Showing posts with label bible translation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bible translation. Show all posts

Monday, 21 September 2020

Laws, statutes, precepts, commands, ordinances, what is it with all this legal jargon and how should we parse it?

Currently in the process of some initial checks on my Non-Religious Bible Psalms project, I noticed some interesting parallels between Psalm 19 and Psalm 119. Apart from sharing a very similar number, we see first in Psalm 19:7-9 and then in more detail in Psalm 119 a whole array of legal terminology that is not easy to translate, especially if we want a reader to find it believable that anyone could find such a thing as an "ordinance" exciting or delightful.

One of the initial things that has had me puzzled is the order in which the Psalmist unpacks his message. Given that he starts in Psalm 19:7 with GOD's Torah, we might be permitted to think that he is going from big to little, but that is not always immediately clear. From the most overarching and society-directing to the individual minutia GOD's words/instructions/insights/instincts/lessons/judgements are fantastic?

This is the order the Psalmist takes it here:

  1. TORAH, traditionally rendered "the law of the LORD" (7a)
  2. EDOT, traditionally rendered "the statutes of the LORD" (7b)
  3. PIQQUDIM, traditionally rendered "the precepts of the LORD" (8a)
  4. MISWOT, traditionally rendered "the command[ment]s of the LORD" (8b)
[interlude on the YIRAT/fear of the LORD (9a)], then 

        5. MISHPATIM, traditionally rendered "the ordinances of the LORD" (9b)


(Later in Psalm 119 we will also have huqqim, dabar and imrah.)

So what is going on here, do we have our big-to-little? Or what other thought patterns can we discern? Torah is indeed the benchmark for the Hebrews and so it makes sense to begin here. Where commentators can go is then to say there is no need to think in terms of "big to small", because the Torah comprises all the following points anyway. If this were the case, then we might want to ask the question, how come all the following verses do not switch subject? Ie: The Torah of Yahweh is perfect... the Edut of the Torah are trustworthy... That is not what we see. Rather we see each legal item attached directly to Yahweh himself.

So how big is Number 2, EDOT? The English-favoured term, statutes, are pretty high up. Unlike the Torah, of which there is just one (as far as I am aware), God's whole legal framework for his healthy society, these are nationwide laws. So far so good, although there is a sense of 'warning' about EDOT that might be necessary to factor in for more meaningful translation.

Next, 3. PIQQUDIM. The translated term of "precepts" is a more local enactment of something higher. So yes, we do seem to observe a pattern of big-to-small.

4. MISWOT seems to betray the pattern, however, since we have spoken commands, often of divine origin. Maybe the betrayal is not so great, however. Remember what was said about how all the verses might point to the Torah after 7a? Well, just because MISWOT is usually a divine command does not mean that it should be higher up the pecking order especially because they are all directly linked to Yahweh himself. So the real transition that is happening is that we now move from something that was intended to be written as a written part of the legal structure of Yahweh's society to something that was intended to be recorded as a spoken clarification or a contextualised instruction from Yahweh, that would have future ramifications. So written to spoken could be seen as a progression in this sense.

Then we have the fear interjection, which I do not particularly find fitting here (sorry Mr. Psalmist!) as it seems to interrupt the flow. After that, the pattern is restored where we have our potential candidate for the most localised outworking of GOD's wonderful clarity for flourishing society, 5. MISHPATIM, "a judge's statement of what should have taken place in a particular case" (Wilson, NIV Application Commentary). It seems to me that the order is more or less intact, with the rather awkard interjection needing some consideration. Do we desire that translations contain awkward structure when the intention is for poetic beauty to reflect the beauty of the subject? I would suggest that at least for some translation purposes that the answer is in the negative.

So before we tackle a non-religious rendering of the passage, first we need to think about positioning of the fear clause. My suggestion would be to make it 11c. In the NIV this would read:

By them (all these laws and guidelines by God for his people) is your servant warned;
    in keeping them there is great reward
        [for] the fear of the LORD is pure, enduring forever.

Although I was originally intent on reordering some of the other parts slightly, I believe we can maintain original "big-to-local" thought as follows:

7. a. LOVE’s way is like it,
Reviving the soul after a long cold night.
7. b. LOVE instincts in us can be trusted,
Making even the inexperienced among us seem like wise sages.
8. a. LOVE paths are bang on and lead to real joy in the community.
8. b. LOVE’s words are pure and literally light up our gaze.
9. b. LOVE insights are solid and consistently right.

Note that the "it" of 7.a. serves as a nice connector to the whole preceding section of God's wonderous creative order, the conclusion of which was the sun's gracious sharing of its life-giving heat as it journeys from horizon to the other.

Obviously, a lot more to be said, but I think that will have to do for today.

Friday, 29 May 2020

Aligning My Purpose

In a powerful series of reflections embedded within meditation and prayer, I have encountered the challenge of asking myself: what is my purpose?

This is perhaps an opportunity to really highlight the wisdom of the Bible and how it came to be so sacred and inspiring for so many generations. It contains truth that can guide us at such a deep level and away from scary messages from society that unremittingly indicate that our worth and values are tied up with a purpose to survive and receive praise. My purpose was wrapped up in my unquenching thirst to be loved. It remains a struggle.

So not always knowing quite where to begin, I was reminded of a passage we studied in Bible school almost twenty years ago (at King's School of Theology, run at that time by Salt & Light ministries). It's from the prophetic book of Habakkuk in the Old Testament. In the NIV it reads: "For the Earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the LORD as the waters cover the sea." Sounds pretty awesome still, but first let's check out the English translation a little.

Our Bible studies "teach" us theological facts like "God is love", "God gives us his peace if we submit to his ways." But that kind of knowledge leaves the part it's supposed to impact the most specifically, our heart, almost completely untouched, on the edge, unaffected. The worries and fears of my mind are unaffected by this kind of "knowledge." What might help these mindsets - of which I am a direct descendant - are words like 'understanding' or 'awareness'. We could consider colliding them all somehow, Amplified Bible-style:

Knowledge
Understanding
Awareness

"...filled with a knowing and understanding awareness of ..."?

I think we can do better than that. Let's look at some of these words' traits.

Knowledge (stable but not pervasive, sensory or experiential)
Understanding (embracing)
Awareness (now, experiential, but temporal)

Let us attempt a return to 'awareness' and see how we might overcome its temporal limitations:
" ...filled with awareness of...". Without the article there is a greater feel of stability and transcendence to this quality of awareness. I also recall that sentences such as these in Hebrew can be understood in a progressive sense, i.e. the Earth shall be increasingly filled (until completion), which also plays against any worry of a "flash-in-the-pan" kind of awareness.

Moving onto "Lord" - we have long discussed on this blog how to better go about translating the Tetragrammaton in English and the deep-seated problems for Bible translation in maintaining allegiance to this medieval word. This was one of the pillars also for my presentation at the Bible Translation conference last October. The best option we found according to the dynamic method and the grammatical translation history was Eugene Peterson's "GOD". 

"Glory" is another interesting word. It is a bit religious sometimes, and I am not sure Christians always quite know what to do with it, but I feel it sometimes lacks the human response intended by the word, of awe and wonder at its beauty, light and power. I am using "glorious presence". I would also like to go further than waters simply "covering the sea". It sounds kinda cranky, and we can do bigger than "sea" as well. So I am choosing "engulfs the oceans." So here is my biblical purpose, embodied in my translation of Habbakuk 2:14:

For the Earth will be filled with awareness of GOD's glorious presence as the waters engulf the oceans.

I think that's a great common purpose. And it is in nature and it is in us. So deep, so good, breath, life. It makes a nonsense of my mental constraints on 'love'. And it breathes life into my values too. 

Firstly: Let life breathe. Express. Listen. Voice. 
Secondly: Rejoice. Flood.


Thursday, 3 October 2019

Eugene Peterson's use of "GOD" for Yahweh and introducing the notion of a deferential attitude

Hi, sorry it's been a while, things have been busy! I'm almost ready for my exciting trip to the biennial translation conference hosted by Wycliffe, 6 days until I fly, and I'll confess it's exciting (not least because I still don't know where I'll be staying).

Anyway, one thing I've been thinking about doing for a while is getting a bit more deeply rooted into Peterson's method and approach, rather than simply analysing how he translated Yahweh and kyrios. So I have invested in his full translation in the devotional edition, which is brilliantly done frankly. You can see why it took him a decade, such a gift. In my reading today I was guided to Jeremiah 5 where I read the following:

Why did our GOD do all this to us? (MSG, Jer 5:18)

Compare this to ESV: Why has the LORD our God done all these things to us?

Something similar is afoot in verse 24 of the same chapter:
MSG: How can we honor our GOD?
ESV: Let us fear the LORD our God

So you can see what he's doing here. Peterson is solving one of the hurdles I described as "divine combos", which I assessed in a post last year here. The conclusion there was that "GOD" is sufficient to render most divine title combinations involving Yahweh, Adonai, El and Sabaoth. Jeremiah 5:18, 24, however poses the problem of a possessive, namely the LORD our God. I am keen to condense where possible to GOD, since like anarthrous kyrios, the Greek translation of Yahweh, it preserves both name and title characteristics. Unfortunately, however, our GOD might legitimately be accusable of failing to meet this demand. As we have pointed out on more than one occasion, the concept of "our Yahweh" (and therefore "our LORD") is not a Biblical one (I challenge you to find one outside of the Message!)

What is really strange, and I am afraid a little inconsistent on the part of Peterson, is that we also have assessed what to do in this instance, right here. Thanks to Peterson, we saw how important the placement of the commas was around "GOD, our God,". So why doesn't he do it here? The only reason I can imagine is that he felt that Deuteronomy 5:27 represented his fuller version, but that this might be too heavy to repeat systematically. We are now a year after he sadly left this world, so we can't ask him, but I would love to know if he was aware of the compromise to his own method he seems to make in doing this.

OK, so what if "GOD, our God," and the other possessives are overburdensome? Remember I estimated these at around 420 (approximately 6% of the Yahweh instances), so I would not automatically assume that to be true, but what if I did? How could we "mix it up a bit" and when would we do that?

Well this actually reminds me of another idea I have regarding the kyrios drumbeat around Jesus, particularly in Acts. The Lord this, the Lord that. How would we actually express that idea of deference to authority in English today to a superior? Would we call them by their hierarchical title all the time? It depends on the culture, right? In the USA, I hear that first name terms is almost par for the course, even for a CEO. But deference is alive and kicking in English-speaking cultures, so how would we consistently refer to that authority? Director this? The boss said that? Sir...

In fact, we would maybe do some of these things, but we would appeal to a wider range of signals to affirm that we are on-board with the pecking order. Sociolinguists point to a variety of signals that can come into play for politeness for example, such as tone of voice, regret, modesty, hesitancy, eye-contact... to be honest (and I think this may be the first time I'm saying this), I think we need to start thinking more in terms of a deferential attitude. Sometimes that attitude needs authenticating via a "so" or a "really", which is why we see increasingly that "I'm sorry" is no longer as authentic as "I'm so sorry".

With this problem of possessive on the "God" and the name GOD, if we do accept that it may be too much to go for the full Deuteronomy 5 option on every occurrence, then why not consider the full optionGOD, our God,for the first instance in the passage, and a simple "our God" on the second? I think that's what I might do. Or express the deference in the second instance in the Jeremiah 5 passage via a "really", maybe with no reference needed in the following line to "God" at all:
Since he's our God, how can we really honor him, he's the one who gives us rain in both spring and autumn...

Just some ideas I deferentially submit to you ;)

Monday, 29 July 2019

Tired of Praising The LORD? Marre de louer Le SEIGNEUR?

My friend Barney Aspray has kindly hosted a post we have worked on together on the question of Praising "The LORD" in English. Unfortunately the site is experiencing an issue at the moment, but I will post up the link as soon as possible. Today I will post just the opening part and also provide my entire French adaptation, which I am also trying to share with

Mon ami Barney Aspray a gentillement publié un article que nous avons travaillé ensemble sur la question de Louer "Le SEIGNEUR" en anglais. Malheureusement, le site a un problème technique en ce moment, mais je donnerai le lien dès que possible. Aujroud'hui je partage la première partie mais aussi mon adaptation intégrale en français. Cette dernière fait l'objet d'une demande de partage que j'effectue auprès de l'Alliance Biblique, mais ce sera mis en stand-by pour un petit temps.

One of the most famous and sung anthems from the Psalms is the beautiful sentiment of αλληλουια, Hallelujah, rendered ‘Praise the Lord’ in many of our modern English Bibles and hymn sheets.

Unfortunately, since ‘the LORD’ was suggested by John Wycliffe—way, way back in the late 1300s—it has become a poor translation of the Hebrew Name for God, Yahweh.

In the English spoken and written today, ‘Lord’ usage has really slumped, and the little that remains is scarily dark! Whether it is a warlord or drug lord, or a science-fiction / fantasy genre bad guy (e.g. Lord Voldemort in Harry Potter, the Dark Lords of the Sith in Star Wars and even the Lord of the Rings), the connotations are not good. Even landlords can be pretty dark and shady characters you might be thinking!

In addition to the usage problems, there are some rather striking grammatical issues with ‘the Lord’, in part arising from the fact that Wycliffe and other medieval translators were translating directly from the Latin Vulgate.[1] Finally, we continue to see young people leaving the church in their droves, seemingly still in search of good, stable and accessible forms of authority, purpose and spirituality in their lives.

Despite these apparently legit concerns, ‘the Lord’ is somehow managing to dodge reassessment in nearly all of our most modern and dynamic translations into English. And so ‘the Lord’ limps on. Why is that? The reasons are multiple. Shaking the earth clear from each root we progressively loosen history’s firm hold on this inadequate expression. Could praising the Lord be one of these roots? (.... read the full article soon on the EveryDayTheology blog

ARTICLE COMPLET EN FRANCAIS!

Une des belles expressions de culte la plus connue des écritures Bibliques et chantée le dimanche matin se retrouve dans les Psaumes, vous la connaissez sûrement bien : « Louez l’Éternel », ou «Louez le SEIGNEUR», rendue en Grec αλληλουια (c’est d’où vient « Alléluia »). 

Malheureusement, depuis que « le Seigneur » a été donné comme traduction en français par Guyart des Moulins—il y a long, longtemps en 1297—elle est devenue une traduction insuffisante pour porter le nom Hébreu de Dieu, Yahvé (ou Yahweh).


Extrait de traduction réalisée par Guyart des Moulins en 1297, première traduction biblique en français (Proverbes 9:10)

Dans la langue française telle qu’elle soit parlée et écrite aujourd’hui, l’emploi de « Seigneur » s’est vraiment effondré, et le peu qui demeure n’est pas très gai ! Surtout maintenu dans les histoires fantastiques, comme Le Seigneur des Ténèbres, Voldemort, de Harry Potter, Les Seigneurs Noirs des Sith, de Star wars, et Le Seigneur des Anneaux, on pourrait se poser la question si de manière générale le titre de « Seigneur » s’est approprié des connotations bien moins positives.


Dark Vader, Seigneur Noir des Sith de Star Wars

S’ajoutant aux problèmes d’emploi sont des questions grammaticales marquantes. Celles-ci peuvent s’expliquer par le fait que Guyard des Moulins, John Wycliffe et les autres traducteurs médiévaux se servaient en partie ou même en totalité de la Vulgate (version en latin de la Bible de l’église Catholique) comme langue de source pour réaliser leurs traductions respectives.[1] Enfin, nous continuons à constater que les jeunes quittent l’église en masse, pourtant toujours en quête de formes positives, stables et accèssibles d’autorité, de sens et de vie spirituelle. 

Malgré ces inquiétudes légitimes, « le Seigneur » a réussit à s’échapper presque toute remise en question dans la plupart de nos traductions françaises dîtes modernes ou dynamiques d’aujourd’hui. Pourquoi?

Les raisons sont multiples. En libérant chaque racine de la terre qui l’obscure, nous nous permettons un lâcher-prise sur cette traduction insuffisante. Est-ce que « louer le Seigneur » pourrait être l’une de ces racines ?

Je contemplais cette notion, donc, de αλληλουια (Alléluia, Louez le SEIGNEUR, Louez l’Eternel). Je me suis arrêté, paisiblement. Malgré les problèmes que j’essayais de rendre visibles, il y avait et il y a quelque chose de si bon ici. Pourquoi l’appellerais-je même « beau » ? Puisque valoriser tout ce qui est bon est beau. Cela me fait sourire en profondeur lorsque le fond de la phrase transcende mes inquiétudes sur sa forme et je suis donc bien reconnaissant de cette perspective supérieure !

Cependant, je me retrouve face à une idée intéressante. Est-ce qu’il serait possible que notre adoration francophone « du Seigneur » aurait depuis des siècles fortifié ce langage ? Relisez avec moi très doucement les paroles en question (la ponctuation est là pour nous ralentir un peu).

L O U E Z :   
   
« L E.       S E I G N E U R. » [2]

Qu’est-ce que cette instruction opère à notre inconscient chrétien collectif ? Gardons en tête que ce soit une pratique spirituelle très ancienne, belle, bonne et sacrée. Néanmoins, dans la façon que c’est formulé, elle pourrait conduire à figer ces vieux mots français à ce niveau profond et intime à cause d’une confusion en traduction : Louez celui dont le nom est ‘Le SEIGNEUR’, plutôt que louez celui dont le nom a été traduit par ‘Le SEIGNEUR’, et investissez ce titre français de valeur, de sainteté et d’amour. Faites de ce titre français médiéval le véritable nom de Dieu, et préservez-le donc à tout prix.

Malgré les apparences, il s’agit d’une transition signifiante de perspective. Le nom d’une personne est relativement intemporel et il est conçu pour désigner la personne même, de telle sorte que le nommé et le nom ne font qu’Un. 

Nous pouvons constater ce phénomène déjà à l’œuvre dans l’ancien testament : 
 « Tous les peuples de la terre verront que tu es appelé du nom de « l'Eternel » et ils auront peur de toi » (Deutéronome 28.10, Segond 21)

Donc, si nous apercevons qu’on nous exhorte à « louer le Seigneur », réfléchissons à la fois à la puissance de l’idée de ce psaume et à l’incapacité de « l’Eternel » ou de « le Seigneur » à continuer à nommer celui que nous appelons également « Dieu ».

Quant aux traducteurs, eux aussi sont des chrétiens. Ils ressentent aussi un fardeau de fidélité forte au passé, et ils aperçoivent aussi le statut privilégié inculqué par toute la louange et honneur associés à ce nom prétendu « du Seigneur ». Une remise en question sérieuse du vocabulaire autour de l’autorité divine est donc évitée, mais ce n’est pas obligé que c’en soit ainsi ! Une fois que nous réalisons tous que :

- ‘le Seigneur’ n’est pas sacré de son propre sort, 

- ‘le Seigneur’ n’était peut-être pas la meilleure traduction en français même au moyen âge, et que

- ‘le Seigneur’ est tout à fait incapable de représenter les divers niveaux d’autorités signifiés dans les langues d’origine, 

. . . alors nous les chrétiens de 2019 pouvons repenser comment exprimer l’autorité divine dans nos vies. 

Et nous le faisons déjà. Par exemple, Eugene Peterson a eu un succès éblouissant avec sa traduction, The Message en anglais qui a beaucoup remis en question l’expression sœur en anglais, « The LORD ». Au lieu de répéter de manière irréfléchie les 6894 instances de « l’Eternel » par « The LORD », il a opté pour « DIEU » (ou simplement, Hallelujah ! )[3] Dans d’autres lieux d’interface entre l’église et la société, il semble bien qu’il y ait une dépendance réduite en discours de « seigneurie ». Attention, je ne dis pas qu’il n’y a pas encore beaucoup d’attachement au mot ni que l’attachement n’a pas de très bonnes explications, mais que la manière que l’autorité de Dieu ou de Christ s’exprime, lorsqu’il s’exprime bien, évolue et doit évoluer.  Mais il reste beaucoup à faire ! Nous avons besoin de perspectives et ressources linguistiques nouvelles qui nous invitent à expérimenter et exprimer l’autorité divine comme quelque chose de vraiment digne de notre louange. Pour cela nous avons besoins d’outils en français courant parce que le Grecque c’était en Grecque courant, tout simplement !

En conclusion, « le Seigneur » a eu son moment utile, le grand attachement que ressent l’église au mot peut s’expliquer aussi, mais il faudrait rattraper le retard par réexaminer comment nous devrions expressimer cette—si importante à une vie chrétienne contextualisée. Je suis certain que Guyart des Moulins en serait ravi 😊.



[1] This problem concerns the adding of articles that the Hebrew authors and Greek translators were so careful to avoid in order to preserve the personal name of God. Since Latin does not have articles, translators may have been ignorant of this fact.
Ce problème concerne l’ajout des articles que les auteurs hébreux et traducteurs grecques avaient avec prudence évité dans les langues d’origine afin de préserve le caractère d’un vrai nom personnel de Dieu. « L’Eternel », malgré son assez grande originalité ne s’échappe pas non plus, donc, de ce piège posé par la traduction directe du Latin.

[2] Cet effet est également percutant ailleurs, tel que : Entrez, courbons-nous, inclinons-nous, mettons-nous à genoux devant « le SEIGNEUR » qui nous a faits (Psaume 95.6, PDV, guillemets ajoutés)

[3] Ce n’est pas une réflexion que ni la Bible en Français Courant ni la Parole de Vie ne semblent prêtes encore à entreprendre.

Monday, 22 July 2019

Published Yahweh to Kyrios LXX results reminder and update

In May 2018 I completed the mammoth project of tracking all 6,866 Yahweh translations into the Greek, something that no-one has taken the time to do before, and it yielded some fascinating results. Please note that all these results are subject to my copyright - you must ask me to use them, please.

Please find below the slightly updated table (some of the links were no longer working so I have updated and corrected it slightly). In bold we have Deuteronomy, since the data seems to suggest it to have been the archetype for translating Yahweh with Kyrios without the article (regardless of Greek case). Results in grey are to indicate that the overall number of occurrences are too few to really draw too many conclusions, at least in isolation. Results in dark red indicate some deviation from the anarthrous rule, while still clearly showing awareness of its existence and permitting its influence. Only Job is in vibrant red, representing its uniquely deviant result. In other words, the translator of Job knew nothing of the anarthrous rule at all.


Now I'd like to share schematically the results of the project again, showing this time results for all Greek cases (this will demonstrate my previous point about Deuteronomy being a likely archetype):

Purple: dative (57.2%)
Green: accusative (38.4%)
Red: genitive (4.8%)
Blue: nominative (2.8%)

Friday, 12 July 2019

Vasileiadis not convincing on his "consensus" against Kyrios


[very sorry, I accidentally published a draft version of this post before]
In my last post, we looked at six factors provided by Pavlos Vasileiadis as to why the Hebrew divine Name, possibly pronounced something like “Yahweh” (but we don’t really know!), became unpronounceable in some circles to the point of being a capital offense in the third century AD.
Today I hope we're going to see why it is virtually impossible to justify the idea that it was Christians that came up with the idea of translating the Tetragrammaton, Yahweh, into Greek kyrios.

At the point we are up to (p. 58 in the journal), Vasileiadis reconstructs a progression of practice among the desert-based Qumran community, whose writings were found among the Dead Sea Scrolls[1]. These people, our author asserts, went from prohibitions against pronunciation to prohibitions against writing, involving practices of term replacement—first by ‘God’ and ‘Lord’ equivalents and finally by even broader “hedges”, such as “heaven”, “the Holy One,” “the Place,” and “the Name” (the references here are to Stroumsa, A nameless God, 231 and Rösel, “Names of God”, 601, 602), although he will soon point to other possible reconstructions as we shall see. The reader is reminded again that we are not talking about a universal Jewish reticence to pronounce and write Yahweh but rather an apparent majority tendency, since some Jews and non-Jews were still uttering the Name (thus known) as late as into the AD 200s. This brings us to my first point of slight disagreement with Vasileiadis, although it may just be semantics—I’ll have to let you decide.

He states on p. 59, supported by a single quote from 17th-century theologian Sixtinus Amama, that Christians followed Jews in this reticence to pronounce the Name (in Hebrew). First, that is to my mind too broad an extrapolation from this curiously late source to generalise to the Christian community/communities at large (although I expect Vasileiadis to have other references in mind and I myself can think of one). Second, if the Greek-speaking Christians were in the habit of referring to the kyrios translation option, such as all the New Testament authors manifestly did, then we need to know quite what is meant by this inaudibility Vasileiadis refers to. He is thinking specifically of Hebrew pronunciation, of course. However, is there not an assumption here that all Greek-speaking Jews had a de facto knowledge that kyrios was not the real deal or a full equivalent to it? For Greek-Speaking Christians to not have been using the Hebrew name does *not* necessarily imply that they were relinquishing some right to name their God, even in the most personal sense. This is especially true in light of the careful efforts of the translators or rescensional scribes to preserve the anarthrous character of kyrios in the LXX that I have demonstrated after mapping out all the 6,866 occurrences (at my count) of the LXX Tetragrammaton translations into Greek kyrios (96.5 % of nominative and genitive kyrios translations are anarthrous—Genesis through Malachi)[2].

So, for me, I don’t think this difference in view is pure semantics. Look how Vasileiadis concludes this section: “It became an amassingly settled position that it is impossible for God to have a personal name.” The tension is apparent, however, from his very next sentence: “Nevertheless, one way or another, the proper name of God never ceased from use.” What the paper does not inform us, and perhaps cannot within its scope, is on the capacity of anarthrous kyrios to conceptually carry over both the function and the character of the Tetragrammaton into Greek. That is precisely what anarthrous kyrios seems to have been designed to achieve, both function and character.

Vasileiadis, focussing fundamentally on the Hebrew core, cites an impressive number of sources throughout this fascinating paper, and his rich Appendices bear witness to some extensive levels of textual research and scholarship, a practice he has continued to the present day. So, when he asks, somewhat starkly, if we may “assume that a Hebrew term would have one, and only one, pronunciation spanning across all Palestinian and diasporic Jewish populations throughout this long period?” and “if this were the case for the term in its source language, would there be a basis for the possibility of a unique rendering in the target languages?” he is able to answer in the negative in both instances with some conviction. His evidence of flexibility in pronunciation over time in Hebrew does seem quite credible, especially given the rich variety of attempted Greek transcriptions in particular that he will soon demonstrate[3]. However, it does not factor in a special “slow-down factor” of linguistic evolution that sanctity can clearly exercise on language. This phenomenon is actually demonstrable by Vasileiadis’ own reference to the practice of insertion of paleo-Hebrew Tetragrammaton into Greek translations of the Hebrew Bible, which some of the authors he will cite agree is actually an archaising tendency[4]. That’s an extraordinary practice right there, but we could also widen out and look at other religious practices for the preservation of holy terminology that are so powerful as to divert translator/scribe reassessment of ongoing suitability. That is precisely my thesis on the maintenance of ‘Lord’ in English Christianity to which I have consecrated a good number of posts and which I am writing up in book form. In short, we could do with some balance between the evolution of sanctified language over and against non-sanctified language over the same time period. Perhaps in light of that research, further informed estimations could be made as to how much the variations in writing truly reflected variations in pronunciation as opposed to simply evolving transcription options.

On the issue of fluctuation and stability, one other thought that occurs to me given what we now know of the slight variation in rates of article inclusion in the LXX preceding kyrios, is that kyrios seems to have been the practice of Jewish scribes/translators over, I would say, at least several generations, such that the archetype of Deuteronomy (virtually no articles, regardless of case), would move to nominative-and-genitive-only for much of the canon, to slightly higher rates of articles in Psalms, Proverbs and a few other books, to zero awareness on the part of the Job translator (kyrios is simply a title). That gives us some stability over time within that particular stream of practice (kyrios translation) and a familiarity among the Greek-speaking Jewish community spanning a good number of years, also clearly signifying existence well prior the advent of Christianity.

With that point in mind, we enter on p. 60 into the section of the paper that is most helpful for my own work on the translation of the Tetragrammaton into Greek (and its implications). Vasileiadis lines up an array of perspectives on when and how the Tetragrammaton was translated, which has really helped me to a) clarify my own view in light of the results of the rates of articles preceding kyrios that I have provided for the whole LXX (Genesis through Malachi) and to b) clearly distinguish that first issue from a secondary issue of nomina sacra development. Before entering into the overview, Vasileiadis’ introductory comment clearly indicates his own scepticism about one significant and ongoing[5] stream of scholarship: that ‘recent discoveries [have] challenged previously long-held assumptions’ (i.e., that kyrios was in the original Greek translation of the Pentateuch). By this, he is referring to an apparently awkward fact for those of us espousing that kyrios is original to the Greek Bible: that there are no pre-Christian manuscripts that use kyrios for the Tetragrammaton[6]. I used to think about that and look at my own data and the NT authors’ clear familiarity with kyrios and rapprochements with the kyrios Jesus (e.g. Romans 10:9–13), and simply say something like ‘we’ve just not been lucky’, ‘look at all the great library burnings that took place in Caeserea and Alexandria in the wake of the fall of the Roman empire’, and ‘look at the sheer scarcity of extant pre-Christian Greek Jewish manuscripts anyway’ (more on this coming in a future post).

Because of the way in which this awkward fact seems to be framed, I thought I was being left to defend the corner that kyrios not only predates the Christian era, but that it has also to be originalBut, as we now review the range and progression of views, I now see that affirming that kyrios is pre-Christian does not require me to necessarily affirm that it is original to the first Pentateuch translation of the third century BC. So let’s summarise (and slightly supplement) Vasileiadis’ own summary of the research into this problem as follows (approximately in chronological order and colour-coded to indicate whether kyrios was a) considered original [blue], b) kyrios was considered unoriginal but the question of Christian rendering is left open [purple], or c) kyrios was a later Christian tradition [red]):

W. W. von Baudissin (1929) à kyrios is original to the Greek Bible

W. G. Waddell (1944), published Papyrus Fouad 266 à kyrios was not original, used Hebrew consonants[7]
P. Kahle (1960) and S. Jellicoe (1968) à kyrios was a Christian innovation (but overreaches by claiming that the manuscript P458 did have the Tetragrammaton written in before it was removed to leave blanks, rather than being initially composed with blanks, which seems to be the majority view).
H. Stegemann (1969/1978) à The Tetragrammaton was originally transcribed/transliterated Ιαω /i.a.o/ kyrios was therefore not original (similar but not identical to Kahle and Jellicoe).
G. Howard (1977/1992) à *written* kyrios was Christian practice
P.W. Skehan (1980) and M. Hengel (1989) à progression of Ιαω, the Tetragrammaton in square Hebrew characters, the Tetragrammaton in paleo-Hebrew characters and, finally, kyrios. No mention here of Skehan or Hengel fully aligning with the Christian-innovation hypothesis. This is an important contribution since it clearly points out the likelihood that there was [older script later]
A. Pietersma (1984), the same Pietersma who helped me come to resolution on the treatment of adonai translation to kyrios in the LXX about a year ago à kyrios is original.
G.D. Kilpatrick (1985), E. Tov (1998/2004/2008), J. Joosten (2011), and A. Meyer (2014) à Pietersma was mistaken.
J. W. Wevers (2005), a huge name in LXX circles, and M. Rösel (2007) à kyrios is original.
Robert Hanhart (2006) à kyrios is original to the Greek Bible
K. De Troyer (2009) à theos first, kyrios later (not necessarily Christian)
L. Perkins (2008) à kyrios is original (see my Perkins paper review here)
R. Furuli (2011) à kyrios ‘did not replace the tetragrammaton before the Common Era’ (some form of Ιαω)
P. Vasileiadis (2014) à “Truly, the hard evidence available supports this latter thesis”.

But what is “this latter thesis”? In light of such strong disagreement about the progressions chronologically and geographically of the Tetragrammaton, why not accept that there is no “hard” evidence for any particular reconstruction?[8] That would surely not have endangered the overall usefulness of the paper. Or perhaps by “hard”, Vasileiadis is referring to extant manuscripts from the era, in which case he returns us to a place prior to the above discussion, which points out other important variables (like Romans 10). Could “this latter thesis” be that kyrios is not the first offering in the original Greek translation of the Pentateuch as a rendering of Yahweh (that is, a simply negative hypothesis)? Or is it more specifically that a non-translation was used first, followed in a mixed-up fashion by translations, transliterations and “transcription-borrowing”-s? There is certainly no consensus there, as his own research summary points out. More clarity here would have been appreciated, although perhaps we will see maybe a bit more clearly what Vasileiadis means by “this latter thesis” as he begins to illustrate each of the four options faced by Greek scribes and their commissioning religious authorities/communities[9].

But first, I’m going to pitch in! I am lucky to have this extra data to hand of the full anarthrous picture of kyrios in the LXX (seeing the extent of the debate it really is rather startling that no-one else better qualified hasn’t felt the necessity to research this available data as I have done):

J. Bainbridge (2019) à kyrios cannot have been a Christian translation serving the established use we see by the NT authors from the early 50s AD, unless these authors felt authorised for the first time to write that which was previously only spoken anarthrously. This minimum position is well described by various scholars, including G.D. Kilpatrick (1985), already included in the above summary, who stated: “[the Christian tradition] consistently presents us with χυριος. How are we to explain this? Whatever was written in the manuscripts, we may infer that when the text was read aloud in the synagogue or elsewhere χυριος was used.”[10]

But I very strongly doubt that the spoken kyrios by Hellenistic Jews was its only pre-Christian existence. The extraordinarily anarthrous patterns of kyrios in nominative and genitive throughout the Greek Bible (96.5% of these Yahweh translations are anarthrous[11]), and the ways in which the 3.5% of arthrous occurrences are not evenly spread, all point to kyrios either being original (most likely) or as an early written replacement of another proper name, such as Ιαω. But please hear what Rösel and Pietersma are saying to us, because it speaks profoundly to this question: “Pietersma was able to show that the distinctive use and non-use of the article serves to distinguish human kyrioi from the one divine kyrios. His conclusion is that this refined concept cannot be attributed to a mechanically working redaction but to the translators themselves[12]. I agree, without wanting to stake my life on it. Yes, I do still think the kyrios-is-original contingent are the most convincing, because for a recension to be so wide as to encompass the entire Greek Jewish canon (except Job) requires improbable historical reconstructions. The data is more easily explained by postulating that kyrios is indeed original, thus favouring Pietersma, Wevers, Rösel and Perkins’ additional findings.

To summarise, I think we need to clarify the options for kyrios, and where I stand on each.
1.      Kyrios was written in the original Greek translation of the Pentateuch 3rd century BC. Likely, but not staking my life on it.
2.      Kyrios came to be written before the advent of Christianity. Extremely likely.
3.      Kyrios was already used at least as a spoken surrogate for the Tetragrammaton by the time Christianity was born: I am certain.
4.      Kyrios was used by the earliest Christians: nearly everyone agrees I think.

It is my position to state in the strongest terms that we have a written Jewish Greek practice of kyrios from which the NT authors carefully avoided straying.

One other point remains, perhaps to be developed in a subsequent post, that nomina sacra is a related but distinct issue. If the well-proportioned gaps (potentially kyrios-sized) found in Papyrus Rylands Greek 458 described by Rösel and dated to the second century BC (making it perhaps the oldest we have) are to allow for either a Hebrew Tetragrammaton or a Greek kyrios — and I agree Meyer’s objections to kyrios will need further investigation — then that is most likely in a non-contracted form: KYRIOS, not KS, thus supporting majority scholarship that nomina sacra were a Christian innovation, even if kyrios was almost certainly not. This distinction is then dismissive of Gertoux’s view that Vasileiadis seems to favour (and showcased on the Wikipedia page Names and titles of God in the New Testament) whereby the two questions are collided. Indeed, Dr. L. Hurtado has expressed to me directly his skepticism of the idea that “YAH” (i.e. Jewish) was a nomen-sacrum preceding the Christian nomina sacra practice (Hurtado’s own view is that Jesus’ Greek name itself was the first to benefit from this practice).

I am not quite sure if Gertoux is the only reason the two issues became entangled for me, but the point is that Jewish Christians could have innovated on nomina sacra, but that does not mean that they had to have been behind the kyrios translation for the Greek Bible’s Tetragrammaton Problem. They most assuredly were not.

Has that summary helped? Hopefully still further clarity will emerge as we look at Vasileiadis’ 4 types of Greek renderings.


APPENDIX: “Arthricity” of Septuagint Yahweh Translations Per Greek Case


As a reference to my research on the LXX rendering of the Tetragrammaton into Greek, I hereby include a slightly snazzier graphical summary:








[1] Although definitely do check out Norman Golb’s hypothesis (Who Wrote the Dead Sea Scrolls, Touchstone, 1996) that the Qumran community could not have produced such a wealth of texts and scribes, thus perhaps more the custodians of the hidden treasures than their producers. He’s not the only one to have since shown some scepticism.
[2] Please see my summarised data in the Appendix below
[3] Even views held by scholars that kyrios is original can accommodate this point on variety. Rösel (2007): “one has to conclude that reading ‘Lord’ was not the only custom employed to avoid the pronunciation of the tetragrammaton in pre-Christian times.
[4] Simply finding paleo-Hebrew at all from these centuries is automatically archaising since paleo Hebrew is from an earlier, pre-exilic time. The authors with whom Vasileiadis is in at least partial agreement will assert an original transliteration into Greek followed by the Tetragrammaton in Paleo Hebrew.
[5] Unfortunately, in Vasileiadis is now mistakenly claiming that there is a “consensus” against any early form of kyrios, sweeping aside the considerable contributions of Pietersma, Perkins, Wevers, Rösel, and (Pietersma has informed me) Robert Hanhart.
[6] That is not to say, however, that there is no evidence. Besides the other problems raised in the present article for the Christian innovation hypothesis, Rösel also notes seemingly unavoidable usage by Aristobulus, citing Exod. 9:3, and the Letter of Aristeas 155 citing Deut. 7:18-19, usage in the Greek scriptures not originating from a Hebrew Vorlage, e.g. Wisdom of Solomon (4:17-18; 9:3) and 2 Maccabees (2:8; 3:33, etc.), and Philo. See Rösel,  M. (2007) The Reading and Translation of the Divine Name in the Masoretic Tradition and in the Greek Septuagint, JSOT, SAGE pp. 424-425
[7] Waddell’s contribution I have found elsewhere as Vasileiadis omits him for some reason.
[8] This was clearly not Vasileiadis’ general momentum of thought, as we can see in his most recent paper on the topic dating to this year, where he states: “the current consensus has shifted towards the view that at least the Pentateuch was not produced under the proscription against rendering the Tetragrammaton in the same way the translators represented the proper names of humans or other divinities.” Vasileiadis, Pavlos D, and Nehemia Gordon. “‘Transmission of the Tetragrammaton in Judeo-Greek and Christian Sources’ («Η Μεταβίβαση Του Τετραγράμματου Στις Ιουδαιο-Ελληνικές Και Χριστιανικές Πηγές»), Accademia: Revue De La Société Marsile Ficin, Vol. 18 (2019). [In Press].” Accademia: Revue De La Société Marsile Ficin, 2019.
[9] Idem: the available evidence for this divine “anonymization” points to a date after the appearance of early Christianity”, p. 3
[10] Kilpatrick, G. D. Novum Testamentum 27, no. 4 (1985): 380-82. doi:10.2307/1560456.
[11] Total count of nominative and genitive kyrios translations is 4,859 of which 4,687 are anarthrous.
[12] Rösel, p. 424, emphasis mine

Tuesday, 21 May 2019

Commander-In-Chief

A while back I worked through a series of posts dealing with how we should handle the various authority layers in the Bible indicated by Kyrios. "Lord", as I have repeatedly emphasised on grounds of both English usage and grammar, should no longer be the default choice.

One of the interesting instances that occurs to refer to the supreme authority of God and Jesus is traditionally rendered "Lord of lords". I had to think a bit outside of the box for this one. I finally settled on "Commander-in-Chief", and it remains my favourite. It's only needed a small handful of times. Here it is, alongside some other clarifications, in 1 Timothy 6:

In the sight of God, who gives life to everything, and of Christ Jesus, who while testifying before Pontius Pilate made the good confession, I charge you to keep this command without spot or blame. Do so until God, in his own time, sends back Jesus Christ our King and reveals him as the blessed and only Ruler, King of kings and Commander-in-Chief.  To the only one who is immortal and who lives in unapproachable light, whom no one has seen or can see, to him be honor and might forever. Amen.

Monday, 21 January 2019

How old is "Seigneur" in French?

Le Seigneur a quel âge?

This is an interesting question I was destined to stumble over at some point. I arrived at it following my decision to enlargen my quest for a publisher to the French-speaking market.

End November 2018, I already needed to know the history of "Lord" in English and shared my findings on the blog hereWhen did this "Lord" business begin?

I concluded that there was a shift at some point between the early 1000s and the late 1300s from Drihten to Lord in English.

There are some very old translations into French, the most famous and allegedly initial large-scale version was conducted by Guyart des Moulins in 1297. That is a hundred years before Wycliffe (used Lord). I don't know if the beautiful presentation of des Moulin's work is thanks to him or a scribe working under him, but it's well worth a look.

Guyard des Moulins uses Seigneur. Here's a passage I located in Proverbs 9:10 (which you can view online in full here):




In short, both Lord and Seigneur really do date back to the medieval times and demonstrate the sticking power of these sacred terms once translated, even in the face of contemporary redundancy.

Monday, 7 January 2019

Lord's entrenchment in summary (historical factors)

OUR PREVIOUS STUDY on the historical factors impacting Lord's entrenchment was a little in-depth. Here then are a few short words in summary:

The word we frequently translate by ‘Lord’ came to our Medieval translators drenched in sanctity, via prohibitions about the Name from the texts themselves, centuries of faithful copying and the special sanctifying shorthand of nomina sacra. Subsequent history indicates that once established, the translated terms would be slow or even impossible to evolve.

In my next post, we will examine the more contemporary factors that anchor 'Lord' into some of the most modern and dynamic Bible translations of our times.

Thursday, 20 December 2018

The texts as holy and blinding success stories (historical factors): Lord's Resilience Part 1

The aim of this post is to identify three historical factors that may have influenced why such a central vocable as ‘Lord’ has shown such resilience in modern bible translation, ranging from the original biblical texts themselves, to the faithful art of sacred scripture copying and to the introduction of a specific status of ‘Kyrios’ via a special shorthand. These factors provide some explanatory power as to why ‘Lord’ may have slipped off the radar of many translation committees, before we tackle some more contemporary reasons in the next post.

It began with holiness

Thus far we have established that there seems to be a discrepancy between the NIV’s general translation policy, NIV heavy reliance on ‘Lord’ and ‘Lord’s current status in contemporary English. If my hypothesis is correct, that ‘Lord’ is outstaying its welcome, we then need to think about the factors and barriers affecting why some religiously significant words like ‘Lord’ might sometimes survive with such robustness in spite of the demands of dynamic translation. I believe it has something to do with sanctity. Think about it: if something is perceived by a person or a community as holy, then there is a responsibility to respect, to uphold, to commemorate and to preserve. Examples of this connection abound. Take the Islamic perception of the Koran for instance – every Arabic word is considered divine, literal God-utterances. Some of the complicated grammar in classical Arabic is even defined by it. You can’t touch it; you can’t change it. In Christianity, the idea of holy preservation is also very strong. In the wake of the reformation, the Catholic Church was under pressure to re-establish its continuity with (and preservation of) the past. Simon Ditchfield states it perfectly:

Roman Catholics were […] forced to take issue with the Reformers […] using the weapon of history that had been unsheathed by the Protestants […] The magisterial Catholic reply – the Annnales Ecclesiastici (1588-1607) of Cesare Baronio – [were organized into] 14,0000 columns of text in support of a two-word thesis: semper eadem – ever the same; that is to say, to demonstrate the continuity the Roman Church had always professed with its apostolic origins.”[1]

I believe, we can identify three significant historical factors that have contributed to this holy resilience to ‘Lord’s reassessment:
  • 1       the original texts themselves are self-sanctifying,
  • 2       for many centuries, copyists were at pains to copy the texts faithfully,
  • 3      introduction of powerful symbolic shorthand for extra sanctification of “Lord”,

I summarise these factors as “the texts as holy and blinding success stories” – they each contribute to our inability to see the painful and widening gap between contemporary mainstream and religious discourse. Let’s look briefly at how each one has functioned to see how that summary might be considered adequate (or not) in helping us understand why ‘Lord’ is outstaying its welcome.

1.      A deep regard for the texts’ sanctity is built in

Ever since the holy texts were first read and copied, their profound sanctity was explicitly anchored by the texts themselves and by the communities endorsing them, e.g. Deuteronomy 12:32, Revelation 22:18-19. The Revelation passage is packed full of terrible warning against manuscript meddling:

I warn everyone who hears the words of the prophecy of this scroll: If anyone adds anything to them, God will add to that person the plagues described in this scroll. And if anyone takes words away from this scroll of prophecy, God will take away from that person any share in the tree of life and in the Holy City, which are described in this scroll.   (NIV)

These texts are of course the Bible; the endorsing community became the Church who perceive it as the very inspired Word of God. Throughout history, the Christian community has been committed to the implementation, preservation and translation of these sacred Scriptures ever since. Each time, once established in any language, the community will likely not take any modification to any of the translated vocabulary lightly due to its association with being the sacred Word of God.

2.      Generally high standards of manual copying

Much has been made by some textual critics in recent times of potentially ‘wild’ copying practices in the first era of Christian copyist activity – how can we presume that this imputed holiness has always been true? The modern bible translator wants to be faithful to an original text – but did not all this profuse copying mean that speaking of “the original text” is meaningless if there were so many changes each time a manuscript was manually copied? Surely the sheer abundance of human errors would lead to an unacceptable level of trustworthiness of any critical text we want to call definitive.

Actually, despite the profusion of the burgeoning Christian demand for access to their holy texts throughout the Christian manuscript era (approx. 100-1500 A.D.) and the myriad of slight changes we see between each, we see in the thousands of extant manuscripts an extraordinary level of overall consistency. This is a witness to the steady motivation of Jewish and Christian scribes along with their commissioning authorities to remain faithful to God’s Holy Word despite natural tendencies to human error. Indeed, even for the staunchest critics acknowledge (e.g. Bart Ehrman), errors are 99% inconsequential and even traceable thanks to this mass of data the surviving manuscripts give us.

In the wake of a crumbling and decentralising Roman Empire, disagreements between the Eastern (Greek) and Western (Latin) Christianity, and the continuing expansion of the church cross-culturally, translations as well as copies were needed and used in liturgy. The point here is that once translated, further translations from the Greek were still possible but always with a view to preserving the original (sacred) meaning contained in the Greek – this could be the only conceivable reason for modifying the text in the target language.

Our first two factors affect the strong preservation of Scripture generally. As we now transition to ‘Lord’ specifically, we can note an astonishing reality: to an even greater degree, ‘Lord’ is virtually never revised in the target language. Every time the Greek Kyrios appears in a new translation and is truly adopted in the target language, it sticks, as the faithful copying hands continued their much needed work.

This phenomenon of copyist faithfulness to both the text generally and to Kyrios specifically continues and even accelerates post-reformation as Biblical translation resumes in earnest in the wake of the Reformation.

3.     Introduction of powerful symbolic shorthand for extra sanctification of “Lord”

Rewinding the clock back to the first centuries of the Christian era, there must have been two clear demands for faithful copies of the same sacred texts: Jewish[2] and Christian, and they contain a key as to why ‘Lord’ is so fundamentally precious. Prior to the steady separation of these two faiths in and around the second century, Judaism handed on to Christianity the general sanctity of the texts and the name in Greek of the central divine character known as “Kyrios” – God himself – both in a full format and an ultra-sanctified abbreviated format. Why all this hard work to please God? The Jews were desperate to regain control of the land He had promised them.


At the very heart of this effort, saying and writing God’s name for Jews especially had become a seriously tricky business. We know at times specific vowel alterations were used, or contractions, or certain symbolic marks or just a blank[3]. Pavlov Vasileiadis, whom I have had the privilege of consulting for this paper, states: “The subsequent use of the contracted forms of the original nomina sacra κ[ύριο]ς and θ[εό]ς within Christian manuscripts probably reflects the Jewish practice of replacing the Tetragrammaton by י[הו]ה[4]. We can then infer the likelihood that the Jewish practice of ultra-sanctification of God’s name resulted in special repackaging in Greek via a similar process of contraction, into these “nomina sacra”, meaning ‘holy names’ in Latin.

Copying and developing this holy contraction practice would have also permitted Greek-speaking Jews and Christians to make the sharp the distinction they needed between their κ[ύριο]ς and all the other lords and gods vying for attention in the pagan context. Thus, this Judaeo-Christian practice of contraction permits both sanctification and differentiation.[5]

Christianity rapidly spread and reached numbers in the millions. Mainly located in the Roman empire, it drew imperial scrutiny, persecution and finally adoption during the third and fourth centuries. There was virtually no special language to adopt as the Hebrew Scriptures had long since been translated and circulated in Greek and the New Testament had even been written in every-day Greek originally! ‘Kyrios’ was not new either – a common term, in fact, designating a wide range of authority figures, such as a slave-owner or even an emperor. What was adopted within Christian faith and practice was its distinguishing literary feature of nomina sacra, and it stuck – even across early translations and for over a thousand years.

Subsequent translations of the Bible were thus preloaded with deep and reverent significance surrounding the contracted forms (also contracted in the new languages of Latin, Coptic and so on) that would add to the resilience of the translated counterparts. Once established, the translated terms would be slow or even impossible to evolve. Apparently, in linguistic terms, that is the effect of imputed holiness on a word.


[1] Ditchfield, S. (1995) Liturgy, Sanctity and History in Tridentine Italy, Cambridge University Press. p. 6. Emphasis mine.
[2] Jewish communities, somewhat diverse but with a relatively stable population, would have continued to need fresh copies as old manuscripts wore out, as synagogue networks developed in the Roman empire and also as desert communities were established. By the time of the first century, the Jewish elite would have felt the oppressive presence of the Romans (yet another dominating power denying the Jewish people jurisdiction over the land God had promised them) and judged to be a direct consequence of the people’s inability to please God, or in other words, to be lacking in sanctity. This had various consequences on what was taught and practiced, and Jesus is well known to have opposed some of these in strong terms (e.g. see Matthew 23:1–36).
[3] We have very few surviving Jewish texts that predate the Christian era and they all appear to be of this “safer” variety that avoid the risk of the reader pronouncing the divine name of Yahweh or Kyrios. They achieve this via a selection of methods, including a simple space, four dots. Albert Pietersma, professor emeritus of Septuagint and Hellenistic Greek, is of the opinion that these surviving practices were actually later precautions, replacing within the Jewish scribal traditions the previous choice of Kyrios. The data in this paper will strongly support that part of Pietersma’s thesis, the claim that ‘Kyrios’ was in the original and earliest Greek translations.
[4] Vasileiadis, P. D. (2014) Aspects of rendering the sacred Tetragrammaton in Greek (2014), Open Theology 2014; Volume 1: 56–88, De Gruyter, Open. Note, however, despite the form of contraction Vasileiadis mentions using the first and last Greek letters of the sacred referent, alternative contractions were also possible, e.g. by using the first two Greek letters, officially dubbed “suspension”. It is this latter such as in the example given in Figure 1 above of Romans 10:13 from Codex Sinaiticus.
[5] A third advantage may have been the practicalities of speed and economy of space! Since the earliest Christian scribes would probably have been Jews themselves, they may, as Vasileiadas has shown, have borrowed from technical Jewish scribal practices to emphasise sanctity while even streamlining their copying process, saving time and paper. Not just a win-win, but a win-win-win! It is little wonder scribes later expanded the technique to other holy figures in the ensuing decades and centuries. The final list of ‘nomina sacra’ ended up considerably larger: God, Lord, Jesus, Christ/Messiah, Son, Spirit/Ghost, David, Cross/Stake, Mother, God Bearer i.e. Mother of God, Father, Israel, Saviour, Human being/Man, Jerusalem, Heaven/Heavens.