A grammar is an attempt to crack the code.
— M. A. K. Halliday
This chapter explores the need for linguistic theory within New Testament Greek studies. It goes on to explore the broad shape of modern linguistics, sketching out key differences between generative and functional linguistics, with a focus on Systemic Functional Linguistics, which has become significant within Greek studies. The chapter explains some of the linguistic terminology that frequently blocks the access of nonexperts to recent discussions.
To begin, it is worth rehearsing the essential distinction between the study of language and the study of linguistics. When the student begins her journey with Greek — learning vocabulary, paradigms, and Greek grammar — she has embarked on the long road of language learning. Language study is simply the study of the “content” of a particular language. Linguistics, on the other hand, is not necessarily about the study of any particular language, but is the study of the phenomenon of language. It pays attention to methodological issues related to the study of language, the principles of how languages work, and how to articulate various language phenomena. In other words, a linguist is interested in language per se, but not necessarily any individual language, though linguistics does include the study of individual languages too, but from an analytical point of view. As David Alan Black points out, a linguist may, in fact, know only his own language; being fluent in French, German, or Greek is not the point. Black uses the illustration of a musicologist:
A musicologist could analyze a piano concerto by pointing out its themes, movements, meter, and tempo. But he need not be able to play the concerto himself. He leaves that to the concert pianist.1
Just as the musicologist is interested in the theory of music while the musician performs the music, so the linguist is interested in the theory of language, while the language student learns to understand and use a particular language.
2.2 Linguistics and New Testament Greek
The long tradition of studying the Greek of the New Testament has been strong on the language-learning side of things, but relatively weak on the linguistic front. Greek students are better equipped to recite paradigms than to articulate what a paradigmatic opposition is. This situation must be redressed for the simple reason that the principles of linguistics have direct bearing on exegesis and translation. Students and teachers of the Greek New Testament ignore linguistics at their own peril.
Several factors complicate the relationship between linguistics and the study of New Testament Greek. First, linguistics is a massive, evolving field of study in its own right. It is difficult enough for a professional linguist, let alone the Greek scholar or student, to keep abreast of all its developments. Second, several linguistic schools exist, each with its own literature, complex terminology, and differing sets of principles and methodologies. This means that the Greek scholar or student is faced with a bewildering set of alternatives for consideration, even before engagement with a particular linguistic school is attempted.
David Alan Black lists some other common objections that students of the Greek New Testament raise about linguistics:
The terms used in linguistics are too difficult for me to understand. I could never hope to master all of the topics covered in linguistics.
Linguists themselves seem uncertain about their conclusions, and the entire discipline is in a state of flux. Why, then, should I enter this jungle?2
Clearly, there are many possible objections that people may entertain in order to ignore linguistics — but at what cost?
2.2.1 The Need for Linguistic Theory
In Moisés Silva’s God, Language, and Scripture, he offers a humorous example of some of the problems of biblical interpretation that are caused by a misconception of how language normally works.3 Silva imagines that in the year 2790, the most powerful nation in the world speaks Swahili, and English-speaking countries have ceased to exist, as has most of their literature written before 2012. Archaeologists discover a short text written in English and seek to interpret it:
Marilyn, tired of her glamorous image, embarked on a new project. She would now cultivate her mind, sharpen her verbal skills, pay attention to standards of etiquette. Most important of all, she would devote herself to charitable causes. Accordingly, she offered her services at the local hospital, which needed volunteers to cheer up terminal patients, many of whom had been in considerable pain for a long time. The weeks flew by. One day she was sitting at the cafeteria when her supervisor approached her and said: “I didn’t see you yesterday. What were you doing?” “I painted my apartment; it was my day off,” she responded.
The discovery is rushed to one of the finest philologists in their country, who publishes the following commentary on it.
We are unable to determine whether this text is an excerpt from a novel or from a historical biography. Almost surely, however, it was produced in a religious context, as is evident from the use of such words as devoted, offered, charitable. In any case, this passage illustrates the literary power of twentieth-century English, a language full of wonderful metaphors. The verb embarked calls to mind an ocean liner leaving for an adventuresome cruise, while cultivate possibly alerts the reader to Marilyn’s botanical interests. In those days North Americans compared time to a bird — probably the eagle — that flies.
The author of this piece, moreover, makes clever use of word associations. For example, the term glamorous is etymologically related to grammar, a concept no doubt reflected in the comment about Marilyn’s “verbal skills.” Consider also the subtleties implied by the statement that “her supervisor approached her.” The verb approach has a rich usage. It may indicate a similar appearance or condition (this painting approaches the quality of a Picasso); it may have a sexual innuendo (the rapist approached his victim); it may reflect subservience (he approached his boss for a raise). The cognate noun can be used in contexts of engineering (e.g., access to a bridge), sports (of a gold stroke following the drive from the tee), and even war (a trench that protects troops besieging a fortress).
Society in the twentieth century is greatly illumined by this text. The word patient (from patience, meaning “endurance”) indicates that sick people then underwent a great deal of suffering: they endured not only the affliction of their physical illness, but also the mediocre skills of their medical doctors, and even (to judge from other contemporary documents) the burden of increasing financial costs.
A few syntactical notes may be of interest to language students. The preposition of had different uses: causal (tired of), superlative (most important of all), and partitive (many of whom). The simple past tense had several aoristic functions: embarked clearly implies determination, while offered suggests Marilyn’s once-for-all, definitive intention. Quite noticeable is the tense variation at the end of the text. The supervisor in his question uses the imperfect tense, “were doing,” perhaps suggesting monotony, slowness, or even laziness. Offended, Marilyn retorts with a punctiliar and emphatic aorist, “I painted.”
Sound familiar?
Silva makes the point well. Sadly, such misunderstanding of language and its resultant misleading exegesis can be found in many commentaries and sermons that make language-based observations from the Greek text.
Moreover, much of the literature concerning New Testament Greek is linguistically uninformed, such that it is not possible to discern the methodological principles at work (if any). Without a considered methodological approach, even the best grammatical studies are potentially flawed. Additionally, many grammatical works that are linguistically informed do not explicitly reveal their methodological commitments and presuppositions. And so, as Dennis Stamps comments, “New Testament interpreters face a pluralism in grammatical theory.”4 The diversity of methodologies and presuppositions within linguistics adds to the complexity of grammatical studies.
Before it can be suggested, however, that Greek grammar therefore would be better off without adding the complications of linguistics, this solution should be seen as naïve, not to mention impossible. The fact is that Greek grammarians are subject to linguistic theory, whether or not they are aware of it and whether or not they are explicit about it. Even “no theory” is, in fact, a theoretical position. The only question is whether it is a good one. There is no way to avoid the concerns of linguistics when studying grammar (of any language). Thus, Stamps warns, “The biblical critic needs to understand the options before using a ‘look-up and footnote’ approach to grammars when interpreting a text.”5 We cannot consult Greek grammars without consideration of their linguistic presuppositions and methodologies. And so we turn to the practice and theories of linguistics.
Before exploring some of the distinctions within linguistic theory, it is worth noting some of the different tasks that define linguistics. The practice of linguistics is broad, with different fields being interested in different goals. Often these practices are complementary rather than competitive, but it helps to distinguish between them for the sake of functional clarity.
According to John Lyons, the broadest distinction within linguistics is that between general and descriptive linguistics. General linguistics is interested in the study of language itself, asking the question, “What is language?” Its inquiries, however, remain general rather than specific to any particular language. Descriptive linguistics, by contrast, is the study of particular languages.6 Descriptive linguistics differs from language study (mentioned above) in that it is an analytical study of the mechanics of a particular language — its structure and the ways in which it performs various functions — whereas language study is concerned with gaining proficiency in a language (to speak, read, and write it). The descriptive linguist may study a language without necessarily being able to speak it.
Lyons points out that general and descriptive linguistics depend on each other:
. . . general linguistics supplies the concept and categories in terms of which particular languages are to be analysed; descriptive linguistics, in its turn, provides the data which confirm or refute the propositions and theories put forward in general linguistics.7
Of course, descriptive linguists are not necessarily interested in providing data for general linguistics, but wish to analyse a particular language for the sake of advancing understanding of that language.8 The study of the Greek of the New Testament is obviously an exercise in descriptive linguistics for the sake of improving our understanding of it, and therefore of the texts in which Greek is used.
Another broad distinction within linguistics is that between diachronic and synchronic study of language. Historical linguistics is characterized by a diachronic approach, which traces the historical development of language. It can be interested in language in general (i.e., general linguistics), or in a particular language (descriptive linguistics).9 In addition to its comparative methodology, much nineteenth-century Greek scholarship was diachronic in nature, being interested in the changes in the Greek language from Proto-Indo-European through to the Koine period and beyond. A synchronic description of a language, however, is nonhistorical; “it presents an account of the language as it is at some particular point in time.”10 Most studies of New Testament Greek today are synchronic in nature, though classical Greek scholarship (or, more accurately, Ancient Greek scholarship) often employs diachronic approaches.
A third distinction that Lyons discusses is that between theoretical and applied linguistics. Theoretical linguistics is interested in constructing a theory of the structure and functions of language (or languages), but without any attention given to their practical applications. Applied linguistics, however, is concerned with the application of linguistic theory to a variety of practical tasks, including language teaching.11
Finally, Lyons draws a distinction between microlinguistics and macrolinguistics. This distinction has to do with the scope of the subject. On the one hand, microlinguistics adopts a narrower view of the task of linguistics, while macrolinguistics takes a broader view.12 The narrower view sees the concerns of linguistics to be limited to the structure of language(s):
without regard to the way in which languages are acquired, stored in the brain or used in their various functions; without regard to the interdependence of psychological mechanisms that are involved in language-behaviour; in short, without regard to anything other than the language system, considered in itself and for itself.13
Macrolinguistics, on the other hand, “is concerned with everything that pertains in any way at all to language and languages.”14 Macrolinguistics therefore gives rise to several interdisciplinary branches of inquiry, such as sociolinguistics, psycholinguistics, ethnolinguistics, stylistics, and so forth.15
In practice, there are various combinations of these sets of distinctions at work within the world of linguistics. Lyons points out, however, that the dominant combination in modern linguistics is theoretical, synchronic, microlinguistics.16 This is certainly the dominant approach to the study of New Testament Greek today. It is theoretical rather than applied, though there are some applications of interest, such as Bible translation and teaching Greek (see chapter 10). It is synchronic, being interested in the Greek of the Koine period, though there is also a continuing interest in diachronics within Ancient Greek scholarship generally. And it is generally microlinguistic in the sense that the language is the focal point, not its role in sociolinguistics or psycholinguistics. However, most Greek scholars are interested in the intersection of Greek language with exegesis — indeed, that is often the impetus for the study of Greek in the first place — and in that sense, Greek scholarship can be quite “multidisciplinary.”
Having traced the major distinctions within the practice of linguistics, we turn now to the major distinctions within linguistic theory. These distinctions are summarized in 2.4.
| BRANCHES OF LINGUISTICS | |
| General Linguistics Language in general | Descriptive Linguistics Specific language(s) |
| Diachronic Linguistics Language development through history | Synchronic Linguistics Language at a specific point in history |
| Theoretical Linguistics Pure linguistic theory | Applied Linguistics Linguistics applied to various functions |
| Microlinguistics Monodisciplinary | Macrolinguistics Multidisciplinary |
There is no single linguistic theory that binds the field of linguistics together, though many linguists working today would recognize a range of basic linguistic principles on which all agree — mostly derived from Saussure. Nevertheless, it is most accurate to say that linguistics consists of a collection of theories. As such, it is important to have a basic grasp on the shape of the terrain in order to understand where various linguistic approaches “fit,” and what methodological principles govern the major linguistic schools. On the broadest scale, there are two major divisions within linguistic schools, known as generative linguistics and functional linguistics.
The term generative was derived from mathematics and introduced to linguistics by Chomsky in his book Syntactic Structures.17 The narrow use of the term generative linguistics, or generative grammar, refers to a language’s ability to generate sets of grammatical sentences. As Lyons summarizes, “A generative grammar is a mathematically precise specification of the grammatical structure of the sentences that it generates.”18 The broader use of the term refers to a whole field of linguistics that shares certain theoretical and methodological assumptions originating with Chomsky (see §1.4.6). We are primarily interested in the broader use of the term.
Generative linguistics is characterized by the core assumption that all languages are ultimately shaped by a universal grammar, or universals of linguistic structure. Chomsky, and the generativist school that formed around him, views individual languages as expressions of these linguistic universals. On the surface level, each language is different, with its own characteristics, but the generative linguist seeks to understand how this surface-level language encodes the “deep-structure” that is common to all.
Ultimately, the commitment to the existence of such a deep-structure, or linguistic universals grammar, leads generative linguists to an interest in the human mind. Again following Chomsky, these linguistic universals are what they are because of the way the brain is wired for language production and comprehension. If linguistic universals provide the common deep-structure for all surface-level languages, their universality strongly suggests a universal origin: the human brain. The brain is the source of all language. This is not simply about the brain acquiring and retaining the “content” of particular languages. It is directly related to the shape of linguistic universals. Linguistic universals are a product of biology and neurology: the structure of the human brain determines the structure of all language. So Sampson summarizes:
Chomsky argues that the explanation for the fact that all languages of the world are cut to a common pattern (assuming that they are) is that the inherited structure of Man’s mind forces him to use languages of that particular type.19
Chomsky holds a rationalist view of the human mind, believing it to be of fixed structure with preexisting potentialities.20 He even suggests that “if one tried to teach a child a language not conforming to that plan . . . then no matter how ‘simple’ the language might otherwise be, the child would be innately incapable of mastering it.”21
Generative linguistics has been enormously influential throughout the world of linguistics, but particularly in North America, and also within the fields of philosophy and psychology.22 But Chomsky and his followers have also seen criticisms of some of the very core principles of generative linguistics. Geoffrey Sampson, for example, states:
the existence of linguistic universals is, for Chomsky and his followers, not so much a finding which has emerged from their research despite their expectations, but rather a guiding assumption which determines the nature of hypotheses they propose in order to account for data.23
If the core principle of generative theory is the existence of linguistic universals, it can be viewed as a precarious endeavor based on an unproven assumption.24 Though Sampson is perhaps too harsh in his assessment, we can therefore understand his claim that “the ascendency of the Chomskyan school has been a very unfortunate development for the discipline of linguistics.”25
Functional linguistics is concerned to account for how language is used, and how the use of language informs us as to its structures. “It is characterized by the belief that the phonological, grammatical and semantic structure of languages is determined by the functions that they have to perform in the societies in which they operate.”26 Two of the best-known functional linguistic schools are the Prague School (see §1.4.2) and the school of Systemic Functional Linguistics (see §1.4.8).
Unlike generative linguists, most functional linguists are not interested in elucidating a universal grammar or linguistic universals, but they seek to treat each language on its own terms. This is not to deny, however, the existence of common features and similarities across languages. In fact, functional typology (see §1.4.9) is interested in the different mechanisms that languages use to perform functions that are universal to languages.27 While the creation of rhythm is a universal function of all musical genres, how rhythm is created may differ from one genre to the next. Nevertheless, functional linguists are primarily focused on how individual languages function to convey meaning. Functional linguists also share the conviction “that the structure of utterances is determined by the use to which they are put and the communicative context in which they occur.”28 In these ways, functionalism is firmly opposed to generativism, since the latter seeks to analyze languages as systems of formal rules rather than according to their varied functions.29
Consequently, functional linguistics emphasizes the social element of language. Language is a “social-semiotic” tool — it is a tool of social interaction, which is the obvious (but sometimes overlooked) wider context through which to understand what language is all about. That is probably why we regard someone talking to himself as humorous — if not inherently strange. Language is therefore best studied as the tool that it is, within the contexts of social interaction.
Such a focus on functionality may help to account for the similarities that do pertain across various languages. The parallel operations that language is expected to perform across all cultures and their various social situations means that we ought not be surprised to discover some parallels in the structure of certain languages. As Lyons says,
in all societies, we may assume, there are occasions when it is necessary to make descriptive statements, to ask questions and to issue commands; it is not surprising therefore that most languages, if not all, should distinguish grammatically between declarative, interrogative and imperative sentences.30
This means that apparent similarities between languages need not be attributed to a set of linguistic universals that are hardwired in the human mind, as generative linguistics assumes, but can be accounted for through the common needs of social interaction across human cultures and languages.
By the same token, Lyons points out, the social needs of differing cultures help to explain the differences between languages. “In so far as the more specific semiotic needs of one society differ from those of another, languages will tend to differ one from another in their grammatical and lexical structure.”31 Function, then, is a useful way in which to understand both the similarities and differences across various languages.
2.5 Systemic Functional Linguistics
While there are many useful insights derived from formal linguistics, it is argued below (see §2.6) that a functional approach is ultimately most suited to the study of Biblical Greek. There are several functional linguistic schools, including the Prague School, Simon Dik’s Functional Grammar, Foley and Van Valin’s Role and Reference Grammar, and Danish Functional Grammar, but it is not possible to survey them all here.32 Instead, we will explore just one of the prominent schools within the field of functional linguistics — Systemic Functional Linguistics. This is offered by way of example to demonstrate the inner workings of a functional approach to linguistics, but also because systemic linguistics has had considerable impact on the study of Ancient Greek in recent years.
Particularly prominent in England and Australia, Systemic Functional Linguistics was developed by M. A. K. Halliday, influenced by the work of J. R. Firth.
The functional nature of language is emphasized within Systemic Functional Linguistics, and, as with other functional schools, it is the key to unlocking what language is and how it works. Halliday and Matthiessen expand:
We use language to make sense of our experience, and to carry out our interactions with other people. This means that the grammar has to interface with what goes on outside language: with the happenings and conditions of the world, and with the social processes we engage in. But at the same time it has to organize the construal of experience, and the enactment of social processes, so that they can be transformed into wording.33
It is the functionality of language that causes Halliday and Matthiessen to reflect on the nature of the human brain. While they share this interest with Chomsky, their approach and conclusion is the exact opposite. While Chomsky argued that linguistic universals are derived from the hardwired structure of the human brain, Halliday and Matthiessen see it the other way around. They say that the development of language had immense significance in the evolution of the human species: “it is not an exaggeration to say that it turned homo . . . into homo sapiens.” The power of language “created the modern human brain.”34 By construing our experiences in the world, language creates categories and structures within the mind that are not predetermined but come into being through this construal of experience.
The term systemic points to the understanding of language as a system of choices; “Systemic theory gets its name from the fact that the grammar of a language is represented in the form of system networks.”35 Meaning is created through meaningful choices within a system of options. When a language user chooses a certain word, she is also “unchoosing” other options that might have been chosen. It’s like picking your teammates in gym class — each choice says as much about those not chosen as those who are. Whatever has been “unchosen” helps to convey what is meant by what is chosen, because meaning is elucidated as much by what a word doesn’t mean as by what it does. Each set of systemic choices contributes to the overall meaning of a text: “A text is the product of ongoing selection in a very large network of systems — a system network.”36
Since language is a network of interlocking options, to understand how meaning is encoded in the wording of a language, a linguist needs to understand the systemic structure of options within the language. As Halliday says,
The system network is a theory about language as a resource for making meaning. Each system in the network represents a choice: not a conscious decision made in real time but a set of possible alternatives, like “statement/question” or “singular/plural” or “falling tone/level tone/rising tone”. . . . The system includes (1) the “entry condition” (where the choice is made), (2) the set of possible options, and (3) the “realizations” (what is to be done — that is, what are the structural consequences of each of the options).37
For example, the meaning of the aorist tense-form in Greek is sharpened when we understand how it differs from the imperfect tense-form. When we understand the differences between the two tense-forms, they become mutually defining. Thus, when an author chooses to use the aorist, he has unchosen the imperfect. In that choice and unchoice, meaning is conveyed. Furthermore, if we have understood properly the differences between the two tense-forms, we ought to be able to predict when one will be used rather than the other.
In addition to its systemic nature, language has three metafunctions — ideational, interpersonal, and textual.38 The term metafunction is to be distinguished from the common linguistic term function in that the latter “simply means purpose or way of using language, and has no significance for the analysis of language itself.”39 Metafunction, on the other hand, is intrinsic to language: “the entire architecture of language is arranged along functional lines.”40 Halliday’s term is adopted “to suggest that function was an integral component within the overall theory.”41 These metafunctions are, quite literally, the grand functions of language. The three metafunctions of language are summarized below.
2.5.3.1 Ideational metafunction. Halliday and Matthiessen say that “language provides a theory of human experience,” and certain grammatical resources of every language are dedicated to that function. This function of language is called the ideational metafunction.42 We use language to encode our experience of the world. When someone describes a sunset, or talks about nuclear physics, or writes about jazz, she is encoding her understanding or experience of these things through language.
The ideational metafunction is divided into two components, the experiential and logical metafunctions. The experiential metafunction is the most basic of all human language in that it refers to the choices speakers make in order to make meanings about the world.
While the experiential metafunction describes our linguistic organization of experience, there is also a logical aspect to it — “language as the expression of certain very general logical relations.”43 The logical metafunction creates combinations of words that are connected through a logical relation. A clause, for instance, is not simply a group of words; a meaningful clause is a group of words that bear a logical relation to each other. To describe a sentence simply by the “words-in-sentences” model ignores their relationship to each other. Halliday and Matthiessen employ the following analogy, “Describing a sentence as a construction of words is rather like describing a house as a construction of bricks, without recognizing the walls and the rooms as intermediate structural units.”44
2.5.3.2 Interpersonal metafunction. Language not only describes our experience, it also enacts. Enacting takes place within our personal and social relationships with people around us.45 The interpersonal metafunction refers to the way in which we use language to “act on” others. When we ask questions, issue instructions, offer encouragement, or just share news with each other, we are using language to affect others in some way. This metafunction is more “active” than the ideational metafunction: “if the ideational function of the grammar is ‘language as reflection,’ this is ‘language as action.’ ”46
2.5.3.3 Textual metafunction. The textual metafunction has to do with turning all of this into a coherent message. It “can be regarded as an enabling or facilitating function, since both the others — construing experience and enacting interpersonal relations — depend on being able to build up sequences of discourse, organizing the discursive flow and creating cohesion and continuity as it moves along.”47 The term “textual” does not here refer to written text, but to the “text” of a message, whether it be written or spoken. For any successful communication to occur, information must be encoded into a coherent “text.”
These three metafunctions — ideational, interpersonal, and textual — “are realized throughout the grammar of a language.”48 They are part of the architecture of language, and every utterance can be analysed with respect to them.
Like many linguistic schools, Systemic Functional Linguistics is interested in the relationship between semantics and grammar. That is, it seeks to unpack how “meaning” (semantics) is related to “wordings” (grammar, or lexicogrammar).49 In fact, semantics and grammar are two out of the three “strata” of language, the third being phonology. These three strata are layered vertically, so to speak. The bottom layer is phonology: the sound system of a language. The stratum above phonology is lexicogrammar: words and their relationships to each other within a clause. The stratum above lexicogrammar is semantics: the meaning intended by lexicogrammatical (and phonological) wordings.50 These three strata are understood in an interlocking fashion, and together they enable a language to perform its metafunctions.
The connection between semantics and grammar in any given language is never straightforward and, indeed, this presents the major challenge for linguistic investigation: how does a language encode meanings through its wordings? According to systemic functional linguists, this relationship between semantics and grammar is one of realization, such that the wording “realizes,” or encodes, the meaning. In keeping with the presuppositions of functional linguistics, each language has its own semantic code. Thus, Halliday comments, “stated in other terms, a grammar is an attempt to crack the code.”51 This can only be attempted one language at a time, since there is no “universal code” that will unlock all languages at once (contra generative linguistics). In the case of Greek, for instance, we are obliged to crack its own code rather than rely on the codes of other languages.
This means that a systemic functional approach to language would be highly skeptical of interpreting Greek grammar through the instrument of comparative philology — understanding Greek through the lens of Latin, for example. Latin has its own code: semantic meanings are encoded in Latin’s lexicogrammatical wordings. By the same token, Greek has its own code, with its semantic meanings being encoded in the lexicogrammatical wordings of Greek, and Greek alone. This principle has wide-ranging application for current discussions about Greek.
2.5.5 Syntagmatic Chains and Paradigmatic Choice
Within the lexicogrammatical stratum, systemic linguists analyze language choices through “horizontal” and “vertical” planes. The horizontal plane is described as syntagmatic and concerns the combination of wordings in a clause or sentence. Syntagmatic ordering involves “patterns, or regularities, in what goes together with what.”52 Belonging to the realm of syntax, a syntagmatic chain is the linear relation of given linguistic items — how each word in a phrase, clause, or sentence relates to the other words in its phrase, clause, or sentence. In a jazz trio, this would be the way that piano, bass, and drums interact with each other. Each musician has a role to play with respect to the other two, and the three are mutually dependent.
The vertical plane is described as paradigmatic and concerns the choice of a single linguistic item as distinct from other items of the same class. Paradigmatic ordering involves “patterns in what could go instead of what.”53 In the jazz trio, this would be like replacing the drummer with another drummer and considering what difference that would make to the trio. For instance, when one chooses an aorist tense-form, this choice is analyzed with reference to all the other possible choices that might have occupied the verb “slot” in the sentence. Each choice is meaningful against the set of paradigmatic options that are unchosen. It is the paradigmatic axis that most clearly connects to the systemic nature of language (see §2.5.2): any set of paradigmatic alternatives “constitutes a system in this technical sense.”54
2.6 Functional Linguistics and New Testament Greek
The foregoing section (§2.5) outlines some of the characteristics of Systemic Functional Linguistics. It is only a sketch of this functional linguistic school at the broadest level, yet includes some key methodological principles that are useful to the Greek scholar and student.
While a plethora of linguistic approaches abound within Greek grammatical studies, it is worth reflecting on the question of which approaches are most useful for our purposes. It is reasonable to conclude that a functional linguistic approach is most suited to the enterprise of Greek grammatical study. As we’ve seen, there are several schools within the field of functional linguistics (Systemic Functional Linguistics being just one of many), but it’s not necessary to push further here. It is enough to recognize the benefits of functional analysis for the reasons stated by Porter:
It is prima facie much more reasonable and potentially promising to approach a “dead” language from a functional paradigm, in which instances of real language are cited, than from a “formal” (psychological) model which must test user competence against an already finite set of sentences, with no possible recourse to native speakers for verification.55
In other words, the approach and presuppositions of functional linguistics are inherently better suited to the study of an ancient language — of which there are no native speakers — than those of formal, or generative, linguistics. Since generative linguistic approaches ultimately seek to understand how language coheres with the human mind, they are better suited to “live” languages with living native speakers. But since ancient languages only exist now in the texts in which they are preserved, we must utilize tools that suit the examination of such empirical evidence. These are found most readily in the realm of functional linguistics.
There are already some excellent tools available that marry functional linguistics and New Testament Greek. Perhaps the alarming fact is that they have been in print for quite some time, and yet most Greek students remain ignorant of linguistics. As such, it is worth drawing attention to them here for future study.56
Peter Cotterell and Max Turner’s Linguistics and Biblical Interpretation is an excellent, fulsome guide to various intersections between linguistics and biblical language (not restricted to Greek).57 It covers such themes as the relationship between language and exegesis, semantics and hermeneutics, lexical semantics, sentence structure, discourse analysis, and nonliteral language.
Moisés Silva’s God, Language, and Scripture is a highly accessible work that most likely provides the quickest and easiest way into the relationship between linguistics and biblical languages (also not restricted to Greek). As well as covering basic principles of linguistics and their application to the biblical languages, Silva includes helpful theological and biblical perspectives on language and an appendix on the biblical languages in theological education.
David Alan Black’s Linguistics for Students of New Testament Greek finds middle ground between the aforementioned works, with Cotterell and Turner offering the most demanding treatment of the three, and Silva the most accessible. Black’s treatment will be spot on for many second year (and above) Greek students. He answers objections raised about linguistics, treats phonology, morphology, syntax, and semantics, and offers a chapter on the historical development of Greek and a chapter on discourse analysis.
2.6.1 An Example Relating to the Greek Verbal System
One of the major areas of innovation and development in the study of Ancient Greek is the verbal system, and verbal aspect in particular. This topic will be explored in more detail in chapter 5, but for now it provides an apt example of the kind of difference that linguistic methodology can make to academic discussion.
One of the debated facets of the discussions about Greek verbal aspect is whether or not temporal reference (“time” or “tense”) is encoded in the indicative verb forms. While it used to be accepted that temporal reference was encoded in all Greek verb forms (including nonindicative verbs), this was narrowed to the indicative mood in the nineteen century because of the observations of Georg Curtius. Through the work of McKay, Porter, Decker, and myself, the claim that the indicative mood encodes temporal reference has also been challenged (though I accept future temporal reference for the future indicative form).
In the debate between Porter and Fanning on this issue, it is clear that a linguistic principle lies at the heart of the discussion. While both scholars recognize the importance of the functional linguistic distinction between semantics and pragmatics, they differ on how strictly this distinction is to be held.
Porter claims that temporal reference is not a semantic category of indicative verbs, since there are so many examples of indicatives expressing actions that are not set in the time frame in which they are supposed to be. Many present indicatives convey past action, some aorists convey present and future activity, and so on. Thus, for Porter, temporal expression must be a pragmatic category — it is a function of the verb in context, rather than a constant, permanent feature of the verb. Fanning, however, disagrees. While he acknowledges that not all indicative verbs behave “according to the rules,” temporal reference is nevertheless a semantic feature of indicative verbs.
All of this is to be unpacked in a subsequent chapter, but for now it is safe to say that the disagreement between Porter and Fanning on this issue rests largely on how strictly the linguistic distinction between semantics and pragmatics is to be held. Porter holds the distinction tightly, such that uses “against the rules” means that the rules are wrong. Fanning holds the distinction less tightly, such that uses “against the rules” are exceptions that prove the rule. These uses are created by various factors impinging on the verb, but they do not overthrow the verb’s overall semantic meaning.
Suffice to say, if one prefers a tight distinction between semantics and pragmatics, Porter will appear to be correct. If, however, one is happy for a certain “fuzziness” to exist between semantic and pragmatic categories, Fanning will seem the more sensible option. Thus, in the end, the debate about “tense” in the Greek indicative system depends on methodological, presuppositional distinctions. These are linguistic distinctions.
Black, David Alan. Linguistics for Students of New Testament Greek: A Survey of Basic Concepts and Applications. Second edition. Grand Rapids: Baker, 1995.
Cotterell, Peter, and Max Turner. Linguistics and Biblical Interpretation. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1989.
Crystal, David A. A Dictionary of Linguistics and Phonetics. Sixth edition. Malden: Blackwell, 2008.
Halliday, M. A. K., and Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen. Halliday’s Introduction to Functional Grammar. Fourth revised edition. London: Routledge, 2014.
Lyons, John. Language and Linguistics: An Introduction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981.
Silva, Moisés. God, Language, and Scripture: Reading the Bible in the Light of General Linguistics. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1990.
1. David Alan Black, Linguistics for Students of New Testament Greek: A Survey of Basic Concepts and Applications (2nd ed.; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1995), 4.
2. Black, Linguistics for Students, 1 – 2.
3. Moisés Silva, God, Language, and Scripture: Reading the Bible in the Light of General Linguistics (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1990), 11 – 13.
4. Dennis L. Stamps, “Interpreting the Language of St Paul: Grammar, Modern Linguistics and Translation Theory,” in Discourse Analysis and Other Topics in Biblical Greek (ed. Stanley E. Porter and D. A. Carson; JSNTSup 113; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1995), 131.
5. Ibid., 133.
6. John Lyons, Language and Linguistics: An Introduction (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), 34.
7. Ibid., 34.
8. Ibid., 35.
9. Ibid.
10. Ibid.
11. Ibid.
12. Ibid., 36.
13. Ibid.
14. Ibid.
15. Ibid.
16. Ibid., 37.
17. Chomsky, Syntactic Structures; David Crystal, A Dictionary of Linguistics and Phonetics (6th ed.; Malden: Blackwell, 2008), 208.
18. Lyons, Language and Linguistics, 126.
19. Sampson, Schools of Linguistics, 147.
20. Ibid.
21. Ibid., 148.
22. See Noam Chomsky, Language and Mind (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968); idem, New Horizons in the Study of Language and Mind (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000).
23. Sampson, Schools of Linguistics, 148.
24. “The Chomskyans are always eager to suggest an explanation in ‘universalist’ terms for data which might well have some ‘non-universalist’ explanation if one were willing to look for it. When such explanations are false they can, of course, be refuted by counter-evidence from other languages, but to find and publish such counter-evidence takes time. For this reason . . . at any given time the Chomskyan school tends to believe in a much richer system of universalist hypotheses than are really warranted” (ibid., 148 – 49).
25. Ibid., 163.
26. Lyons, Language and Linguistics, 224.
27. See Alice Caffarel, J. R. Martin, and Christian M. I. M. Matthiessen, eds., Language Typology: A Functional Perspective (Amsterdam: Benjamins, 2004).
28. Ibid., 227.
29. Having said that, Lindsay J. Whaley has sought some middle ground through discussion of the differences between the generative and typological-functional approaches and concludes: “In all likelihood, the unity of language, and consequent language universals, arises from a slate of interacting factors, some innate, others functional” (Introduction to Typology: The Unity and Diversity of Language [Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE, 1997], 5 – 6).
30. John Lyons, Semantics: Volume I (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977), 249.
31. Ibid. It follows, then, that the more divergent the social operations of two cultures are from each other, the more differences we may detect in the structures of their respective languages.
32. For a guide and comparison of three major functional schools — Functional Grammar, Role and Reference Grammar, and Systemic Functional Grammar — see Christopher S. Butler, Structure and Function: A Guide to Three Major Structural-Functional Theories (2 vols.; Amsterdam: Benjamins, 2003).
33. Halliday and Matthiessen, Functional Grammar, 24.
34. Ibid., 25.
35. Ibid., 23.
36. Ibid.
37. M. A. K. Halliday, An Introduction to Functional Grammar (2nd ed.; London: Edward Arnold, 1994), xxvi.
38. Halliday and Matthiessen, Functional Grammar, 361.
39. Ibid., 31.
40. Ibid.
41. Ibid.
42. Ibid., 30.
43. Ibid., 362.
44. Ibid.
45. Ibid., 30.
46. Ibid.
47. Ibid., 30 – 31.
48. Ibid., 361.
49. Though he is happy to use the term grammar as a shorthand expression, Halliday prefers the term lexicogrammar in order to view grammar and vocabulary as part of the same stratum; “they are the two poles of a single continuum, properly called lexicogrammar” (ibid., 24). By the same token, syntax and morphology are both part of lexicogrammar. The middle stratum of lexicogrammar therefore includes grammar, vocabulary, syntax, and morphology, which covers most of the interest of traditional Greek scholarship.
50. Ibid., 24 – 27, 660.
51. Halliday, Functional Grammar (2nd ed.), xxx.
52. Halliday and Matthiessen, Functional Grammar, 22.
53. Ibid.
54. Ibid.
55. Porter, Verbal Aspect, 7.
56. At least two of these works exhibit traces of generative linguistics, especially Black (see his Linguistics for Students, 114 – 18), but on the whole their methodology is in line with functional linguistics.
57. Peter Cotterell and Max Turner, Linguistics and Biblical Interpretation (Downers Grove, IL: Inter-Varsity Press, 1989).