Note: This chapter originally appeared on my blog as Greek, Hebrew and the Joy of S-x and Freaks don’t want no Greek. I know that’s cheating but I need a day off.

If you listen to Suzanne, and Iyov and John, you might think studying Greek and Hebrew is an experience in mystic Bible bliss. It’s not. Take it from me. Greek sucks. Hebrew hurts. One semester of Bible Greek is enough to turn any normal human being off “the original” for a lifetime. Didactic methods in our Bible schools and seminaries are bad. So painful. So achingly boring that if you think studying Greek is fun you have to either be steeped in self-deception or a masochistic moron. OK, sorry that was a bit strong. But it sounds so nice… “masochistic morons mumbling masoretic mantras, mmmmmmm.”

Case in point. I never darkened the door of a seminary until constant cajoling from one of the veterans of the Bible translation battle shamed me into enlisting myself in a 1st-year course in Bible Greek at a certain seminary. At that point I had been reading Greek for more than a decade. Not well. But I could scan a text, focus in on the bothersome stuff and generally fake it. OK, I thought. I’ll suffer through a semester and memorize all those declensions, etc. that Greeksters delight in spouting.

Welcome to γέεννα

In a scene reminiscent of the movie Brazil I found myself sitting in an undersized desk with, I kid you not, a little desktop that swung on a hinge. Right-handed, of course, which made it a bit of a carpal killer for note-taking lefties like myself. The professor’s tie was wide and striped. This all really happened. I don’t need hyperbole. Because he loved the textbook so much, the original publisher allowed him to reprint it at will. Which was a good thing because no one had requested a copy of this particular text since the 1960s. Our first week was spent mastering a fool-proof system of little index cards with declensions, etc. on them. After that class time was divided between us being quizzed on things like the future imperative participle second person plural and little pep talks by the professor on “What a logical language Koine Greek is. It’s beautiful isn’t it?!?” Answer: No, it’s not. It’s messy and weird like all the 6,912 current living languages and on top of that it’s dead and has been for 2,000 years. Not beautiful, sorry. Not even kinda cute.

So, wait a minute here. You want me to regurgitate on demand things like “the future imperative participle second person plural?” I was studying GGBB on the sly because despite not having any pretty pictures or a cool CD-ROM like BBG it was People Magazine material compared to the photostat our teacher was drooling over. In GGBB (If you don’t know, you are truly a lost soul) there was a footnote saying, “There also is a participle which is built on the future tense stem, but it occurs only twelve times in the New Testament.” Despite the strange position of also and only in that sentence I understood the author to be saying, “Don’t bother to learn all the paradigms for first-person, second-person, etc. for the future participle because that would be stupid.” When I questioned the professor on memorizing forms that never occur in the New Testament he looked at me sideways and I could see him mentally putting me down in his little book as problem student. Why did you climb the mountain? Because it’s not there.

What, you might be asking about now, does this have to do with s-x? You can read about all the details of sexual reproduction in a textbook of biology and physiology and it will never stimulate the least interest in personally experiencing the process. Greek grammar books are like that. I know the joys of Greek. Just yesterday I was getting really excited about the word κατά. But a Greek grammar is the linguistic equivalent of a cold shower. Here’s a sample:

“No case ending is used, the tau drops off because it cannot stand at the end of a word (rule 8), and the omicron lengthens to compensate for the loss.” (Reference not cited out of respect for the author)

OT scholars may be cooler than NT scholars but I can guarantee that their grammar books are just as dull. So keep on reading all the scribes and Pharisees who want you to believe that mastering the languages of Moses and Paul is the prerequisite to getting deep insights into the Book of books. But don’t believe them. Instead, in due course, Grasshopper, I will reveal to you all the secret tricks you need to study the Bible like the big boys (and girl). Without the flash cards. Or the little desks with hinges.

Editor’s note: The opinions expressed in this article do not necessarily represent doctrines and practices approved by the denomination with which David holds ministerial credentials or the mission that sent him to the depths of Africa on a shoestring budget (No hard feelings…) Also, David wishes to apologize for saying “Greek sucks.” Neither his mother nor his wife approve of such language.

P.S. I changed the spelling of the S-word to try to fool weirdos out there who are looking for something they ain’t gonna find here.

In Greek, Hebrew and the Joy of S-x, I claimed that Biblical language instruction courses are “bad. So painful. So achingly boring.” And called Greek students “masochistic morons mumbling masoretic mantras.” (Technically, “Masoretic” would be Hebrew students, but in this instance alliteration trumps accuracy.)

Why the vehemence? It’s simply this: Biblical Greek instruction forever scars anyone exposed to it. The end result of studying Biblical languages should be an appreciation for the unique qualities of those languages and an ability to study them to our benefit. But instead, students are mired down from the very start in things like “the movable nu” and a bewildering terminology for talking about Koine that is itself a foreign language.

Students are permanently scarred by Greek study in one of two ways. The first group endures the rite of passage and vows never to go through it again while simultaneously feeling a lasting sense of shame and inferiority because they couldn’t hack it. The second group actually thrives under the Greek instruction. They enjoy memorizing all the different forms and vocabulary. But their scar is more subtle. They become convinced that being able to parse a Greek verb equates with understanding the Bible in Greek. I admire the brilliant minds that gravitate in this direction. There are three people I consider my Greek mentors, one of them a grandmother. Their love of the language inspires me to endure the pain of parsing.

But understanding a language doesn’t mean you understand the message. This happens to me all the time in Mozambique. Someone is talking to me in Portuguese or Nyungwe or even English. I understand every word he is saying. But I don’t have a clue what he’s talking about. There’s some missing bit of information that I don’t have access to. Almost every time it is some cultural context that isn’t available to me as an outsider. Reading the Bible is like that. You can understand every word and still not get it. Trouble is we never read a passage and say, “I don’t get it.” Our minds are very tricky in this regard. They insist on comprehension. So we always think we understand what it says.

Students of the Bible would benefit more by studying New Testament culture than Greek grammar. Michael Kruse is doing an outstanding job discussing New Testament culture and the Roman concept of family. His posts on Kruse Kronicle are really helping me to appreciate the Epistles. The context of a statement in the Scriptures is almost always implicit. We should use the “plain meaning of the text” not to step forward toward a present-day application, but to step back and say, “Based on this it seems Paul is addressing this problem…” Then we can move forward to application.

Last week, I thought I’d start working through 1 Timothy in Greek to freshen up my parsing skills. It was fascinating. I dove into the word ἐπιταγή. Wouldn’t it be better to translate it here as authority? And why is σωτῆρος ἡμῶν anarthous but τῆς ἐλπίδος ἡμῶν articular? All this in the very first verse of the book! But here’s the catch: As rewarding as this study is, it has very little bearing on the spiritual and practical impact of this book. When we study the original language our tendency is to get bogged down in details and miss the point of the passage which is almost always found in larger chunks of discourse. Read an idiomatically translated version of 1 Timothy and the natural flow of the language will help you focus on the forest rather than the trees. For that reason, even though when studying I read Greek and translations that emphasize form, for my devotions I use Contemporary English Version.

I’m one of those freakish people that believes you don’t need Greek to understand the Bible. Thanks to many scholars and translators and centuries of study I have the benefit of the Bible translated into my language. But a Bible translation is not just a translation of the Word of God. A Bible translation is the Word of God. Only when the Scriptures have been rendered in my own language can I understand their message. Going back to the Greek can actually be a step backwards in understanding, giving more misunderstanding than insight.

It’s funny to look at these posts two years later. I think some of this I don’t believe anymore. But I’ll have to sleep on it for a few weeks and get back to you.