How We Got the New Testament (in 22 minutes)

           A new video that I've prepared is at YouTube:  How We Got the New Testament.  It's  a slide-show presentation that covers the basics of the history of the transmission of the books of the New Testament from their initial distribution to the present day.  Viewers are introduced to papyrus copies, parchment copies, majuscule (uncial) script, and minuscule script.  They are also informed of a few developments the New Testament went through in the Middle Ages.   

          Pages of Codex Sinaiticus, Codex Alexandrinus, Codex Bezae. and Codex Cyprius are shown, and early versions are also featured, such as the Vulgate and the Peshitta.   Viewers are then informed of a few developments the New Testament text went through in the Middle Ages, such as the recycling of parchment, and illumination.

Tyndale at the stake

         When a person asks, "How did we get the New Testament?" the identity of the "we" affects the answer.  After all, some people-groups still don't have the New Testament in their native language.  After the first nine minutes, the focus is on how the English-speaking church got the New Testament.  Viewers are briefly introduced to Lorenzo Valla, Desiderius Erasmus, William Tyndale, and other individuals from the Renaissance and Reformation era.   Early English versions are described, up to and including the King James Version, before the era of modern textual criticism is covered:  the contributions of Bengel, Griesbach, Scholz, Tregelles, Tischendorf, and Westcott and Hort are briefly described.

          The last five minutes focus on the spread of the New Testament in what is (for better or worse) English as it is spoken today. and developments subsequent to Westcott and Hort (such as the papyrus discoveries at Oxyrhynchus.  

        How We Got the New Testament is suitable for church-viewing and Bible-study groups.  

    

Distigmai (Umlauts) - Solving the Mystery

           In 1995, the existence of “umlauts” (the symbol ¨) in the margin of Codex Vaticanus was discovered by Philip Payne.  In 2009 the “¨” symbol was renamed “distigme” (so, one distigme, two distigmai).   Payne’s initial analysis of the distigmai and their locations showed that whoever put these previously unnoticed symbols ito Vaticanus’ margin had done so with the intention of  denoting textual variants in the lines of text that they accompany in the manuscript.  

          The date at which the distigmai were added to the margin of Vaticanus has been a question.   Payne has insisted that some of the umlauts are as old as the initial production of Vaticanus in the 300s.  Others – especially Curt Niccum and Peter Head – have argued instead that they are much later – originating with Juan Ginés de Sepúlveda (1494-1573), who mentioned in a letter to Erasmus that he had noted 365 readings in Codex Vaticanus.  Unfortunately we have almost no way of knowing what 365 readings these were.  (More on that shortly.)

          Peter Head’s case for the distigmai originating with Sepulveda is presented in two parts at the Evangelical Textual Criticism blog in 2009 – Part One and Part Two.  Payne has defended his view in a series of verbose essays available at the Evangelical Textual Criticism blog – Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, and Part Five. 

          One tell-tale sign that the distigmai – at least, some of the distigmai – were added centuries after the production of the manuscript is the existence of distigmai in the margin of Vaticanus’ supplemental pages (on which the text is written in minuscule).  A distigme can be observed, for example, in the leftmost margin of the first  supplemental page of Vaticanus in Hebrews, alongside line 12; another distigme appears alongside the second column alongside line 12; three horizontal dots also appear alongside Hebrews 11:11.  Of course the possibility cannot be ruled out that whoever made the supplemental pages for Hebrews in Vaticanus preserved the text, and the distigmai, from the now-non-extant pages of Vaticanus after they had suffered damage.  But this would require a scenario in which Codex Vaticanus’ original pages containing Hebrews 9:14-13:35 were intact up to the time when these minuscule pages were produced in the 1400s.   

          Distigmai, or symbols similar to distigmai, have also been found in Latin manuscripts.  Examples of the use of triple-dots and/or double-dots in manuscripts’ margins can be seen here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and elsewhere.  Distigmai-use may thus be more likely to be an arrow in the quiver, so to speak, of someone familiar with a Latin transmission-line – such as the Vulgate’s transmission-line – than of a scribe producing Codex Vaticanus in the 300s. 

          Now let’s look into exactly what Juan Ginés de Sepúlveda wrote about Vaticanus in 1533.  His letter to Erasmus is near the beginning of this book at Hathi Trust – also at Google Books – in Book 1 (Liber 1), Epistola IIII.  The relevant portion, beginning on page-view 30,  (beginning with Est enim Greecum exemplar antiquissimum) may be roughly translated as follows:

Juan Ginés de Sepúlveda  

          ”There is a very ancient Greek copy in the Vatican Library, in which both Testaments are written very carefully and accurately in majuscule letters, which is very different from the ordinary copies.  For after being informed by Stunica, I was anxious to look into the matter, and to compare  the books.  Now this copy is the most correct of all, as attested by its antiquity and by the diligence of the scribe, and by the fact that it agrees so much with our old translation. 

          “Regarding the latter, there can be no doubt that it was based on a very correct exemplar, and handed down to us by our elders.   Since therefore the other books should be emended and conformed to this copy, to make a standard [edition], you may see for yourself what should be done.  You should consider it demonstrated that when the common Greek edition differs from our old translation, it differs in ways which often match this copy in the Vatican also.  To show this, we have noted three hundred and sixty-five places of variation in the text.”

          This is, at least, the form in which Sepulveda’s letter (from 1533) was printed (in 1557).  But there was at least one individual intervening in the preparation of the 1557 book:  Francisco de Ledesma.  I think it is worth considering the possibility that Sepulveda, instead of writing about “three hundred and sixty-five” places in the text of Vaticanus that he informed Erasmus about - CCCLXV written in Roman numerals – wrote instead about seven hundred and sixty-five places - DCCLXV written in Roman numerals.  In which case, the number of readings which Sepulveda examined to see if Erasmus’ compilation or the Vulgate agreed with Codex Vaticanus would be approximately the same as the number of distigmai in the manuscript. 

          (An exact tally of distigmai in Codex Vaticanus is more difficult to make than one might think, because some symbols who may appear to be distigmai are imprints from the wet ink of a distigmai on the opposite page, and sometimes in the margin of the manuscript there are pairs of dots that might be merely the effects of accidental contact of a scribe’s pen to the parchment.  But 765 seems like a good estimate – as Philip Payne wrote, “Throughout the margins of the Vaticanus NT are approximately 765 pairs of dots resembling a dieresis or umlaut” in his “The Originality of Text-Critical Symbols in Codex Vaticanus.  Wieland Willker offers a "master list' of 801 distigmai here and a list of 48 imprints here.)

          Earlier I mentioned that we have almost no way of knowing what readings Sepulveda listed for Erasmus.  Almost.  But Scrivener reported (in Plain Introduction, ed. 4, p. 105 – the page-number varies in other editions) that Erasmus, in his 1535 Annotationes to Acts, cited the reading καῦδα in Acts 27:16 as supported by a manuscript in the Pontifical Library – and Codex Vaticanus (along with a corrector of Sinaiticus, a manuscript which was unknown to Erasmus) is the only Greek manuscript in which this reading is attested. 

Acts 27:16 in Vaticanus (replica)
(notice that the upsilon in hupodramontes
is not reinforced)

          Turning to Acts 27:16 in Codex Vaticanus, we observe that in the very last line of the third column, “ΚΑΥΔΑ” appears in the text, and a distigme is in the left margin alongside it.  This is strong evidence that here in Acts 27:16 we are looking at one of the readings that Sepulveda noted in the early 1500s – and since that is the case, we are probably looking at the means by which he signalled the differences between Codex Vaticanus and Erasmus’ manuscripts:  with a distigme.  [Update (Aug. 25):  Andrew Brown reports in a comment at the Evangelical Textual Criticism blog about three other readings mentioned in Erasmus' 1535 Annotationes, at Mark 1:2, Luke 10:1, and Luke 23:46 - each of which is accompanied by a distigmai in Codex Vaticanus.]

          Additional evidence that the distigmai were added by Sepulveda in the 1500s (and not by a scribe in the 300s) may be found when we look at two distigmai specifically:  first, at the end of the Gospel of John in Codex Vaticanus, alongside the blank space that follows the end of John 21, there is a distigme in the left margin (appromimately 20 lines below the closing-title for the Gospel of John).   This makes sense as an indicator of the story of the adulteress in MS 1 (a manuscript which Erasmus used), in which the passage known to modern-day readers as John 7:53-8:11 has been transplanted to this location) but I cannot imagine why anyone in the 300s would put a distigme here. 

          Second, in First John 5:7 in Vaticanus, a three-horizontal-dot symbol – that is, a distigme with an extra dot – accompanies First John 5:7, one line above the line where the Comma Johanneum appeared in Erasmus’ text (but does not appear in the text of any Greek manuscripts until the late Middle Ages – specifically, in Greek manuscripts influenced by the Latin text of First John, where the reading originated).  (This appears in the middle column of the page, on the sixth line from the bottom.) Sepulveda would have been aware of this reading, due to Erasmus’ inclusion of it in his third edition (1522) of the Greek New Testament.  But it is extremely unlikely that a scribe of Vaticanus in the 300s would be aware of this variant.

          Also – as Head mentioned in 2009 – near the beginning of the book of Hebrews (on a page I examined here in 2017), a distigme appears to the right of the middle column.  It seems that this location was chosen for the distigme because the usual location (to the left side of the middle column) was already occupied by a scribal note – which means that this distigme cannot be earlier than that note.

          This should impact the claims of some writers (Dan Wallace, Mike Winger) who have apparently assumed that the distigmai are early components of Codex Vaticanus.   It may also impel a reassignment of the dating of the reinforcement of the lettering in Codex Vaticanus (no small project!) to a period contemporary with Juan Ginés de Sepúlveda.  (See four lines of unreinforced writing in the middle column of page 1483.)

 

 

Romans 12:11: “Lord,” or “Time”?

           Venturing outside the Gospels today, let’s look into Romans 12:11.  Nowadays there is virtually no debate about how the fourth phrase in this passage should be read:  τῷ κυρίῳ δουλεύοντες – “serving the Lord.”   A search through the NIV, KJV, ESV, NKJV, NASB, CSB, NLT, and NET shows no sign that there is a textual variant here.  Bruce Metzger, in his Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament, used four and a half lines of text to dismiss the alternative reading τῷ καίρῳ δουλεύοντες – “serving the time” – assigning the usually-found κυρίῳ an “A” rating (which indicated, according to the preface of the UBS Greek New Testament, p. 3*, that “the text is certain.”)  In the SBL-GNT, there is no footnote about this phrase.  Likewise the Tyndale House GNT does not indicate a textual variant here.

          In the 1500s, this phrase was an epicenter of textual dispute.  The editions of the Greek New Testament released by Erasmus in 1519, 1522, 1527, and 1535, as well as Stephanus’ 1550 edition, read τῷ καίρῳ δουλεύοντες – “serving the time.”  (Erasmus’s first edition, in 1516, had a misprint, reading κυρίου, with the final -ου combined into a single character.)

          Consequently, William Tyndale’s 1534 New Testament read here, “Applye youre selves to ye tyme.”  The 1535 Coverdale New Testament likewise read, “Applye youre selues vnto the tyme,” and so did the 1537 Matthews Bible, echoing Tyndale’s rendering.  The 1539 Great Bible, issued with the endorsement of Henry VIII, also read “Applye youre selues to the tyme.”  Martin Luther, using Erasmus’ second edition, also translated the final phrase of Romans 12:11 as the German equivalent of “serving the time.”  John Calvin, in his commentary on Romans, used the reading “serving the time,” but Calvin also noted that he did not dare to altogether reject the reading “serving the Lord,” on the grounds that it was supported by many ancient copies.

          In the Preface of the 1582 Rheims New Testament, the Roman Catholic translators took to task some of their Protestant counterparts on account of their handling of this phrase, claiming, “They translate not according to the Greek text, Tempori servientes, serving the time, which Beza says must be a corruption, but according to the vulgar Latin, Domino servientes, serving our Lord.”

            The 1560 Geneva Bible and the 1568 Bishops’ Bible, however, had “seruing the Lord.”  And when the 1611 King James Version was issued, it also had “seruing the Lord.”   

          The reading “τῷ κυρίῳ δουλεύοντες” dominates both the Byzantine Text and manuscripts such as P46, Vaticanus, and Sinaiticus, as well as versional evidence such as the Old Latin, Peshitta, and Coptic and Armenian versions.   

          In the Greek-Latin Codex Claromontanus (06, D), a majuscule manuscript from the 400s (or maybe the early 500s), the initial writing of the last line of Romans 12:11 reads τῷ καίρῳ δουλεύοντες.  (This was changed to the usual reading, and then was changed back.)  The majuscules F (010, Augiensis) and G (012, Boernerianus), both from the 800s, also read τῷ καίρῳ δουλεύοντες here, as does minuscule 5 (which was consulted by Stephanus).  It was once thought that minuscule 2400 contained this phrase, but it does not.  (2400 is a richly illustrated New Testament manuscript from the 1100s which is online as part of the Goodspeed Manuscript Collection at the University of Chicago, catalogued as MS 965 in the collection; this phrase in Romans 12 begins the first line on Image 321.) That’s it, as far as extant Greek manuscript-evidence for is concerned.

          An assortment of patristic evidence indicates that in the first several centuries of Christianity, “serving the time” in Romans 12:11 was much more widespread than it is today.  The Latin writer known as Ambrosiaster, writing the second half of the 300s, maintained that this was the correct reading.  Jerome, in his Epistle 27, To Marcella, energetically defended the Vulgate against some of its critics, calling them “two-legged asses.”  In the course of his lively defense he wrote that his critics “may say if they will, ‘Rejoicing in hope, serving the time,’ but we will say, ‘Rejoicing in hope, serving the Lord.”  Rufinus, a contemporary of Jerome, also favored “serving the Lord” but was aware that copies existed which supported “serving the time.” 

          Earlier, Cyprian, who wrote in Latin about halfway through the 200s, seems to allude to the phrase serving the time, in his Letter 5, although this reference is far from a direct quotation, and he does not use the wording of Romans 12:11 found in Codex Claromontanus.   

          In the first, second, and third editions of the UBS Greek New Testament, the writer Theophilus of Antioch (who lived in the 100s) is cited as if he supported κυρίῳ.  But as J. L. North ascertained in the course of research his thesis about this verse, this is erroneous; it is perhaps a result of an inattentive editor misreading an abbreviated reference to the medieval author Theophylact.  But only slightly later than Theophilus, Clement of Alexandria used Romans 12:11 with κυρίῳ. 

          Origen is cited in the fourth edition of the UBS Greek New Testament as if he was aware of manuscripts that supported καίρῳ.  The reference in question, however, is to Origen’s material as translated into Latin by Rufinus – who did not always strictly separate Origen’s comments from his own.  Origen accepted the reading “serving the Lord” but also – apparently – attested to the existence of Latin copies in the early 200s that read “serving the time.”   Κυρίῳ is also supported by John Chrysostom. 

          Athanasius, advising his contemporary Dracontius to embrace the office of bishop at Alexandria around 355, in the third paragraph of his Epistle 49, To Dracontius, wrote, “If you feared the times and acted as you did from timidity, your mind is not manly.  For in such a case you ought to manifest zeal for Christ, and rather meet circumstances boldly, and use the language of blessed Paul, ‘In all these things we are more than conquerors’ – and the more so, inasmuch as we ought to serve not the time, but the Lord.” [emphasis added]  Whether this is entirely coincidental, or is based on his awareness of the textual contest in Romans 12:11, is hard to say.

          The meaning and application of both readings are unobjectionable:  we are certainly instructed to serve the Lord, and we should also serve the time, in the sense that we should make the most of the opportunities we have – “redeeming the time,” as Paul wrote in Ephesians 5:16 and Colossians 4:5.

An unusual sacred-name contraction
in Codex Augiensis.

          If we grant that κυρίῳ, with its extremely broad support, is the original reading, how did the reading καίρῳ originate?  It probably had something to do with both the way the sacred name κυρίῳ (”Lord”) was contracted (normally, it was written in New Testament manuscripts as κω), and with the way the word και was sometimes abbreviated (as ϗ, the kai-compendium).  Rarely, the kai-compendium replaced the letters και when και was part of a larger word.  And it is possible that in a time and place where the nomina sacra were not entirely standardized, κυρίῳ could be contracted as κρω.  (See the very unusual contraction of κυριον as κρν in First Corinthians 9:1 in Codex Augiensis.)  A copyist who read κρω in his exemplar could, in theory, think that he was not looking at a nomina sacra, but at a kai-compendium embedded within a word, and decide to de-contract it, as καίρῳ.

          On the other hand, if we approach the question on the premise that καίρῳ was the original reading, it is conceivable that κυρίῳ originated after a copyist wrote καίρῳ as ϗρω, and a subsequent copyist, not recognizing the kai-compendium, thoughtfully expanded ϗρω into κυρίῳ.  But this is not likely to have influenced the majority of manuscripts, early or late. 

          Meanwhile, multiple transmission-streams support Κω.  Κυρίῳ was the original reading here.  But a text-critical footnote acknowledging the early existence of καίρῳ would not be out of the question, considering the historical impact of Tyndale and Erasmus.

          Readers wishing to investigate this textual contest further may wish to consult the mercilessly detailed and meticulous research found in J. L. North’s 1988 thesis “Romans 12.11: a Textual, Lexical and Ethical Study.” 

  

Lecture 24: Conjectural Emendation

Lecture 24 

 The ongoing series of lectures "Introduction to New Testament Textual Criticism" continues with Lecture 24, at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HHYcBlwAqzc , about conjectural emendations.  I had a stroke on June 14, and you may notice in this video that I am speaking more slowly than before.  Also for some reason I repeatedly didn't say "chi" correctly.  Oh well; hopefully improvement will continue.  I covered some of the passages mentioned in this lecture back in 2017 (in the "Cracks in the Text posts, part 1 and part 2).  Here is a transcript of the video!

Welcome to the twenty-fourth lecture in the series, Introduction to New Testament Textual Criticism.  Let’s begin with prayer.

Heavenly Father,

          Thank You for giving Your people the fruit of Your Spirit.  Influence us to long to be more loving, modeling your love.  Make us more joyful as we remember Your promises to us.  Make us peaceful, in light of the peace you have provided.  Make us patient, kind, and good, seeking to conform to the image of your Son.  Make us gentle, seeking to represent Your kingdom in every circumstance.  And give us self-control, that all our actions may be guided by our awareness of Your presence. Through Your Son Christ our Lord, Amen.

          Today we are investigating one of the most controversial areas in the field of New Testament textual criticism:  the creation and adoption of conjectural  emendations.  A conjectural emendation is a reading that is not directly supported by any witnesses.  Conjectural emendations are driven by the premise that on some rare occasions, the reading that accounts for all other readings is a reading that is not extant.

          Even in the earliest days of the printed text of the Greek New Testament, some conjectural emendations were proposed:   in James 4:2, Erasmus did not think that it was plausible that the readers of James’ letter would kill, so he introduced the idea that James originally wrote that his letters’ recipients were envious.  Erasmus’ conjecture influenced some future translations, including Martin Luther’s translation, and the 1557 Geneva Translation.

          By the late 1700s, so many conjectural emendations had been proposed that a printer named William Bowyer collected them in a book in 1772 that was over 600 pages long, titled Critical Conjectures and Observations on the New Testament.  Many of the conjectures were apologetically driven and resolved historical questions rather than textual ones, and many others implied a magical stupidity on the part of copyists. 

          But in 1881, when Westcott and Hort printed their Greek New Testament, they were willing to grant the possibility that 60 passages in the New Testament contain a primitive corruption, where only by conjecture could the original reading be recovered.  Other scholars have seriously argued for the adoption of non-extant readings in a few other places.

          We’re not going to look into each and every one of those 60 passages today, but we will look into some of them, especially the ones that have affected some English translations.         

Mark 15:25 – One of the earliest conjectural emendations is from Ammonius of Alexandria, from the 200s, whose proposal was passed along by Eusebius of Caesarea and others.  Ammonius suggested a conjectural emendation that could harmonize Mark’s statement (in Mark 15:25) that Jesus was crucified at the third hour, and John’s statement (in John 19:14) that Jesus was being sentenced by Pilate at the sixth hour.  Rather than imagine that different methods of hour-reckoning are involved, Ammonius proposed that the text of John 19:14 contains an ancient error, and that the Greek numeral Γ,  which stands for “3,” was misread as if it was the obsolete letter digamma, which stands for “6”).   Some copyists apparently thought that this idea must be correct, and wrote the Greek equivalent of “sixth” in Mark 15:25; a few others (including the copyists of Codex L and Codex Δ) wrote the equivalent of “third” in John 19:14.  

 John 1:13 – Another early church writer, Tertullian, proposed that the extant reading of John 1:13 is not the original reading.  In chapter 19 of his composition On the Flesh of Christ, he insisted that the reading that is found in our New Testaments is the result of heretical tampering, and that the verse initially referred specifically to Christ.  Not only Tertullian but also Irenaeus and the author of the little-known Epistula Apostolorum appear to cite John 1:13  with a singular subject rather than a plural one.          

John 7:52 – No reading that is supported exclusively by papyri has been adopted in place of readings that were already extant.  But a reading of Papyrus 66 comes very close to doing so.   William Bowyer’s 1772 book included a theory that had been expressed by Dr. Henry Owen about John 7:52:  Owen had written, “The Greek text, I apprehend, is not perfectly right:  and our English Version has carried it still farther from the true meaning.  Is it possible the Jews could say, “that out of Galilee hath arisen no prophet;” when several (no less perhaps than six) of their own prophets were natives of that country?  . . . I conclude, that what they really said, and what the reading ought to be, was … That the prophet is not to arise out of Galilee:  from whence they supposed Jesus to have sprung.”   

            The key component of Owen’s proposal was vindicated by the discovery of Papyrus 66, which has the Greek equivalent of “the” before the word “prophet” – just what Owen thought was the original reading. 

Some commentators have considered it implausible that John would report, in John 19:29, that the soldiers at the crucifixion would offer to Jesus a sponge filled with sour wine upon a stick of hyssop.  In 1572, Joachim Camerarius the Elder proposed that originally John had written about  a javelin, or spear, and that after this had been expressed by the words ὑσσῷ προπεριθέντες, scribes mangled the text so as to produce the reference to hyssop.  This conjecture, which was modified by Beza, was adopted by the scholars who made the New English Bible New Testament in 1961.

In Acts 7:46, textual critics have to choose between the reading of most manuscripts, which is the statement that David asked to be allowed to find a dwelling-place for the God of Jacob, and the statement that David asked to be allowed to find a dwelling-place for the house of Jacob (which is the reading in the Nestle-Aland compilation). 

            The second reading is more difficult, because it seems to say that David asked to build a house for a house.  Even when the second “house” is understood to refer to the nation descended from Jacob, the problem does not go away, since the temple was for God, not for the people, who were not looking for a new place to reside in the days of David.  In 1881, Hort proposed that “οἴκω can hardly be genuine,” but instead of accepting the Byzantine reading, he conjectured that neither reading is original, and that the original text was τω Κυριω (“the Lord”), which was contracted, and then inattentive copyists misread it as ΤΩ ΟΙΚΩ.         

In Acts 16:12, Bruce Metzger was overruled by the other editors of the United Bible Societies’ Committee, and an imaginary reading was adopted into the UBS compilation:  πρώτης was adopted, instead of πρώτης της μερίδος, so as to mean that Philippi was a “first city” of the district of Macedonia.  Metzger insisted that the extant text was capable of being translated as “a leading city of the district of Macedonia.”   

● Acts 20:28 – Bruce Metzger dedicated two full pages of his Textual Commentary to consider the variants in Acts 20:28.  Did the original text refer to “the church of God,” or to “the church of the Lord,” or to “the church of the Lord and God”?  The contest between “God” and “Lord” amounts to the difference of a single letter:  if we set  aside the Byzantine reading, once the sacred names are contracted, it’s a contest between ΘΥ, and ΚΥ.    If the contest is decided in favor of ΘΥ, then a second question arises:  did Luke report that Paul stated that God purchased the church with His own blood? 

           Many apologists have used this verse to demonstrate Paul’s advocacy of the divinity of Christ.  Hort, however, expressed echoed the suspicion of an earlier scholar, Georg Christian Knapp, that at the end of the verse, after the words “through His own blood”, there was originally the word υἱοῦ (“Son”).      

            The Contemporary English Version, advertised as “an accurate and faithful translation of the original manuscripts,” seems to adopt this conjecture.  It has the word “Son” in its text of Acts 20:28b:  “Be like shepherds to God’s church.  It is the flock that he bought with the blood of his own Son.” 

The Greek evidence is in agreement about how First Corinthians 6:5 ends.  But the Peshitta disagrees.  The reading in the Peshitta implies that its Greek base-text included the phrase καὶ τοῦ ἀδελφοῦ (“and a brother”). 

           The first part of Paul’s statement in this verse is something to the effect of, “Is there not even one person among you – just one! – who shall be able to judge between” – and that’s where the difficulty appears.  The Greek text just mentions one brother, whereas the idea of judgment between two parties seems to demand that more than one brother should be mentioned. 

            Although the Textus Receptus has the equivalent of between his brother” – which is clearly singular – the KJV’s translators concluded the verse with “between his brethren” (which is clearly plural).  The CSB, the NIV, and the NASB likewise render the text as if the verse ends with a plural word rather than a singular one.  All such treatments of the text make the problem all the obvious:  the first part of the sentence, in Greek, anticipates two brothers, while the second part of the sentence mentions only one.          

            In light of such strong internal evidence, Michael Holmes, the compiler of the SBLGNT, recommended the adoption of a conjectural emendation at this point, so that καὶ τοῦ ἀδελφοῦ (“and the brother”) appears at the very end of the verse. 

             A fairly recent development in textual criticism is the tendency to regard First Corinthians 14:34-35 as non-original even though the words are in every manuscript of First Corinthians.  In a few copies they appear after verse 40.  The usual form of this conjecture is that the words began as a marginal note and were gradually adopted into the text.  

          Gordon Fee advocated this view in his commentary on First Corinthians and it has grown in popularity since then, especially among interpreters who favor an egalitarian view on the question of gender roles in the church.  One of the interesting aspects of this  issue is the impact of the double-dots, or distigme, that appear in the margin of Codex Vaticanus to signify a variation between the text of that manuscript and the text in another document.

 ● A much older scholarly debate has orbited the phrase “Now this Hagar is Mount Sinai in Arabia” in Galatians 4:25.  This sentence is included the Nestle-Aland compilation; however, it has been proposed that the entire phrase originated as a marginal note.  This conjecture goes back at least to the early 1700s, with Richard Bentley.  More recently, Stephen Carlson has argued in favor of the same idea. 

● In Hebrews 11:37, as the sufferings endured by spiritual heroes are listed, one of those things is not like the others:  they are all somewhat unusual experiences, except for “they were tempted.”  Some textual critics have suspected that the word ἐπειράσθησαν originated when a copyist committed dittography – writing twice what should be written once; in this case, the preceding word the means “they were sawn in two” – and that subsequent copyists changed it into something meaningful.  Others have thought that this relatively common term replaced one that was less common – perhaps another word that meant “they were pierced,” or “they were sold”. 

            Presently the Nestle-Aland compilation, deviating from the 25th edition, simply does not include ἐπειράσθησαν  in the text, following Papyrus 46.  But Papyrus 13  appears to support the inclusion of ἐπειράσθησαν and it has a very impressive array of allies.  I would advise readers to not get used to the current form of this verse in the critical text, for it seems to be merely a place-holder that might be blown away by the appearance of new evidence or slightly different analysis.    

● First Peter 3:19 – The most popular conjectural emendation of all time was favored by the textual expert J. Rendel Harris, who encountered a very brief form of it in William Bowyer’s book.  The extant text of First Peter 3:19 says, “in which he went and proclaimed to the spirits in prison.”  Verse 18 refers to Christ, and nobody else is introduced into the text, so verse 19 has been understood to mean that during the time between Jesus’ death and resurrection, He visited the realm of the dead, and visited the spirits of those who had been disobedient in the days of Noah, prior to the great flood – and delivered a message to them. 

            However, Harris, proposed that the original text was different.  He thought that Peter had in mind a scene that is related in the pseudepigraphical Book of Enoch. In this text, Enoch is depicted delivering a message of condemnation to the fallen spirits who corrupted human beings so thoroughly that the great flood was introduced as the means of amputating the moral infection they had induced.

            Harris proposed that the opening words of the original text of 3:19 were ἐν ᾧ καὶ Ἐνώχ (“in which also Enoch”), assigning the subsequent action not to Christ, but to Enoch.   There are two ways in which the name “Enoch” could have fallen out of the sentence.              

          1.  If the original text were simply Ἐνώχ (without ἐν ᾧ καὶ), then, in majuscule script, the chi was susceptible to being misread as an abbreviation for the word και (“and”) [a kai-compendium].  A copyist could easily decide to write the whole word instead of the abbreviation, and thus Enoch’s name would become ἐν ᾧ καὶ.

            2.  Or, if the original text were ἐν ᾧ καὶ Ἐνώχ, a copyist could read the chi as an abbreviation for και [again, a kai-compendium], and assume that the scribe who made his exemplar had inadvertently repeated three words. Attempting a correction, he would remove “Ἐνώχ.”

            Against the charge that the introduction of Enoch’s name “disturbs the otherwise smooth context,” the answer is that a reference to Enoch is not out of place, inasmuch as Enoch’s story sets the stage for the story of Noah and his family, whose deliverance through water Peter frames as a pattern of salvation.

            If this conjectural emendation were adopted, it would have at least a little doctrinal impact, by diminishing the Biblical basis for the phrase “He descended into hell” found in the Apostles’ Creed. 

Finally, in First Peter 3:10, we encounter an imaginary Greek reading that has been adopted into the text of the 28^th edition of the Nestle-Aland Greek New Testament.  Rejecting the assortment of contending variant offered by the Greek manuscripts, the editors have preferred the reading that is implied by a reading for which the external support is only extant in Coptic and Syriac.  However, the judgment of the scholars who gave up on the extant Greek readings may have been premature.

 The text is sufficiently clear with the reading, “will be found,” while it is also puzzling enough to provoke attempts at simplification.

         Only two of these conjectural emendations are mentioned in the 28^th edition of the Nestle-Aland Greek New Testament; the 27^th edition was the last one to list include conjectural emendations in its textual apparatus.   

          Some readers may be taken aback by the idea that some of the inspired words in the Word of God can only be reconstructed in the imaginations of scholars.  A realistic pushback against the idea of adopting any conjectural emendation is the question, “Does it really seem feasible that every scribe in every transmission-stream got it wrong?”  If scholars reject singular readings simply because they are singular, then non-existent readings should be even more disqualified, as a point of consistency.  It also seems very inconsistent to criticize advocates of poorly attested readings only to turn around and advocate readings with zero external support.

              It has been said by some very influential textual critics that New Testament textual criticism is both an art and a science.  But it should be all science, and not art, because it is an enterprise of reconstruction, not construction.  Its methods may validly be creative and inventive, and even intuitive, but not its product.  Conjectural emendation is the only aspect of textual criticism that potentially involves the researcher’s artistic or creative skill. 

            In my view, no conjectural emendation should ever be placed in a compilation of the text of the Greek New Testament.  At the same time, the task of proposing conjectural emendations as possible readings which account for their rivals serves a valuable purpose:  to demonstrate the heavy weight of the internal evidence in favor of such readings in the event that they are discovered in an actual Greek manuscript. 

            Thank you.           

 

 

 

Video Lecture: The Textus Receptus

Lecture 10:  The Textus Receptus

Lecture #10 in the series Introduction to NT Textual Criticism is now available to watch at YouTube:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z0tb1N4_k1w .

In this 21-minute video, I describe the development of the Textus Receptus, the text that dominated the 1500s, and from which the New Testament was translated in the King James Version.

An extract:

            Today, we are looking into the background of what is known as the Textus Receptus.  In Latin, “Textus receptus” simply means “the received text.”  There are two ways to define the Textus Receptus.

            The simpler way is to say that the Textus Receptus is the base-text of the New Testament in the King James Version, also known as the Authorized Version, which was published in 1611 and subsequently tidied up in 1629 to address printing errors and similar glitches. 

            In 1633, the Elzevir family printers issued an edition of the Greek New Testament that was accompanied by a reassuring statement that its reader had “the text now received by all, in which we give nothing changed or corrupted.”   This was the first Greek New Testament that one could say called itself the Received Text.

            But for the most part, the Greek text of 1633 published by the Elzevirs was not drastically different from several earlier editions which had been used by earlier translators, in the 1500s.  A variety of editions of the Greek New Testament were in circulation before 1633, but three editors stand out above the rest:  Erasmus, Stephanus, and Beza.

             Desiderius Erasmus, born in 1467, grew up in an environment of scholarly challenges to sacred traditions.  The Latin Vulgate had acquired a de facto status as the authoritative text of the New Testament in western Europe, but in the 1400s, a scholar named Lorenzo Valla, who died ten years before Erasmus was born, had used Greek manuscripts to draw into question a variety of renderings in the text of the Vulgate that was current in his time.  Valla made notes upon the Greek New Testament, and pointed out various discrepancies between the meaning of the Greek text and the meaning of the Vulgate text. 

            Some of Valla’s observations eventually had great significance.  In Martin Luther’s “95 Theses,” nailed to the church door at Wittenburg, Germany in 1517, his first three points focused on the meaning of repentance.  In this respect, Luther was echoing a clarification that Valla had already made in the 1450s about the meaning of the Greek text.

             Valla never published his notes about Vulgate readings that needed to be improved to correspond better with the Greek text.  But in 1504, when Erasmus found a manuscript that contained Valla’s Adnotationes in Novum Testamentum – Notes on the New Testament – it inspired him to make the study of the Greek text of the New Testament his life’s work.     Erasmus traveled extensively, studying in Italy, in France, and in England, investigating New Testament manuscripts wherever they could be found, including the unusual minuscule 69.  Erasmus was also very well-acquainted with the works of Jerome, and the patristic writer known as Ambrosiaster.  

            In 1514 and again in 1515, the subject of improving the Vulgate, using the Greek text, came up in conversations he had with his friend Johann Froben, who ran a distinguished printing-house in the city of Basel, Switzerland. 

            In July of 1515, Erasmus began the final stage of making a Greek text of the New Testament, using a small collection of Greek manuscripts at Basel.   The uncial Codex Basiliensis, Codex E, a.k.a. 07, produced in the 700s, was at Basel at this time, but there is no evidence that Erasmus ever used it.  Instead, the manuscripts housed at Basel that Erasmus used were a collection of minuscules:

Codex 1.  This manuscript contains the New Testament except Revelation;    it is an important member of family-1.

Codex 2 contains the Gospels.

Codex 2105 contains the Pauline Epistles. 

Codex 2815 contains Acts and all Epistles (2^ap).  (not from John of Ragusa)

Codex 2816 – containing Acts and all Epistles (4^ap)

Codex 2817 – contains the Pauline Epistles (7^p)

There was no Greek manuscript of Revelation in the library at Basel, so he borrowed a manuscript of Revelation, minuscule 2814, from his colleague Johann Reuchlin, the great-uncle of the influential Reformer Phillip Melanchthon. 

             These were not the only sources used by Erasmus for his first edition, but they were the manuscripts he had on hand at Basel.

            What were Greek New Testament manuscripts doing at Basel?  Most of them had been donated to the Dominican monastery there by Ivan Stojkovic, also known as John of Ragusa, in the 1400s.  Before his death in 1443, he had joined a vigorous effort, led by Basil Bessarion, to re-unite the church.  As a means of showing what the Eastern churches had to offer to churches in the West, he brought some manuscripts to Europe from Constantinople, in the 1430s.    

            Equipped with a familiarity of various manuscripts in various scholarly centers in Britain and continental Europe, and equipped with the manuscripts at Basel, Erasmus hammered out the first edition of the Greek New Testament, confirming his Latin translation alongside it, with explanatory notes after it.  On March 1, 1516, Novum Instrumentum became the first Greek New Testament available for purchase from Froben.

            Another Greek New Testament had already been printed:  the Greek New Testament was part of the Complutensian Polyglot, a text of the entire Bible, printed in Hebrew, Latin, and Greek, prepared under the supervision of Cardinal Francisco Ximenes de Cisneros, with help from Lopez de Stunica.  “Complutensian” means that it was made in Complutum, another name for the city of Alcala, near Madrid, Spain.  “Polyglot” means that its text appeared in several languages.  The New Testament portion of the Complutensian Polyglot was printed in 1514, but it was not formally approved for ecclesiastical publication until 1522.

             The first edition of Novum Instrumentum encountered some resistance.  Some readers saw Erasmus’ Latin translation not as a corrective supplement to the Vulgate, but as a rival.  Others asked, why settle for the echo in Latin when you can hear the voice in Greek?  Why drink from a dirty stream when you can drink from the fountain?  Erasmus made a second edition, Novum Testamentum, in 1519, correcting many of the printing errors that had marred the first edition, and improving his Latin translation. 

            Some critics accused Erasmus of displaying negligence by failing to include a reference to the Father, the Word, and the Holy Spirit in First John 5:7, a reading in the Vulgate text that was very common in the early 1500s.  Erasmus replied that he had no basis for such a Greek text, because he had found no Greek manuscript that had those words at that place:  if he had possessed a Greek manuscript with that passage, he wrote, then he would have included them, but since he had no such thing, no one could fairly charge him with negligence for paying attention to his manuscripts.

                In 1522, Erasmus released a third edition, refining the Greek compilation, his Latin translation, and the annotations.  He acquired a little more manuscript-evidence at the library of St. Donatian’s College at Bruges, and he was given access to the Golden Gospels of Henry III, an ornate Vulgate Gospels codex produced around the year 1000. 

            By this time, he had been informed of the existence of a manuscript in Britain – now known as minuscule 61, Codex Montfortianus – that contained the passage known as the Comma Johanneum in First John 5:7, and so he included the phrase in the third edition.  In 1521, Erasmus was also informed by Paul Bombasius, who oversaw the Vatican Library at that time, about the existence of Codex Vaticanus, and about Vaticanus’ testimony against the Comma Johanneum.  Erasmus had not explicitly promised to include the passage, but he did so anyway.  To not include it, now that it had been shown that at least one Greek manuscript supported it, would have put him in a position that would have been difficult to defend. 

            A fourth edition was issued in 1527.  By this time, Erasmus had become acquainted with the Complutensian Polyglot, and he made some changes to the Greek text as a result, especially in Revelation. 

             Also, Erasmus was informed a little more about the text of Codex Vaticanus, thanks to some correspondence with Juan Sepulveda, who was at Rome at that time.  But despite Sepulveda’s praise of the manuscript, Erasmus casually dismissed its testimony, supposing that it was one of a group of Greek manuscripts that were adjusted to agree with a Latin text.

            Finally, a fifth edition was issued in 1535, one year before the death of Erasmus. 

            All this time, Erasmus took all comers in defense of his compilation, vigorously responding to criticisms from friend and foe, including Stunica, who had worked on the Complutensian Polyglot.  Erasmus found it convenient to repeat the gist of the answer that Lorenzo Valla had prepared against those whom he had anticipated would accuse him of tampering with established tradition:  Valla had written, “If I am correcting anything, I am not correcting Sacred Scripture, but rather its translation.  In doing so I am not being insolent toward Scripture, but rather pious, and I am doing nothing more than translating better than the earlier translator.  Therefore, if my translation is correct, that is what ought to be called Sacred Scripture, not his.”

            Erasmus also explained his predicament by telling a story about a priest who somehow had gotten used to saying “mumpsimus,” which is not a real word, in the Latin Mass.  When another clergyman informed him that the correct word is “sumpsimus,” he replied, “You can keep your new-fangled sumpsimus; I want good old mumpsimus.”  This was Erasmus’ way of explaining that the fundamental question is not, “What are you used to?”, but, “What is original?”.

            Erasmus and Froben had been very much aware that thanks to the potential of the new technology of the printing press, their publication of the printed Greek New Testament had the potential to culminate in the ordinary person having the New Testament in his own language. In Paracelsis, the preface to his New Testament, Erasmus wrote that it was his desire that men and woman would know the Gospels and the Epistles of Paul in their own languages – that they would be known not only to the clergy but to farmers and fabric-makers, and that they would be read and understood not only by Scots and Irish but also by Turks and Saracens.

            Earlier in the 1400s, before Erasmus was even born, another scholar, named Giannozzo Manetti, had compiled a Greek base-text and translated it into Latin – but no one had used it.  The text of Erasmus’ second edition, however, was obtained by Martin Luther, and when an opportunity came, Luther definitely used it:  before the end of September 1522, Luther had translated the Greek New Testament into German.    

            William Tyndale, an English scholar, gained access to a copy of Luther’s German New Testament, and then he acquired a copy of the third edition of Erasmus’ Greek New Testament.  Tyndale finished translating this into English before the end of 1525.  It was reprinted in 1526. 

            Newly produced unauthorized English Bibles were highly illegal in England at the time, and most copies of Tyndale’s English New Testament were burned whenever they were found.  William Tyndale was condemned as a heretic and was eventually captured.  In 1536, he was executed.  His last recorded words were, “Lord, open the king of England’s eyes.”

            By 1539, the Great Bible, which tended to echo Tyndale’s English New Testament, was being openly distributed in England.

             Jacques Lefèvre, known as Stapulensis, oversaw the translation of the Vulgate New Testament into French, in stages, consulting Erasmus’ work as a secondary source.  His printed French New Testament was published in 1523.  He was extremely influential in the Protestant Reformation in other respects, although, like Erasmus, he never officially left the Roman Catholic Church.  Stapulensis’ translation of the New Testament was adjusted in a more Greek-dependent direction by Robert Olivetan, a cousin of John Calvin, and it was later revised again by Theodore Beza.

            With French, German, and English New Testaments already in print, the next generation of textual critics was led by Robert Estienne, also known as Stephanus.  Stephanus’ skill in printing and typography was at least as good as his expertise in textual criticism, and after publishing Greek New Testaments in 1546 and 1549, he outdid himself in the edition of 1550, his third edition, also called the Editio Regia, or “Royal Edition.” 

            In this publication, Stephanus included a textual apparatus, providing alternate readings from the Complutensian Polyglot and from an assortment of 15 Greek manuscripts, including several manuscripts in the royal library, which included the Gospels-Codex L, 019, and minuscule 6.  Codex Bezae, now usually assigned to the 400s, was also cited.

            Codex Bezae was called Codex Bezae because it was the property of Theodore Beza.  Born in 1519, Beza became an influential ally of John Calvin during the Reformation.  From the 1550s up to 1598, Beza issued multiple editions of the Greek New Testament.  He utilized not only Codex Bezae, but also the uncial Codex Claromontanus.  Nevertheless, his compilation did not drastically veer away from the standard set by Erasmus and Stephanus.  Beza’s 1598 edition is probably the closest thing there is to a pre-KJV base-text of the KJV New Testament.

            While Protestants were producing translations in several European languages, based on several editions of the Greek New Testament, Roman Catholic scholars tended to emphasize the Latin Vulgate.  In the mid-1500s, Nicholas Zegers attempted to filter mistakes out of the Vulgate text, on the basis of Greek readings.  But when the Rheims New Testament was published, in 1582, based on the Vulgate, it was prefaced by an explanation of why the Vulgate was being translated instead of the Greek text. 

            The Preface to the Rheims New Testament called the Protestants’ Greek text hopelessly corrupt.  Some of its readings had been invented by the editors, and the compilations did not always agree with each other; examples of inconsistency were cited from Mark 7:3, Luke 3:36, Second Timothy 2:14, James 5:12, Revelation 11:2, and Romans 12:11,  where Stephanus’ text meant, “serving the time,” and Erasmus’ text meant, “serving the Lord.”   

            Erasmus was indeed guilty of putting some conjectures into his text.  In Acts 9:5-6, he made a harmonization in the Greek text, so as to make it resemble the parallel-passage in Acts 26.  And in James 4:2, instead of saying “you kill,” the second edition of Erasmus’ Greek New Testament read, “you are jealous.”  Erasmus believed that the Greek manuscripts he used contained a corruption at this point, and that their copyists had written a Greek word that means “you kill,” where James had written a similar Greek word that means “you are jealous.”

            Perhaps the most famous example of hypothetical reconstruction of the text without Greek manuscript support involved the last six verses of the book of Revelation.  The manuscript that Erasmus had borrowed from Johann Reuchlin, 2814, was damaged, and did not have this part of the the book, or the commentary that accompanied it.  Erasmus, in order to finish the first edition of his compilation, used Valla’s notes and a Latin Vulgate text to reconstruct the Greek text of verses 16-21.  He acknowledged in his annotations that he had done this.

            Erasmus reckoned that any shortcomings in his retro-translation could be corrected by using the Aldine Bible, an edition of the Greek Bible that was released in 1518 in Venice, Italy.  What Erasmus did not realize was that the New Testament in the Aldine Bible was dependent to a large extent upon his own compilation.

            Greek copies of Revelation were so rare, and Erasmus’ compilation was so widely accepted, that his retro-translation of Revelation 22:16-21 continued to be reprinted in one edition after another, including the reference to the “book” of life, instead of the tree of life, in the second half of verse 19.

            It was these editions, and the earlier English translations based upon them, that were consulted by the translators of the King James Version in 1604 to 1611.   There were some readings that were very poorly attested, such as the reading koinōnia in Ephesians 3:9, and there were some readings that had no Greek manuscript support at all, especially in Revelation.

            But for the most part, the Textus Receptus – whether one defines it as the base-text of the KJV, or as the multiple printed editions of the Greek New Testament prepared from 1516 to 1633 – is a good representative of the Byzantine Text of Matthew-Jude – and most of its readings can be found in manuscript evidence much older than the minuscule manuscripts upon which it was based.   In the Gospels, there is very little difference between the meaning of the text printed in the Textus Receptus, based on no more than 25 copies, and the meaning of the Byzantine Text found in 1,500 copies.  

             So, even though the Textus Receptus was initially compiled on the basis of relatively few manuscripts, and even though it has some readings that are only supported by a small minority of Greek manuscripts, and a few readings that are not supported by any Greek manuscripts at all, if you compare the Textus Receptus and the Nestle-Aland compilation at any given point in Matthew-Jude, it is the reading in the Textus Receptus, not the reading in Nestle-Aland, that will usually be supported by at least 85% of the relevant Greek manuscripts known today.

             Fast-forward to April of 1853. At Cambridge University, a young professor wrote about a text-critical project he intended to undertaken with another professor:  “Our object is to supply clergymen generally, schools, etc., with a portable Greek Testament, which shall not be disfigured with Byzantine corruptions.”  His name was Fenton John Anthony Hort.  God willing, his approach to the New Testament text, and his involvement in the Revised Version, will be the subject of our next lecture.

             In closing, to read more about the Greek text compiled in the 1500s, read pages 1-36 of Samuel Tregelles’ 1844 book An Account of the Printed Text of the Greek New Testament.

             Thank you.