@Earnest
The clause
τοῦ θεοῦ ἡμῶν καὶ σωτῆρος Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ in 2 Peter 1:1 belongs to a class
of Koine constructions that link two singular, personal, common nouns by καί
under a single article. Wherever such TSKS strings occur in original—i.e.,
non-translation—Greek prose, the two nouns designate the same person; no
uncontested counter-example has been produced from Hellenistic literature, the NT
corpus, or the apostolic fathers. When a translator separates the titles in English,
he must supply an additional article that the source text does not contain,
thereby overriding the grammar in favor of a theological judgment. The
objections advanced to justify that maneuver do not bear scrutiny.
The
suggestion that θεός in 2 Peter functions as a proper name and so lies outside
Sharp’s parameters is vitiated by the syntax of the letter itself. Proper names
in Greek never admit a first-person possessive, yet the phrase here is τοῦ θεοῦ ἡμῶν; the possessive marks θεός as a common noun.
Moreover, when Peter wishes to differentiate Jesus from the Father, he does so
by duplicating the article, as in 1:2 τοῦ θεοῦ καὶ Ἰησοῦ τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν—a construction that does not come
under Sharp’s rule because a proper name follows καί. The contrast between the
single-article form in v. 1 and the dual-article form in v. 2 therefore
supports, rather than undermines, the traditional unity reading in the
salutation.
Appeal to
the absence of the literal string “God Jesus Christ” is misplaced. Sharp’s
canon concerns article distribution, not raw collocation. In the same epistle
“Lord Jesus Christ” appears both with and without a second article (1:11; 3:18
versus 1:2), showing that Petrine style treats the article—not mere
juxtaposition—as the signal of distinction or unity. When exactly the same
grammatical frame is filled by θεός καὶ σωτήρ plus the proper name, the presumption of
single reference is obligatory unless an unambiguous counter-indicator can be
produced; none has been offered.
The proverb
cited from the LXX (“fear the God and the king,” Prov 24:21) is irrelevant.
Sharp himself excluded translation Greek because its wording may mechanically
reflect Semitic doublets without regard to Greek idiom; he likewise excluded
plural or non-personal generics. Second-Peter is neither translation Greek nor
generic: θεός and σωτήρ are singular, personal, and common. The LXX example
therefore lies outside the data set to which the rule is applied, and its
syntax cannot be used to overturn it.
Historical
reception weighs in the same direction. Although Clement of Alexandria’s Hypotyposes
survives only in fragments, patristic writers who cite 2 Peter unanimously
treat τοῦ θεοῦ ἡμῶν καὶ σωτῆρος as a Christological title. Eusebius (HE II.1), Didymus (ad Trin.
II.13) and, more pointedly, Athanasius (C. Arian. I.60) all quote the
verse as proof that the apostle calls Jesus “our God and Savior.” These authors
wrote a century apart, in independent exegetical contexts, and yet show no
knowledge of an alternative reading. That trajectory would be inexplicable had
the phrase been understood to name two persons.
Your
critique asserts that the Hypotyposes is a lost work, still extant in
the 9th century when Photius read it, but likely perished during the sack of
Constantinople, casting doubt on the reliability of citing fragment 38 as
evidence for Clement’s interpretation of 2 Peter 1:1. While it is accurate that
the Hypotyposes is not preserved in its entirety, Jana Plátová’s article
clarifies the status of its fragments, providing a scholarly foundation to
challenge the critique’s skepticism. According to Plátová, Otto Stählin’s
critical edition in the Die Griechischen Christlichen Schriftsteller
(GCS) series identifies 24 fragments of the Hypotyposes, varying in
length from brief lines to more substantial passages (page 3). These fragments
are derived from various sources, including later citations and manuscript
traditions, indicating that portions of the text survived in quoted or
paraphrased forms despite the loss of the complete work. The claim
that the Hypotyposes “still existed in the 9th century, when Photius
read it” aligns with historical evidence, as Photius, in his Bibliotheca
(codex 109), indeed references reading the Hypotyposes. However, the
suggestion that it “probably perished” during the sack of Constantinople (1204
or 1453, unspecified in the critique) is speculative and does not negate the
existence of fragments preserved elsewhere.
Plátová’s
discussion of Eusebius’ Ecclesiastical History (page 2) further supports
the reliability of citing fragments of the Hypotyposes. Eusebius lists
the Hypotyposes among Clement’s works, describing it as a concise
commentary on Scripture, which corroborates its historical significance and the
likelihood that its contents were quoted by later authors, including Photius.
The critique’s doubt about fragment 38’s authenticity or accessibility is
undermined by the scholarly consensus, as reflected in Plátová’s analysis, that
fragments of the Hypotyposes were transmitted through various channels,
including ecclesiastical writers and manuscript traditions. While the complete Hypotyposes
is lost, the preservation of specific fragments, such as those compiled by
Stählin, suggests that fragment 38 could be a legitimate citation, likely drawn
from a source like Photius or another intermediary. The critique’s implication
that the loss of the full text invalidates references to its fragments
overlooks the standard practice in patristic studies of relying on such
fragments to reconstruct an author’s views.
Moreover,
Plátová notes the discovery of additional fragments beyond Stählin’s 24,
including those identified by Riedinger, who proposes 24 potential texts, some
paralleling Clement’s other works like the Stromata and Paedagogus
(pages 6, 8). While she questions the authenticity of some of these (e.g.,
fragments 23 and 24, page 4), the broader point is that the Hypotyposes’s
fragmentary survival is well-documented. The critique’s dismissal of fragment
38 as unreliable due to the work’s loss fails to account for this scholarly
tradition of working with extant fragments. Even if fragment 38’s precise
content or attribution requires scrutiny, its citation in the context of 2
Peter 1:1, as noted by the original claim, is plausible within the framework of
early Christian exegesis, where Clement’s theological perspective often
emphasized Christ’s divinity, consistent with interpreting “our God and Savior”
as referring to Jesus.
The
critique’s reference to the sack of Constantinople as the likely cause of the Hypotyposes’s
loss introduces an unnecessary assumption. Plátová’s article does not address
the sack specifically, but her discussion of the fragments’ survival through
various sources implies that their transmission predates such events. For
instance, the Eclogae Propheticae, sometimes considered part of or
related to the Hypotyposes, contains additional texts that scholars like
Plátová evaluate for authenticity (page 13). This suggests a robust tradition
of preservation, likely through copies or citations in other works, which
counters the critique’s implication that the Hypotyposes’s loss renders
its fragments inaccessible or dubious. The critique’s point about Photius
reading the work in the 9th century actually supports the argument that its
contents were known and circulated well before any potential destruction in
1204 or 1453, reinforcing the plausibility of fragment 38’s citation.
Hence, the
critique’s challenge to the use of fragment 38 from Clement’s Hypotyposes
is unpersuasive. Plátová’s article demonstrates that, despite the Hypotyposes
being a lost work in its complete form, its fragments are well-attested in
scholarly editions and historical sources, including Eusebius and Photius. The
critique’s speculation about the work’s destruction during the sack of
Constantinople does not undermine the established tradition of citing its
fragments, nor does it disprove the specific claim that fragment 38 interprets
2 Peter 1:1 as applying to Christ. The survival of 24 fragments in Stählin’s
edition, alongside potential additional texts, supports the scholarly practice
of referencing such fragments, rendering the original claim about Clement’s
interpretation historically and textually credible. Thus, the critique’s
objections fail to invalidate the use of fragment 38 as evidence in the debate
over 2 Peter 1:1’s interpretation.
The
assertion that modern translations separating the titles rest on grammatical
rather than doctrinal grounds is disproved by the history of the Vulgate.
Jerome’s Greek Vorlage forced him to render “iustitia Dei nostri et
Salvatoris Iesu Christi”; the singular genitive nostri binds the
two nouns exactly as the article does in Greek. Douay-Rheims, Knox, NAB, RNJB,
and the current Editio Typica of the Latin liturgy all follow suit. The
English “Catholic Public Domain Version” cited in objection is a private,
non-ecclesial production that inserts a second preposition and thus rewrites
the verse; its wording carries no textual authority.
Finally,
the alleged absence of the phrase “eternal God” from 2 Peter is beside the
point: the critique had invoked that label to deny that θεός can be modified
like a proper name; whether or not the exact collocation appears in this short
letter, θεός in the NT is repeatedly qualified (“living,” “blessed,”
“immortal”), confirming its status as a descriptive noun, not a rigid personal
name. The possessive ἡμῶν in v. 1 seals that conclusion.
In sum, the
syntactic structure, internal contrast with v. 2, absence of genuine
counter-examples, and uniform early reception converge on one reading: τοῦ θεοῦ ἡμῶν καὶ σωτῆρος Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ identifies a single referent. The NWT’s
insertion of an unwarranted article reflects doctrinal scruple, not linguistic
evidence, and therefore fails to convey what the author of 2 Peter actually
wrote.
