Hebrews 1: 8 Corruption in the NWT

by Sea Breeze 24 Replies latest watchtower bible

• 

  slimboyfat

  And yet you drivel on, and repeat the falsehood.

  Brown lists Acts 20:28 among texts where “the application of theos to Jesus is dubious,” not because the reading ἐκκλησία τοῦ θεοῦ is in doubt or because he thinks an invisible huiou lurks in the line, but because the genitive τοῦ ἰδίου allows two grammatical analyses.

  This is factually incorrect. Brown considers the text, God or Lord, itself uncertain. That’s why he put it in a section of his chapter under a heading for texts that are uncertain because of textual variants! That’s how he categorises it. But your AI simply doesn’t care about true and false, and it will happily supply you with endless plausible-sounding false statements about Brown and whatever else until the cows come home. Give it a rest. Read an actual book for yourself.
• 

  aqwsed12345

  @slimboyfat

  Raymond E. Brown’s paragraph does exactly the opposite of what you claim.
  He surveys the variant κύριος / θεός because that is the ordinary first step of historical-critical method, but he immediately judges the evidence to “favor ‘the church of God’ as more original.” Once that decision is registered the textual problem is, for him, finished; the rest of the paragraph turns to the second issue, namely how the genitive τοῦ ἰδίου should be taken. Brown’s closing caution—“even if we read ‘the church of God,’ we are by no means certain that this verse calls Jesus God”—is therefore not a retreat from the textual choice he has just endorsed; it is a reminder that, even with θεός firmly in the text, grammar still permits two construals:

  • attributive: “with his own blood,” which points naturally to the nearer antecedent, God, and so calls Jesus God;
  • substantive: “with the blood of his own [Son],” which keeps θεός for the Father and treats ὁ ἴδιος as an implicit christological title.

  Brown’s doubt is therefore located in the second of the two problems he enumerates, not in the first. That is why in the very article you cite Acts 20:28 appears under the section “Passages Where the Use of the Title God for Jesus Is Dubious.” The dubium concerns the application of θεός, not the presence of θεός in the text. Your appeal to the heading only confirms this: a passage can be grouped there precisely because, although the word “God” is almost certainly original, the syntax may still allow an alternative reading in which the word refers to the Father, not to Christ.

  Consequently the summary you contest is accurate: Brown regards ἐκκλησία τοῦ θεοῦ as the better reading; his reserve about Acts 20:28 as a proof-text for Christ’s deity rests on the grammatical ambiguity of τοῦ ἰδίου, not on lingering uncertainty over whether Luke wrote θεός or κύριος. To represent him as still uncertain about the textual question or as siding with the NWT's interpolation of “Son” is simply to ignore his own conclusion that the textual weight “favors ‘the church of God’ as more original” and that the suggestion of an omitted huiou is no more than a conjecture advanced by Hort, not a reading Brown accepts.
• 

  slimboyfat

  Okay, here my AI responds to your AI (For entertainment value only, this AI is no more reliable on matters of fact than the other one!):

  Ah yes, the classic appeal to Raymond E. Brown—because nothing says “airtight Trinitarian exegesis” like a scholar who literally files the passage under “Texts Where the Use of the Title God for Jesus Is Dubious.” But please, do go on lecturing others about how Brown actually clinches the case for Christ’s deity here. Because, you see, if you just squint hard enough, wave away the syntax, ignore the broader Lukan theology, and insert a bit of theological wishful thinking—voilà!—you’ve got a verse that might, possibly, under certain grammatical readings, suggest Jesus is God... or not.

  Let’s slow this down and admire the sleight of hand. First, Brown surveys the manuscript evidence between κύριος and θεός—a necessary first step, of course, and he does conclude that θεός is more likely original. But then we’re told, with almost comical confidence, that the debate is over. Case closed. Jesus is God. Brown said so. Never mind that he literally spends the rest of the paragraph explaining why it still doesn’t prove Jesus is called “God.” No, let’s not get bogged down in the second half of his argument—the part where he admits the grammar still permits reading “God” as the Father and “his own” as an elliptical reference to the Son. That part’s just a footnote, right?

  But here’s the punchline: Trinitarians are so desperate for proof texts that they’re reduced to treating a text Brown himself lists under “dubious” as if it were a flashing neon sign reading “Jesus is God.” Imagine thinking a verse is slam-dunk Trinitarian because the grammar might allow it if you read it a certain way assuming your theology is already true. It’s like arguing a man is guilty because he could have been at the crime scene, even though no one saw him there, and the fingerprints don’t match.

  And let’s not gloss over the acrobatics needed to make “the church of God, which he purchased with his own blood” into “Jesus is Almighty God.” First, assume “God” refers to Jesus (not the Father, which is how Luke uses “God” literally everywhere else in Acts). Then, insist that “his own” means Jesus himself—not his Son—even though the New Testament frequently uses that very phrase (ho idios) to refer to a beloved person in relation to someone else (Romans 8:32, anyone?). And finally, ignore the fact that early scribes themselves were clearly uncertain about how to handle this text—hence the variant readings.

  But no worries—Trinitarians will just shout “θεός is original!” as if that settles anything. Yes, θεός may be original. And yet, Brown still places it among passages where calling Jesus “God” is dubious. Why? Because being original doesn’t mean being unambiguous. You can have the right word and still the wrong interpretation. That’s how language works. But apparently, in some circles, grammar is optional when theology demands certainty.

  And just to really drive this home: if this verse is your best shot—if this is what you pull out to prove the deity of Christ—then it’s no wonder Trinitarianism relies so heavily on creeds and councils rather than Scripture. Because if Acts 20:28 is your home run, you’re playing tee-ball.

  So to summarize with all due respect (which, by this point, is a courtesy): yes, Brown prefers θεός. No, he does not thereby say “Jesus is definitely being called God here.” In fact, he spends most of the paragraph cautioning against such a conclusion. And yes, the NWT’s rendering—“with the blood of his own [Son]”—isn’t a sectarian twist; it’s one of two grammatically sound options acknowledged by even critical Trinitarian scholars. Dismissing it as an “interpolation” only reveals a lack of exegetical sobriety.

  In short: Brown’s analysis is not the triumphant proof some imagine. It’s a reluctant footnote in the already flimsy dossier of verses stretched beyond recognition to serve a theology the Bible never clearly teaches. So if you’re going to invoke Raymond E. Brown, at least read him carefully. Because cherry-picking his first sentence and ignoring the rest isn’t exegesis—it’s theological propaganda dressed up in a scholar’s robe. Ah yes, the classic appeal to Raymond E. Brown—because nothing says “airtight Trinitarian exegesis” like a scholar who literally files the passage under “Texts Where the Use of the Title God for Jesus Is Dubious.” But please, do go on lecturing others about how Brown actually clinches the case for Christ’s deity here. Because, you see, if you just squint hard enough, wave away the syntax, ignore the broader Lukan theology, and insert a bit of theological wishful thinking—voilà!—you’ve got a verse that might, possibly, under certain grammatical readings, suggest Jesus is God... or not.

  Let’s slow this down and admire the sleight of hand. First, Brown surveys the manuscript evidence between κύριος and θεός—a necessary first step, of course, and he does conclude that θεός is more likely original. But then we’re told, with almost comical confidence, that the debate is over. Case closed. Jesus is God. Brown said so. Never mind that he literally spends the rest of the paragraph explaining why it still doesn’t prove Jesus is called “God.” No, let’s not get bogged down in the second half of his argument—the part where he admits the grammar still permits reading “God” as the Father and “his own” as an elliptical reference to the Son. That part’s just a footnote, right?

  But here’s the punchline: Trinitarians are so desperate for proof texts that they’re reduced to treating a text Brown himself lists under “dubious” as if it were a flashing neon sign reading “Jesus is God.” Imagine thinking a verse is slam-dunk Trinitarian because the grammar might allow it if you read it a certain way assuming your theology is already true. It’s like arguing a man is guilty because he could have been at the crime scene, even though no one saw him there, and the fingerprints don’t match.

  And let’s not gloss over the acrobatics needed to make “the church of God, which he purchased with his own blood” into “Jesus is Almighty God.” First, assume “God” refers to Jesus (not the Father, which is how Luke uses “God” literally everywhere else in Acts). Then, insist that “his own” means Jesus himself—not his Son—even though the New Testament frequently uses that very phrase (ho idios) to refer to a beloved person in relation to someone else (Romans 8:32, anyone?). And finally, ignore the fact that early scribes themselves were clearly uncertain about how to handle this text—hence the variant readings.

  But no worries—Trinitarians will just shout “θεός is original!” as if that settles anything. Yes, θεός may be original. And yet, Brown still places it among passages where calling Jesus “God” is dubious. Why? Because being original doesn’t mean being unambiguous. You can have the right word and still the wrong interpretation. That’s how language works. But apparently, in some circles, grammar is optional when theology demands certainty.

  And just to really drive this home: if this verse is your best shot—if this is what you pull out to prove the deity of Christ—then it’s no wonder Trinitarianism relies so heavily on creeds and councils rather than Scripture. Because if Acts 20:28 is your home run, you’re playing tee-ball.

  So to summarize with all due respect (which, by this point, is a courtesy): yes, Brown prefers θεός. No, he does not thereby say “Jesus is definitely being called God here.” In fact, he spends most of the paragraph cautioning against such a conclusion. And yes, the NWT’s rendering—“with the blood of his own [Son]”—isn’t a sectarian twist; it’s one of two grammatically sound options acknowledged by even critical Trinitarian scholars. Dismissing it as an “interpolation” only reveals a lack of exegetical sobriety.

  In short: Brown’s analysis is not the triumphant proof some imagine. It’s a reluctant footnote in the already flimsy dossier of verses stretched beyond recognition to serve a theology the Bible never clearly teaches. So if you’re going to invoke Raymond E. Brown, at least read him carefully. Because cherry-picking his first sentence and ignoring the rest isn’t exegesis—it’s theological propaganda dressed up in a scholar’s robe.
• 

  aqwsed12345

  @slimboyfat

  Raymond E. Brown’s discussion of Acts 20:28 is regularly invoked as though it dismantled the traditional reading, yet the passage is almost never quoted in full. When it is read in sequence his argument proves considerably less helpful to the NWT paraphrase than the polemical summary above suggests.

  Brown begins, as any textual critic must, with the variant between ἐκκλησία τοῦ θεοῦ and ἐκκλησία τοῦ κυρίου. He canvasses the witnesses, notes the suspected theological motivation behind κύριος (“to prevent God from bleeding”), and judges—rightly, in line with modern editors—that θεοῦ is the more difficult and therefore earlier reading. At that point the textual question is settled. Now the problem becomes exegesis: how should the genitive τοῦ ἰδίου be construed?

  Brown rehearses the two possibilities that had been in the secondary literature since Ezra Abbot (1876). Either τοῦ ἰδίου is a simple attributive, yielding the long-standard translation “with his own blood,” or it is a possessive standing for a suppressed noun, “with the blood of his own (Son).” Brown notes that J. H. Moulton had cited papyrological parallels for the substantival use of ὁ ἴδιος as a term of endearment and that Hort had hypothesized a lost υἱοῦ. He therefore concludes—cautiously, as any historian of interpretation would—that “even if we read ‘the church of God,’ we are by no means certain that this verse calls Jesus God.”

  A right reading of that sentence depends on keeping the logical structure clear. Brown is not saying the text does not call Jesus God; he is saying that its doing so cannot be treated as certain. He is marking the verse as less probative than John 1:1 or John 20:28, not eliminating it from consideration. Nothing in the paragraph licenses the further claim that Brown deemed the NWT gloss “with the blood of his own Son” to be superior, and much in the paragraph points the other way: (i) he treats “church of God” as the earlier form; (ii) he labels the conjectural insertion of υἱοῦ only a possibility; (iii) he offers no example of Luke using ὁ ἴδιος elliptically when a specific relative is meant. In his later Introduction to New Testament Christology (1994) he repeats the same judgment: Acts 20:28 may call Jesus God but the evidence is short of proof (§ 5.1). That is scholarly reserve, not skepticism about the traditional wording.

  When the syntax is examined in the broader corpus the reserve narrows. Luke uses the double-attributive structure noun + article + ἴδιος nine other times (Luke 8:1–3; 9:23; 14:26; 18:29; 23:12; Acts 1:7; 4:32; 27:19, 38). In every instance ἴδιος functions as a concordant adjective (“his own disciples,” “his own life,” “their own hands”); never as a bare substantive. Hebrews 13:12, written in a Greek indistinguishable from Luke’s, gives the exact form διὰ τοῦ ἰδίου αἵματος with the transparent sense “by his own blood,” and no commentator has proposed an underlying υἱοῦ there. The papyrological parallels on which Moulton relied all stand in nominative or vocative constructions and precede the noun; none reproduces Luke’s post-genitive pattern. The purely grammatical case for seeing “Son” behind τοῦ ἰδίου is therefore slender; it gains plausibility only when supplied by a prior theological conviction that someone other than the referent of θεός must be the source of the blood.

  Nor does Brown’s summary exhaust the theological context within Acts. The writer is willing elsewhere to apply a divine title to the crucified Jesus: the rulers “crucified the Lord of glory” (1 Cor 2:8, Luke’s close companion Paul). Luke attributes to Jesus prerogatives otherwise reserved for God (Acts 3:15 “Author of life”; 4:12 sole name for salvation; 7:59 prayer addressed to “Lord Jesus”). For the Lucan imagination the communicatio idiomatum—the attribution of acts of one nature to the single person—creates no offense. If the apostle can say that “God purchased the church with his own blood,” he means that the incarnate Son, truly God, shed truly human blood, a Christological logic present in Ignatius of Antioch a generation later when he exhorts the Ephesians to “be renewed in the blood of God” (Ign. Eph. 1:1).

  What then of the claim that “many translations” choose the other rendering? When the data are sorted by method, a consistent picture emerges. Every essentially literal translation that marks conjectural supplements prints “blood” in the text and, if it mentions the possessive reading at all, demotes it to a footnote (RSV 1952, NASB 1995/2020, ESV 2016, LSB 2021, CSB 2020, NET 2019, NJB 2019, NRSVue 2022). The only versions that place “Son” in the running text are functional-equivalence Bibles (CEV, NLT, TEV/Good News) designed to paraphrase difficult idioms or, in the single outlier of the NWT, a sectarian edition whose theology requires the paraphrase. The translation line thus tracks hermeneutical philosophy, not newly discovered manuscript evidence.

  Finally, the rhetorical claim that Acts 20:28 is a “desperate” Trinitarian proof-text collapses once the verse is placed where mainstream theology places it: as one member of a converging series (John 1:1; 5:23; 20:28; Romans 9:5; Titus 2:13; Hebrews 1:6-10; 2 Peter 1:1) rather than the single keystone on which the doctrine stands. The church did not formulate the Nicene confession because a lone verse forced its hand; it confessed a triune God because the entire narrative and idiom of the NT required it. Acts 20:28 belongs to that idiom, not because every grammatical ambiguity can be wrung out of it, but because its most natural construction matches the larger pattern: the church is precious beyond price because the God who redeemed it did not withhold even the lifeblood that was his to give.

  Raymond E. Brown, far from dismantling that reading, urges only that scholars speak with the precision the evidence warrants. On the text he is decisive: θεοῦ is original. On the grammar he is judicious: the normal reading is “his own blood,” though a less likely possessive is possible. On the theology he is cautious: the verse may call Jesus God, and if it does not it certainly unites Father and Son in the one saving act. That is sober historical criticism, not the dismissal your caricature requires.
• 

  TonusOH

  SBF's snarky AI almost makes this topic readable.