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David Bentley Hart translates John 1:1 this way:
“In the origin there was the Logos, and the Logos was present to God, and the Logos was god.”
with this footnote:
Or “god was the Logos,” going entirely by word order. In general, however, when two nominatives are placed in apposition and only one of them lacks an article, that inarticular noun is taken for the predicate and the articular for the subject. Still, there are many contrary examples in extant texts, word order is not entirely unimportant even in an inflected tongue like Greek, and the wording here seems intentionally elliptical, so as to avoid speaking of the Logos in a way that, in late antique usage, was reserved properly for the Father. To understand my translation of the first eighteen verses of the Gospel, the reader should refer to “A Note on the Prologue of John’s Gospel” in my postscript to this volume. Here in the Gospel’s prologue, as well as in the closing verses of chapter twenty below, I adopt the typographical convention of the capital G followed by small capitals to indicate where the Greek speaks of ὁ θεός (ho theos), which clearly means God in the fullest and most unequivocal sense, whereas I confine myself entirely to lowercase letters to indicate where the Greek speaks only of θεός (theos) without the article; but, to make the matter more confusing, I have indicated three uses of the word without article (vv. 6, 12, and 13), all concerning the relation between the divine and the created, in all small capitals, to indicate that it is not clear in these instances whether the distinction in forms is still operative, and whether the inarticular form of the noun is being used simply of God as related to creatures through his Logos. And then, in v. 18, I assume the first use of the inarticular form of theos still refers to God in the fullest sense, God the Father, though again the clause in question concerns the relation of creatures to the divine. As for the phrase translated in v. 1 as “present to God” (πρὸς τὸν θεόν, pros ton theon), it might be read any number of ways. Technically, the preposition when attached to an accusative would mean “toward” or “at,” and so might be read here as saying that the Logos was “facing” God, which would suggest at least a pictorial continuity with a tradition of seeing the Logos or “secondary god” as the heavenly high priest, turned toward the unknowable Father and leading the worship of God by all rational creatures. It also might be taken as meaning “pertaining to” or “in attendance upon” the Father.
A Note on the Prologue of John’s Gospel
An Exemplary Case of the Untranslatable
There may perhaps be no passage in the New Testament more resistant to simple translation into another tongue than the first eighteen verses—the prologue—of the Gospel of John. Whether it was written by the same author as most of the rest of the text (and there is cause for some doubt on that score), it very elegantly proposes a theology of the person of Christ that seems to subtend the entire book, and that perhaps reaches its most perfect expression in its twentieth chapter. But it also, intentionally in all likelihood, leaves certain aspects of that theology open to question, almost as if inviting the reader to venture deeper into the text to find the proper answers. Yet many of these fruitful ambiguities are simply invisible anywhere except in the Greek of the original, and even there are discernible in only the most elusive and tantalizing ways. Take, for example, the standard rendering of just the first three verses. In Greek, they read, 1Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ λόγος, καὶ ὁ λόγος ἦν πρὸς τὸν θεόν, καὶ θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος· 2οὗτος ἦν ἐν ἀρχῇ πρὸς τὸν θεόν· 3πάντα δι᾽ αὐτοῦ ἐγένετο, καὶ χωρὶς αὐτοῦ ἐγένετο οὐδὲ ἓν ὃ γέγονεν· (1En archēi ēn ho logos, kai ho logos ēn pros ton theon, kai theos ēn ho logos; 2houtos ēn en archēi pros ton theon; 3panta di’ avtou egeneto, kai chōris avtou egeneto oude hen ho gegonen.) I am aware of no respectable English translation in which these verses do not appear in more or less the same form they are given in the King James Version: “1In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2The same was in the beginning with God. 3All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made.” Read thus, the Gospel begins with an enigmatic name for Christ, asserts that he was “with God” in the beginning, and then unambiguously goes on to identify him both as “God” and as the creator of all things. Apart from that curiously bland and impenetrable designation “the Word,” the whole passage looks like a fairly straightforward statement of Trinitarian dogma (or at least two-thirds of it), of the Nicene-Constantinopolitan variety. The average reader would never guess that, in the fourth century, those same verses were employed by all parties in the Trinitarian debates in support of very disparate positions, or that Arians and Eunomians and other opponents of the Nicene settlement interpreted them as evidence against the coequality of God the Father and the divine Son. The truth is that, in Greek, and in the context of late antique Hellenistic metaphysics, the language of the Gospel’s prologue is nowhere near so lucid and unequivocal as the translations make it seem. For one thing, the term logos really had, by the time the Gospel was written, acquired a metaphysical significance that “Word” cannot possibly convey; and in places like Alexandria it had acquired a very particular religious significance as well.
For the Hellenistic Jewish philosopher Philo, for instance, it referred to a kind of “secondary divinity,” a mediating principle standing between God the Most High and creation. In late antiquity it was assumed widely, in pagan, Jewish, and Christian circles, that God in his full transcendence did not come into direct contact with the world of limited and mutable things, and so had expressed himself in a subordinate and economically “reduced” form “through whom” (δι᾽ αὐτοῦ [di’ avtou]) he created and governed the world. It was this Logos that many Jews and Christians believed to be the subject of all the divine theophanies of Hebrew scripture. Many of the early Christian apologists thought of God’s Logos as having been generated just prior to creation, in order to act as God’s artisan of, and archregent in, the created order. Moreover, the Greek of John’s prologue may reflect what was, at the time of its composition, a standard semantic distinction between the articular and inarticular (or arthrous and anarthrous) forms of the word theos: the former, ὁ θεός (ho theos) (as in πρὸς τὸν θεόν [pros ton theon], where the accusative form of article and noun follow the preposition), was generally used to refer to God in the fullest and most proper sense: God Most High, the transcendent One; the latter, however, θεός (theos) (as in καὶ θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος [kai theos ēn ho logos]), could be used of any divine being, however finite: a god or a derivative divine agency, say, or even a divinized mortal. And so early theologians differed greatly in their interpretation of that very small but very significantly absent monosyllable. Now it may be that the article is omitted in the latter case simply because the word theos functions as a predicate there, and typically in Greek the predicate would need no article. Yet this rule tends not to hold when the predication is one of personal identity; moreover, the syntax is ambiguous as regards which substantive should be regarded as the subject and which the predicate; though Greek is an inflected language, and hence more syntactically malleable than modern Western tongues, the order of words is not a matter of complete indifference; and one might even translate καὶ θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος as “and [this] god was the Logos.” But the issue becomes at once both clearer and more inadjudicable at verse 18, where again the designation of the Son is theos without the article, and there the word is unquestionably the subject of the sentence. Mind you, in the first chapter of John there are also other instances of the inarticular form where it is not clear whether the reference is the Father, the Son, or somehow both at once in an intentionally indeterminate way (as though, perhaps, the distinction of articular from inarticular forms is necessary in regard to the inner divine life, but not when speaking of the relation of the divine to the created realm).
But, in all subsequent verses and chapters, God in his full transcendence is always ho theos; and the crucial importance of the difference between this and the inarticular theos is especially evident at 10:34–36. Most important of all, this distinction imbues the conclusion of the twentieth chapter with a remarkable theological significance, for it is there that Christ, now risen from the dead, is explicitly addressed as ho theos (by the apostle Thomas). Even this startling profession, admittedly, left considerable room for argument in the early centuries as to whether the fully divine designation was something conferred upon Christ only after the resurrection, and then perhaps only honorifically, or whether instead it was an eternal truth about Christ that had been made manifest by the resurrection.
Anyway, my point is not that there is anything amiss in the theology of Nicaea, or anything that the original Greek text calls into question, but only that standard translations make it impossible for readers who know neither Greek nor the history of late antique metaphysics and theology to understand either what the original text says or what it does not say. Not that there is any perfectly satisfactory way of representing the text’s obscurities in English, since we do not distinguish between articular and inarticular forms in the same way; rather, we have to rely on orthography and typography, using the difference between an uppercase or lowercase g to indicate the distinction between God and [a] god. This, hesitantly, is how I deal with the distinction in my translation of the Gospel’s prologue, and I believe one must employ some such device: it seems to me that the withholding of the full revelation of Christ as ho theos, God in the fullest sense, until Thomas confesses him as such in the light of Easter, must be seen as an intentional authorial tactic. Some other scholars have chosen to render the inarticular form of theos as “a divine being,” but this seems wrong to me on two counts: first, if that were all the evangelist were saying, he could have used the perfectly serviceable Greek word theios; and, second, the text clearly means to assert some kind of continuity of divinity between God the Father and the Logos, not merely some sort of association between “God proper” and “a divine being.” Here, I take it, one may regard chapter twenty as providing the ultimate interpretation of chapter one, and allow one’s translation to reflect that.
Hart makes clear in his footnotes and commentary that his use of the lowercase "god" used as a "typographical convention" and reflects a nuanced distinctions in Greek grammar and theological intention, not a rejection of the Logos’ divinity or affirmation of Arian theology. He explains, that the absence of the article before "θεός" (theos) in John 1:1c can signal a qualitative predicate nominative, emphasizing the Logos' divine nature or quality, rather than equating the Logos with God the Father. Hart explicitly rejects rendering it as "a god," criticizing such interpretations for lacking coherence with John's theological framework:
Hart makes a deliberate typographical and interpretive distinction in his translation:
- Capitalized "God" (ὁ θεός) refers to God in the fullest, most transcendent sense—God the Father.
- Lowercase "god" (θεός), as used in John 1:1c, reflects the absence of the article, suggesting the Logos' divine nature rather than identifying it univocally with the Father.
Hart further elaborates on this distinction in his commentary:
“...the Greek of John’s prologue may reflect what was, at the time of its composition, a standard semantic distinction between the articular and inarticular (or arthrous and anarthrous) forms of the word theos: the former, ὁ θεός (ho theos)... was generally used to refer to God in the fullest and most proper sense: God Most High, the transcendent One; the latter, however, θεός (theos)... could be used of any divine being, however finite: a god or a derivative divine agency, say, or even a divinized mortal.”
Hart does not imply that the Logos is merely "a god" or a derivative divine agency. Instead, he emphasizes that the qualitative use of "θεός" signals the Logos' participation in the divine essence while maintaining a distinction from "God" as the Father. This is crucial: Hart’s choice of lowercase "god" serves to honor the Greek syntax and theologically rich ambiguity of John's prologue, not to diminish the Logos' divinity.
“Some other scholars have chosen to render the inarticular form of theos as ‘a divine being,’ but this seems wrong to me on two counts: first, if that were all the evangelist were saying, he could have used the perfectly serviceable Greek word theios; and, second, the text clearly means to assert some kind of continuity of divinity between God the Father and the Logos, not merely some sort of association between ‘God proper’ and ‘a divine being.’”
Thus, while Hart's translation avoids flattening the subtleties of the Greek into a Nicene formulation, it also avoids reducing the Logos to a created or subordinate "god" as in Arianism or the New World Translation. Hart outright refutes interpretations like the New World Translation's "a god", arguing that such renderings fail to account for John's theological intentionality and the prologue's overarching narrative. He explicitly states:
“The text clearly means to assert some kind of continuity of divinity between God the Father and the Logos, not merely some sort of association between ‘God proper’ and ‘a divine being.’”
Moreover, Hart identifies the climactic revelation of Christ's divine identity in John 20:28, where Thomas confesses Jesus as "ὁ θεός" (ho theos):
“[It] seems to me that the withholding of the full revelation of Christ as ho theos, God in the fullest sense, until Thomas confesses him as such in the light of Easter, must be seen as an intentional authorial tactic.”
This demonstrates that John's Gospel presents a progressive revelation of the Logos' divinity, culminating in the affirmation of Christ as fully and unequivocally God (ὁ θεός), in line with Nicene theology. Hart acknowledges that John’s prologue does not offer a systematic Trinitarian theology but instead uses metaphysical and linguistic subtlety to describe the Logos' relationship to God. His translation and commentary aim to preserve this subtlety without sacrificing theological coherence:
- The Logos is "god" (θεός) in John 1:1c because it possesses divine nature.
- The Logos is not "a god," as this would contradict John’s theological continuity between the Logos and the Father.
- The Logos is not identical to "God" (ὁ θεός), as the prologue explicitly distinguishes between the Logos and the Father (pros ton theon, "present to God").
Hart’s rendering aligns with the qualitative interpretation of "θεός" as articulated by many scholars (e.g., Harner’s study on predicate nominatives) and is consistent with traditional Trinitarian readings of John 1:1, even if his terminology is unconventional. Hart does not use the exact wording "the Word was God" but defends the theological substance of that translation. He explicitly rejects subordinationist readings like "a god" and affirms the Logos' continuity of divinity with God the Father. His rendering, "the Logos was god," underscores the Logos' divine nature while preserving the Greek text's linguistic nuance. Hart’s commentary confirms this. The Logos is described as possessing divine nature, not as a subordinate or separate being. The theological trajectory of John’s Gospel culminates in the recognition of the Logos as ὁ θεός (ho theos) in John 20:28, solidifying the Logos' status as fully and unequivocally God. This reinforces that Hart’s rendering is fundamentally aligned with Nicene theology, despite his stylistic departure from traditional translations.
In the discussion cited above (and similar discussions Hart has engaged in), he emphasizes the grammatical complexity of John 1:1c (“καὶ θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος”). Hart acknowledges that Greek grammar opens the possibility of rendering this phrase in ways other than “the Word was God,” but this does not imply an endorsement of Arianism or Jehovah's Witness-style theology. Rather, Hart highlights the philosophical and theological depth of the Greek text and its contextual meaning within early Christian thought.
The phrase “καὶ θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος” lacks the definite article before theos, and the predicate precedes the subject. This construction suggests a qualitative aspect of the Word (logos) being divine or possessing the essential nature of God. It is not a simple equivalence between “the Word” (ho logos) and “God” (ho theos), nor does it imply subordination or separateness. As Hart himself notes: “If we go by word order, we fail to notice that the anarthrous form of theos stands to the arthrous form of ho logos as predicate to subject. […] John’s prologue does not give us a co-equal Son. John 20 does.” He does not endorese the notion that the Word is presented as “a god” in a separate, subordinate sense, clarifying that John’s Gospel is concerned with the unity of the Logos with God’s essence.
Hart does not endorse the New World Translation’s “a god”, because they fail to recognize the theological context and nuance. While the grammar allows for flexibility, the broader Johannine context makes clear that the Logos shares the essence of God, not merely some divine attribute or a lower-tier deity. This is consistent with the Orthodox Trinitarian understanding of the homoousios doctrine (the Word being of the same substance as the Father), a point Hart has elaborated on in his theological works, such as That All Shall Be Saved and The Experience of God.
The New World Translation’s rendering of John 1:1c as “the Word was a god” arises from a theological bias, not the natural reading of the Greek text. The absence of the definite article before theos does not imply indefiniteness (“a god”). Rather, it indicates a qualitative use, affirming the divine nature of the Logos. As biblical scholar Daniel Wallace and others have noted, John 1:1c fits a “Colwell’s Rule” construction, where an anarthrous predicate noun preceding a verb (as in “θεὸς ἦν”) is typically qualitative, not indefinite. Hart concurs with this general linguistic observation, emphasizing that the Logos is qualitatively divine without identifying the Word as God the Father (ho theos in 1:1b).
The prologue as a whole (John 1:1–18) emphasizes the Logos’s role in creation, life, and light, all attributes of God alone in the Jewish monotheistic framework. John 1:3 asserts that “all things were made through him,” ruling out any Arian subordinationism that would treat the Word as a created being. Hart draws attention to the continuity of this theological vision with early Christian metaphysics: the Logos, as the rational principle of creation, is not “a god” in the sense of a separate, inferior deity but is God’s self-expression in eternal communion. The Jehovah’s Witness rendering is specifically problematic because it introduces henotheistic flavor incompatible with John’s monotheistic theology. Hart rejects such interpretations as alien to the Gospel’s intent.
Hart’s nuanced discussion about the Arian controversy and Nicaea does not, as your argument suggests, amount to an endorsement of Arian theology as "the apostolic faith," nor does it dismiss the Nicene Creed as mere innovation without theological grounding. Rather, Hart situates the Arian controversy within the broader historical and doctrinal development of early Christianity, emphasizing that theological articulations, including Nicene formulations, emerged from a dynamic and contested tradition.
When Hart states that Arius was “an extreme expression of what was regarded by many [not by everyone, not even generally] as the orthodoxy of centuries,” he is not asserting that Arius’ theology constituted the original apostolic teaching. Instead, Hart is highlighting the diversity of early Christian thought and the historical reality that various theological perspectives coexisted prior to the Council of Nicaea. This does not amount to a claim that Arius’ views more accurately reflected apostolic faith. Rather, Hart’s commentary illuminates the theological fluidity of the pre-Nicene period, where key terms and concepts (such as homoousios) had not yet been formally defined.
Hart’s acknowledgment that the Nicene party introduced "new theological grammar," including the term homoousios, does not equate to dismissing the Nicene position as illegitimate or inauthentic. The introduction of new terminology (not new theological content!) was a response to a theological need: to safeguard the Church’s understanding of Christ’s full divinity against interpretations that undermined it. Hart recognizes this as part of the natural development of doctrine. His commentary reflects the historical reality that councils like Nicaea did not merely codify existing consensus but also clarified and formalized contested doctrines.
The assertion that Hart sees Nicaea as the innovation and Arius as the preserver of tradition is an oversimplification of his analysis. While Hart acknowledges that Arius’ views drew on certain pre-Nicene theological currents, he also situates Arianism as part of the broader theological spectrum that early Christians debated. Hart is not claiming that Arius perfectly embodies apostolic teaching or that Nicaea is a wholesale departure from it. Instead, he observes that the articulation of Trinitarian orthodoxy at Nicaea represented a refinement and resolution of theological disputes that had long been simmering.
Hart is pointing out that figures like Eusebius had to adapt their theological frameworks in response to the Nicene settlement, reflecting the evolving nature of doctrinal understanding. This does not imply that Hart rejects the Nicene formulation as a valid expression of Christian faith; rather, it underscores his recognition that theological clarity often arises through historical and doctrinal development. Hart simply explores the diversity of early Christian thought without endorsing Arianism as the definitive interpretation of the apostolic faith. Hart’s own theological commitments remain firmly rooted in the Nicene tradition, even as he critiques certain ways in which that tradition is sometimes presented or understood.