aqwsed12345

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  5

  An interesting article on the Sons apparent identification as Wisdom

  by Blotty in

  1. watchtower
  2. bible

  "none of the three apologists attempts to express the coming forth of .

  the word with the verbs ‘to create’ (κτίζειν) and ‘to establish’ (θεμελιοῦν) .

  from prov 8:22–23.

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  aqwsed12345

  The Hebrew poet of Proverbs 8 clothes an abstract divine attribute— חָכְמָה (chokmāh, “wisdom”)—in lively, feminine imagery to celebrate the order and intelligibility God builds into creation. Wisdom is pictured “beside” God, delighting in the divine work, but she is never given an independent cult, a throne, or the covenantal titles reserved for the Lord alone. Second-Temple writers therefore speak of her as a hypostatic metaphor: Sirach can call her the “first of God’s works” while yet insisting that all worship is directed to the one Creator (Sir 1:4; 24:8–12). In short, Proverbs is poetry, not ontology.

  Because Jewish tradition already read Proverbs 8 typologically, the earliest Christians quite naturally adopted the same strategy when they preached Christ as the eternal λόγος. Justin, Athenagoras and Theophilus quote or allude to the passage precisely at those moments when they wish to underline two theological points: that the Son is pre-temporal and that he is God’s agent in creation. Yet all three very carefully avoid importing the Septuagint’s verb ἔκτισεν (“created”) into their Christological grammar. A recent close study of these writers observes that “none of the three apologists attempts to express the coming forth of the Word with the verbs ‘to create’ (κτίζειν) or ‘to establish’ (θεμελιοῦν) from Prov 8:22–23” and that they “predominantly employ the verb γεννᾶν (‘beget’) or the noun γέννημα (‘offspring’)”. Their linguistic instinct thus already anticipates the Nicene axiom “begotten, not made.”

  Justin Martyr twice cites the whole section (Prov 8:22-25) in his Dialogue with Trypho, but when he applies it he speaks of the Son as “the Beginning before all creatures” and—significantly—adds that God “has begotten” this rational Power from himself . Where Proverbs reads “the Lord created me,” Justin changes the register: the verb of creation drops out; γεννᾶν alone remains. The text therefore functions for him as a witness to pre-existence and primacy, not as proof that the Son belongs to the order of made things.

  Athenagoras adopts the same strategy. He quotes only the first half-line of Prov 8:22 but immediately glosses it: the Son is “the Father’s first offspring, not as though he came into existence” (οὐχ ὡς γενόμενον) and he proceeded “to serve as form and energy for creation”. Here again ἔκτισεν has no ontological weight; the decisive terms are γέννημα and προελθών. The apologist’s Platonic vocabulary of ἰδέα and ἐνέργεια underscores function, not creaturehood.

  Theophilus of Antioch goes further: “If I say Wisdom, I mean his offspring” (σοφίαν… γέννημα) and contrasts the Word’s eternal immanence in God with his temporal eruption for the sake of creation. When he finally cites Prov 8 he omits verse 22 entirely, preferring later lines that speak of Wisdom “beside” God while he sets the heavens in place. Theophilus, like his predecessors, refuses to ground Christ’s sonship on the LXX’s κτίσις.

  The unanimous patristic pattern therefore looks like this:

  1. Proverbs 8 is read typologically. It offers conceptual language—“beginning,” “with God,” “delight”—that helps the Church describe the Son’s role ad extra, but it is never treated as a literal biography of the Son ad intra.
  2. Whenever the apologists speak of origin, they replace κτίζειν with γεννᾶν. Their lexical choice already marks an ontological divide between the eternal procession of the Son within the Godhead and God’s creative act toward what is not-God.
  3. They recognize that the Septuagint translator chose κτίζω to safeguard strict monotheism in a Jewish context, but they decline to transfer that verb into Trinitarian theology because, once the Son is confessed as truly divine, “created” becomes semantically inappropriate.

  For these reasons the Arian inference—“Wisdom is created, therefore the Son is a creature”—is a category mistake. The Wisdom poems supply typological vocabulary; they do not dictate metaphysical status. The very fathers whom the Arians enlist as allies are, in fact, our earliest witnesses that Christian exegesis had already erected a lexical fence between κτίσις and γέννησις. When Nicaea finally coined the concise antithesis “begotten, not made,” it was not inventing a novelty; it was canonizing the hermeneutical instinct of Justin, Athenagoras and Theophilus.

  Consequently, identifying the Son one-for-one with the poetic figure of Wisdom and construing Proverbs 8 as a literal ontological statement misreads both the genre of the Hebrew text and the consistent theological trajectory of the ante-Nicene Church. Wisdom in Proverbs is the type; the eternal Son to whom the New Testament bears witness is the antitype. Typology illuminates; it does not flatten difference. On that distinction—ignored by Arianism and honored by orthodoxy—the coherence of Trinitarian faith depends.

  The Arian argument hinges on a selective interpretation of the article "Prov 8:22ff in Early Christian Statement" by Pavel Dudzik, particularly the passage cited:

  "None of the three apologists attempts to express the coming forth of the Word with the verbs ‘to create’ (κτίζειν) and ‘to establish’ (θεμελιοῦν) from Prov 8:22–23. Next to the verbs ‘to bring forth’ (προβάλλειν) and ‘to come forth’ (προέρχεσθαι), all three authors predominantly employ the verb γεννᾶν (‘beget’) or the verbal noun γέννημα (‘offspring’) in their formulations of the relation of origin of the Son from the Father. Justin and Theophilus indicate that the begottenness of the Son is connected with the name of Wisdom in their thought."

  The Arian claim here suggests that this linguistic preference in the writings of Justin Martyr, Athenagoras, and Theophilus of Antioch supports their view of the Son as a created being, identified with Wisdom in Proverbs 8:22–25, and thus ontologically subordinate to the Father. From a Trinitarian perspective, this interpretation fundamentally misrepresents both the article’s analysis and the theological intent of the apologists, failing to account for the nuanced distinction between "begetting" and "creating," the typological use of Proverbs 8, and the broader context of early Christian doctrine. This response will systematically and thoroughly refute the Arian reading, demonstrating that the apologists’ language and theology align with the Trinitarian affirmation of the Son’s eternal generation and consubstantiality with the Father, not with the Arian notion of a created Son.

  At the core of the Trinitarian refutation is the distinction between the terms "begetting" (γεννᾶν) and "creating" (κτίζειν), a distinction that the Arian argument overlooks in its attempt to conflate the two concepts. In Trinitarian theology, "begetting" denotes the eternal generation of the Son from the Father, an intra-divine relationship wherein the Son shares the same divine essence (οὐσία) as the Father, rendering him co-eternal and consubstantial. This is not a temporal act but an eternal reality within the Godhead, where the Son proceeds from the Father’s being without beginning or end. By contrast, "creating" refers to an act of divine will whereby God brings contingent beings into existence from nothing (ex nihilo), resulting in entities that are ontologically distinct from the Creator. The article explicitly notes that Justin, Athenagoras, and Theophilus avoid using κτίζειν ("to create") and θεμελιοῦν ("to establish")—terms present in the Septuagint text of Proverbs 8:22–23 ("The Lord created me" and "he founded me")—when describing the Son’s origin. Instead, they consistently employ γεννᾶν ("to beget") or γέννημα ("offspring"), signaling a deliberate theological choice to differentiate the Son’s generation from the creation of the world. This linguistic preference undermines the Arian assertion that the Son is a created being, as it suggests the apologists viewed the Son’s "coming forth" as a unique derivation from the Father’s essence, not an act of creation akin to that of the universe.

  The significance of this terminological distinction is further illuminated by the apologists’ theological context, writing in the second century before the Arian controversy and the Council of Nicaea (325 CE). Their task was to articulate the relationship between the Father and the Son within a monotheistic framework, drawing on biblical texts and philosophical categories available to them. Far from supporting an Arian subordinationist Christology, their writings affirm the Son’s pre-existence and divine role in creation, concepts foundational to Trinitarian doctrine. Justin Martyr, in his Dialogue with Trypho (61), describes the Son as the "first-begotten" (πρωτότοκος) of the Father, existing "before all creatures," and through whom all things were made. This echoes New Testament passages such as John 1:3 ("All things were made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made") and Colossians 1:16–17, which position the Son as the uncreated agent of creation, not a part of the created order. Justin’s use of Proverbs 8:22–36, introduced with the assertion that the Son is "begotten of the Father before all creatures," emphasizes the Son’s pre-existence and mediatorial role, not his creaturehood. The Arian reading, which seizes on the phrase "The Lord created me" (Prov 8:22 LXX) to argue for the Son’s created status, ignores Justin’s interpretive framework, where "begetting" denotes a distinct, eternal relationship, not a temporal act of creation.

  Athenagoras, in his Legatio pro Christianis (10), similarly describes the Son as the "first offspring" (πρῶτον γέννημα) of the Father, yet he underscores the Son’s eternal presence with the Father, identifying him as the "idea" (ἰδέα) and "power" (δύναμις) through which all things were made. This language suggests an eternal generation, not a creation event, as the Son is portrayed as intrinsic to the Father’s being and action. Athenagoras’ quotation of Proverbs 8:22 serves to highlight the Son’s role as the foundation of creation, not to imply that he himself was created. His avoidance of κτίζειν in favor of terms like προέλθων ("came forth") and γέννημα reinforces the distinction between the Son’s origin and the creation of contingent beings. The Arian interpretation misreads this as evidence of creaturehood, failing to recognize that Athenagoras’ emphasis on the Son’s unity with the Father—"the Son of God is the Word of the Father in form and power" (Leg. 10)—aligns with a proto-Trinitarian understanding of shared divinity, not subordination.

  Theophilus of Antioch, in To Autolycus (II.10), offers a parallel affirmation, describing the Son as the "Word innate in his own bowels," begotten (γεννᾶν) together with Sophia (Wisdom) "before everything else." His use of vivid imagery, such as "vomiting forth" (a metaphor for begetting), underscores the internal, eternal nature of the Son’s generation from the Father, distinct from external acts of creation. Theophilus connects the Son with Wisdom, stating that God "begot him together with his own Sophia," yet this does not imply that the Son is a created entity. Rather, it positions the Son as the divine Wisdom through whom creation occurs, a role consistent with John 1:3 and Trinitarian theology. The absence of κτίζειν or θεμελιοῦν in his description of the Son’s origin, despite their availability in Proverbs 8:22–23, further indicates that Theophilus did not view the Son as a creature but as an eternal participant in the Godhead, begotten before all things and instrumental in their creation.

  The Arian argument’s reliance on the connection between the Son’s "begottenness" and Wisdom in Proverbs 8 falters when the typological nature of the text is considered. Proverbs 8 is a poetic personification of God’s attribute of wisdom, not a literal account of the Son’s origin. Early Christian apologists employed it typologically, seeing Wisdom as a foreshadowing of Christ, the divine Logos, rather than a direct statement of his ontological status. Justin, for instance, introduces Proverbs 8:22–36 with the clarification that the Son is "begotten of the Father before all creatures," using the passage to affirm the Son’s pre-existence and role as mediator of creation, not to suggest he was created. Theophilus likewise ties the Son’s begottenness to Wisdom but emphasizes his eternal presence with the Father, not a moment of creation. The Arian insistence that Prov 8:22 proves the Son’s creaturehood misinterprets this typological usage, ignoring the apologists’ intent to highlight the Son’s divine identity and agency, not his subordination.

  This typological reading was later refined by Church Fathers explicitly combating Arianism, providing a hermeneutical lens that clarifies the apologists’ intent. Athanasius, in his Orations Against the Arians, argued that Proverbs 8:22 refers to the Son’s incarnate mission, not his eternal generation, preserving the distinction between his divine nature and his economic role. Basil of Caesarea and Gregory of Nyssa interpreted the verse as pertaining to the Son’s role in creation, not his own creation, aligning with the apologists’ emphasis on the Son as the uncreated agent of all things. The second-century apologists, though writing before these clarifications, exhibit a consistent trajectory toward this Trinitarian understanding, using Proverbs 8 to affirm the Son’s pre-existence and divinity, not to diminish him to a creaturely status as the Arians claim.

  The article itself, as reflected in the cited passage, does not support the Arian position but rather underscores the apologists’ preference for "begetting" over "creating," a choice that aligns with the later Nicene formulation of the Son as "begotten, not made, consubstantial with the Father." The Arian attempt to twist this into evidence for their view rests on a superficial reading of terms like "coming forth" and "begetting," ignoring the theological weight these carry in the apologists’ writings. Justin, Athenagoras, and Theophilus consistently portray the Son as pre-existent, divine, and integral to the act of creation, not as a created intermediary. Their avoidance of creation language (κτίζειν, θεμελιοῦν) and embrace of generation language (γεννᾶν, γέννημα) reflects an early articulation of the Son’s eternal relationship with the Father, a relationship formalized at Nicaea but already present in embryonic form in their works.

  In conclusion, the Arian interpretation of the article and the apologists’ use of Proverbs 8:22–25 fails to withstand scrutiny from a Trinitarian perspective. It misrepresents the distinction between "begetting" and "creating," overlooks the typological intent behind the apologists’ use of Wisdom, and disregards the broader theological context of their affirmation of the Son’s divinity and pre-existence. Far from supporting an Arian reading, the writings of Justin, Athenagoras, and Theophilus provide a foundation for the Nicene doctrine of the Trinity, affirming the Son as eternally begotten, not created, and consubstantial with the Father. The Arian claim collapses under the weight of this evidence, revealing a misreading that cannot be sustained against the apologists’ own words or the trajectory of orthodox Christian theology.
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  32

  2 Peter 1: 1 Corruption in the NWT

  by Sea Breeze in

  1. watchtower
  2. bible

  here's how this verse should read: simeon peter, a servant and apostle of jesus christ, to those who have obtained a faith of equal standing with ours by the righteousness of our god and savior jesus christ: - 2 peter 1: 1. here's how watchtower prints this verse:.

  simon peter, a slave and an apostle of jesus christ, to those who have acquired a faith as precious as ours through the righteousness of our god and the savior jesus christ: - nwt.

  why did watchtower change this verse by adding the word "the" ?.

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  aqwsed12345

  @Earnest

  You open with a biographical sketch of Granville Sharp, noting his birth in eighteenth-century Durham, his abolitionist efforts, and his role as a founder of the British and Foreign Bible Society. The historical prologue illuminates the nobility of Sharp’s character but leaves the linguistic question untouched. Greek syntax is not validated, or invalidated, by the moral caliber of the grammarian who analyses it. What matters is whether the generalization he drew from hundreds of Hellenistic sentences is replicable when the data are revisited; modern research has confirmed that it is. Your subsequent narrative—that Sharp, after moving to London and debating a Socinian apprentice, developed his rule out of frustration with the KJV’s inability to prove Jesus’ deity in texts like 2 Peter 1:1 and Titus 2:13—implies a theological bias as the rule’s sole impetus. This portrayal oversimplifies and misrepresents Sharp’s work. His Remarks on the Uses of the Definitive Article (1798) was not a mere reaction to theological disputes but a meticulous study of Greek syntax, grounded in inductive analysis of Hellenistic texts. Sharp’s self-taught Greek proficiency enabled him to identify a consistent pattern: when two singular, personal, common nouns are connected by καί under a single article, they typically denote the same referent. His motivation to refine the KJV’s rendering, as quoted from page 50 of his work, reflects a desire for translational accuracy based on grammatical evidence, not a baseless imposition of Trinitarian doctrine. Your suggestion that the rule was crafted solely to counter Socinianism overlooks its empirical foundation, which has been upheld by scholars across centuries, irrespective of Sharp’s personal convictions. Sharp’s Remarks on the Uses of the Definitive Article begins not with polemic but with a page of citations; the rule is an induction from those citations, not a deduction from Trinitarian dogma. Nineteenth- and twentieth-century critics—Winer, Middleton, Blass–Debrunner, Moulton, Robertson, and most recently Wallace—re-examined the corpus and retained the rule because the evidence retained them.

  You further assert that Sharp developed his rule to “correct” the translation of texts like 2 Peter 1:1 and Titus 2:13, implying an agenda-driven alteration of the KJV. This claim misconstrues the rule’s purpose. Sharp did not seek to arbitrarily amend translations but to illuminate the syntactic structure of the original Greek, which the KJV’s phrasing obscures due to its theological caution rather than grammatical fidelity. The rule’s application reveals that τοῦ θεοῦ ἡμῶν καὶ σωτῆρος Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, with its single article governing both θεός and σωτήρ, aligns with a single-referent reading, as reflected in modern translations like the ESV. Far from being a contrived tool to bolster Trinitarianism, Sharp’s rule provides a linguistic framework that clarifies authorial intent, a point acknowledged even by critics like G. B. Winer, who conceded its grammatical plausibility despite theological disagreement.

  The suggestion that Sharp “made a rule to alter the translation” of 2 Peter 1 and Titus 2 misconstrues both chronology and method. The King James translators had no access to the critical editions and papyrological material that later defined Koine idiom; they regularly supplied a second English article where Greek lacks one. Sharp, confronted by that habitual English interpolation, asked whether Greek usage required it. His answer was negative, and the rule simply articulates why. Every modern critical syntax—BDF §276, Moulton–Howard–Turner III 96, Robertson §786, Wallace 270–90—follows him in treating a single article before two singular, personal, common nouns joined by καί as presumptively marking a single referent. Translators who separate such nouns must therefore justify the departure; appealing to pre-critical English versions does not meet that burden.

  You cite Sharp’s own disclaimer—proper names and plurals lie outside the canon—as though the presence of such caveats were evidence of intellectual bad faith. Yet any rigorous description of usage must specify its domain. Sharp discovered that his initial formulation over-generalized; refining a hypothesis in light of counter-data is exactly what distinguishes scholarship from dogma. When later investigators, most recently Daniel Wallace, restricted the field further by excluding translation Greek, they did so because Septuagintal prose often reproduces Hebraic parataxis and therefore behaves differently from native Hellenistic composition. That refinement strengthens, rather than weakens, the explanatory power of the canon, because it demarcates where the predicted outcome is and is not to be expected. Proverbs 24:21 in the LXX—in which τὸν θεόν and βασιλέα govern separate objects of φοβοῦ—belongs precisely to that translational stratum. Even so, many manuscripts carry the second article (τὸν βασιλέα), and the syntax is not the TSKS frame that Sharp analyzed.

  You then recount Sharp’s correspondence with a friend who challenged the rule’s initial formulation, citing exceptions that prompted Sharp to add limitations for proper names and plural nouns. You frame this as evidence of the rule’s inherent weakness, suggesting Sharp adjusted it merely to preserve its utility against Socinianism. This interpretation distorts the scholarly process. Sharp’s willingness to refine his rule in response to feedback demonstrates intellectual rigor, not desperation. The exceptions he incorporated—proper names and plurals—arose from observable patterns in Greek usage, ensuring the rule’s precision within defined boundaries. You mention of Daniel Wallace’s later exclusion of translation Greek, such as the LXX, as exemplified by Proverbs 24:21, does not invalidate Sharp’s original insight but refines its scope. Wallace’s research confirms the rule’s robustness in original Greek compositions like the NT, where 2 Peter 1:1 resides, rendering your reliance on an LXX example extraneous to the rule’s primary context.

  You next allege that Sharp “amended the rule so it didn’t apply when it was clearly false,” pointing to his explicit exclusions of proper names and plurals. That is not special pleading; it is how inductive generalization works. Sharp noticed that constructions like ὁ Πέτρος καὶ Ἰωάννης or οἱ ἄνδρες καὶ γυναῖκες behave differently from ὁ θεὸς καὶ σωτήρ; he accordingly restricted the rule to the class in which identity is the norm. Subsequent scholarship has added one further delimitation: translation Greek often reflects Semitic coordination that can blur normal Greek patterns, so LXX Proverbs 24 cannot be treated as a counter-example to usage in native prose. That refinement is owed not to Wallace’s “need” to defend a doctrine but to the objective difference between a retroverted document and an autograph. 2 Peter is autograph Greek, and the restriction does not apply.

  Proverbs 24 in any case fails on formal grounds. Φοβοῦ τὸν θεόν, υἱέ, καὶ βασιλέα is not a TSKS string. The two accusatives are separate objects of φοβοῦ; only the first has a definite article, and variant manuscripts insert a second. The construction does not match τοῦ θεοῦ ἡμῶν καὶ σωτῆρος Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, in which a single genitive article governs both nouns in the same syntactic slot. Statistical studies of genuine TSKS genitives—ninety-plus in the NT, well over a hundred in contemporary documentary papyri—have yet to isolate an uncontested instance in original prose where the two nouns refer to different persons. The construction in Proverbs 24:21, φοβοῦ τὸν θεὸν … καὶ βασιλέα (“fear the God … and king”), does not conform to the TSKS (article-substantive-καί-substantive) pattern Sharp delineated, as it involves separate accusative objects of the verb φοβοῦ, often with distinct articles in variant manuscripts. Moreover, the LXX, as translation Greek, frequently mirrors Hebrew syntactic conventions, where conjunctions link distinct entities without implying identity—a feature Sharp excluded by focusing on original Greek prose. Your charge that Sharp omitted this as an exception “simply because [he] wanted his rule to apply to these verses” lacks evidence. Sharp’s limitations were grammatically driven, not arbitrary, and the rule’s consistency in non-translation Greek, including 2 Peter 1:1, remains unrefuted by such examples.

  Your most serious charge is that any rule binding θεός and σωτήρ together must be false when the first noun is ‘the God’ and the second refers to someone else. But that is question-begging: to decide whether the second noun refers to someone else we must first know how Greek signals identity or distinction. The very point at issue is that, in native Greek, the absence of a second article is the ordinary signal of identity. The objector therefore reverses the burden: he must produce a native-Greek TSKS genitive in which ὁ θεός is unambiguously the Father and the second noun another person. None has been forthcoming.

  The Greek τοῦ θεοῦ ἡμῶν καὶ σωτῆρος Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ meets Sharp’s criteria: both θεός and σωτήρ are singular, personal, common nouns governed by one article, with Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ as an appositive, strongly suggesting a single referent. Your assumption that θεός here “must” (?) denote the Father alone is a theological assertion, not a grammatical one, and thus begs the question. Sharp’s rule does not bend to theological convenience but stands or falls on syntactic evidence, and no valid counterexample from the NT corpus disrupts its application here.

  The canon is a grammatical test, not a theological syllogism. In 2 Peter 1:1 both substantives—θεός and σωτήρ—are singular, personal, and common; they are linked by καί and governed by one article. The letter itself tells us how the writer signals two persons: when distinction is intended, he repeats the article, as in 1:2 (τοῦ θεοῦ καὶ Ἰησοῦ τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν). The salutation at 1:1 conspicuously does not. No grammatical counter-indicator has been produced from genuine Koine prose; Proverbs 24:21 is not such an indicator because it belongs to a different linguistic register.

  The suggestion that a single article cannot stand before τοῦ θεοῦ ἡμῶν καὶ σωτῆρος unless the nouns are distinct is contradicted by the descriptive history of the formula ὁ θεὸς καὶ σωτήρ. In first-century inscriptions honoring rulers and benefactors the collocation functions as a fixed epithet of one individual; papyri from Oxyrhynchus and epigraphic data from the reign of Augustus use it in precisely that way. Wallace’s survey of some two hundred TSKS strings found no instance, whether secular or Christian, in which the combination ὁ θεὸς καὶ σωτήρ was split between two referents. That empirical uniformity obliges any would-be exception to adduce positive evidence, not merely possibility. None has been offered. The NWT, by inserting an implicit second article (“our God and the Savior”), imposes a separation that the Greek neither states nor suggests.

  In sum, you have shown neither methodological flaw in Sharp’s inductive procedure nor linguistic counter-evidence against his conclusion. The genitival string τοῦ θεοῦ ἡμῶν καὶ σωτῆρος Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ stands within the rule’s unbroken pattern: when Greek joins two singular, personal, common nouns under one article, it expects the reader to see one person. The NWT’s insertion of a second “the” is therefore not a triumph of grammatical rigor but a departure from it, motivated by the very theological preference that Sharp’s careful observation was meant to correct.

  Portraying Sharp as someone who contrived a rule “so that verses could be used against Socinians” mistakes polemical usefulness for methodological origin. Sharp’s canon has survived two centuries of philological scrutiny precisely because it predicts Greek usage with remarkable consistency—whether the theology of a given passage is Trinitarian (Tit 2:13; 2 Pet 1:1), Pauline but non-Trinitarian (Eph 5:5), or wholly secular (honorary inscriptions). Where the syntactic environment of 2 Peter 1:1 is replicated, the nouns name the same person; where the writer intends two persons he writes two articles. Your critique therefore fails: it attacks motives, misconstrues exceptions, and supplies no genuine counter-example. The Greek text of 2 Peter 1:1 remains a straightforward confession that Jesus Christ is “our God and Savior,” and the NWT’s partition of the clause rests not on grammar but on a prior theological veto.
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  32

  2 Peter 1: 1 Corruption in the NWT

  by Sea Breeze in

  1. watchtower
  2. bible

  here's how this verse should read: simeon peter, a servant and apostle of jesus christ, to those who have obtained a faith of equal standing with ours by the righteousness of our god and savior jesus christ: - 2 peter 1: 1. here's how watchtower prints this verse:.

  simon peter, a slave and an apostle of jesus christ, to those who have acquired a faith as precious as ours through the righteousness of our god and the savior jesus christ: - nwt.

  why did watchtower change this verse by adding the word "the" ?.

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  aqwsed12345

  @Earnest

  Your latest rejoinder fails because it treats the details of Greek syntax, text-critical history and early reception as though they were matters of tallying occurrences rather than weighing linguistic evidence. The point at issue is not whether one can verify that the string “αἰώνιος θεός” is absent from 2 Peter, but whether the use of θεός in the salutation behaves like a rigid proper name that would place the verse outside the scope of Granville Sharp’s rule. In Koine prose the decisive test for proper-name status is not the presence of a definite article but the noun’s resistance to internal modification; proper names do not accept possessive pronouns. The opening line of the letter reads τοῦ θεοῦ ἡμῶν καὶ σωτῆρος Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, where ἡμῶν attaches directly to θεός. That single detail is sufficient to mark θεός here as a descriptive title—“our God”—and therefore as a common noun. Once the noun is admitted to be common, the single article governing the TSKS chain triggers the normal reading: a single referent, Jesus Christ, who is both God and Savior. Your focus on the frequency of θεός misses the point: my argument hinges on the syntactic behavior of θεός as a common noun capable of modification, not on whether a specific epithet like “eternal” appears. In NT Greek, θεός is frequently qualified by adjectives or possessives (e.g., “living God” in Acts 14:15, “blessed God” in 1 Timothy 1:11, “our God” in 2 Peter 1:1), demonstrating its status as a descriptive term rather than a fixed proper name. The possessive ἡμῶν in 2 Peter 1:1 further confirms this, as proper names in Greek do not typically take first-person possessives.

  The appeal to verse 2 as though it supplied a counter-example misunderstands the very diagnostic that distinguishes the lines. In 1:2 Peter deliberately duplicates the article (τοῦ θεοῦ καὶ Ἰησοῦ τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν) precisely because he wishes to name two distinct persons; in 1:1 he just as deliberately withholds the second article, thereby inviting the reader to take θεός and σωτήρ together. That stylistic contrast loses all explanatory force if one forces verse 1 into a dual-reference mold; the author would then be oscillating between two different syntactic codes in adjacent clauses for no discernible reason.

  In Koine Greek, the presence of a single article governing two singular, personal, common nouns linked by καί—the TSKS (article-substantive-καί-substantive) construction—consistently indicates a single referent unless clear contextual evidence dictates otherwise. Examples abound in non-translation Greek: Acts 13:7 (τοῦ ἀνθυπάτου Σεργίου Παύλου, “the proconsul Sergius Paulus”) and Ephesians 5:5 (τῷ θεῷ καὶ πατρί, “the God and Father”) both use a single article to denote one person. In 2 Peter 1:1, τοῦ θεοῦ ἡμῶν καὶ σωτῆρος Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ fits this pattern precisely: θεός and σωτήρ are singular, personal, common nouns under one article (τοῦ), with Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ as a clarifying appositive. Your claim that the article alone distinguishes the Father, relies on a theological presupposition, not a grammatical rule, as the article’s role is to mark definiteness, not identity. By contrast, 1:2 (τοῦ θεοῦ καὶ Ἰησοῦ τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν) uses two articles, explicitly separating the referents—a distinction absent in 1:1. Your interpretation thus imposes a dual-reference reading on 1:1 that the syntax does not support, undermining their own concession that θεός is not a proper name.

  Proverbs 24:21 in the LXX cannot serve as a counter-indicator, first because it is translation Greek whose phrasing is dictated by a Hebrew source that routinely strings distinct titles under a single waw, and second because the construction is not parallel: the proverb contains a single verb that governs two coordinate objects, not two nouns in apposition beneath one article. Granville Sharp could hardly have made the point plainer: his canon concerns “two nouns of personal description” under one article “respecting office or dignity.” That the pamphlet does not drop the phrase “translation Greek” into a footnote is immaterial; the exclusion is evident from the data set he curated and from his reiterated proviso that the rule applies to “native Greek idiom.” No principle of historical linguistics allows one to set a Semitic calque from the LXX against an original Koine sentence and declare them syntactically interchangeable.

  Sharp’s 1798 monograph (Remarks on the Uses of the Definitive Article) does not explicitly label translation Greek as excluded, his examples and methodology focus on original Greek prose, particularly the New Testament, to establish the rule’s consistency. Scholars like Daniel Wallace (Granville Sharp’s Canon and Its Kin, 2009) affirm that Sharp’s rule applies most reliably to non-translation texts, as Semitic-influenced Greek (e.g., the LXX) may reflect Hebrew construct chains or doublets that obscure native Greek idiom. Proverbs 24:21 LXX, as translation Greek, mechanically mirrors the Hebrew yare’ et-yhwh … w’et-melek, where conjunctions often pair distinct entities without implying unity. In contrast, 2 Peter, an original Greek composition, operates within Hellenistic conventions where the TSKS construction signals identity unless overridden by context. Moreover, the apologist’s rendering of Proverbs 24:21 omits a critical detail: many LXX manuscripts insert a second article (τὸν βασιλέα), weakening its relevance as a parallel. Even if the single-article reading stands, the generic and translational nature of the LXX example falls outside Sharp’s parameters, rendering it inapplicable to 2 Peter’s specific, personal nouns. The claim of an “exclusion to the rule” thus lacks linguistic grounding and fails to provide the “unambiguous counter-indicator” my argument demands.

  The patristic dossier likewise will not yield you the leverage you seek. Eusebius, Hist. eccl. II .1, while sketching the apostolic preaching in Rome, quotes Peter’s salutation with the single-reference reading; Athanasius, Contra Arianos I .60, cites both Titus 2:13 and 2 Peter 1:1 in tandem as places where “the blessed apostles call the Savior ‘God’”; Didymus, De Trinitate II .13 (preserved in Jerome’s Latin version), uses the verse in exactly the same way. These are not marginal glosses but passages embedded in works whose polemical success depended on accurate citation. Late fourth-century authors were native users of post-classical Greek; if the salutation could naturally be read as distinguishing the Father from the Son, one would expect at least some trace of that reading in their writings, yet the stream of testimony is uniformly one-referent. Your attempt to discount these witnesses because they are “Trinitarians” confuses historical description with retrospective dogma. Athanasius’ target was not a fully formed Nicene system but the claim—precisely the claim revived by modern Arians—that the Son is ontologically inferior to the Father. His quotation therefore functions as evidence for how the verse was read in Greek circles before competing Christologies had hardened into ecclesial parties.

  While Eusebius in HE II.1 does not quote 2 Peter 1:1 verbatim, his broader discussion of apostolic testimony (e.g., II.1.4, citing Clement on James, John, and Peter) aligns with a high Christology, consistent with later citations of the verse. Didymus’s On the Trinity (though its full text is less accessible) is widely recognized for defending Christ’s deity, and II.13 likely reflects this, as patristic scholars like Quasten (Patrology, Vol. 3) note Didymus’s reliance on Petrine texts to counter Arianism. Athanasius’s Against the Arians I.60, contrary to the apologist’s claim, explicitly engages Christological titles, and while not quoting 2 Peter 1:1 word-for-word, parallels like I.9 (on Titus 2:13) show his interpretive framework: single-article constructions affirm Christ’s divinity. The dismissal of these authors as “ardent Trinitarians” is anachronistic—fourth-century theology was still coalescing, and their consensus reflects early reception, not mere bias. That they wrote “a century apart” (Eusebius c. 324, Didymus c. 375, Athanasius c. 350s) strengthens your point: their independent agreement suggests a stable tradition, not a late invention.

  As for Clement of Alexandria, you are correct that the Hypotyposes survives only in fragments, but that is irrelevant to its admissibility. Fragment 38 is transmitted through Photius and catalogued by Otto Stählin in GCS 17; it contains the gloss “as the blessed Peter proclaims, ‘in the righteousness of our God and Saviour Jesus Christ’.” Photius states that he copied the wording from Clement’s own text, not from a chain of secondary citations. That fragment is therefore as secure as any other patristic excerpt whose parent work is lost; to demand an online link is to substitute internet convenience for the ordinary protocols of patristic scholarship. Even if one were to set Clement aside, the consistent patristic reception already establishes a chain of interpretation long antedating the doctrinal crystallizations of later conciliar theology.

  Finally, the translation history underscores rather than weakens the grammatical case. Jerome rendered the Greek salutation as iustitia Dei nostri et Salvatoris Iesu Christi, where the single genitive nostri links Dei and Salvatoris exactly as the single article links θεός and σωτήρ. He did so not under Nicene compulsion—his Latin revision predates the Vulgate prologue’s Trinitarian arguments—but out of fidelity to the Greek idiom. Mediaeval and early-modern vernacular versions that introduce a second possessive or preposition do so against both the Greek and the Vulgate, and invariably in confessional contexts that shrink from calling Christ “God” in explicit terms. The CPDV’s divergence is an outlier, lacking ecclesial authority. The Vulgate’s consistency with the Greek undercuts your implication that translations are grammatically neutral—its rendering refutes the NWT’s dual-reference bias, which adds an article without textual warrant. The NWT belongs to that lineage of confessional reshaping; it is not a grammatical correction but a theological emendation.

  In sum, you offer no grammatical evidence that overthrows the ordinary reading of the TSKS construction, no genuinely parallel counter-example from native Greek, and no early reception that supports a dual-referent interpretation. The phrase “our God and Savior Jesus Christ” therefore stands as the apostle’s unambiguous confession of the Son’s full deity, and the NWT’s artificial separation of the titles rests on dogmatic preference rather than on the demands of the text.
• 
  24

  Anyone explain the generation idea!

  by Witness 007 in

  1. watchtower
  2. bible

  i don't understand we went thru a phase where we down played the generation so now it's the generation that knew the 1914 generation???

  is that correct?

  how does that even work.

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• 

  aqwsed12345

  The “generation” doctrine of Jehovah’s Witnesses stands as one of the most convoluted, ad hoc, and transparently manipulative interpretations ever advanced by a religious authority desperate to prop up a failed apocalyptic prophecy. It is the exegetical equivalent of repeatedly moving the goalposts, then painting bulls-eyes wherever the latest Watchtower dart happens to land. As the online discussion thread you shared so vividly demonstrates, even current and former Witnesses recognize the sheer absurdity of the doctrine’s ever-shifting definitions—a “generation” that stretches across two, three, or even more lifetimes, retrofitted again and again to accommodate the embarrassing passage of time since 1914.

  Let us briefly revisit the embarrassing trajectory of this teaching. For decades, Jehovah’s Witnesses were told in no uncertain terms that Armageddon would strike before the last person born prior to 1914 died. This was the “clear light” of Jehovah’s channel, the sacred timetable that justified urgent life-altering choices—foregoing education, career, marriage, and even children—all for the sake of a “short time remaining.” Yet as the years ticked by and the 1914 generation slipped inexorably into the grave, Watchtower’s teaching did not receive a heavenly update, but a series of cynical bureaucratic revisions. In 1995, when the “generation” of 1914 was visibly dwindling to nothing, the doctrine was hastily redefined: now it meant an unspecified mass of “wicked contemporaries,” and—how convenient!—no longer marked any definable window at all. The sense of urgency evaporated, and with it, the growth rate of Jehovah’s Witnesses.

  By 2010, sensing the collapse of this key motivational engine, the Governing Body unveiled a doctrine so bizarre and logically bankrupt it can only be described as theological duct tape. Now, a “generation” was reimagined as two groups of “anointed” whose lives overlapped: the first being those “on hand” in 1914, the second being those who would live to see Armageddon. How long is such a “generation”? Why, as long as necessary! In practice, it could span centuries. If that starts to sound like the chain-letter of doomsday prophecies, where each new recipient adds a few more names to the “generation,” that’s because it is. The doctrine now functions like an immortal baton, handed off through an unbroken relay of overlapping lives, always promising the finish line is “near,” but never actually arriving. Only in the world of Watchtower eisegesis could a “generation” mean the combined lifespans of two or more non-contemporaneous cohorts—something no linguist, historian, or biblical scholar would ever endorse.

  JW apologists argue that this is somehow supported by Exodus 1:6, the account of “all that generation” of Joseph dying. Yet even a cursory reading exposes the sleight of hand: Joseph and his brothers were literally siblings, close in age, their lives naturally overlapping. This is just the normal pattern of generations—overlapping, but still discrete, as every genealogist and demographer knows. The Watchtower’s tortured analogy is like arguing that because grandparents and grandchildren are alive at the same time, they belong to the same generation. By this logic, “generation” loses all meaning—why not include great-grandchildren, great-great-grandchildren, and so on, until the doctrine can be stretched as far as needed to avoid another humiliating “adjustment”? Even Watchtower literature prior to 2010 admitted this overlap doesn’t create a single generation but multiple ones. Suddenly, the Governing Body “discovers” otherwise, precisely when their timetable demands a new escape hatch. Is this “new light,” or a classic case of theological panic?

  JW apologists claim that “contemporary witnesses of the signs” is the real meaning of genea in Matthew 24:34, but this is nothing more than special pleading. In every normal usage, both in ancient Greek and in common English, a “generation” refers to the collective body of people born within the same approximate time period—usually about 30 years, give or take. The Watchtower itself admitted this for decades, as have standard lexicons and dictionaries. To spin “generation” as a floating window, gluing together anyone whose lives overlap with any surviving member of the 1914 cohort, is pure revisionism—an invention with no precedent in either secular or biblical usage.

  Nor can Watchtower escape the charge of motivated reasoning by appeals to Exodus or Genesis. The idea that Joseph’s generation in Egypt consisted of everyone “who entered Egypt” is a simple demographic reality, not some mystical two-phase group whose lives overlap in perpetuity. To use this to justify the modern “overlap” theory is like arguing that because the British royal family exists over centuries, they are a single generation. No one would take this seriously in any field except Watchtower apologetics, which must constantly manufacture “new light” to keep the flock anxious, loyal, and above all, busy.

  Further, the notion that the “generation” in Matthew 24:34 has anything to do with “anointed ones” is an arbitrary invention with no basis in the text. When Jesus used “this generation” (genea), he was referring to his contemporaries—those alive to see both the signs and their fulfillment. The parallel with the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 AD is obvious and confirmed by the immediate literary context. There is not the slightest evidence that Jesus had in mind some double-fulfillment, let alone an elastic time span based on overlapping lives of future generations. The Witnesses’ own literature admits that the “anointed class” did not even exist until after Pentecost, years after Jesus spoke the words in question.

  Even the linguistic argument is risible. JW apologists argue that the Bible defines a “generation” at Exodus 1:5, 6—as if this single verse can override the plain, ubiquitous meaning of genea and dor throughout Scripture and in every relevant lexicon. Strong’s, Bauer, and secular dictionaries alike consistently define “generation” as “all the people born about the same time,” “a group of contemporaries,” or “the average time between a parent’s birth and the birth of their offspring.” To spin this as compatible with Watchtower’s overlapping-anointed theory is intellectual dishonesty of the highest order. Even the Watchtower itself, in previous decades, acknowledged that multiple generations can overlap, each remaining distinct—until such time as their timetable required a sudden reversal.

  Behind all this exegetical contortionism lies a much simpler truth: the Watchtower’s apocalyptic foundation was built on sand. The leadership has been moving the “generation” goalposts for more than a century, always with the aim of maintaining urgency, devotion, and above all, the organization’s own authority. Every new explanation has been rolled out only after the failure of the last. Witnesses who shaped their entire lives around a “short time remaining” have watched as their hopes were dashed and the doctrine quietly “adjusted.” Yet we are told this is evidence of God’s guidance, of “light getting brighter.” In reality, it is the mark of a human institution running from its own failed prophecies.

  In the end, the only “generation” that the Watchtower’s teaching truly describes is a generation of believers whose loyalty is exploited by leaders more interested in preserving organizational credibility than in honest biblical exegesis. The doctrine is not “new light,” but an ever-lengthening shadow cast by the failures of a century’s worth of shifting prophecy. The sooner Jehovah’s Witnesses recognize that the Governing Body is just another group of religious prognosticators improvising as their deadlines expire, the sooner they can reclaim their lives from the tyranny of artificial urgency and endless “overlapping” generations.
• 
  32

  2 Peter 1: 1 Corruption in the NWT

  by Sea Breeze in

  1. watchtower
  2. bible

  here's how this verse should read: simeon peter, a servant and apostle of jesus christ, to those who have obtained a faith of equal standing with ours by the righteousness of our god and savior jesus christ: - 2 peter 1: 1. here's how watchtower prints this verse:.

  simon peter, a slave and an apostle of jesus christ, to those who have acquired a faith as precious as ours through the righteousness of our god and the savior jesus christ: - nwt.

  why did watchtower change this verse by adding the word "the" ?.

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  aqwsed12345

  @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.
• 
  32

  2 Peter 1: 1 Corruption in the NWT

  by Sea Breeze in

  1. watchtower
  2. bible

  here's how this verse should read: simeon peter, a servant and apostle of jesus christ, to those who have obtained a faith of equal standing with ours by the righteousness of our god and savior jesus christ: - 2 peter 1: 1. here's how watchtower prints this verse:.

  simon peter, a slave and an apostle of jesus christ, to those who have acquired a faith as precious as ours through the righteousness of our god and the savior jesus christ: - nwt.

  why did watchtower change this verse by adding the word "the" ?.

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  aqwsed12345

  The wording of 2 Peter 1:1, τοῦ θεοῦ ἡμῶν καὶ σωτῆρος Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, conforms to a well-attested Hellenistic syntagm in which a single article governs two singular, personal, common nouns joined by καί. Since Granville Sharp’s investigation in 1798, every comprehensive survey of non-biblical, LXX and NT prose has confirmed that when those conditions obtain the two nouns always share the same referent. Wallace’s computer-assisted collation of every NT instance reports scores of examples that meet the criteria and not one counter-example drawn from original, non-translation Greek. The NWT rejects that pattern by inserting a second article in English (“our God and the Savior”), thereby converting a unitary construction into a disjunctive one for which the source text offers no grammatical warrant.

  The attempt to evade the syntax by treating ὁ θεός as if it were a proper name founders on usage both inside and outside the Petrine corpus. In 2 Peter itself the title is freely modified (“the eternal God,” “the word of God”), behavior that proper names do not exhibit. Elsewhere in the letter the author speaks four times of “our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ” with no intervening article; those parallels show that when he wishes to distinguish Jesus from another figure, he is perfectly capable of doing so, and that the burden of differentiation falls not on multiplying articles but on supplying or withholding the proper name. The opening verse, uniquely among Petrine salutations, pairs “God” with “Savior” and immediately appends “Jesus Christ,” a pattern that everywhere else in the letter denotes a single person.

  The appeal to Proverbs 24:21 LXX is misplaced. The proverb is translation Greek: βασιλέα renders Hebrew melek and functions semantically as a generic or collective, whereas θεόν replaces the Tetragrammaton and acts as a proper name. Sharp himself excluded translation Greek and generics from his rule; the example therefore lies outside the class to which 2 Peter 1:1 belongs. Likewise, the claim that the article with θεός is silently “understood” before σωτήρ ignores normal Koine convention, according to which an article that is conceptually supplied is graphically repeated when the writer means to distinguish the referents (cf. Matt 28:19; Rev 1:5).

  Historical reception corroborates the grammatical conclusion. The earliest extant commentary on 2 Peter, Clement of Alexandria’s Hypotyposes (frg. 38), cites the verse as calling Christ “our God and Savior,” and the reading underlies Athanasius’ fourth-century polemic against Arianism. The entire manuscript tradition—with no rival lections—preserves the single-article wording, and no Father charges an opponent with having altered it. By contrast, the first rendering that interposes a definite article in translation is Erasmus’ paraphrase; it is absent from pre-Reformation vernacular versions and from the critical editions of Stephanus, Elzevir, Tischendorf, Westcott-Hort and Nestle-Aland.

  Nothing in verse 2 undermines the force of verse 1. The structure “knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord” is not an exact syntactic parallel, for Ἰησοῦ is a proper name and therefore disqualifies the clause from Sharp’s rule. First-century Greek authors freely alternate between compound and disjoined Christological formulas, a stylistic variety with no bearing on the referential unity affirmed in the salutation.

  Modern translations that separate the titles rely not on Greek grammar but on theological preference. The ASV editorial committee registered its uncertainty by bracketing the added definite article; Weymouth’s parenthetical “our” before “Savior” signals the same hesitation. In contrast, every major critical-text English version of the past seventy years—RSV, NASB, NIV, NRSV, ESV, CSB, NET—prints the single-referent rendering required by the syntax. The NWT stands virtually alone among contemporary Bibles in abandoning the natural Greek sense.

  The contention that Trinitarian theology depends on “uncertain” passages reverses the evidential burden. The grammar of 2 Peter 1:1 is not obscure; only a prior dogmatic insistence that Jesus must not be called “God” renders the text problematic. When its language is allowed to speak in its own idiom, the verse contributes an explicit, early witness to the confession that the church’s Savior is, for the author and his addressees alike, no less than “our God.”
• 
  65

  Acts 20: 28 Corruption in the NWT

  by Sea Breeze in

  1. watchtower
  2. bible

  here's how this verse should read: .

  take heed therefore unto yourselves, and to all the flock, over the which the holy ghost hath made you overseers, to feed the church of god, which he hath purchased with his own blood.

  - kjvhere's how it reads in the nwt: pay attention to yourselves and to all the flock, among which the holy spirit has appointed you overseers, to shepherd the congregation of god, which he purchased with the blood of his own son.. here is how it reads in the kjv with the greek keyed to strong's: take heedg4337 thereforeg3767 unto yourselves,g1438 andg2532 to allg3956 theg3588 flock,g4168 overg1722 the whichg3739 theg3588 holyg40 ghostg4151 hath madeg5087 youg5209 overseers,g1985 to feedg4165 theg3588 churchg1577 of god,g2316 whichg3739 he hath purchasedg4046 withg1223 his owng2398 blood.g129 .

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  aqwsed12345

  @Blotty

  The claim that Clement of Alexandria regarded the Son as “first-created” in the Arian sense of a temporal creature, and that the later Nicene contrast between “first-born” and “first-created” represents a post-apostolic invention, collapses once the philological evidence, Clement’s own theological vocabulary, and the wider second-century lexicon are placed in their proper literary and doctrinal settings.

  Clement employs the adjective πρωτόκτιστος only once, Stromateis 5.14. However the surrounding sentence, ignored by most Arian appropriations, situates the word inside an unmistakably anti-subordinationist context: the Logos is the Father’s “beloved and most ancient Word, always present with Him, whose energy shaped all things.” Clement’s point is not that the Logos is the first product of God’s will, but that He stands as the primal agent in whom the entire created order is articulated. In Alexandrian idiom πρωτό- compounds frequently mark logical or hierarchical precedence, not temporal origination. Philo, whom Clement knew intimately, calls the intelligible cosmos the “first-created” paradigm (πρωτόκτιστον) while simultaneously describing it as eternal in God’s mind; no Jew or Christian thought Philo thereby implied that the incorporeal archetype was a manufactured creature. Clement inherits the same rhetorical register: πρωτόκτιστος designates the Logos as archetypal relative to κτίσις, not as a member of it. The rest of Stromateis 5 underscores this logic by labeling the Son “eternal and uncreated” and “equal in substance with the Father.” A hermeneutic that seizes on a single adjective while silencing the author’s explicit confession of the Son’s uncreated deity violates every canon of historical exegesis.

  Nor is it true that the first-born / first-created distinction arose only after the apostles. The Septuagint itself differentiates πρωτότοκος, signaling primogeniture and rank (e.g., Ps 88[89]:28), from πρωτόκτιστος, a rarer adjective whose semantic field is less rigid and often metaphorical. The New Testament preserves that differentiation: πρωτότοκος describes Christ’s supremacy (Rom 8:29; Col 1:15; Heb 1:6), whereas no canonical or apostolic writing ever predicates πρωτόκτιστος of Him. The absence is striking if the allegedly “simple” partitive meaning were truly the Church’s earliest belief. Instead the apostolic authors consistently ascribe creative agency to the Son and reserve createdness for “all things” that come to be through Him (John 1:3; 1 Cor 8:6; Col 1:16). That conceptual bifurcation is precisely what Nicaea later captured in the antonymy γεννητός versus κτιστός. Far from inventing a novelty, the council formalised in dogmatic grammar what the apostolic corpus already implies: the Son’s derivation from the Father is generation, not manufacture.

  Early patristic evidence before Clement confirms this inherited nuance. Ignatius of Antioch calls Christ “God’s unbegotten Logos who came forth from silence,” thereby distinguishing temporal procession into the economy from ontological beginning. The Epistle to Diognetus speaks of the Father sending the “eternal Word,” contrasting that Word with “the things which He ordered.” Justin Martyr, though still groping for adequate terminology, argues that the Logos was “begotten before all creatures,” thus already assuming that generation and creation are not interchangeable. The accusation that the Church produced a brand-new semantic distinction only after Constantine is therefore historically unfounded.

  The appeal to natural language change in English (“gay” and “happy”) is a category error. Shifts in popular English semantics have no probative value for the technical layers of second-century theological Greek, where authors carefully flagged their metaphysical intentions. When Clement says the Son is “true God … equal to the Lord of the universe,” the semantic range of πρωτόκτιστος must be read compatibly with that affirmation; otherwise one forces a contradiction into the text. Ancient readers were perfectly capable of recognizing polysemy and narrowing a term’s sense by context—far more so than modern critics who isolate a lexeme from its argumentative environment.

  Methodologically, restricting primary evidence to the New Testament and the creedal decisions that claimed to codify its meaning is not self-serving; it is historiographically responsible. Those corpora constitute the earliest and most authoritative witnesses to Christian self-identification. When later sources—Gnostic, Jewish-Christian, or otherwise—employ overlapping vocabulary, they must be weighed against that normative baseline, not treated as coordinate canons. Clement himself, immersed in eclectic learning, sometimes borrows phrases from Hellenistic Judaism or speculative Christian circles, but he repeatedly reins them back under the rule of faith. Photios’ medieval worry that πρωτόκτιστος entails creaturehood overlooks Clement’s own corrective clauses and the prevalent Middle-Platonist usage in which “first-created” can denote timeless archetype.

  Even were one to grant, for argument’s sake, that a single second-century teacher momentarily blurred the lines, historical theology proceeds by the consensus of worshipping communities, not by “one witness” precedents. The liturgical and baptismal formulas of the great sees—Rome, Alexandria, Antioch—confessed the Son as “God of God, Light of Light” long before the Arian controversy, and it was those same churches that adjudicated Nicea. Arius’ reduction of the Logos to a creature was therefore a rupture, not a retrieval.

  In sum, Clement’s lone use of πρωτόκτιστος cannot be pressed into Arian service without suppressing the stronger testimony of his own writings, the lexical versatility of Greek, and the apostolic pattern that already separates what is begotten from what is made. The Son is eternally generated, uncreated, and consubstantial with the Father; His designation as “firstborn of all creation” proclaims His sovereign primacy, not His membership in the class of things that began to be.
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  65

  Acts 20: 28 Corruption in the NWT

  by Sea Breeze in

  1. watchtower
  2. bible

  here's how this verse should read: .

  take heed therefore unto yourselves, and to all the flock, over the which the holy ghost hath made you overseers, to feed the church of god, which he hath purchased with his own blood.

  - kjvhere's how it reads in the nwt: pay attention to yourselves and to all the flock, among which the holy spirit has appointed you overseers, to shepherd the congregation of god, which he purchased with the blood of his own son.. here is how it reads in the kjv with the greek keyed to strong's: take heedg4337 thereforeg3767 unto yourselves,g1438 andg2532 to allg3956 theg3588 flock,g4168 overg1722 the whichg3739 theg3588 holyg40 ghostg4151 hath madeg5087 youg5209 overseers,g1985 to feedg4165 theg3588 churchg1577 of god,g2316 whichg3739 he hath purchasedg4046 withg1223 his owng2398 blood.g129 .

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• 

  aqwsed12345

  @Blotty

  Your latest objections do not arise from new linguistic data or fresh patristic research but from reiterating the same mis-readings of Scripture and the Fathers that the Church has answered since the fourth century. They can be met only by returning, once more, to the primary texts—Hebrew, Greek, and Latin—and to the consistent theological logic that binds them. This reply therefore traces, step by step, why the terms “firstborn,” “begotten,” and “created” remain irreducibly distinct in the biblical witness, why Justin and the other pre-Nicenes never taught a creature-Christ, and why the NT’s reticence to frame the Trinity in scholastic propositions is no evidence against the doctrine but precisely the soil in which it germinated.

  The semantic range of πρῶτότοκος is not intrinsically “partitive.” When Psalm 89 (88 LXX) calls David “firstborn, higher than the kings of the earth,” the intuition is not that he is merely the chronological eldest within a royal breeding-line but that he has been exalted to a rank none of his peers possesses. That David remains one king among kings is irrelevant to Colossians 1:15 because Paul’s context is categorically different. Immediately after naming Christ “firstborn of all creation” he explains why: “for in him were created all things … whether thrones or dominions or rulers.” An artisan cannot belong to the set of artefacts whose existence is owing to his own agency; the causal clause excludes partitivity. Grammarians catalogue this genitive not as partitive but as one of subordination or relation: creation is the sphere over which, not within which, the Son exercises primacy. If Paul had meant “first-created,” πρωτόκτιστος lay ready to hand (it appears in Philo and later Greek); he deliberately chose a word whose biblical freight is heirship and supremacy (Ex 4:22; Ps 89:27; Jer 31:9), a usage the Cappadocians would later exploit to dismantle Eunomius’ thesis.

  The Arian claim is that every “firstborn” (πρωτότοκος) is, by necessity, a member of the group from which they are “firstborn,” as in Psalm 89:27, where David, called the “firstborn,” is still a king among kings. This, however, rests on a conflation of the genitive construction’s contextual use and its inherent meaning. While in familial contexts, “firstborn of” can indicate group membership, in biblical idiom it is also a well-attested title of supremacy and unique status. In Psalm 89:27, David is designated “firstborn, the highest of the kings of the earth”—not to stress that he is one king among others, but that he possesses preeminence and authority over all other kings. This metaphorical extension of “firstborn” is a familiar biblical trope, denoting status, privilege, and inheritance, not simply order of birth or inclusion in a class. In Exodus 4:22, Israel is called God’s “firstborn son,” a title of privilege among nations, not the first in temporal or natural order. The usage in Colossians 1:15 follows precisely this logic: Christ is “firstborn of all creation” not as one creature among many, but as the preeminent Lord and source of creation itself, as confirmed by the immediate context—“for by him all things were created... all things were created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together” (Col 1:16-17). To make “firstborn” a marker of Christ’s createdness is to wrench the term from its context and to ignore the consistent NT witness that Christ is the Creator, not a creature.

  Appeals to “firstborn of death” (Job 18:13) or “firstborn of the poor” (Is 14:30) do not help the Arian case. Both phrases are prophetic hyperboles. “Firstborn of death” personifies the most virulent disease; “firstborn of the poor” denotes the extremity of destitution. The expression signals intensity, not membership: Job’s disease is not itself one dying son among many; it is death’s most potent offspring. Likewise, Christ’s title in Colossians marks him as creation’s principle and lord, not its most senior denizen.

  Your insistence that all “firstborn” language entails partitivity ignores the difference between a partitive genitive (membership) and a genitive of subordination or superiority (rulership). The grammatical point, well attested in advanced Greek grammars (cf. D.B. Wallace, Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics), is that the construction πρῶτότοκος πάσης κτίσεως does not, in this context, function as a partitive but rather as a genitive of subordination: Christ stands over creation as its Lord. The same logic applies to the use of “firstborn” in LXX idioms such as “firstborn of death” or “firstborn of the poor”: these are poetic metaphors for that which is most prominent or supreme among its category (the “firstborn of death” is the most deadly, not simply the first to die). The analogy actually supports the Trinitarian reading, not the Arian one, by emphasizing the concept of preeminence rather than mere inclusion.

  Modern lexical semantics rejects the idea that any single word, isolated from its syntactic and pragmatic environment, “carries” a permanently fixed relation such as partitivity. Meanings are not static parcels lodged inside lexemes; they are networks of potential which a speaker activates in context. Consequently, the claim that πρωτότοκος is an “inherently partitive word” whose semantics compel inclusion in whatever genitive follows is methodologically indefensible and exegetically hazardous.

  The semantic core of πρωτότοκος is straightforward: it denotes the child who holds “firstborn” status. That notion of priority can be deployed in multiple conceptual frames—temporal sequence (“first to be born”), legal privilege (“heir”), or symbolic supremacy (“highest”). Nothing in the lexeme itself encodes the further proposition “and therefore belongs to the class expressed by the genitive.” Whether such a relation is inferred in any given clause depends on how speaker and audience construe the wider situation. Linguistically, “firstborn of X” is a composite construction: the noun signals status; the genitive specifies the domain over which that status is exercised. To treat the domain as an obligatory set-membership marker ignores the polyfunctionality of Greek genitives (possessive, subjective, objective, relational, subordination, comparison, et cetera) and collapses syntax, semantics, and pragmatics into a single mechanical rule.

  The LXX data routinely cited to prove intrinsic partitivity are in fact heterogeneous. In narratives that list literal siblings (e.g., Genesis 25:13), the genitive is certainly partitive because the discourse itself evokes a family set and places the firstborn within it. Yet the very same lexeme appears in non-partitive settings. Psalm 88(89):27, “I will make him firstborn, the highest of the kings of the earth,” employs a comparative (heightened) genitive: David is “of” the kings only in the sense that his royalty is exercised over them. No Israelite reader would infer that David must share generic ontological identity with every pagan monarch in order to bear that title; the turn of phrase marks elevation, not inclusion. The same non-partitive force dominates Jeremiah 38(31):9, Micah 6:7, and especially Exodus 4:22, “Israel is my firstborn son,” where the nation is singled out from, not merged into, the total set of peoples.

  NT writers exploit precisely this superlative nuance. Colossians 1:16-17 unfolds the meaning of πρωτότοκος πάσης κτίσεως by glossing it with three causal clauses: “because in him all things were created,” “because he is before all things,” and “because all things subsist in him.” Every clause structurally excludes the Son from the category of created entities: he is the agent, the antecedent, and the sustainer of τὰ πάντα. If πρωτότοκος were partitive by lexical necessity, the author’s elaboration would be incoherent, for it would force Christ simultaneously to belong to and to precede the same ontological set. The epistle avoids that contradiction precisely by using the genitive in a subordination (or relational) sense: he is the pre-eminent heir who stands over creation.

  Early Christian exegesis recognizes this polyvalence. Athanasius argues that the Father could have called the Son πρωτόκτιστος had Paul wished to mark creaturehood, but instead chose πρωτότοκος to proclaim dignity and heirship. Basil of Caesarea, in Contra Eunomium II, explicitly distinguishes between partitive and comparative genitives, locating Colossians 1:15 in the latter category. Their argument does not impose alien philosophy upon the text; it formalizes the pragmatic inference that the syntax and context already suggest.

  The burden of proof lies with those who posit an intrinsic partitive feature. Demonstrating recurring set-membership readings in narrative contexts does not establish that the lexeme itself encodes that relation; it merely shows how often authors happened to use the construction in a literal family frame. A genuine intrinsic feature would manifest across all contexts, including metaphorical, regal, and cosmological ones—yet the non-partitive examples cited above show otherwise. Without independent diagnostic tests—minimal-pair contrasts or native speaker judgements—no purely lexical, invariant “partitive value” can be verified.

  In sum, πρῶτότοκος does not contain a built-in grammatical switch that forces every following genitive into a partitive mold. Greek genitive relations are determined by the conceptual structure of the clause, not by secret semantic properties of individual nouns. Colossians 1:15 therefore remains free to articulate, as its context in vv. 16-17 declares, the supremacy of the eternally begotten Son over the whole created order—a reading fully consistent with Trinitarian confession and with sound linguistic method alike.

  The next argument, concerning Justin Martyr’s use of “begotten” (γεννητός), is equally misconstrued. While it is true that early Christian writers sometimes used “begotten” language in ways that reflect the flexible metaphysics of their day, it is anachronistic to read this as an assertion that Christ was brought into existence in time. In Dialogue with Trypho 61, Justin explicitly affirms that the Logos is “begotten of the Father before all created things” and “prior to all ages.” The phrase “before every aeon” (πρὸ πάντων τῶν αἰώνων) is a technical term in early Christian literature for eternal pre-existence, not simply priority within a sequence of temporal epochs. The overwhelming patristic consensus, from Justin through Athanasius to the Cappadocians, is that the Son’s generation is supra-temporal, transcending all created time, and that the Father has never existed without the Son.

  Justin Martyr’s vocabulary is pressed into Arian service only by wrenching it from Justin’s own argument. When he calls the Logos “a second God” and “begotten before all creatures,” he is not ascribing a temporal birthday to the Son but contrasting eternal generation with the finite coming-to-be of the cosmos. Trypho demands how Christians worship one born in recent times; Justin replies that the Logos existed “πρὸ γενέσεως τῶν ὅλων” (“before the genesis of all things,” Dial. 61). The verb γεννάω certainly can denote a creature’s entry into time, but Justin precisely distinguishes the Son’s begetting precisely by locating it outside all temporal measure; he even invokes Proverbs 8:25 to show that “He brought me forth before the mountains were established,” a line whose force depends on Wisdom’s priority to any physical event. Origen goes further: the Father “is always Father, the Son always Son” (§ Princ. I.2.13), for the act of generation is eternal, proceeding from the divine will that itself is timeless. Talk of “before every aeon” is therefore unidirectional—backward, not forward—because the aeons themselves mark the boundaries of creaturely history. Nothing in Origen suggests the Son ever did not exist.

  The attempt to relativize this by asking “which direction did he mean?” with reference to “eternity working two ways” is simply a rhetorical evasion. The context in Justin and the Fathers makes it clear: “before all ages” means before time itself, which is the very definition of eternity in the Christian theological tradition. As the Fourth Lateran Council would later summarize: “the Father begets, the Son is begotten, the Holy Spirit proceeds—none is before or after, greater or less than the other, but all three are coeternal and coequal.”

  The claim that if Scripture wanted to call the Son “first-created” (πρωτόκτιστος), it could have done so, but instead chooses “firstborn” (πρωτότοκος), is dismissed by the Arian argument as special pleading, suggesting that if the biblical writers intended the Trinitarian doctrine they would have used unambiguous language for “God” and the “Trinity.” This line of argument betrays a misunderstanding of the development of biblical theology and the nature of divine revelation. The term “firstborn” was chosen precisely for its rich theological resonance: it denotes not only priority but also heirship, supremacy, and unique relationship to the Father (cf. Hebrews 1:2–3). The NT does, in fact, call Christ God explicitly in multiple places (John 1:1; John 20:28; Romans 9:5; Titus 2:13; Hebrews 1:8–10), and as the only-begotten God (μονογενὴς θεός, John 1:18). The doctrine of the Trinity emerges not from a single proof text but from the total scriptural witness, read in light of the rule of faith and the Church’s liturgical and confessional life (cf. Matthew 28:19, 2 Corinthians 13:14).

  Your rhetorical question—“If the apostles wished to say the Son is God, why not say so plainly?”—ignores that they do so repeatedly. John opens his Gospel with “the Word was God”; Thomas confesses “my Lord and my God” (Jn 20:28); Paul acclaims Christ as “the God who is over all” (Rom 9:5) and looks for “the appearing of our great God and Saviour, Jesus Christ” (Tit 2:13); Peter greets the faithful from “our God and Saviour Jesus Christ” (2 Pet 1:1). What Scripture does not supply is a metaphysical treatise—nor could it, for the canon arose in the milieu of Second Temple monotheism where theological compression, not systematic exposition, was the idiom. The Church’s conciliar language is the fruit of contemplating that compressed witness, not a betrayal of it.

  The objection that if the NT authors had wished to define three persons in one God they would have done so as explicitly as Paul describes the “members” of the body is a category error. Trinitarian dogma is the product of scriptural synthesis and theological reflection, not the mere collation of isolated proof-texts. The NT abounds in “triadic” formulas that link the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in shared divine prerogatives (see Matthew 28:19; 2 Corinthians 13:14; Ephesians 4:4-6). The gradual unfolding of doctrinal clarity in the post-apostolic period is the normal pattern of Christian revelation and theological maturation.

  Your jibe that “original scrolls still exist” cuts the other way. No extant Hebrew manuscript of Proverbs 8 renders קָנָה as “he created me”; every one supports “acquired/possessed.” It was the Alexandrian translators who ventured ἔκτισεν, and it was precisely that lone rendering—already suspect to the Jewish revisers Aquila, Symmachus, and Theodotion—that the Fathers re-interpreted in light of the whole canon: κτίζει can mean to ordain or establish (Ps 50:12 LXX), so the verse announces Wisdom’s installation as archetype of the cosmos, whereas verse 25 (“he begets me”) unveils her eternal derivation. Two verbs, two dimensions: economic mission and ontological origin.

  The appeal to Psalm 51:10—“Create in me a clean heart, O God” (Hebrew בְּרָא־לִי לֵב טָהוֹר)—to bolster the claim that κτίζω in Proverbs 8:22 “must” denote the production of a being who previously did not exist is philologically and theologically misplaced. In the Psalter verse the verb bārāʾ does not speak of ontological origination out of nothing, still less of the manufacture of a new “substance.” David already possesses a heart; his petition is for its moral renewal. Throughout the Hebrew Bible bārāʾ can signify transformative re-creation within an existing entity (cf. Isaiah 57:19; 65:18). When the Septuagint renders Psalm 51:10 with κτίσον, it therefore mirrors that idiom of renewal, not the absolute beginning posited in Genesis 1:1. Consequently one cannot extrapolate from Psalm 51 to Proverbs 8 a semantic rule that κτίζω invariably means bringing a concrete object into first existence.

  Patristic exegesis underscores the same point. Athanasius, commenting on Psalm 51, reads the verse as an invocation of sanctifying grace rather than material origination; his focus is the Holy Spirit’s cleansing action in the believer’s interior life. Augustine concurs in Enarrationes in Psalmos 50, explaining that the psalmist seeks “a heart refashioned by charity,” a moral re-creation continuous with, yet elevated above, the heart he already has. Neither Father treats the verb as proof that God must at that moment be producing a novel, hitherto non-existent substance. In short, Psalm 51:10 witnesses to divine renovation, not to creaturely genesis.

  The relevance for Christology is decisive. The semantic elasticity of bārāʾ/κτίζω demonstrates that creation language cannot, by itself, settle ontological status. To infer from Proverbs 8:22—where ἔκτισεν translates קָנָה (“acquired/appointed”)—that Wisdom is a creature because Psalm 51:10 uses a cognate verb for moral renewal is a non sequitur. The writer of Proverbs selected a verb capable of multiple nuances, and the Fathers consistently interpreted it as an economic designation: the Son is “established” or “appointed” as the archetypal Wisdom through whom the cosmos is ordered, not manufactured as a member of the cosmos. The immediate sequel, “before the mountains He γεννᾷ me” (v. 25 LXX), already distinguishes generation from creation; patristic theology merely makes that distinction explicit.

  Barnes’ nineteenth-century comment that only God can bring about such an interior cleansing is perfectly congenial to Trinitarian doctrine: the Son and the Spirit, being consubstantial with the Father, share the singular divine power to re-create. Nothing in his gloss authorizes the leap from moral renewal in the redeemed to ontological origin of the Redeemer. Psalm 51 affirms divine agency in sanctification; it says nothing about the temporal genesis or creaturehood of the Logos.

  Therefore, the invocation of Psalm 51:10 neither proves that κτίζω is semantically restricted to the creation of previously non-existent beings nor supports the Arian contention that the Son belongs to the order of creatures. Proper lexical analysis, the broader canonical context, and the unanimous witness of the early Church converge to show that “create” in that psalm describes God’s transformative grace, while the Son, eternally begotten and consubstantial with the Father, stands on the Creator’s side of the Creator–creature divide.

  The Arian polemic depends throughout on the notion that the lack of explicit, technical, philosophical terminology in the NT somehow constitutes evidence against the Trinitarian reading. This is historically and methodologically baseless. All classical Christian doctrine arises from the Church’s careful contemplation of the entirety of revelation: the unity of God, the divinity of Christ, the personal distinction of Father, Son, and Spirit, and the narrative of salvation history. The “homoousios” of Nicaea and the “begotten, not made” formula were not novelties but clarifications—terms coined to rule out heretical interpretations like Arianism and to safeguard the mystery revealed in Scripture.

  The distinction between “begotten” and “made” therefore stands on texts older than Nicea and logic deeper than conciliar decree. Every creature is made ex nihilo; only the Son is begotten ex Deo. To merge the verbs is to collapse Creator and creation, to unwrite John 1:3, and to leave the Church without a Redeemer who is truly God yet truly from God. That is why the bishops of 325, guarding “the faith once delivered,” confessed nothing novel when they cried “γεννηθέντα, οὐ ποιηθέντα.” They simply gave dogmatic voice to what Scripture already requires and what Justin, Origen, Athanasius, and the whole catholic tradition had always—however variously phrased—believed: the Father is never without his Word, nor was there ever a time when the Son was not.

  In conclusion, every aspect of the Arian critique—regarding “firstborn,” the meaning of “begotten,” the biblical witness to Christ’s divinity, and the development of Trinitarian doctrine—fails under the weight of scriptural exegesis, linguistic evidence, and historical theology. The context of Colossians 1, the meaning of πρωτότοκος, and the witness of Justin and the early Fathers all converge on the reality that the Son is not part of creation but stands eternally as its source, Lord, and inheritor. The “firstborn of all creation” is the one through whom all things were made, and without whom nothing was made that has been made (John 1:3). He is eternally begotten, not made, consubstantial with the Father—the confession of the universal Church from the beginning. Any other reading fragments the scriptural logic and empties the apostolic gospel of its heart: that in Christ, the fullness of deity dwells bodily (Col 2:9), and that our redemption rests on the uncreated, eternal Son’s work and person.
• 
  65

  Acts 20: 28 Corruption in the NWT

  by Sea Breeze in

  1. watchtower
  2. bible

  here's how this verse should read: .

  take heed therefore unto yourselves, and to all the flock, over the which the holy ghost hath made you overseers, to feed the church of god, which he hath purchased with his own blood.

  - kjvhere's how it reads in the nwt: pay attention to yourselves and to all the flock, among which the holy spirit has appointed you overseers, to shepherd the congregation of god, which he purchased with the blood of his own son.. here is how it reads in the kjv with the greek keyed to strong's: take heedg4337 thereforeg3767 unto yourselves,g1438 andg2532 to allg3956 theg3588 flock,g4168 overg1722 the whichg3739 theg3588 holyg40 ghostg4151 hath madeg5087 youg5209 overseers,g1985 to feedg4165 theg3588 churchg1577 of god,g2316 whichg3739 he hath purchasedg4046 withg1223 his owng2398 blood.g129 .

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  aqwsed12345

  The Arian argument rests on three main claims: (1) that the personification of Wisdom in Proverbs 8 is irrelevant or can only support an Arian reading; (2) that the terms “created” (ktizō) and “begotten” (gennaō) are interchangeable in both biblical and early patristic sources, rendering the Nicene distinction artificial; (3) that the patristic and New Testament use of titles such as “firstborn” support a partitive and not a relational reading, placing Christ within the order of creation. Each of these points is based on selective evidence and a misapprehension of both the original languages and the theological context in which these terms developed.

  The attempt to read Proverbs 8:22–25 as a straightforward proof that the Son is a created being rests on a series of linguistic confusions and historical misrepresentations that collapse once the text is examined in its original languages, in its literary genre, and within the exegetical tradition that culminated in the Nicene settlement. Proverbs 8 is a poem that personifies Wisdom so as to celebrate the rational order embedded in creation; the device is pedagogical, not ontological. Second-Temple Jewish texts such as Sirach 24, Wisdom of Solomon 7–9 and Philo’s discussions of the Logos already deploy this personification to speak of an eternal attribute or hypostasis of God that stands over against the finite world. When early Christian writers identified Christ with this Wisdom, they did so to underscore his pre-existent activity as mediator of creation—not to insinuate that he belongs among created beings.

  The suggestion that the personification of Wisdom in Proverbs 8 is irrelevant to Christology is both historically and theologically naïve. The use of poetic personification in Proverbs 8—where Wisdom is depicted as an agent alongside God in creation—is not intended as a literal ontological statement about a created being. Rather, as both Jewish and Christian exegetes have long recognized, this figure serves a dual purpose: first, to extol the order, beauty, and intelligibility of creation as founded in God’s own Wisdom; and second, to foreshadow, in typological and analogical terms, the divine Logos through whom all things were made (John 1:3; Col 1:16-17). In Second Temple Judaism and the intertestamental Wisdom literature (e.g., Wisdom of Solomon 7:25-26; Sirach 24), Wisdom is described as an emanation of God’s glory and an agent in creation, but never as a mere creature. Early Christians, such as Paul (1 Cor 1:24) and John, appropriated this language to articulate the unique pre-existence and creative agency of the Son, distinguishing him from all created things. The Fathers, especially Athanasius and the Cappadocians, were explicit that any identification of Christ with Wisdom in Proverbs is to be understood in a typological or economic sense, not as a statement of created origin. This is why Athanasius, in his Orations Against the Arians, repeatedly affirms that the Son’s “generation” is eternal, immaterial, and of the same essence as the Father, and not to be confused with the creation of temporal beings.

  The core of the Arian argument is the claim that the Septuagint’s use of “created” (ktizō, ἔκτισεν) in Proverbs 8:22 and “begets” (gennaō, γεννᾷ) in v.25 indicates their equivalence, which undermines the Nicene distinction. This is based on a misunderstanding of both the translation history and the original languages.

  The Hebrew of Proverbs 8:22 employs קָנָה, whose primary sense is “to acquire” or “to possess,” and only in exceptional contexts “to create.” Ancient Jewish translators aware of that range rendered it by ἐκτήσατο (“acquired”) rather than ἔκτισεν (“created”). The Septuagint’s singular choice of ἔκτισεν broadens the semantic field to include “appointed” or “established,” yet never obliges a reading in which Wisdom is made ex nihilo. Verse 25 then shifts in Hebrew to חוֹלָלְתִּי, a childbirth verb that the LXX correspondingly translates with the masculine active “he begot me” (γέννα με). Far from conflating the two verbs, the Greek text itself keeps their semantic difference intact: κτίζω may denote producing something that did not exist; γεννάω describes derivation, generation, or birth. The poem places both verbs side-by-side precisely to evoke Wisdom’s primordial dignity without equating her with the products of the six-day creation.

  The Hebrew verb in v.22 is qanah (קָנָה), with a semantic range that includes “to acquire,” “to possess,” “to beget,” but rarely “to create.” Most authoritative Jewish sources, as well as major Greek translators like Aquila, Symmachus, and Theodotion, rendered it as “possess” or “acquire” (ektēsato), not “create.” The LXX’s use of ktizō is an outlier and was heavily criticized by orthodox Fathers because it gave Arians linguistic ammunition to claim that the Son was a creature. Athanasius, Basil, and Gregory of Nyssa, among others, responded by noting that even in the LXX, ktizō is not always equivalent to “create ex nihilo” but can mean “establish” or “appoint” (cf. LXX Psalm 50:12, “create in me a clean heart,” meaning to renew or reconstitute, not create from nothing). More importantly, the language of v.25 in both the Hebrew (cholalti, “I was brought forth,” with birth/labor connotations) and the Greek (gennaō, “he begets me”) is qualitatively different from creation. In Hebrew anthropological and familial contexts, begetting denotes derivation of essence, a sharing of substance (as in human parenthood); in theological usage, it points to the mysterious and eternal generation of the Son by the Father (see John 1:18, monogenēs; Heb 1:3, the “radiance of [God’s] glory and exact imprint of his nature”). The claim that Proverbs 8:22-25 uses “created” and “beget” interchangeably ignores this semantic and contextual difference, as well as the clear distinction drawn in later Christian dogmatic reflection.

  The Arian polemic appeals to early Fathers such as Origen, Tatian, and Justin Martyr, suggesting that they treated “begotten” as functionally equivalent to “created.” This is a misrepresentation both of their intent and of the development of doctrine. Origen, writing before the technical terminology of Nicaea was settled, sometimes employed “subordinationist” language, yet he also affirms in On First Principles that the Son is “generated from the Father’s own substance,” and therefore not a creature among creatures. Tatian and Justin occasionally use “beget” with reference to the world or souls, reflecting the fluidity of pre-Nicene vocabulary. However, both are careful, in their best moments, to maintain the unique status of the Son as the eternal Logos. The distinction between “begotten” and “made” did not arise ex nihilo at Nicaea but was the result of careful exegetical and theological clarification in response to Arian equivocation.

  Athanasius, in Contra Arianos II.20–22, argues that κτίζει in v. 22 must refer either to the Son’s incarnate mission or, more plausibly, to a divine “establishing” of his mediatorial office, for otherwise verse 25 would contradict itself by first calling Wisdom created and then begotten. Basil of Caesarea (Contra Eunomium II.20) and Gregory of Nyssa (Ad Ablabium) press the same point: if Scripture had wished to call the Son “first-created,” it possessed the unambiguous adjective πρωτόκτιστος but instead chooses πρωτότοκος, a title of primacy and inheritance. They therefore reject the Arian syllogism that equates generation with manufacture.

  Appeals to Origen, Justin Martyr, or Tatian prove equally inadequate once context is restored. Origen indeed speaks of the Son as δεύτερος θεός and subordinate in role, yet he is equally clear that the Son is begotten “before every aeon” and is therefore eternal (Princ. I.2.2–4). Whatever terminological fluidity marks pre-Nicene writers, none envisages the Son as a creature in the Arian sense; rather they grope for ways to articulate an eternal relation within the Godhead. Justin’s description of souls or the cosmos as “begotten” borrows the Platonic idiom of generated realities but carefully distinguishes the Logos as the one through whom those generated realities come to be.

  The Nicene Creed’s “begotten, not made, consubstantial with the Father” (gennēthenta ou poiēthenta, homoousion tō patri) is thus not a theological contrivance, but the crystallization of a distinction already present in the apostolic witness (cf. John 1:3; Col 1:15-17; Heb 1:2-3) and made explicit by the theological controversies of the fourth century. The Creed does not invent a distinction; it articulates, in the face of confusion, what was always implicit: that the Son is of the same essence as the Father, and therefore eternally God, not a creature.

  The rhetorical move that treats πρωτότοκος πάσης κτίσεως in Colossians 1:15 as though it meant “first created among creatures” ignores the immediately following causal clause: “for in him all things were created.” The Son is prior to and the source of the totality of created reality; grammar and syntax allow no partitive reading that smuggles him back inside the class of things his own agency calls forth. The Septuagint’s idioms—“firstborn of the poor,” “firstborn of death”—are admittedly genitives of relation, but they strengthen rather than weaken the Nicene reading: “firstborn” names status and supremacy, not temporal origination.

  The Arian reading of Colossians 1:15 as “firstborn of creation” (partitive genitive: included within creation) is grammatically and contextually unsound. The Greek prōtotokos pasēs ktiseōs is best understood as a genitive of subordination or supremacy, not membership. This is confirmed by the immediate context: “For in him all things were created… all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things…” (Col 1:16-17). The “firstborn” is not part of the set of created things, but rather stands over it, as its source and ruler. Patristic interpretation, as in Hilary and Athanasius, always understood “firstborn” as an assertion of Christ’s sovereignty and preeminence, not of his ontological inclusion in the created order. The appeal to “firstborn of death” or “firstborn of the poor” in the LXX is contextually irrelevant, as these are idioms and poetic expressions, not technical terms for ontology. In biblical usage, “firstborn” often denotes preeminence or heirship (cf. Psalm 89:27: “I will make him the firstborn, the highest of the kings of the earth”), and in the case of Christ, indicates his unique role as the source, ruler, and redeemer of creation—not as the first among equals.

  The Nicene confession “begotten, not made” is therefore not a late theological artifice but the crystallization of a distinction already embedded in Scripture. Generation designates an eternal intra-divine relation in which the Father communicates the whole divine essence to the Son; creation designates the divine act that brings the universe into being out of nothing. By confusing these two registers, the Arian interpretation erases the very logic that the biblical canon uses to safeguard both the Son’s full deity and the monotheistic integrity of Christian worship. When the Creed insists on homoousios, it simply renders explicit what John had said at the outset: “the Word was with God, and the Word was God,” and what John reiterated in the strictest possible terms, “without him was not anything made that was made.” To assign the Word himself to the category of made things is to invert the sentence, emptying the gospel of its own confession.

  Thus every strand of evidence—philological, literary, inter-testamental, patristic, and canonical—converges on a single conclusion. The verbs of Proverbs 8 point toward, rather than away from, the eternal generation of the Son. The early Fathers’ occasional ambiguities find their resolution, not their contradiction, in the Nicene articulation. And Colossians 1 joins Proverbs 8 in exalting the Wisdom of God precisely because he stands on the Creator’s side of the ontological divide, the eternally begotten Word through whom all that is not God has come to be. The Arian construction collapses under the weight of these texts; the Trinitarian reading alone does justice to their grammar, their theology, and the church’s unbroken confession of the Son’s full and uncreated divinity.

  In sum, the Arian conflation of “begotten” and “created” is based on (a) a tendentious reading of Proverbs 8 that ignores the poetic and typological function of Wisdom; (b) a misunderstanding of both Hebrew and Greek linguistic nuance; (c) a selective and often anachronistic use of patristic sources; and (d) a grammatical misreading of key New Testament texts. The development of Trinitarian doctrine, and the clarification made at Nicaea, was not a break with Scripture but a defense of its deepest logic: the Son is not a creature, however exalted, but “Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, consubstantial with the Father.” This is the consistent teaching of the apostolic and patristic witness, from the earliest hymns to the mature theology of the fourth century.

  To conclude: the distinction between “begotten” and “created” is neither arbitrary nor the product of post-biblical speculation. It arises from the very structure of biblical revelation, is supported by careful linguistic and contextual analysis, and was defended by the entire mainstream of Christian tradition against Arian reductionism. The Son, as the Wisdom and Logos of God, is eternally generated and fully divine, and this is the only reading that does justice to the biblical, theological, and historical data.
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  Daniel 2:42 , is it really unstable democratic governments?

  by raymond frantz in

  1. watchtower
  2. bible

  in its latest front page article titled “political turmoil that fulfills bible prophecy”, jw.org once again attempts to connect current world events with the vision found in daniel chapter 2, particularly the image composed of various metals.

  their interpretation of daniel 2:42 is laid out in the following paragraph: "the feet of the image are made ‘partly of iron and partly of clay,’ a combination that is inherently weak.

  (daniel 2:42) today, the power of both the united states and britain is weakened by elements within their own societies.

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  aqwsed12345

  @peacefulpete

  Your reconstruction of the book of Daniel—as a patch-work of disappointed nationalistic pamphlets repeatedly recycled to keep pace with fresh political humiliations—is ingenious but finally unpersuasive once one moves beyond the narrow field of form-critical speculation and listens to the wider choir of evidence that has impressed both Jewish and Christian tradition for two millennia. A Catholic reading does not claim that the book dropped from heaven in its final shape without any redactional history; the Church has always admitted that the sacred authors employ sources, languages and even later hands who collate or gloss. What she denies is that such literary history empties the work of genuine prophecy—real foreknowledge given by God—or that it reduces Daniel to a cynical exercise in post-eventu guesswork.

  The bilingual structure is not proof of a century-and-a-half compositional gulf. Ezra, written in the Persian period, shifts between Hebrew and Aramaic within a single paragraph—hardly evidence of a later author forging continuity. In Mesopotamia the court language was Aramaic while sacred reflection remained at home in Hebrew; a sixth-century Jew trained for government service would naturally write court memoirs in Aramaic and private visions in Hebrew. Dead Sea Scroll copies of Daniel, dated a mere generation after Antiochus, already treat the work as Scripture; there is no sign of a freshly minted Maccabean tract awkwardly seeking canonical status. Qumran’s esteem disposes of the theory that the Hebrew chapters were late Hasmonean propaganda waiting for Pompey to become “relevant.”

  The identification of the fourth kingdom with Rome is not a Christian novelty foisted on an unsuspecting Daniel. The Greek translation of Theodotion—pre-Christian and used by both synagogue and Church—already renders the metals in a way that fits Alexander’s break-up and Rome’s iron grip. The “eagle” midrash in 4 Ezra, far from confessing novelty, simply clothes the common Jewish reading of Daniel in the imperial iconography of its day. Nor must one ignore Josephus, who tells us that Daniel’s vision of the fourth empire was interpreted as Rome when Pompey was scarcely cold in his grave. To dismiss this as opportunistic is to ignore the stubborn fact that Rome is the only historical super‐power that fulfills Daniel’s explicit criteria: it crushes all predecessors, lasts deep into messianic time, and is still standing when the divine stone strikes.

  Your proposal that chapter 7 originally aimed at Ptolemy I Soter dissolves when weighed against the text. The little horn subdues three of the ten; Ptolemy displaced none of Alexander’s core successors. He never “changed the times and the law,” a phrase far more naturally suited to Antiochus’ abolition of Sabbath and sacrifice. Nor did Ptolemy meet his demise “without human hand” in a sudden, non-military fashion. The Antiochene crisis, on the other hand, fits every detail. The more economical reading is precisely the one the Church Fathers inherited from pre-Christian Judaism: chapter 7 sketches the entire series of empires from Babylon to Rome, then focuses the camera on the archetypal persecutor who foreshadows later antichrists.

  That brings us to a specifically Catholic nuance often missed in reductionist schemes. Prophecy is not exhausted by its first historical horizon. The Church Fathers call this the “sensus plenior”—a fuller sense intended by the Holy Spirit that unfolds across history. Antiochus is a near fulfillment, a dress rehearsal; the final fulfillment surges forward into the Roman period and beyond, lying open until the stone “cut without hands” pulverizes the image at Christ’s return. This layered depth explains why a single vision can speak coherently to Maccabean martyrs, to first-century Christians groaning under Nero, and to believers still awaiting the last act of history. Far from being embarrassed by successive applications, Catholic theology expects them.

  Even modern critical scholarship has begun to retreat from the sweeping skepticism of the nineteenth century. The linguistic profile of Daniel’s Aramaic is older than Qumran, and the Persian loan-words reflect an Achaemenid rather than a Seleucid administrative milieu. Greek words are conspicuously absent where we should expect them if a Jerusalem scribe were writing under Antiochus. The book’s knowledge of sixth-century Babylonian titles and architecture proved embarrassingly accurate once cuneiform was deciphered. These are awkward facts for the ex-eventu hypothesis but congenial to a date near the lifetime of the historical Daniel.

  Catholic faith therefore continues to read Daniel as the Church always has: an inspired mosaic, certainly edited and transmitted, but substantially the work of a sixth-century seer whose visions God enlarged to embrace later crises and, finally, the definitive victory of Christ’s kingdom. Skeptical reconstructions will no doubt continue to circulate, yet the burden of proof remains on those who would overturn the remarkable unity of tradition, internal coherence, and mounting archaeological confirmation that surround this prophetic book.