RTS Papers / Hebrew 2 / Spring 2017
Reflections on John Currid's Calvin and the Biblical Languages
Calvin sharply distinguished between the offices of pastor and teacher, yet saw himself in both roles. With minimal preparation time for a massive teaching load, it is a wonder that Calvin could be so accurate without sacrificing profound insight. From the Hebrew or Greek, he would deliver the lecture in Latin, again, without the use of notes. The focal points from which the teacher mined for the students’ reflection were entirely wrapped up in the language. This presupposed that the students had passed on from basic Hebrew and Greek grammar. There would be three lectures a week, one hour a piece. I have been there myself, often teaching eight to ten classes a week—with far less skill and edification of course!
As one who has been blessed with the opportunity to teach all age levels in the wide spectrum of topics in Christian thought, to make the jump from doing occasional etymological references, piggy-backing off the commentaries, to sustained textual analysis: all I can say is that I am eager to return to the field. Appreciation for idiomatic expression and the nature of “judgment calls” in translation will be chief among the upgrades to my lectures. Naturally this will bear different fruit in sermons. The message to the flock as a whole is not the place for too many excursions into the finer points of language analysis. However to those who are being trained to be teachers themselves, it is absolutely indispensable.
When the city of Geneva voted to adopt the Reformation, that included the establishment of a school for its children called The Academy. Once Calvin had returned from the Strassburg exile in 1541 his Ecclesiastical Ordinances were implemented, and his doctrine of four church offices recognized. The distinction between pastor and teacher, or “doctor,” meant that the latter office had a dignity and a powerful role in shaping the church. An institution for higher learning was to be added. Now the “foundation at all education at the collège is in languages and the humanities” (53), since “the exposition of the Bible was central to the sermon” (57), and thus to the whole transformation work of God. After some difficulty he secured the finest linguists among the Reformers. Greek was introduced by age twelve, and, if successful, Hebrew by the middle teen years.
Such chapters recall the statement of C. S. Lewis that friendships are an act of subversion—here an intellectual camaraderie—and, having started schools before, it is impossible not to let my mind wander to thoughts of collecting my own dream team of scholars (linguists chief among them) to strike out on ground where Reformed pastoral training is not yet thriving. Our lives could paraphrase the difference between Erasmus’ revolution of letters to the elite and Calvin’s to the people. Our call may be to “lift the veil” Calvin spoke of between the student and the deeper Word, and that for the disenfranchised.
The sixth and final full chapter is about what the learning of the original languages does to the whole culture of the church. Things are obviously different now than they were during the Renaissance. Then there was widespread fear that these new tongues would confuse the laity. Interestingly the two men most responsible for the diffusion of biblical Greek and Hebrew—Erasmus and Reuchlin—ended their lives as Roman Catholics. It did not necessarily translate (pun intended). Humanists, in and out of Protestant circles, seemed all agreed that without mastery of these languages, there will be many errors in biblical interpretation. Melanchthon went a step further, resting sound theology — knowing Christ — upon understanding “the significance and weight of the words” (68). By this learning whole systems of hermeneutics can be displaced, as was necessary at the end of the Medieval era.
The Westminster Confession seems to set the text of the original languages in a higher normative position than the text in the vernacular. That is worth some reflection. There is often a needless battle between biblical and systematic theology, ranging from the seminary world all the way to the individual approaches of average Christians. In reality both disciplines are constructed of the meaning of words: ultimately the divine words which give life to our “living” systems of thought. The nearer we get to God’s spoken intent, the nearer we will be, as Calvin, to being that “instrument of God.”
The opening words of Currid’s closing plea make me grateful to be at RTS,
Most Protestant and Evangelical seminaries do not require the biblical languages for the divinity degree, and many do not teach them at all (79).
Many have argued that because so many do not use Hebrew later in ministry, that therefore it is practically useless. This is utter pragmatism. Why not argue in reverse—that what is wrong is its disuse! Currid drives the point home in that “the neglect of the original languages is a movement away from the centrality of the Scriptures in our churches and away from the pastor’s main duty to teach the Scriptures” (81).
He then concludes by presenting six reasons why the study of Hebrew and Greek are both necessary and practical: 1. The degree of the minister’s skill to exegete the text of Scripture hinges upon his command of the languages; 2. following from the first point, is our ability to make assessments of the best English translation; 3. the proliferation of commentaries is not easier but harder to wade through without the languages; 4. mastery of the languages can often be the decisive factor in refuting heresy or unbelieving criticism against the Bible; 5. though somewhat subjective, sermons that have wrestled through the original meaning are more profound; 6. the long-term benefits to keeping one’s Hebrew or Greek far outweigh whatever drudgery or rigor may be involved.
(#languages #biblical #Greek #Hebrew #Scripture #hermeneutics #preaching)
John Currid. Calvin and the Biblical Languages. UK: Mentor, 2006
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