are still afraid to go forward in faith? I know I’ve been cowardly a time or two (okay, many times), but I pray that each of us would have the strength, faith, and courage to go forward and to share boldly the good news of Jesus with those around us.

Peace!

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