The gospel according to John begins quite differently from Matthew's account. Where Matthew takes his departure from Hebrew history, certifying Jesus' credentials as the Messiah from the People's point of view, John goes all the way back to the beginning of the world and beyond, to God's point of view. But John's opening has a few things in common with Matthew's. First, it's relatively easy Greek, because John couches his heavy-duty theology in deceptively simple language. So, hopefully, it's not too hard for a beginner to wrestle with. Second, its first words hark back to the beginning of the Bible, echoing the first words of Genesis 1:1. Again, God's written revelation is getting a fresh start: a new testament, befitting a new creation.
Figure 2-1
Whoa! All new words! We begin with the preposition en, which means "in" (duh!) and takes a dative object. You haven't seen any nouns in the dative case yet, but if you studied your Definite Article, you know that the unpronounceable "iota subscript" (which looks like a tiny iota under the final vowel) is the all-but-infallible sign of the dative singular, regardless of the noun's gender or declension. Archē happens to mean "beginning." The Septuagint, a Greek translation of the Bible, also begins with En arche. So don't go blaming John for leaving the word "the" out of "in the beginning." Ēn is the 3rd person singular imperfect ("he was") form of the very irregular verb einai ("to be"). The imperfect, like the aorist, is kind of a "past tense," though it isn't as "simple" a past as the aorist.Anyway, it's the only kind of past tense einai has, so let's just call it "was" and move on to the most important words: ho logos, "the Word." Do you recognize the article's gender (m., f., or n.), case (nom, gen, dat, or acc.), and number (sing. or pl.)? It should agree with the noun it points to--which it does. You may also remember from last time that the -os ending often indicates a nominative singular noun. "The Word" is therefore either the subject or the predicate nominative of this sentence. Don't let the word-order decide it for you. Greek doesn't work that way! In sentences with an active verb, you can figure out what role each word plays by studying the case-endings, regardless of the word-order. In nominal sentences (where the predicate names the subject), you have to apply a little more discretion. You have to ask yourself: Which side of the "be" verb is the topic and which side is the comment? Which is more general and which is more specific?
In this first sentence, however, these questions aren't all that stupefying. We're saying that "The Word was in the beginning," because the prepositional phrase "in the beginning" supplies information about "the Word." But we're probably going to put "In the beginning" at the beginning anyway, because it sounds grand that way, and rather like Genesis 1:1.
John separates his sentences (or independent clauses) with kai instead of de, seemingly in defiance of the rule I laid down in Lesson 1 about de ("and") connecting a series of consecutive statements while kai ("and") sets off items in a list. I'm not sure John is really breaking this rule, though. These statements are not connected by a logical or temporal sequence. Rather it's like a collection of discrete but associated thoughts rattled off in breathless haste while one has them in one's head, all with a childlike disregard for full stops.
"And the Word was" pros ton theon. The participle pros, when its object is in the accusative case (like ton theon), means "with," as in "together with, beside, near, in the presence of," etc. The masculine noun theos means "god" or, more specifically, "God." You may be surprised that it doesn't get capitalized in Greek, but that's what the article is for. Not just any god, or a god, but the God. "God," after all, is not a proper name. So while our translation will tend to drop the article--"The Word was with God"--it is important because it reminds us to capitalize the G.
Next, we have "And the Word was God"--a simple nominative sentence, without pros or any other preposition. I don't know of any Bible translations that favor "And God was the Word," though this follows the Greek word-order. What difference would it make? It could be argued that the phrasing "God was the Word" is a more meaningful assertion than "The Word was God," since God is a pretty generic noun representing a broad category of beings, and so to say that God is the Word focuses one's definition of God quite dramatically. On the other hand, one could also argue that "the God," God with a capital G, is a distinct character in the context of biblical history; plus, OT Hebrew has a similar way of using a generic word for "god" in way that uniquely names the God who reveals Himself in the Bible. "The Word," meanwhile, is still an inchoate concept at this early point in John's argument. We don't really know what John is trying to say about this "Word," at least until he tells us that He is God.
Verse 2 recapitulates what we have already read. The first word, houtos, is the masculine nominative singular form of the demonstrative pronoun. In other words, it means "This one," or more loosely, "He"--referring, of course, to the Word. The fact that the demonstrative is masculine doesn't necessarily mean we're talking about a male person; it could, in theory, point to any masculine noun, such as "word." But we already know this Word is God, so why fight it? "He was in the beginning with God." We've kind of come full circle. And now we know this much about "the Word": (1) He existed in the beginning, when the world was created. (2) He is God with God; which implies that God comprises more than one Person, and the Word is one such Person.
Figure 2-2
We saw another form of pas ("every, all") in Lesson 1. Now we meet panta, the neuter plural form, meaning "all things." di' is a contraction of the preposition dia, which with a genitive object (like autou, "him") means "through, by means of." The main verb comes at the end of the clause: egeneto, an aorist form of the verb ginomai, meaning "to become, to come into being, to be created," etc. I could blow your mind by explaining that this verb is formally in the "middle voice" (i.e., somewhere between active and passive), and that it is a "deponent," meaning that it serves in lieu of the active form which doesn't exist for this stem, but you're not ready for such knowledge. Just a little less worrying is the fact that the -eto ending indicates that the subject of the verb is 3rd person singular--but that's OK because, in Greek, neuter plural subjects (such as panta) go with singular verb-endings. But only when the last day of the month is a Friday! That last sentence is a joke. But seriously, try to remember the sentence before the joke, because it may save you a great deal of self-inflicted hair-pulling some day.So what do we have? "All things were created by means of Him." See how you have to play with the word order sometimes? "And," John goes on, "choris autou was made oude hen ho gegonen." Let's start at the end and work our way backward. If you guessed that gegonen is related to egeneto, you did well. It's the same verb (again, ginomai, "to be created"), but in its "perfect" aspect instead of the aorist. We haven't met a perfect before. Notice the ge- prefix, which on top of a stem beginning with g gives the verb a funny stuttering, or stammering, appearance. This effect is called "reduplication" and is the classic sign of the Greek perfect. So the equivalent form of lyo would be lelyken, and of paideuo would be pepaideuken. Generally speaking, a -k- embedded in the ending is also a clue that the verb is perfect, but it just happens that ginomai is an exception to that rule. Long story short: gegonen means "has been created."
Did you also guess that ho is the good old masculine, nominative, singular form of "the"? If so... go back to Lesson 1's table of the Definite Article and take another good look. Can you spot the difference? This ho has an accent. The article ho doesn't. The difference may not seem very great to you, particularly since I have chosen not to afflict you with a tedious recitation of the rules about accents, but this is one instance where an awareness of Greek accents can be helpful. The ho with an accent over it is, indeed, nominative-singular, but it is not masculine; rather, it is neuter, and a relative pronoun at that. Remember hes from Matthew 1:16? Same thing, only neuter: "that" as in "...that was made."
Going back one more word, hen is the neuter nominative singular for the number "one." Yes indeedy, "one" is an adjective whose form is determined by its grammatical point of reference. One man would be heis. One woman would be counted as mia. (Sounds kind of nice, doesn't it?) One thing is hen. The word before hen is the emphatically negative adverb oude, meaning "not." Put oude & hen together and you get "not even one thing." Move back all the way to the beginning of the clause and you find the prepositional phrase choris autou. The genitive form of the pronoun "he" you already know. Choris means "without, apart from." So the whole clause now reads: "And apart from him was made nothing that has been made." At least that's the way the folks who added the verse numbers thought it should say. The editors of the UBS 4th Edition Greek NT thought otherwise. They insert a raised dot (equivalent to a colon or semicolon) before the words ho gegonen, suggesting that these words belong to the thought of verse 4. I think the UBS people are full of it. They apparently assume that "that has been made made" would be redundant at the end of "Without him nothing was made." What is Reason #1 that I think they're full of it? I think "that has been made" is crucial to John's argument that the Word is not a created being. Not only were all things made through Him, but He exists before the making of all created things. Not one created thing was created without Him. Reasons #2ff. will become evident in a bit.
En auto, with the tell-tale iota subscript: "In him was..." The feminine noun zoē, here serving as a predicate nominative, means "life." Get it? Zoe as in "zoology." Skipping ahead, the next new vocable we meet is phōs, a neuter noun which means "light." Get it? Phōs as in "photon, photograph, photoelectric," etc. And finally, anthrōpōn is the genitive plural of anthrōpos, meaning "man" (in the sense of "human being," not "adult male person," which is a different Greek word--anēr). Get it? Anthrōpos as in "anthropology." Now that you know all the words in the sentence, it's easy: "In Him was life, and the life was the light of men." OK, so I skipped over the last "the," before "men." Greek sometimes uses "the" where English does not, and vice versa. The thought here has to do with "men" in general, not a particular group of men.
"In Him was life, and the life was the light of men." As it stands, this statement is pretty weird. The UBS editors would have us add the last two words of verse 3 to this thought, making it read: "That which has been created in Him was life..." I still think they are wrong. Reason #2: It is difficult to imagine that, after taking pains in sentence after sentence to move quickly from the subject to the story about Him, John would begin his thought with "That which has been created in Him..." Not only is it an incongruously prolix, complicated, and narratively deadening incipit, but it is frankly bizarre, if not silly. If this is really what John meant to say, I have such confidence in his storytelling skill that I would expect him to word it differently, such as: "Life was created in Him," or rather, "through Him."
Reason #3: The trajectory of John's argument up to this point makes him seem more likely to want to say the divine Word has life in Himself, rather than to pointlessly inform us that "what He created," specifically, is "life." After all, John has already been at pains to stress that the Word is a living Person who participated in creation, who preexists creation, who coexists with God, and who is consubstantial with God. Why would he not be telling us that life is in Him, life that is light to men? Reason #4: If we're talking about life that He created, then the assertion that this life "is the light of men" says nothing, directly, about Him. But if we're talking about life that uniquely and eternally inheres to Him, then the concluding phrase "and the life was the light of men" is a profound revelation: Since the Word lived prior to the creation, His is an uncreated life. For this reason, God's Word revealed to men is more than information by which one can illuminate oneself; rather, it (He) is life, and gives life.
The next verse presents us with three new vocab words: skotia ("darkness"), phainei (present active form of phainō, "to shine," where the subject is 3rd person singular), and katelaben (3rd sing. aorist active of katalambanō, "to seize, overtake, understand," etc.). Also note that the 3rd person pronoun auto is neuter accusative singular, and ou is simply the negative adverb "not." (It sometimes appears in the form ouk or ouch, depending on what the next word is.) So, putting the pieces together very quickly, we get: "And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not take hold of it." Modern stylists might sense a tint of sloppiness as John shifts freely from the present tense to the past (aorist) within a single thought. Actually, though, John's choice of verb tenses is very subtle. The light "shines," present tense, a shining that goes on indefinitely. A perfect verb would suggest that the shining started at a definite point in the past, though it continues to this day; either an aorist or an imperfect would confine the shining entirely to the past. This present-tense shining has no beginning or end. But the dark did not grab hold of it--the aorist indicating action in the past, just once when the light came within of the dark's reach but the dark failed to seize its opportunity. The time for the darkness to act has passed, but the light continues to shine.
Figure 2-3
Again, egeneto, that imperfect (not aorist) of ginomai. It's a word with many meanings. Sometimes it means "created." In this context it means "came." There came a man apestalmenos para theou. Does the perfect passive participle of apostellō remind you of a familiar NT term? How about "apostle," which means "one who is sent"? Again, a participle is a verbal adjective, so its -os ending tells you its case (nom.), gender (masc.), and number (sing.). The bit that tells you it's a passive (or middle) participle is the -men- embedded in the ending.As for how you can tell it's perfect... well, I hate to say it, but with some verbs you just have to know these things. Apostellō is a mildly irregular verb, so that its stem actually changes a bit from one "part" of the verb to another. Like Luther's Small Catechism, the forms of the Greek verb are divided between "six chief parts," each of which could potentially have a different stem. Thus the e in the present active stem (-stel-) changes to an a in the perfect passive (-stal-), for example. Learn to love regular verbs, whose various tense, moods, and voices you can readily identify via easy-to-learn rules of thumb; as for irregular verbs like apostellō, you will eventually need to memorize the first form of each of their "chief parts."
Long story short: "There came a man (having been) sent from (para) God." See how I snuck that new preposition by you? The next word, onoma, means "name." Then comes the 3rd person masc. pronoun in what case?? (Hint: What's that thing dangling under the omega?) And finally, we have the name John as they spell it in Greek (Iōannēs). "Name to him John"??? Well, no. John is trying to say, "John was his name," but as often happens in Greek, he skips the "be" verb. What isn't so usual is this use of the dative pronoun as a possessive adjective; that's generally more the genitive's speed. In the NT, the phrase onoma autou (with the genitive pronoun), meaning "his name," occurs 22 times, including 9 times in the writings of John, 8 times in the writings of Luke, 3 times in Matthew, once each in Hebrews and Mark; meanwhile onoma autō (with the dative) occurs only four times, all of them in works written by John. Whether the thought is strictly "(The) name by him (is) John," or, "(The) name (belonging) to him (is) John," or some even more torturous phrasing, a charitable teacher will give you full marks for writing, "His name was John."
In verse 7 we again see, houtos, "this one," or "he," meaning John. Then comes ēlthen, which is a 3rd person sing. aorist form of another very irregular verb, this time erchomai, "to come." He (John) came eis martyrian. The preposition eis, whose smooth-breathing distinguishes it from the numeral one (heis, with a rough-breathing), basically means "into" but it can also denote purpose. The word martyria should look familiar to you. It means testimony, just as the word "martyr" literally means "witness." John came for the purpose of bearing witness, hina martyrēsē--which opens up a nifty can of worms.
Hina is easily dealt with. It's a conjunction meaning "in order that...." It introduces a new clause with its own verb. Now the verb, which like the verbal noun martyria comes from the verb martyreo, "to bear witness," happens to have a iota subscript at the end--one of the few uses for that little pen-stroke that isn't a sign of the dative singular noun. It also has the -s- particle in its ending, which is a clue that the verb is in its aorist aspect. But it doesn't have the e- prefix (temporal augment) indicating action in the past. To understand why this is, you need to make room in your mind for a grammatical concept that may be new to you: MOOD. Make no mistake: I'm not just saying the verb wasn't "in the mood" for a temporal augment. Although that might be true, in a weird sense.
You already know that verbs have tense (past, present, future), aspect (perfect, imperfect, and aorist, for starters), and voice (active, passive, and in time you may even come to grips with the "middle" voice). Hopefully you have started to process the additional fact that verbs can be either finite or (in the case of infinitives and participles) infinite. Now don't let it blow your mind, but finite verbs also have mood.
This is difficult for casual English speakers to recognize unless they have been thoroughly drilled in grammar. When you state a plain fact, such as "David is my brother," you're using the indicative mood, which has been the mood of all the Greek verbs we have looked at until now. But when you make a statement that it is only conditionally true, such as "David may be my brother"--or even contrary to fact, such as "If only David were my brother"--you use a different form of the same verb--the subjunctive mood. Then there's the imperative mood, as in "George, take this candelabra to Mother." Some Greek verbs even have a fourth mood (optative) which expresses a wish or a mere possibility, but don't worry about it; its use had become very rare by the time of the New Testament, which has only 68 optative verbs in all.
Most conditional, or uncertain, or "woulda, shoulda, coulda" verbs in the NT use the subjunctive mood. Such happens to be the case with martyrēsē, an aorist subjunctive, indicating something that one "might" do at one point in time: "In order that he might bear witness peri tou phōtos." The preposition peri, which takes a genitive object, basically means "about"--sometimes in the sense of "around" (a person, place, or thing), but here in the sense of "concerning" a topic, which is the genitive form of to phōs (again, "the light'). So John came for the purpose of testimony, in order that he might testify concerning the Light, in order that pantes pisteusōsen di' autou. Pantes is the masculine nominative plural form of pas, so it means "all men" (in the sense that includes people of both sexes). Pisteusōsen, also in the aorist subjunctive as befits whatever verb comes after hina, comes from the verb pisteuein, "to believe," and the ending indicates a 3rd person plural subject (i.e., "all men"). We saw di' autou earlier, and translated it as "by means of him" or, in that sense, "through him." If we stick with that translation, we find that John came to bear witness "in order that all men might believe through him."
Verse 8: ouk ēn, "was not." You should learn not to be surprised when the subject, ekeinos, comes third. This is the masc. sing. form of yet another demonstrative pronoun, meaning "that man" or, more loosely, "he"--again, pointing back at John. He (John) was not the Light, all' hina martyrēsē peri tou phōtos. Except for all', you saw this exact phrase in verse 7, where we translated it "in order that he might testify concerning the light." All' is simply a contraction of alla, a conjunction meaning "but" that corresponds to the German word sondern; that is, it always comes after a negative statement, such as "John was not the Light."
The reason for the contraction has something to do with the rough breathing at the beginning of hina, but you're not interested in that. What you want to know is what's missing from the sentence "John was not the Light, but in order that he might bear witness concerning the light." Something seems to belong between "but" and "in order that," something like the verb ēlthen ("he came") in verse 7. Since John (the evangelist) here repeats word-for-word what he said a verse earlier about why John (the baptist) came, I don't think it's too much of a stretch to borrow the unexpressed "he came" from the first instance. Call it "applying the context to interpret the meaning."
Figure 2-4
Verse 9 begins with the main verb of the sentence, "He was." Since he goes on to say He was "the true Light," we can safely assume on the basis of verse 8 that "He" here does not refer to John the Baptist. This gives us an opportunity to try out a key strategy for interpreting Greek, where the word-order is going to be quite different from what English grammar would dictate. Suppose for a moment that "He was..." is only part of the action of the sentence, that "was" might be an auxiliary verb functioning in tandem with a participle. What you have to do now is scan the sentence for a participle that might answer the purpose. You won't find it in the first clause, nor in the second; but after two commas you come to erchomenon, "coming" (the present participle of erchomai, don'tcha know). "He was...coming into the cosmos," or rather, "the world." Who was? To phōs to alēthinon.And now we get to learn about adjectives. Yee-haw! Unlike nouns, which always stay the same gender, adjectives have endings that allow them to agree with the number, case, and gender of any noun. So alēthinon is the neuter nominative singular form of the adjective alēthinos, -e, -on. (When locating a dictionary entry, always look for the masc. nom. sing. form of an adjective; it will then list the endings for the fem. and neut. nom. sing. as well). The adjective means "true, real, genuine."
Another question you have to ask is whether the adjective is "attributive" or "predicative." If it was an predicate adjective, it would be similar to a predicate nominative (in fact, it would be nominative, in most cases). A predicative reading of the adjective in verse 9 would say "the light was true," where "true" is part of the predicate. An attributive interpretation, however, would make the adjective "true" an attribute added to the noun, as in "the true light." How can you tell which kind of adjective it is? It's a matter of word order and placement of the definite article. If the same exact article comes before both the adjective and the noun, and they agree in number, case, and gender, it's attributive. To alēthinos phōs is one example of this; it economizes by using one article to cover both adjective and noun. They key, however, is that at least the adjective is directly preceded by the article. On the other hand, if it said Alēthinos to phōs, you would definitely translate it as a predicate adjective: "True is the light; the light is reliable." John's phrasing is to phōs to alēthinos, which (I hope you noticed) places the same article in front of both noun and adjective, though as often happens, the adjective comes after the noun and thus requires its own copy of the article. This is good, workmanlike Greek for "the true light," attributive position.
So John is saying that "The true light was...coming into the world." In the middle of the sentence, set off by commas, is an adjectival relative clause. Adjectival, I say, because it develops the thought of the noun phrase "the true light." Relative, I say, because it begins with the relative pronoun, "which..." Ho (thinking back to verse 3) is the neuter nominative singular relative pronoun, and thus points back to to phōs (which is also neuter nom. sing.) while at the same time inaugurating its own clause. In an indirect way, it makes to phōs the subject of a bonus sentence embedded within the main sentence. The light does what? It phōtizei panta anthrōpon. The present tense form of the verb phōtizo, with a 3rd person singular subject (which technically is ho, but indirectly is to phōs), means "to light." I mean, it's obvious that phōtizo is a verbalization of the noun phōs, isn't it? It "photizes" panta anthrōpon, the accusative singular (direct object) form of pas anthrōpos, "every man."
Full sentence: "The true light, which enlightens (shines on, illuminates, gives light to) every man, was coming into the world." Or possibly, "He [the Light mentioned in v. 8] was the true light...coming into the world." Both versions have their pros and cons. You'll have to live with one or the other regardless, unless you want to go mad. The "con" of the reading "The true light was...coming" is that it uses the "be" verb an auxiliary to a participle, which is a rather unusual Greek styling when there's a perfectly serviceable imperfect form of the verb erchomai (ērcheto) that achieves the same effect more cheaply. The "pro" is that the intervening relative clause makes it necessary to use ēn and erchomenon in order to connect the subject to its predicate.
The weakness of the "He was the true light...coming" interpretation is that it relies on the counterintuitive assumption that the subject and predicate are both "the light" (The light is the true light?). This, in turn, supposes that the answer lies in finding the antecedent of the pronoun "he" which, you might notice, doesn't occur in the Greek text. When John wants us to read a pronoun, he supplies us with one (such as houtos, autos, or ekeinos). Still, this second interpretation makes us English-speaking interpreters happy because it deals with our discomfort with a sentence beginning with part of an auxiliary-verb construction that isn't completed until two clauses later. The real solution may be to learn to think less like an English speaker, and to plunge bravely into the sea of Greek thought.
Verse 10: "He was in the world, and the world was created through Him, and the world auton ouk egno." You already know auton ("Him") and ouk (a variant of ou, "not"), but it's the verb at the end of the sentence that requires introduction. Friends, meet ginōskō, "to know," in its aorist indicative active 3rd person singular form. Now that you know what all those words mean, we can finally rattle of a full description of the verb form. "The world did not know Him." John's simple use of the conjunction kai ("and") abstains from assigning any logical connection between these three clauses. As an interpreter, you will be sorely tempted to supply the logic that John omits, such as "Although the world was created through Him," and "Yet the world did not know Him." John simply lists these facts consecutively, like items on a bullet list or slides in a PowerPoint presentation. He leaves it to you to perceive the connection between them.
Verse 11: "He came into ta idia." Idia is the neuter accusative plural of the adjective idios, -a, -on, meaning "one's own, proper, personal." The phrase ta idia is an idiom for property or belongings. Before we go on with this verse, glance at the end and shake hands with the irregular verb paralambanō, meaning "take" or "receive," in its aorist indicative active, 3rd person plural form parelabon. Before we get to that, however, there is a play on the words idia/idioi ("his home and property" vs. "his own people," masc. nominative plural) which makes a good, balanced translation particularly challenging to devise. "He came into his own, and his own received him not" accents the idia/idioi play on words, but covers up the difference between "his own things" and "his own people" that is evident from neuter vs. masculine endings. Unfortunately, you may have to accept that some subtle displays of wit must be lost in translation, for the sake of getting the same meaning across. Efforts to convey both the style and substance in English can have strange results: "He came into his home-place, but his home-boys did not accept him." Ick! How about this? "He came to what was His, and His people did not receive him."
Figure 2-5
The correlative pronoun hosoi (masc. nom. pl.) comes from the adjective stem hosos, -e, -on, meaning "as much as" or (in the plural) "as many as." The postpositive conjunction de makes its first appearance in John's Gospel after a long string of kais, hinting at a sense of contrast from what has just been written; so let's try translating it as "but" for a change. Elabon is the irregular aorist form of lambanō, which we have met before, only disguised by such prefixes as kata- and para-; it also means "to receive." Edōken is the aorist indic. act., 3rd sing., of the very irregular verb didōmi, "to give." Autois is the dative (indirect object) plural form of the 3rd person pronoun we have seen so many times before. Exousia (here in its accusative [direct object] form) means "right" or "authority." Tekna is the accusative plural form of teknon, a neuter noun meaning "child." And ginesthai is the aorist infinitive of the irregular deponent verb ginomai, "to become." (Handy rule of thumb: a deponent is "middle or passive in form, active in meaning." What it means in this case is that there is no really "active" form of this verb.) So verse 12, so far, reads: "But as many as received Him, He gave them (the) right to become children of God."John then adds an adjectival participial phrase which, to judge by the dative case & plural number of the participle and its definite article, is a further comment on the dative plural pronoun autois--"to those who received Him...(that is,) to those who believe on His name." Pisteuousin is the present active participle, and the article in front of it turns what would ordinarily be an adjective ("believing") into a substantive ("those believing"). Eis, which basically means "into," is also often translated as "in, on," etc. I favor "believing on His name" rather than "in His name" because, in my opinion, the question is not whether His name exists but whether it is something you can rely on, or base your faith on.
Verse 13: The masculine plural relative pronoun ("who") points all the way back to hosoi at the beginning of v. 12, the last character in the story that shared the same number and gender. "As many as received Him," blah, blah, blah, "who..." Now scan the sentence to find a main verb for "who" to be the subject of. You won't find it until the very last word of the sentence, egennēthēsan, the indicative aorist passive, 3rd person plural, form of gennao, which you can't have forgotten after all those "begats" in Matthew 1. So, before we fill in the details, let's wrap our heads around the main thought of this sentence: "As many as received him"--the antecedent of "who"--"were begotten." By whom or what were they begotten?
Now we go back to the beginning of the sentence: Ouk ex haimatōn. Haima is a neuter noun for blood, here shown in its genitive plural form. Just as ta idia (lit. "one's own things") was an idiomatic phrase meaning "property," ex haimatōn (lit. "by bloods") is a Greek idiom meaning "by sexual reproduction." Those who accepted the Light were begotten, first of all, not by intercourse. Next phraise: Oude ek thelēmatos sarkos. Oude (lit. "and not") is best rendered as "nor." Thelēma, a neuter noun of the same type as haima, means "will, desire." Sarkos, the genitive singular form of the feminine noun sarx, means "flesh." In the following phrase, sarx is replaced by anēr (genitive andros), that specifically male word for "man" that I mentioned earlier in contrast to the "human" anthrōpos; it can also mean "husband."
So these folks are begotten "not by sexual procreation, nor by the desire of the flesh, nor by the desire of the husband, but (alla) by God." Delaying the main verb ("begotten") until the very end allows John to build up this very dramatic, thesis-antithesis description of how God's children are born. It's a beautifully built sentence that, incidentally, knocks flat any idea that the human will or the individual's decisions cause him to become God's child; rather, believers are begotten spiritually by God.
Figure 2-6
And the Word became flesh and eskēnōsen en hēmin. The verb is the indicative aorist active, 3rd person singular, form of skēnoō--if Blogger had a Greek font, you would see that the first "o" is an omicron and the second an omega--meaning "live," as in a dwelling. The verb is etymologically connected with the noun skēnē, meaning "tent, tabernacle, a temporary dwelling." Hēmin, meanwhile, is the dative form of the 2nd person plural pronoun. The proposition en ("in") means "among" when its dative object is plural, so "The Word became flesh and dwelt among us." Etheasametha looks like it might have something to do with God (theos), but it doesn't. Rather, it comes from the Greek verb theaomai, "to see," here in the aorist indicative middle (deponent), 1st person plural, "we saw." Saw what? His doxa, here in the accusative case of that feminine noun meaning "glory." You know, as in the doxology, "Glory be to the Father," etc.What kind of glory? Glory hōs (like) monogenous para patros. Monogenous is the masc. gen. sing. form of the adjective monogenēs, spelled with an eta in the last syllable if it's masculine or feminine, and with an epsilon if it's neuter. You haven't seen this group of endings before, so don't let the strangeness of this genitive form get you down. Modern critical scholars insist that monogenēs means "only," and only "only." A long-held exegetical tradition, however, holds that it's a portmanteau of monos ("only") and a verbal adjective based on gennaō, "to beget." As in "only-begotten." We are accustomed to seeing this remarkable portmanteau word in translations not only of this verse, but also of John 3:16 (God so loved the world that He gave His "only-begotten" Son), 3:18 (he is condemned who does not believe on the name of God's "only-begotten" Son), and 1:18 (no one has ever seen God, but the "only-begotten" God who is in the bosom of the Father has made Him known). Other instances of this controversial adjective include Luke 7:12 (regarding the "only-begotten" son of the widow at Nain), 8:42 (re Jairus's "only-begotten" daughter), and 9:38 (where the father of a demon-possessed boy pleads for his "only-begotten" son); Hebrews 11:17 (which describes Isaac as Abraham's "only-begotten" son, although he can only be called that if Ishmael doesn't count); and 1 John 4:9 (God sent His "only-begotten" Son in to the world that we might live through Him).
In summary, there doesn't seem to be a single instance where this word, which supposedly means "only," is used in any other way than to describe a person as his or her parents' "only" son or daughter. It seems to be exclusively used to designate an "only-begotten" child. So exactly why the critics can't let monogenēs mean "only-begotten" is beyond my comprehension. On the other hand, if you insist that its meaning can go no further than "only," John 1:14 becomes so much nonsense: "And we saw His glory, glory as of the only _____ from (para) the Father." The only what? One could reason that "from the Father" implies that only "Son" can be read into the blank, but that's a very thin reasoning considering that Christ has been called the "Word," the "Light," and even "God" so far, but until now John has not discussed the terms Father and Son. Translating monogenēs as "only-begotten" fills in this gaping blank in John's conceptualization, because it specifies how the unique Person described here as coming "from the Father" is related to Him. He is not just a unique messenger (angel) or emissary (apostle), but the Son (only-begotten). He is not God's only child (because as many as receive Him are given the right to become God's children), but He is the Father's only-begotten, the Son whose sonship defines the Father's fatherhood much as the Father's eternal begetting makes the Son God's "only-begotten" in a sense that is not contradicted even by verse 13's explanation that believers are spiritually "begotten...by God."
He is God, and at the same time He is with God; He preexists the creation and participated in it, though He Himself was not created; and yet there is no other God but the one God who created all. It's the mystery of the Trinity. It's impossible to conceive of. Yet John's deceptively simple, direct language compels one to believe it, unless one twists or rejects what He says. And he finishes the paragraph with one last description of the incarnate Word's glory: plērēs charitos kai alētheias, "full" (plērēs, an indeclinable adjective) "of grace" (gen. sing. of the feminine verb charis) "and truth" (gen. sing. of the feminine verb alētheia).
WRAPPING UP
This lesson has exposed you to quite a few new facets of the Greek language. You should have learned the trick of scanning a sentence to look for the main verb, and of using the presence or absence of a definite article to tell you whether an adjective is in an attributive or predicative relationship to the noun it describes. You may also have picked up some ideas about verb moods that will have you rethinking the grammar of your own language. Who knew that "If I were a butterfly" contains a subjunctive mood?
You may now have begun to appreciate that in Greek, as in all languages, many of the most commonly used verbs are irregular. You should start memorizing important verb forms now, such as elabon (the aorist form of lambanō, "take"), edōken (ditto for didōmi, "give"), ēlthon (ditto for erchomai, "come"), and egeneto (ditto for ginomai, "become"). And of course there's einai, "to be," the grand-high S.O.B. of irregular Greek verbs, of which a few forms are provided here for you to start memorizing.
You also encountered multiple types of pronoun--demonstratives (houtos, ekeinos), correlative (hosos), and some of the personal pronouns such as hēmin ("us," dative).Homework
Besides starting to learn forms of "to be" in Greek, I would like you to try to memorize the following tables, column by column. First, here is the relative pronoun, which is used to introduce relative clauses. English equivalents include that, which, who, and what.
Although I don't want you to become preoccupied with the accents, these little words, together with the definite article, should give you a reason to pay attention to them because they can make a big difference in meaning.And finally, we are already quite overdue for some examples showing common case-endings that can be applied by analogy to many, many nouns.
If I were you, I would just memorize the endings, column by column, until you can rattle them off like the words of a nonsense rhyme: "-os, -ou, -ō, -on, -oi, -ōn, -ois, -ous," etc.
Note that in third declension nouns, except those of the very predictable "-ma neuter" type, the nominative singular does not have a regular case-ending; quite often, that form even has a slightly different stem. So you can begin your nursery-rhyme prattle for the third declension with the genitive singular: "-os, -i, -a, -es, -ōn, -si, -as." Is it just me, or does that have a nice ring to it?
Once you know these declensions by heart, you will be able to predict the endings of a large percentage of Greek nouns. So work hard! You'll thank me later!
