Online Divinity Degrees: Two-Dimensional Preparation for a Three-Dimensional World

Online education has become a booming business. And online theological education is no exception. In August 2017, “The Complete List of Online Master of Divinity Degrees,” an article written by Ryan Nelson, was posted at Gradlime: https://gradlime.com/online-masters-divinity/. The author noted that there are “more than 270 graduate schools accredited by the Association of Theological Schools,” but at the time most offered only ‘slim pickings’ in online education. He also noted that there are 55 schools that offer a large number of online MDiv classes, with nearly forty of them doling out the complete degree online. (It should be noted that not all the 270+ theology schools offer an MDiv, so the ratio of schools with online courses to on-campus-only degrees is significantly higher than twenty percent.) In the last year and a half, the ratios have only gotten closer. One Christian university has nearly 100,000 onlinestudents. Another ratio—the cost to the school for each full-time online student vs. the cost for each full-time on-campus student—reveals just how much online education is good for the school’s finances. It is a fraction of the cost of on-campus education (https://www.nytimes.com/2018/04/17/magazine/how-liberty-university-built-a-billion-dollar-empire-online.html). Online education is a money-maker for schools.

Many administrators have justified such distance learning, touting it as something that is every bit as good as in-class instruction. But is it really? For those who will be ministering to real people in the most personal way, how is it possible for the virtual classroom, taught by a virtual teacher to virtual students, to be as good as flesh-and-blood instruction? One measure may be to compare it to how Jesus taught.

Jesus the Master Teacher
As yet another Christmas draws near, we are reminded of the life-changing truth mentioned in John’s Prologue: “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1.14). The Incarnation is one of the great mysteries of the universe. We can describe it in halting terms and even partially explain it, but our finite minds cannot fully grasp it. Ever. Among other things, when the Second Person of the Trinity cloaked his glory in human form he took on the suffering of finitude, of living in a dirty world, of feeling hunger and pain, of rejection, of death. He chose a dozen men to train deeply and personally. They were his acolytes, his companions, his friends. And they were collectively an unsavory lot. Yet Jesus selected them—men who would otherwise never have found a common bond. “The Word… dwelt among us.” The Master Teacher taught the crowds, healed the sick, fed the multitudes, and exorcised hordes from the underworld who had taken up residence in many a human. They had their turn. Now it was God’s. And he lived with a dozen students for three years.

There are untold numbers of lessons we can learn from the Incarnation. One of those in the pedagogical category is this: the most impactful ministry is intensely personal, messy, intentional as well as serendipitous, sacrificial, and communal. Let’s examine each of these briefly.

  1. The most impactful ministry is intensely personal.

Jesus selected seventy disciples to spend time with. Out of that seventy he chose twelve to live with. Of those twelve he concentrated especially on three of them. For the intimate group, it was no holds barred. The instruction was in your face. Jesus ate with the apostles, walked with the apostles, prayed with the apostles, gave private instruction to the apostles, permitted the apostles to learn from each other and minister with each other. It was 24/7 ministry. Life lessons were learned, not just the content of a course.

  1. The most impactful ministry is messy.

Jesus did not teach his disciples in a sterile environment. The apostles were sinners. They wanted to call down God’s wrath and destroy a whole village for rejecting their Master. They got angry with each other. They were jealous, petty, cowardly, and disbelieving. They feared for their lives on more than one occasion. They pushed away children, the blind, old women, and Gentiles. But Jesus taught them, and he changed them. They witnessed miracles and object lessons. They saw their Master tangle with the Pharisees, scribes, and Sadducees. They learned compassion, grace, truth, love, and courage. Their lives were radically changed by the Rabbi in their midst.

  1. The most impactful ministry is intentional.

The Lord made lesson plans for his instruction. He taught with intentionality. His instruction was thought out. He timed what he taught so that it would have the greatest impact. Much of his instruction to the apostles was before or after he spoke to the crowds. And some of it was for their ears only. The apostles were privileged to learn “the secrets of the kingdom of heaven” (Matt 13.11), to wrestle with how to feed the multitudes, to learn the limitations of their exorcistic powers sans prayer. Above all, they learned to trust—and to put their faith in God Incarnate.

  1. The most impactful ministry is serendipitous.

Not all that Jesus taught his closest followers was thought out ahead of time, but came about because an opportunity presented itself. Religious leaders confronted Jesus about his disciples plucking grain on the Sabbath, about their not doing the ritual hand-washing before a meal, about paying taxes, about who their neighbor was, about the nature of resurrection life. The marginalized in society came to Jesus, were rebuffed by his disciples, and ministered to by the Lord. Jesus used every opportunity to mentor these men, to mold their character, to show them what God was really like. And he did it along the way, largely by spending time with them.

  1. The most impactful ministry is sacrificial.

Of course, this goes without saying for the Lord. But his closest followers also made massive sacrifices to learn from the Master. Jesus scolded those who would not make the sacrifice to follow him. His demands were radical. “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry his own cross and follow me cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14.26–27). Those closest to him understood this—at least to some degree. Peter spoke for the rest: “We have left everything and followed you” (Mark 10.28). Disappointment and fear reigned during the interlude between the crucifixion and resurrection. The disciples indeed had given up everything to follow Jesus, only to see the Messiah nailed to a cross. But the empty tomb showed them that their commitment was not in vain. The resurrection and ascension of Jesus, and the coming of the Spirit changed everything. These cowardly men were transformed on the Day of Pentecost. And they would eventually make the ultimate sacrifice—for Jesus.

  1. The most impactful ministry is communal.

Jesus built a new community, the Church, starting with a dozen individuals. He was not the Lone Ranger with just one sidekick. He modeled living out a life for God. He modeled loving the Lord with heart, soul, and mind. And this was acted out by loving his disciples. “Having loved his own who were in the world, he now loved them to the very end” (John 13.1 NET). Jesus constantly reminded his followers of the importance of community. We are not to forgive our brothers and sisters just seven times, “but seventy-seven times!” (Matt 18.22). “I give you a new commandment—to love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another” (John 13.34).

Remarkably, although Jesus was the first to put Deuteronomy 6.5 and Leviticus 19.18 together, and as the hinges on which the whole Law hung no less (Matt 22.40), it is the second command that is repeated as a summary of both in the NT (Rom 13.9; Gal 5.14; Jas 2.8). Thrice it is mentioned in the epistles, and thrice it is claimed to sum up the Law. John tells us why: “If anyone says ‘I love God’ and yet hates his fellow Christian, he is a liar, because the one who does not love his fellow Christian whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen” (1 John 4.20 NET).

The most impactful ministry in Jesus’ day is still the most impactful today. How do the traditional brick-and-mortar seminary education and online theological education measure up?

The Pros and Cons of Online Theological Education
Obviously, the uniqueness of Jesus Christ cannot be duplicated. Instead, he must be revered and worshiped. He alone is the theanthropic person. The sacrifices made today by seminary students will not be the same as what the apostles went through, and their teachers can’t hold a candle to the sun of Christ. Nevertheless, there are principles that we can extract from the Gospels—principles that were played out in the book of Acts and the epistles, especially with Paul and his associates.

  1. intensely personal

There can be no comparison between online education and face-to-face education. Unless, of course, the professor considers out-of-classroom time with students to be optional. The better teachers see individual time, and corporate time, outside of the classroom as a must. Even FaceTime or Skype cannot accomplish the same things as 3D communication.

  1. messy

Ditto for ‘messy.’ Although online teaching can, with some effort, involve faculty in the lives of students, it simply is not the same as logging hours with them—both in the classroom and out.

  1. intentional

Here is where online education shines. A course can be packaged in such a way that the material is covered in full. Already-created video instruction can cut out superfluous material and achieve high levels of content efficiently. In-class instruction or live video feeds often detour because of Q&A or because of the professor following rabbit trails. But ‘dead’ video instruction can become quickly dated, lack vitality, and require less-than-riveted attention that a live, small classroom can inculcate. Thus, the very type of online course that shines the most in intentionality is also the one with the most serious negatives attached to it.

  1. serendipitous

As strong as intentionality is for online education, it is equally weak in serendipitous education. What happens along the way, how faculty and students respond to current events, to personal crises in students’ lives, to teaching opportunities—all these are the domain of 3D education. That is, as long as the teacher is willing to get outside the four walls and get involved in students’ lives.

  1. sacrificial

Making a sacrifice to uproot and move across the country (or across the globe) for the sake of the best education is the stumbling block to more and more would-be students today. Many are already well established in their careers, have children, own a home, or have other entanglements that would seem to prevent them from making such a commitment. Understandably, some students simply cannot do it. They may live under despotic rule, be too poor to move, have health issues, or be under various obligations that would keep them from taking up residence elsewhere. They are making the sacrifice that they can.

On the other hand, some students are simply lazy. Online classes are, frankly, more convenient. Numerous pupils in theological institutes live on or close to campus but take courses online. Why? Sometimes it is because their schedule will not allow them to do otherwise. But often it is because they want the sheepskin with as little effort as possible. Countless numbers could make the sacrifice but view the degree as more important than the education. They intentionally settle for second best.

Further, sometimes those who teach online courses make as little sacrifice as possible. I do not want to paint with a broad brush here; a good number of excellent teachers work very hard in providing two-dimensional instruction. Yet they often are swimming upstream: in-the-flesh instruction would be more meaningful and more effective than live video feeds, and far more than ‘dead’ video instruction.

  1. communal

Community is a high priority for millennials, the group that comprises almost the entire student body of undergrad and grad schools today. But most millennials have almost no clue how to integrate community into their lives. Many feel terribly lonely, too busy, too disconnected. (For just one example of reports on millennials and community, see this article in the New York Post: https://nypost.com/2018/07/10/millennials-are-horrible-neighbors/.) The comically tragic scene of a group of teens sitting together and each texting someone else outside the group has become commonplace across the country and across the globe. They live virtual lives in a virtual world. But human beings are not virtual. Although it may be uncomfortable, awkward, and presumably artificial at first, achieving real community on a seminary campus with today’s millennial students is deeply satisfying for those on both sides of the podium.

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Public domain picture from Wikipedia

  1. support network

A seventh element can be added to the brick-and-mortar approach to education: the on-campus student has access to a world of knowledge, along with those who know how to access it. Nowadays, online education is exploding with internet-accessible information. But all this is equally available to on-campus students. Further, the full library services, tutors, study groups, mentor-students (those further along in the program), and the school’s other faculty as well as staff are matter-of-course for flesh-and-blood education and difficult, if not impossible, to come by for online education.

It seems that three-dimensional education, when both teacher and student are fully committed to the process, is hands-down superior to two-dimensional education. But we must not think that the latter has no value. Quite the contrary: it is the second best approach. As I mentioned earlier, for some students this is the only way they can get a theological education of any sort. For those who are not enrolled in a program of study, numerous online courses are available from excellent teachers. Once again, however, it must be underscored that whatever an online student can get an on-campus student can get.

In many respects, online education is like a letter from an apostle. John told the ‘elect lady’ in one letter and Gaius in another, “Though I have many other things to write to you, I do not want to do so with paper and ink, but I hope to come visit you and speak face to face, so that our joy may be complete” (2 John 12; see also 3 John 13–14). Paul wrote to the Romans that he longed to visit them (Rom 1.10–11); meanwhile, his letter would have to do. Distance education—whether an epistle or a video course—is not to be cast off as so much refuse, but neither is it ideal.

I would like to close this blog-turned-dissertation with a few random notes, anecdotal and otherwise.

  1. Dallas Seminary started an internship program in the early 90s, in which a handful of Master of Theology students would be mentored by a faculty member over the course of a school year. The students were required to put in hundreds of hours of work for the professor. Ideally, the internship would help the teacher with his or her projects, and help the student to learn the ropes of an academic ministry. I have had well over a hundred interns during these years. In my three and a half decades of teaching in graduate school, I can say that absolutely nothing has been so rewarding as spending time with these select students. This kind of close, personal attention would simply not be possible with distance learning. Many of my interns have become professors and scholars, distinguishing themselves as gifted, personable, and approachable teachers. Others have become pastors, missionaries, and translators. They have learned what I attempted to model—and often, far better than my meager attempts at mentoring would suggest.
  2. Every year, I ask all my students to fill out what I call the SSRS—“Succinct Self-Revelatory Statement.” I am very nosey in the SSRS, asking the student about marital status, number and ages of children, weekly work hours, number of courses they are taking, etc. I want to assess the likelihood of their success in my class. Increasingly, students want to have it all: work 40 hours a week, take a full load at school, and raise two preschoolers with their spouse who is also working full-time. It’s a recipe for disaster and I let them know it. I want them to succeed—both in the course and in life. Learning to settle for limited objectives and delayed gratification is key to that success.

In the real-life setting of a living, breathing environment, students often learn of others’ needs and they pray as a family. This past semester, when one student learned of another’s car troubles during our opening prayer time, he gave him a car! Yes, he had another. But he could have sold the second car and paid some bills. Yet the need so impressed him that he donated his car to this student. That’s community at work. Could this happen in an online course? Yes, of course. But the likelihood is greater the more the students know about each other.

I also ask them how much Greek they have had previously and whether any courses they took were online. I can say that, more often than not, the students who are less prepared than others are those whose previous education in the language has been online. To be sure, some students are so highly motivated that they will learn well via any method, even being self-taught. They are the exception that proves the rule.

  1. Last month I spoke with professors (and even one president) at several theological schools, while attending the annual conferences of the Evangelical Theological Society and the Society of Biblical Literature. I asked their opinion about online education. I was surprised to learn how strongly negative their attitude was toward such an instructional model. Some departments, and even an entire faculty, refused to offer any online classes. They recognized that their stance was old school, and that the institute’s finances were perhaps hurting because of it. But their concern was to make sure that their students were well prepared for a real world—messy, sinful, dirty, ugly and beautiful, unpredictable, filled with heartache and joy. Real ministry involves all these things. They agreed with me that some students simply cannot get theological education any other way than through distance learning. But that’s second best.
  2. What about those professors who spend no time outside of class with their students? Or those who go through the motions, simply transferring their notes to the students’ notebooks, never passing through the crucible of life? Yes, there are those kinds of teachers. Is it legitimate, however, to compare the worst of 3D teachers with the best of 2D teachers? Minimalist teachers in the classroom are not the way it’s supposed to be. When I was in the master’s program, I sought out the very best professors teaching their best courses. If a particular course was a little outside my orbit of interest, it would still be preferred over one that was inside but taught by a prof with delusions of adequacy. I wanted to learn not only the content of a course, but how to love God with my mind.
  3. Finally, the bottom-line question that the prospective student needs to ask is not, “What’s the easiest route to take to earn that degree?” but, “What is the best preparation I can get for a lifetime of ministry?”

How New Is the New Testament?

A wonderful volume appeared late this year, and it’s one you’ll want to put on your Christmas list: How New Is the New Testament?: First-Century Judaism and the Emergence of Christianity, by Donald Hagner (Baker Academic).

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The mature reflections of a seasoned and dedicated NT scholar, Hagner’s How New Is the New Testament? offers a straightforward assessment of the current climate of NT studies with reference to its Jewish roots. Hagner traces the historical see-saw between continuity and discontinuity throughout church history and offers compelling evidence that the pendulum has swung too far toward continuity in recent decades. He takes the reader on a fast-paced tour, from Matthew through Revelation, on what is really new in the NT. The author virtually unties the Gordian knot between the New Perspective on Paul and the old perspective, though he comes down, in all essentials, on the side of the old perspective. Hagner weaves a rich and complex tapestry of OT promise and NT fulfillment, the backside of which tapestry has been occupying exegetes for too long. The panoramic view of the NT presented here, written by a first-class Neutestamentler, is beautiful in its simplicity and compelling in its cumulative argument.

 

 

Honoring loved ones in your life this Christmas

Friends, I wanted to share a link with you all about a unique Christmas present opportunity. It’s a way you can both honor friends, family, or those who have influenced you and preserve unique, handwritten pages of the New Testament at the same time. I’ve done this for my parents. Mom went to be with the Lord last January and Dad doesn’t want any more stuff in his life. This is a way to give him a Christmas present that doesn’t clutter his home. (I’m sure he won’t know about this until I tell him.) You may wish to honor a beloved teacher, parent, child, friend, or even an author/speaker who has shown you the importance of the word of God.

Click on the link below to find out how to put the honoree’s name on a special Internet page; the honorees will be listed on Christmas Eve.

11×12 Donation honoring someone in your life

 

Pope Francis, The Lord’s Prayer, and Bible Translation

Pope Francis recently suggested on Italian television that the petition in the Lord’s Prayer, “Do not lead us into temptation” (Matt 6.13; Luke 11.4), “is not a good translation because it speaks of a God who induces temptation.” He added, “It is Satan who leads us into temptation; that’s his department.” He argued that the verse should be rendered, “Do not let us fall into temptation.”

A myriad of implications arise from the pontiff’s statement. Among them I list just three: (1) Have translations of the Bible gotten this verse wrong for 2000 years, only now to be corrected? (2) What is the nature of translation? (3) Do we have the right to change the wording of the original because it seems to contradict what Scripture says elsewhere?

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Matthew 6 in Codex Sinaiticus

(1)       Have translations of the Bible gotten this verse wrong for 2000 years?

Jerome’s Vulgate—the version that has been the official Bible of the Catholic Church for centuries—reads here ne inducas nos in temptationem: “Do not lead us into temptation.” Perhaps intentionally, but certainly ironically, the pope said in his interview, “ti induce alla tentazione satana è quello ufficio di satana.” That is, Satan is the one who induces or leads us into temptation, not God. He used the Italian equivalent to Jerome’s Latin (‘inducas’ means ‘lead’ or even ‘induce,’ as the English cognate suggests), but seems to deny what the Vulgate plainly says.

In 1979, the Nova Vulgata became the official Catholic translation (after Vatican II, it follows the Greek and Hebrew more closely), yet it too says ne inducas nos. So, the pontiff is not only going against modern translations but even his own Vulgate.

Other translations also read “do not lead us into temptation” or the like (e.g., “lead us not”): KJV, ASV, RSV, NASB, NIV, ESV, HCSB, NET, WEB, Lutherbibel, Nouvelle Edition de Genève, Reina Valera. Others have “do not put us to the test,” “do not bring us into hard testing,” or “do not subject us to the final test” (NJB, TEV, REB, NABR; the NJB and NABR are Catholic translations).

It may be surprising, however, to discover that a few modern translations come close to Pope Francis’s version. The New Living Translation (2nd edition), a Protestant Bible, has “don’t let us yield to temptation.” The Nouvelle Version Segond Révisée, another Protestant translation, has “ne nous laisse pas entrer dans la tentation” (“do not allow us to enter temptation”). The Nuova Riveduta of the Sacra Bibbia, an Italian Protestant work, reads “non ci esporre alla tentazione” (“do not expose us to temptation”). The NLT and SEGR both accent what might be called the passive or permissive will of God (i.e., “don’t let us”) rather than the active (“don’t lead us”); the Nuova Riveduta seems to be halfway between ‘lead’ of the standard translations and ‘let’ of the outliers.

Nevertheless, there seems to be an overwhelming consensus that “do not lead us” or the like is how the text should be rendered. (We will examine the Greek shortly.) But the few that have gone against the grain—and have been on the market for many years—have not created nearly the reaction of Pope Francis’s latest provocation. Perhaps this is due both to the fact that the pontiff said this and that it stands in direct contradiction to the Vulgate and other Catholic versions. But this leads us into the question of translation philosophy.

 

(2)       What is the nature of translation?

There are two broad theories of translation today—formal equivalence and functional equivalence. Formal equivalence means that the translation attempts to retain the wording and syntax of the original language as much as possible. Functional equivalence means that the translation gives a higher priority to the semantics of the original, bringing out the force of original text regardless of how it is worded.

Brief history of English translations

Both of these have pros and cons. On the one hand, it is a myth that a so-called “literal” translation is more accurate. Many believe that the King James Bible is the most literal translation available. But even the original preface of the KJV noted that the translators’ objective was as much literary quality as it was accuracy. The Authorized Version is probably the only literary masterpiece ever produced by a committee—and it’s a translation no less! If it were extremely literal, this accolade would never have been made about the KJV.

In fact, the Revised Version of 1885—the first English translation done by a committee since the KJV (or AV) appeared in 1611—was done by a committee of British and American scholars who wanted to replace the King James with “King Truth.” But the translation was not palatable because it was too stiff, hardly readable, downright ugly. Ironically, the RV was difficult to read not because of archaisms as much as because of slavish literalism. The sales were awful, and the American Standard Version of 1901 was something of a reaction to it by the Americans on the RV committee. This is still wooden English, though an improvement over the RV. (The NASB has followed in the train of the RV and ASV.)

But in 1952, the Revised Standard Version appeared. Its understated elegance and good English made it memorable. It truly was a revision in the line of the King James Bible. The ESV and the NRSV have continued this formal equivalence philosophy with simplicity, understated elegance, memorability, and accuracy. As Bruce Metzger, the chairman of the NRSV translation committee, stated, the objective followed by the NRSV translators was to “be as literal as possible, as free as necessary.”

Other translations have followed a more functional equivalent philosophy. The NIV and New English Bible were the first major English translations in the last three centuries to break completely from the Tyndale-Geneva-King James chain. The New English Bible (now, Revised English Bible [REB]) is much more of a functional equivalent work than the NIV, and it is also much more elegant and memorable than the NIV. But the NIV (and its revision, the NIV 2011) is both very accurate and very readable. It has become the most popular Bible translation in any language in history. And yet, even the NIV reads “do not lead us into temptation” in Matt 6.13.

All translation is interpretation

It is important to recognize, however, that all translation is interpretation. The reason is that the syntax and lexical mapping in one language never match exactly that of another language. The context determines the meaning. A so-called “word-for-word” translation is quite impossible for anything more than a short phrase or sentence. In this passage, for example, the word translated “temptation” is the same word that is elsewhere translated “testing.” Interpretation is required; translators cannot simply leave the word to allow for both meanings since “temptation” has connotations of sin while “testing” does not. However, in this passage there is good reason to see πειρασμός (peirasmos) as bearing the force of temptation, as we will see below. But the point is that an interpretation of the text is already done in even the most formal equivalent translations of this passage. In one sense, the pope’s rendering is an interpretation of an interpretation.

Many on the functional-equivalent side of the translation debate are determined to clear up all ambiguities in the text, to make everything crystal clear. Some of these translators have little training in exegesis. Typically, the less training they have in the original languages and biblical studies, the more they assume that the Bible is perfectly clear everywhere; it just needs to have the proper functional equivalence to bring out its meaning. But this is terribly naïve.

Students in seminary often come into the program thinking that once they get some Greek and Hebrew under their belts the interpretive issues will simply disappear. The reality is that study in the original languages in some places will expand on the interpretive possibilities, in others shrink them. But most importantly, such training will replace a misinformed list of options for one that is better informed and at least has some validity.

Ideally, a translation should give the readers of the Bible in their own language the same interpretive options that a reader of the original will have. And this means that it is important for readers of the Bible to struggle with the same, often intentional, ambiguities found in the original text.

When the NET Bible was in beta-mode, we field-tested it on the Internet. Comments were welcome; hundreds of thousands poured in. Some professional translators committed to functional equivalence argued with our rendering of ἐν Χριστῷ as “in Christ.” They pointed out that this hardly communicated anything in English and that it was difficult to grasp Paul’s meaning of his favorite phrase (he uses it 73 times). They noted correctly that Paul uses ἐν Χριστῷ in a variety of contexts and in a variety of ways. And they wanted us to reflect those nuances in every place. Their view was in line with what Lady Oppenheimer wrote in her book Incarnation and Immanence ([1973], p. 17): “Christians have a great deal to say about the ways in which people can be related to God and to each other, and many of the things they wish to say take for granted the possibility of certain sorts of close relationships which are not on the face of it compatible with common sense.”

We rejected their input on this point and decided to keep the translation “in Christ.” Why? Because we believed that the modern English reader should have the same semantic options as the original reader. Close analogies to this sort of language are not to be found in Greco-Roman literature. This means that Paul’s original readers had to work hard to get at the apostle’s meaning, ultimately coming to see the rich tapestry of “in Christ” as deeper and richer than any functional equivalent could provide. In this instance, we felt that clearing up the ambiguity of the text would rob the modern reader of the joy of discovery and the value of thinking deeply about Scripture.

There are times, however, when retaining the original ambiguity does not help the modern reader. In such cases, interpretation is required of the translator. In Rom 3.22 the NET translators felt that translating διὰ πίστεως Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ as “by faith of Jesus Christ” was simply too ambiguous. This is exactly what the KJV has here, and it communicates poorly what the meaning of the original is because it does not interpret. Although one or two scholars have suggested that πίστις Χριστοῦ means “faith of Christ”—that is, the faith that Christ himself had—this is not a popular view. The two leading options are either “faith in Christ” or “the faithfulness of Christ.” How could they be so disparate? The reason is due to one lexical and one grammatical problem. πίστις lexically can mean faith or faithfulness. And the genitive Χριστοῦ can be subjective or objective. If objective, Christ is the object of πίστις (and hence, “faith in Christ”); if subjective, Christ is semantically the subject (“the faithfulness of Christ”—that is, that he is faithful). Leaving the text as “faith of Christ” hardly allows for either of these interpretive translations. The ambiguity in English is not the same as it is in Greek. In this case, a more literal translation ends up being the worst translation. The only real choice here is for translators to commit to one interpretation since leaving it neutral actually gives the wrong impression of the meaning to the English reader.

So then, should translation be formally equivalent for functionally equivalent? Neither one is adequate. Faithful equivalence is really required—faithful to the meaning of the original. If this can be accomplished by following a somewhat formal equivalent (since a completely formal equivalent is quite impossible), fine. But Greek and Hebrew are structured so differently that to force both of them into one kind of translation model is a one-size-fits-all mentality that simply won’t work.

On the one hand, there are hundreds of places when formal equivalence simply doesn’t help the English reader understand the interpretive possibilities of the original text. Yet that is the goal of formal equivalence. As we have said, the reality is that every translation is an interpretation. The question is how much we should try to interpret in any given place.

On the other hand, functional equivalence translations often take liberties with the text by offering a less-likely or even an illegitimate rendering, and they frequently make the text clear for a reader who could, in their own native language, figure out what the author is talking about. Some of the most stunning prose in the Bible is full of figurative language that to reduce it to its referential meaning is to destroy its beauty, thought-provoking nature, connotative force, and lingering memorability.

The Lord’s Prayer and translation

The pope’s rendering certainly is on the functional-equivalent side rather than the formal-equivalent side. But does that make it illegitimate?

In this instance, the bishop of Rome has taken many liberties with the text, both linguistically and contextually, thereby robbing the modern reader of seeing the connections that Matthew himself has laid out.

Not only is the Greek in both Matt 6.13 and Luke 11.4 textually certain (variants for “do not lead us into temptation” are trivial amounting to minor spelling differences), but the syntax is clear. The verb in the petition “lead” is an aorist active subjunctive (εἰσενέγκῃς); with the negative particle, “do not lead” is the idea. The pope wants it to mean “allow” which speaks instead of God not permitting something rather than him actively leading us. And the pontiff seems to have assumed that the Greek “lead into temptation” means “permit to fall into temptation.” Several lexical, syntactical, and interpretive shifts are seen here.

The broader context of Matthew’s Gospel may give us a clue as to why the Lord said, “Do not lead us into temptation.” Immediately after Jesus’ baptism, we are told that he “was led up into the wilderness by the Spirit to be tempted by the devil” (Matthew 4.1). The Greek text indicates that the purpose of the Spirit’s leading Jesus into the wilderness was so that he would be tempted by the devil (“to be tempted” [πειρασθῆναι] is an infinitive of purpose, giving the purpose of the Spirit’s leading). Mark words this even more starkly: “Immediately the Spirit drove him into the wilderness” (Mark 1.13).

Evidently, there is a sense in which Jesus was delivered into the hands of the evil one, by the Holy Spirit himself, to be tempted. But the Greek here makes an interesting point about who is responsible for what. Two passive verbs are used in Matt 4.1— ἀνήχθη (“he was led”) and πειρασθῆναι (“to be tempted”). The agents are listed with identical prepositions: ὑπό. This is the preposition used especially for ultimate agent. It is rare to see ὑπό followed by πνεύματος (“Spirit”) in the NT (only five passages). Doing so here, Matthew shows that the Spirit is not subordinate to the devil but is the agent ultimately responsible for leading Jesus into the wilderness, while the devil is the ultimate agent of the temptation. The Spirit is not responsible for that. The Spirit did not tempt Jesus, but he did lead him to be tempted. The balance is intentional: leading into temptation is not the same as tempting. God the Holy Spirit led Jesus into temptation, but he did not tempt him. Wrestling with the implications of this requires more than a little reflection.

Although Satan’s purpose was to destroy Jesus before he ever went to the cross, God’s purpose in using Satan was painted on a broader canvas. God tests; Satan tempts. The Son of God went through similar testing as the children of Israel in the wilderness. They were there for forty years; he was there for forty days. Where they failed he succeeded.

Further, the temptation that the Lord faced was the ultimate temptation—the offer of the entire world on a platter. Jesus can ask the disciples to pray that the Father would not lead them into temptation and that God would deliver them from the evil one precisely because Jesus himself faced the ultimate temptation by the evil one. Whereas the Spirit led Jesus to be tempted, Jesus asks the Father not to lead his disciples into temptation; whereas Jesus was delivered over to Satan for tempting (testing from the Father’s perspective), Jesus prays that his followers will be delivered from the evil one. It is precisely because of Jesus’ substitutionary death and life that this prayer can be recited today by Christians with the full assurance that God will answer us.

Pope Francis’s translation, however, subverts all this: “do not let us fall into temptation.” The original text speaks clearly of God leading, not permitting. To tamper with the wording misses the connection with the Lord’s temptation.

 

(3)     What does the original text really mean and do we have the right to change it in translation?

 The pope makes a good point that our heavenly Father does not tempt us. And yet, he argues that point from a theological construct derived elsewhere in the Bible (see James 1.13). “Do not lead us into temptation” does not mean that God tempts us; the petition is for God’s protection from the evil one, as the rest of Matt 6.13 says.

 Further, the notion that we can change the wording to fit the meaning that we find somewhere else might actually be doing a disservice to the biblical authors’ intentions. The Bible is full of paradoxes, figurative language, jolting imagery. To simplify and pacify such language cuts off the legs of its literary and even spiritual power.

At bottom, what the pontiff is doing is interpretation—but interpretation that removes the tension and paradox from the text, is not true to the force of the original, and buries the connection to Jesus’ temptation. Better to leave the text alone and allow God’s people to experience the joy of discovery of the meaning of Holy Writ.

Book Notice: A New Approach to Textual Criticism: An Introduction to the Coherence-Based Genealogical Method

Published by SBL Press, and hot off the presses, is this new work on CBGM. Here’s what the SBL Press website has to say about the book:

An essential introduction for scholars and students of New Testament Greek

With the publication of the widely used twenty-eighth edition of Nestle-Aland’s Novum Testamentum Graece and the fifth edition of the United Bible Society Greek New Testament, a computer-assisted method known as the Coherence-Based Genealogical Method (CBGM) was used for the first time to determine the most valuable witnesses and establish the initial text. This book offers the first full-length, student-friendly introduction to this important new method. After setting out the method’s history, separate chapters clarify its key concepts such as genealogical coherence, textual flow diagrams, and the global stemma. Examples from across the New Testament are used to show how the method works in practice. The result is an essential introduction that will be of interest to students, translators, commentators, and anyone else who studies the Greek New Testament.

Features

  • A clear explanation of how and why the text of the Greek New Testament is changing
  • Step-by-step guidance on how to use the CBGM in textual criticism
  • Diagrams, illustrations, and glossary of key terms

And here’s the endorsement by Paul Foster:

For anybody who cares about the text of the New Testament, there will be few books published in biblical studies over the next decade that will be more important than this one. Tommy Wasserman and Peter Gurry describe some of the tectonic shifts that are currently occurring in the way that New Testament text critics are reconstructing the earliest recoverable form of the Greek text of the New Testament. With great care and clarity, the authors explain the intricacies of the Coherence-Based Genealogical Method in ways that both scholars and nonspecialists can readily understand. For anybody who wishes to know how the text of latest printed scholarly editions of the Greek New Testament has been determined and why it differs from earlier editions, this is the book to read.

Paul Foster
Professor of New Testament and Early Christianity
School of Divinity, University of Edinburgh

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Writing an introduction to the Coherence-Based Genealogical Method for the uninitiated must be akin to trying to teach the Amish how to drive a Ferrari. CBGM is a complex method that Wasserman and Gurry have simplified with a rather humane writing style, but this does not mean that those who have minimal exposure to this method will jump at the chance to understand it. They should, and Wasserman and Gurry are the right guides to gently bring them into the realm of 21st century NT textual criticism. This book is a welcome addition to the library of anyone (not just the neophyte) who wants to understand this arcane, yet foundational, discipline that has grown in intricacies and subtleties in recent years. You can get the paperback version on Amazon for less than $20.