Codeswitching in Academic writing

Hi, I’m Seumas and I’m a chronic codeswitcher.

 

Code-switching occurs when a speaker alternates between two or more languages or language varieties in a single discourse event. It’s not a bad thing necessarily, indeed when I was in Mongolia and speaking with competent bilinguals, codeswitching made a lot of sense – there were just words and expressions that were better of not being translated to enforce monolingualism in a single conversation.

But it is a problem when it comes to academic writing. My thesis work involves a far bit of working with Greek and Latin, and I work on the assumption that anyone dealing with my writing in these fields (certainly my examiners) ought to have at least the competency in these two languages that I do. It is thus fairly natural to code-switch a lot of Latin phrases, and Greek ones, into my English writing.

Personally, this goes beyond a string of Latin idioms, id est, ad hoc, ipssissima verba, καὶ τὰ λοιπά. I find myself prone to wanting to start a sentence in English and finish it with a whole clause in Latin.

Generally I resist, or edit out, such tendencies. Because a written document has less control over its readership and less possibilities of ‘clarification’ than an oral conversation. Almost everything I want to say can be said in English, if I make the effort to phrase it in English. Restricting my writing to a single language broadens my theoretical audience and generates a less cumbersome text. And certainly one ought to avoid those monstrous texts of the polyglot codeswitch addicts, who begin in English, wander into allusions and citations of Greek and Latin verse, and then add commentary in French and German. Assuming an audience of pentalingual readers does not a work for posterity make.

So I’m doing my best to keep my ὁ Χριστὸς κατὰ τὸ ἀνθρωπινόν and qui secundum hominem secondum Deum in duobus naturis una res est to a minimum. If you knew the struggle, you’d thank me for it.

The Acts of (Paul) and Thecla: a romance about chastity

This past week I’ve been leading a small group (quite small!) through the 2nd century text, ‘The Acts of Paul and Thecla’. It’s a very interesting text which relates the story of how a young betrothed woman in Iconium meets Paul, becomes entranced by the teaching of Christ, goes through various trials, and emerges as an independent Christian teacher and leader.

One of the very intriguing features of the text is that it is essentially an ‘Ancient (Christian) Novel’, drawing on the structures of other ancient novels of the same period, but refracted through a Christian lense. That creates a very interesting dynamic, because ancient novels are, by genre, romances involving a pair of paramours who go through various trials to be united at the end. The Acts of Paul and Thecla is similarly constructed, so that it is a romance between Thecla and Paul. But with a twist! Already by the time of this text a strong strand of early Christianity is placed on sexual chastity, and particularly virginity and abstinence. While Thecla and Paul are depicted in romantic terms, they are in a romance that is united primarily by a devotion and affection for Christ. The sexual undertones are employed to depict the triumph of chastity, and the threats to Thecla repeatedly center around threats to her virginity. In this way the text artfully (re)combines what appear to be two disparate motifs (romance and perpetual chastity) into a romance about chastity in which the narrative climax and resolution is not the sexual union of the two protagonists, but the tension and danger of sexual threat to the female protagonist, and the conquest of that threat and the victory of virginity.

There’s much, I’d say, to find theologically problematic, even disturbing, in this novel, but that’s no reason not to read it. As I keep saying, our knowledge of ‘Koine’ as a language, and our understanding of early Christianity, are only ever enhanced by stepping outside the Canonical Garden.

4 Myths about Christmas and Late Antiquity

Perhaps not the most common myths about Christmas, but these are the ones I regularly have to interact with online.

1. Christmas is a Christianisation of celebrations for Sol Invictus

Given that the first indisputable *dating* for Christmas to Dec 25th is the same document (the Chronicon of 354) that first attests to a birthday for Invictus, possibly Sol Invictus, it’s impossible to assert that Christmas is derivative of Sol Invictus’ birthday, any more certainly than the opposite.

2. Christmas involved a deliberate strategy of taking over Pagan holidays

Patristic authors never talk about such a strategy, pagan opponents never accuse such a strategy, and Christian theologians generally spend their time telling believers to stay well away from pagan holidays. The earliest argument for this view is not until the 17th and early 18th century, with proponents like Paul Ernst Jablonski and Jean Hardouin. The earliest suggestion of deliberate ‘takeover’ or ‘replacement’ of pagan holidays is Gregory the Great commissioning Augustine in the mission to the Angles. Apart from this there is a 12th century Syrian suggestion from Dionysius bar-Salibi that it was shifted from Jan 6th to Dec 25th to replace Sol Invictus, but I think we can consider the 12th century far enough removed that this may not reflect what actually happened in the 4th century.

3. Christmas is just a take-off of Mithras.

Justin Martyr is the first to make a connection between Mithras and Christianity, and he’s accusing Mithras followers of copying Christian elements. Given that the Mithras cult appears to be a mystery-type cult, involves only the broadest typological parallels to Christianity, and was restricted to initiated males, it’s unlikely that Christmas took off from Mithras. Add to that, it’s not even clear that Mithras should be identified with Sol Invictus either.

4. Christmas is Saturnalia

Given point 2 above, Christians had no known interest in rehabilitating Saturnalia. Saturnalia also ended *before* Christmas, so if they wanted to co-opt it they should have moved Christmas earlier.

Wishing you all a merry Christmas…

Why you need to read outside the NT corpus

Here’s the shortest case I can make. There are, depending on edition, 138,020 Greek words in the New Testament canon. Here are some comparable English works:

 

134,462 – The Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien
134,710 – Schindler’s List, Thomas Keneally
135,420 – A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens
138,098 – Snow Falling on Cedars, David Guterson
138,138 – 20,000 Leagues under the Sea, Jules Verne

 

Would you really trust the interpretive abilities of someone whose entire knowledge of English was limited to reading one of these novels, and who had never read anything in English apart from their selected novel?

State of the Projects, December 2015

Patristic Readers

At the start of November I published the first volume, the Martyrdoms of Polycarp and Perpetua (Available now at createspace, and Amazon). This month I’ve been doing three things: I’ve just finished proofing the third Gregory text, and started compiling the vocabulary. I also finished up the vocabulary file on the first Latin project. Thirdly, I’ve had some chats about going to a more digital format, and been doing some experimenting in the last few days at http://www.perseids.org with morphology tagging a digital text and then doing syntactic tree-banking. The first part is okay but I’m still figuring out the second part.

Thesis

Doing the church retreat and the trip to Atlanta made a bit of a dent in dedicated thesis time. Nonetheless I am still making forward progress. At present I’m doing some revision work on chapters one and two and trying to bring them into a decent shape. I’m also working through my footnotes and conforming them all to a single style. I hope to turn back to some more substantive work in the next few weeks.

SBL

Well, I don’t have anything to say about SBL that I didn’t say in my previous post.

Summary

All in all, going well, not too many projects on the boil now and really going to be trying to bring my dissertation to fruition with the majority of my efforts now.

Reflections on AARSBL15

Well, I’m wrapping up from the American Academy of Religion/Society of Biblical Literature Annual Meeting 2015, and thought I’d compile some thoughts from it.

Travel to/from

Since I had to foot the bill for my own flights, I flew Korean Air from Sydney to Atlanta, via Korea. That is not very direct. I do really like KAL though, and a layover in the Grand Hyatt Incheon was very welcome on the way over. There’s only a 1hr layover on the way back, which wasn’t so bad in the end, particularly as my first flight (Atlanta to Seoul) was fairly empty and I had multiple seats to enjoy. 23/25hrs travel time is a lot, and people ask if it’s worth it. I don’t know, because I don’t know how one actually quantifies the value of conferences.

Atlanta

My first impression of Atlanta is that the airport is huge, since it took 20 minutes to walk from my gate to Immigration control. The conference took place in Downtown Atlanta, which is a weird phenomenon in itself. I understand why US cities have deserted inner cities, but it’s still odd because in Australia the center of cities remain a hub of activity. Here, it was actually difficult to find shops/restaurants/anything that would actually serve you. Still, I managed to make do.

My Paper

I arrived on the Friday and my paper was on the Saturday afternoon, so nice and early in the program. I presented a portion of my research with the title, “Is Basil a pro-Nicene exegete? Patterns of scriptural usage in Against Eunomius“. Overall I think it went well, and was well received. The question time and discussion afterwards was also valuable (more so than the single question I had at Oxford Patristics), and gave me a few things to think through/follow up in my research.

Other sessions

On the Saturday morning I attended a session in the Religious Competition in Late Antiquity section, and listened to a range of papers on martyrdom that were quite interesting. Also on Saturday I attended some papers in the Theological Interpretation of Scripture section, focused on the Trinity and/in the Bible. I was particularly interested to hear Matthew Bates speak, and that was indeed all I had anticipated.

On the Sunday I attended two sections in the Applied Linguistics section, which allowed me to meet quite a few people that I had interacted in with online about Greek, Linguistics, and Pedagogy. So that was good all round. There was then a second section of the Development of Early Christian Theology looking at tools and practices of Exegesis, that was again quite rewarding, though I ducked out of the last paper because I was too tired to pay attention properly.

I took Monday morning off (see below), and attended a single section on the Monday afternoon, again in the Development of Early Christian Theology section, a review panel of David Michaelson’s book, ‘The Practical Christology of Philoxenos of Mabbug’, which is something I knew virtually nothing about (apart from having met David earlier in the year at Oxford Patristics). I was richly rewarded by all the speakers and appreciated having my horizons broadened outside my narrow 4th century world.

Tourist Life

I have a lot of thoughts about America and Americans, but this isn’t the place for them! You’ll have to elicit them in a less public forum. On the Monday I did get out and went to the Martin Luther King Jr. National Site, along with Ebenezer Baptist Church, King’s tomb, and the King Center. I found this really interesting and moving. The history of race relations, injustice, and racism in Australia has parallels to America, but really they are very different histories in many respects.

Anyway, now I am back in Sydney and tomorrow I will be back into thesis writing.

Off to SBL 2015

This Thursday I’m off to SBL Annual in Atlanta. I’ll be presenting in the Development of Early Christian Theology section on
the Saturday at 4pm. Feel free to come along if you like hearing about exegesis in Basil.

It’s been 13 years since I last visited the States. Who knows when I might be back. If you’re going to be at SBL and would like to catch up, leave me a comment or message.

State of the Projects, November 2015

October went by too quickly, in my opinion. I delayed this post a few days to get some important things done:

Patristic Readers

The great news is that a few minutes ago I approved the final proof and now you can purchase a print copy of the Martyrdoms of Polycarp and Perpetua! It has taken me a lot longer to get the first volume to print stage, but not to fret. I think the Gregory reader can be done by early next year.

Available now at createspace, and Amazon.

Thesis

I was actually very productive through October. I wrote about 15000 words doing analysis of Basil’s exegesis, but I reached a point where I decided that I was doing too much ‘tree’ work and not enough ‘forest’ work. Essentially, it felt like going through a forest and individually tagging every single tree, which was an enlightening experience but not very workable for a thesis. Also, I thought this would turn into a very boring, and overly long, thesis. So I stopped that and rethought my whole structure. That was helpful, but also slowed me down somewhat.

Currently I’ve been working over some of the material for chapter 1, but with an eye to the broader structure of the thesis. I’ve also been doing some more secondary reading more broadly.

Talks

I agreed early on the year to do a series of talks for a friend’s church’s retreat weekend. I wouldn’t say I regret agreeing to it, but now it’s coming up quickly and of course I am busy as usual. Not the least, I said I would speak on ‘Living in a post-Christian world’ and that is hardly a simple series of talks! Anyway, it is coming together and must come together because there is a deadline!

SBL

Likewise, I am off to the annual SBL conference later in November, and looking forward to it. It will be another good chance to present on Basil and to interact with the broader scholarly community, something a little difficult here on the bottom of the world. I did say I would re-write my draft paper though, and that is something that needs to happen over the next two weeks.

So, lots done, and lots to do.

 

What my thesis is actually about

Or, ‘what I think my thesis is actually about’.

I don’t post much about my thesis work, for a few different reasons, but here’s part of a draft introduction that I can pretty safely share.

If you’d like to read some portions of my thesis in progress and offer some critical feedback, feel free to ask me directly (via email). I could do with a couple of external sources of review at this stage.

Anyway, here is what I’m working on:

 

 

The following study compares the exegetical practices of two authors, Basil of Caesarea and Hilary of Poitiers, in two of their most significant works, Contra Eunomium and De Trinitate respectively, in order to demonstrate that one of the features of fourth century theologians traditionally identified as ‘Orthodox’ or ‘Pro-Nicene’ is their common exegetical practice.

Throughout this study I use the term ‘Pro-Nicene’ in a self-consciously anachronistic post-factum manner.[1] As I discuss further in this chapter, the traditional divisions and typologies of theologians and theological positions within this period has undergone significant revisionism, and is open to considerable critique. The 325 Council of Nicaea didn’t define a theological position in regards to the later debates, and only from the 350s does it emerge as a significant ‘claimant’ for a theological solution to these latter questions. However, insofar as later authors contend ‘for’ Nicaea, and the theological tradition after 381 accepts and solidifies some authors as being orthodox precisely because their theological positions line up, more or less, with what the church throughout the Roman Empire came to accept as normative, ‘pro-Nicene’ does work as a post-factum label.

In that regard, I broadly consider theologians such as Athanasius, Hilary, the three Cappadocians, Chrysostom, among others, to be ‘pro-Nicene’ in their formulation, while at the same time recognising that such a label does not mean either that their theologies were the same, or even necessarily related. The label as such is not meant to unduly assume theological unity, but rather provide a functional point of departure in examining their theological diversity.

The question I investigate is one of exegetical practice, in relation to doctrinal formulation. This combination highlights certain features, and sets others aside. The main emphasis of this study is not a thorough-going treatment of either author’s exegetical practices, and especially I do not delve into a treatment of their works generally considered ‘exegetical’, such as their commentaries on various biblical texts. Equally so, although this study interacts considerably with doctrinal formulations in the context of mid-fourth century theology and late antique philosophy, this is not its primary focus either. Rather, in the combination of the two, I examine how these two authors use biblical texts and practices of interpretation in order to support, articulate, and argue for a particular theological position in regards to the Trinity.

For this reason the texts under primary consideration are Basil’s Contra Eunomium and Hilary’s De Trinitate. Both works are primarily doctrinal in character, rather than exegetical, and yet both involve extensive use of the Biblical scriptures. Both texts, likewise, emerge in polemical contexts: Basil, quite consciously writing against Eunomius and his Apologia, and Hilary writing against opponents both real and constructed. However the arrangements of their works and their emergent contexts and audience are different. Basil’s work is patterned closely on citation and refutation of Eunomius’ argument in Apologia and so is far more driven by doctrinal questions. Hilary’s treatise is occasioned by polemic, but is structured to address broader theological propositions by treating portions of Scripture at greater length. It is, at the same time, a composite document and considerably longer than Basil’s work. Furthermore, Hilary writes out of the experience of exile and contact with the theological currents of the East, and yet for a Western audience and shaped by Latin authors prior to him. In contrast, Basil’s work is thoroughly Eastern in both context and audience. Lastly, both works emerge in a very close temporal connection, as I will argue in relation to the dating of Contra Eunomium below.

These considerable similarities and differences serve to highlight the advantage of this comparative study. For if the question is one of identifying common exegetical practices that are found among notionally ‘pro-Nicene’ authors, then similar documents by different authors, with different contexts and influences, would go a long way to demonstrating that one of the features that unites ‘Pro-Nicenes’ and indeed forms the basis for speaking about the abstract ‘pro-Nicenism’ as a thing, is precisely this shared exegetical practice.

[1] I prefer pro-Nicene to Nicene for the reasons that Ayres outlines his use of the term. Lewis Ayres, Nicaea and its Legacy: an approach to fourth-century Trinitarian theology (New York: OUP, 2004), 236-40.

Dichotomising the Fourth Century

There are two types of people in this world: those who dichotomise everything, and those that don’t.

 

Back when you took Church History 101 (You did take Church History 101??) you were told a story. It was a lying lie of a story in which the Orthodox were trundling along just fine until the Heretic Arius appeared out of nowhere, hoodwinked half the church, and the rest of the century was a battle between Athanasius (aka Gandalf) and the Arians (aka Hordes of Orcs) in which Orthodoxy prevailed. Or maybe you went to some new perspective college that taught you that Athanasius was the wicked witch of the West and suppressed all those vibrant diversities and is the source of Western Christendoms enduring penchant for violence and totalitarianism.

Either way, it’s a way of schematising the 4th century, and it flattens everything onto a single axis. Which is what we do, we carve up terrains and we tend to polarise theologians into opposites.

When I first read Ayres’ Nicaea and its Legacy it was a big bombshell, ‘There are no Arians!” Instead, there was a complexity to the period that required more (and more nuance). The problem with dichotomies is that they over-simplify, but the problem without dichotomies is that you can’t make sense of things. We want to categorise thinkers and groups of thinkers because it makes sense of them. So even as we realise that Arians vs. Orthodox is a defunct polarity, and so too is Eastern vs. Western (at least within the Greek-Roman context) as well as Antiochene vs Alexandrian, we keep coming up with other ways to try and categories the terrain of theology.

As far as my work goes, Khaled Anatolios has a pretty good summary of recent attempts in this area in his Retrieving Nicaea. He reviews Joseph Lienhard’s division between miahypostatic and dyohypostatic theologies. The problem with Lienhard’s dichotomy, apart from being a mouthful, is the weight it gives to hypostasis as the characterising distinction. The Ayres/Barnes approach, at least as Ayres works it out, is to talk about trends towards emphasising sameness and diversity between the Father and Son. This, of course, is problematically vague. Alternatively, in Nicaea Ayres works on a ‘Four Trajectories’ scheme which has the advantage of more complexity, but one of the great problems of complexity is that it reduces one’s ability to get a grasp on what’s going on.

(Of course, the “most” accurate mapping of the controvers(ies) would be to explore each individual author and their writings uniquely. But that is like having a map that is on a scale of 1:1, which is not a useful map at all! The whole point of having a map is to have something to navigate the actual terrain by, not to reproduce that terrain).

Anatolios’ own proposal is to situate the dichotomy as Unity of Being vs Unity of Will. Personally I think this is a persuasive schema for dichotomising all the theologies in play, though it’s not perfect.

In my own work I use the labels Pro-Nicene and Non-Nicene, generally. Pro-Nicene is helpful because, even though I recognise that certain theologians don’t necessarily depend nor derive their theology from/on Nicaea itself, they represent a trajectory that comes to be ‘pro’, i.e. favourably disposed to Nicaea as a solution and an expression of their broad theology that gets worked out, and from the post-Constantinopolitan perspective, such theologians get grouped together as ‘orthodox’ precisely in this element. Meanwhile, Non-Nicenes do not regard Nicaea so favourably, but neither are the defined by their opposition to Nicaea as a theological construct. At the same time, use of such labels to some extent sidesteps some of the questions that dichotomisation raises – ‘Pro-Nicenism’ is not, in this usage, a label for theological unity, but for ecclesio-political alignment.

When it comes down to it, the map of the theological terrain has to be more textured than a simple polarity. That’s the whole point of nuanced reading and research on these figures, to bring out their distinctives and show their differences instead of collapsing them into a single category. At the same time, dichotomisation, perhaps along several axes, helps to get one’s head around these groupings, their similarities and differences, which is just what the human mind does.

 

 

The New understandings in Greek, Part 4: Voice

This week we’re going to talk about voice in Greek and ‘deponency’. In some ways this is the most radical element of the new understandings, for those training in a traditional scheme. And yet, on the other hand, it is one of the elements about which there is the most consensus.

Here’s how traditional grammars tend to teach voice, overly simplified to what students normally take in.

Active voice refers to sentences where the Subject does the action of the verb.

I study the Greek language. (study is a verb in the active voice).

Passive voice refers to sentences where the Subject receives the action of the verb.

The Greek language is studied by me. (is studies is a verbal phrase in the passive voice).

So far so good, for English anyway. But when we take students to Greek we have the disconcerting problem that there appear, in some tense forms, to be not 2, but 3 voices.

The aorist, in particular, has three voice forms, traditionally labelled active, middle, and passive.

That middle voice is the one hardest for English speakers to grasp, and it’s often taught as ‘kind of in the middle between active and passive, with some idea of the Subject doing the action with some kind of respect to themselves and please figure it out from context.’

Then you have two more features that appear as problems: (1) Quite a few of the tense-forms, including the present, have no distinction between so called ‘middle’ and ‘passive’ forms. (2) Important verbs appear with a middle but no active voice form. ἔρχομαι is a very good example. Traditional grammars borrow from Latin and have called these deponents, meaning a verb that is active in meaning but uses a middle/passive form for the active.

This may well describe how you were taught Greek. Here are the bombshells if you’ve never heard this before:

  • The primary voice contrast in Greek is between ‘active’ and ‘middle’, not ‘active’ and ‘passive’.
  • There are no such thing as deponents.

I would say that the consensus, more or less, is that Greek developed with two voices, one of which we could call ‘active’, though ‘default’ or ‘common’ would also describe it. The focus, if there is any, is on the Subject rather than the action per se.

The second is the middle, which we could also call ‘subject involved’ or ‘subject affected’. The Subject is involved in the action in some way that affects themselves. The focus tends to shift from the subject to the action itself. The subject may or may not have an active role.

The passive, as a voice (not as a morphological set of forms) exists and develops as a subset of the Subject-Affected voice. It is one possibility for it.

Furthermore, the θη forms of the aorist are not strictly passives, and do not always ‘maintain clear boundaries’ between themselves and the aorist middle forms.

Forms that we have traditionally labelled ‘deponent’ did not lose an active, they generally never had one. They might in some cases develop active forms. But the reason they are ‘middle only’ or Subject Affected-voice only is because inherent in their meaning is something about subject-affectedness. To return to ἔρχομαι, it’s one of a number of movement verbs that ‘involve’ the subject in their own propulsion. That’s why the Greek language consistently treats it as middle.

Often this understanding of Greek voice is difficult to show in translation. Because however well you understand Greek voice, if you’re tasked with translation to English, you still have to translate into an English active or passive. So don’t feel like you somehow need to preserve ‘Subject-affectedness’ at all costs. You don’t.

But realising this about Greek voice opens up the possibility of understanding Greek better as Greek and reading middles more ‘naturally’. Get used to their Subject-Affectedness. Dwell in it. Learn to love it.

Two final things:

  • If you want a bit of a map to the different kinds of middle usage in Greek, here’s a link to my summary of Rutger Allen’s work.
  • If you want some further reading on the deponency issues, here’s a list:

The New understandings in Greek, Part 3: Aktionsart (revisited)

I’m going to have a second go at talking about Aktionsart.

I would begin by saying Aktionsart is simply a way of describing the type of action indicated by a predicate. As such ‘Aktionsart’ is a very wide-open term, no doubt contributing to its ambiguity.

We might talk about Aktionsart as inhering at three levels.

Firstly, the lexical Aktionsart would refer to the type of action indicated by a verbal lexeme. E.g., what ‘type’ of action is ‘walk’.

Secondly, we can talk about the pragmatic Aktionsart of a predicate in a sentence. E.g. [a] ‘John walked to the park on a sunny day’ or [b] ‘John used to walk in the rain for the past few years’.

Thirdly, we can talk about objective Aktionsart as the ‘reality’ of the predicate out there in the world apart from any utterances.

1 and 2 are clearly linked. But how they are linked is not so clear. I would put it this way: the lexeme allows and disallows various Aktionsarten. See more on this below. 2 and 3 are clearly linked as well, but at a philosophical level, not a linguistic one. Sentence [b] describes an iterative activity, but it is not the only way to describe an iterative activity, and recognising that an utterance about a (verbal) predicate is not the same thing as the reality of that predicate is a fundamental feature of modern linguistics (signifier/signified).

The reason it’s worth thinking about Aktionsart as the type of action indicated by a predicate is because verbs themselves can be modified, and so if we want to use ‘Aktionsart’ as our term to describe types of actions in actual sentences, then we need to shift to talking about predicates.

If you’re unfamiliar with the term predicate in this sense, let me explain and illustrate. In a clause (or sentence) there are two things: the Subject, and the Predicate. The Subject is what we are talking about. The Predicate is everything else, i.e. what we are saying about the Subject.

[a] John walked to the park on a sunny day

Subject: John

Predicate: walked to the park on a sunny day

In my previous post on Aktionsarten I went through a 6 category system of talking about predicates. The advantage of this system as opposed to the relatively open and ad hoc way of talking about various Aktionsarten, is that it is built on clearly defined polarities. Let me review it briefly here:

 

  Static? Dynamic? Telic? Punctual?
State +
Activity +
Accomplishment +
Semelfactive ± +
Achievement + +
Active Achievement + +

 

Here we have six categories, with four polarities. For every predicate we ask: is it a state? Is it dynamic? Is it telic? Is it punctual? The combination of these four permits identification in one of these six categories:

State: I am hungry.

  • a state indicates a condition, it has duration, but no end point, no dynamic element, and is not punctiliar.

Activity: I was writing.

  • an activity is not a condition, it is dynamic, but has no end point, and is continuing rather than instantanteous.

Accomplishment: I am writing a bog post in ten minutes.

  • an accomplishment, rather than an activity, has an end point, but has a duration.

Achievement: I had an idea

  • an achievement differs from an accomplishment in that it doesn’t have duration, but it does have an end point. The ‘idea’ is the outcome of the action, but it is instantaneous in realisation.

Active Achievement: I walked to the park.

  • the combination of an activity with an achievement is an active achievement. Here we have both an ongoing action that by itself has no end point, coupled with an end point (‘to the park’) that realises a change of state that is itself instantaneous (one moment I’m outside the park, next moment I’m in the park).

Semelfactive: I glistened in the sunlight (due to my glitter body paint).

  • a semelfactive represents an instantaneous or punctiliar occurance, that doesn’t involve an end point, and likewise doesn’t involve a change of state. Glistening, like flickering and other such events, occur as punctiliar, without duration, and without change of state.

 

Those six categories are workable, they are clear, and they are bounded by the polarities. They could, perhaps, be expanded, but not without showing clearly how and why they should do so (i.e. showing that there was a class of predicates that did not fit the six, or else subdividing existing classes based on an additional polarity).

This is why we can talk about the categories that a lexeme disallows while moving forward to a clausal level resolution of which category a predicate instantiates. For ‘walk’ can be an activity, but ‘walked to the park’ is an active achievement. As a lexeme ‘walk’ disallows State, Achievement, and Semelfactive. But it (at least to me) appears to allow Activity (I was walking), Active Achievement (I walked to the park), and Accomplishment (I walked a marathon in 8 hours). Note carefully how AA and Accomplishment differ: the former involves an instantaneous realisation of the change of state (outside/inside the park) which ends the activity, the latter involves a progressive accomplishing of an object (the marathon).

I think I’ve got all that right, and I trust that a linguist will show up and correct me if wrong.

So ‘walk’ allows three out of six categories, it is then at the level of predicate in a clause that one ought to determine which of these it is. This roughly aligns with Campbell’s suggestion of working from uncancellable semantics through to pragmatics in identifying the Aktionsart of a predicate, but with the modification of using a clear set of polarities to arrive at a bounded set of final categories.

What this doesn’t do is deal with such categories as ‘conative’ or ‘iterative’. I need some more thinking time to consider whether that’s important or not. The critical question is how those notions are indicated or marked in a language, how one determines that, and how one produces a classificatory scheme that adequately addresses it.

Okay, enough about Aktionsart, next time we’ll talk about Voice.

 

 

 

Review of Advances in the Study of New Testament Greek (C. Campbell)

This is a relatively short volume from Campbell, which can easily be read in a few days. It is pitched at what I would call the ‘Seminary and Biblical studies’ market. That is, seminarians, pastors, and others involved in biblical studies at a degree level or higher. It generally doesn’t reach the depth needed to engage those already involved in Greek scholarship at a significant level, though depending on their area of expertise, some elements of Campbell’s book will be of interest. It is, on the whole, very introductory in its level.

The book grew out of Campbell’s class Advanced Topics in Biblical Greek and Exegesis which he taught at Moore Theological College. Although I was there for some of the time Campbell taught there, he did not start this class until after I had finished, so I did not have the benefit of that. I have had some association with Campbell in the past though.

The book contains 10 main chapters, including a (quite) brief combined history of Greek studies and Linguistics to the present day (1); an overview of the field of Linguistics (2); Lexical semantics; the Middle Voice; Aspect and Aktionsart; Idiolect, Genre and Register; two chapters on Discourse Analysis; a chapter on pronunciation issues; and a chapter on pedagogy.

The first chapter is quite brief, and very introductory, but it does do its best to set up the rest of the book. For those with little knowledge of a history of either Greek scholarship or Linguistics, it will give them a sense of the field that the rest of the book builds upon. But it does not pretend to do more than that, and it doesn’t. However, I don’t want to fault Campbell for not doing things he wasn’t trying to.

I will critique the introduction to chapter 2 though. Campbell distinguishes between ‘the study of language and the study of linguistics’ (emphasis his), and quite rightly. But, and I will return to this point under chapter 10, the way that the traditional method of grammar-translation teaches is in fact to teach about language, not to teach language. In this, I would disagree that ‘Language study is simply the study of the “content” of a particular language’, precisely because there is a large gap between what’s going on in biblical Greek studies programs, and what anybody else in language education thinks language study is. Of course, this is one of my hobby horses, so let’s move on.

Campbell’s overview of Linguistics in general is relatively good, though I think his own preference for Functional Linguistics tends him to treat Generative Linguistics too briefly and set it aside too quickly.

For anyone unfamiliar with Lexical Semantics and Lexicography, chapter 3 is not a bad introduction. but it is a relatively brief chapter and amounts to little more than ‘lexicography is hard and a lot of it has been poorly done’ alongside ‘people don’t really understand how hard it is and have a bunch of unexamined fallacious ideas about meaning and lexemes’. Both of which are true and need to be fixed! I suppose my complaint is that there was simply not more content in this chapter.

Chapter 4 turns to deponency and the middle voice. This chapter looks briefly at the history of the discussion, and notes the contribution of major authors to dismantling the idea of deponency, and more importantly reconfiguring our whole notion of the voice system in Greek. This is truly an area where there is an ‘advance’ – there is a considerable consensus on the core issue that there isn’t such a thing as deponency, and quite a bit of consensus about how to reconfigure our understanding of the active vs. middle voice dichotomy. Helpfully, Campbell includes some discussion of remaining issues in this area towards the end of the chapter, ‘mixed deponents’ and ‘passive deponents’. Indeed, working out these two areas will greatly clarify our understanding both of voice in Ancient Greek, and of diachronic changes in the language.

Campbell’s own main area of scholarly work in Greek linguistics has been in dealing with (Verbal) Aspect and Aktionsart, and so it’s not surprise that chapter 5, on this topic, is the longest, most in-depth, and probably best-written section of the book.

Here, Campbell carefully delineates the distinctions between tense, aspect, and Aktionsart. He then offers, again, a brief history of contributions to the issue. Campbell surveys debate over whether tense per se is cancellable or uncancellable (semantic vs pragmatic), and then moves on to outline the dominant understandings of the Perfect tense-form (Traditional, Fanning, Porter, Campbell).

All this is pretty fine. I want to critique some of the next section, in which Campbell offers a compact version of his simplified method for dealing with Aspect and Aktionsart drawing from his Basics of Verbal Aspect in Biblical Greek. To summarise, this involves a four step process:

  1. Identify semantics: aspect? spatial value?
  2. Lexeme: punctiliar? stative? transitive? etc.?
  3. Context
  4. Work out Aktionsart.

I have a few problems with this. And my first issue is that we need to talk about verbs and predicates more clearly. A verbal lexeme, I would suggest, allows and disallows a range of predicate possibilities:

John walked, John was walking, John walked to the park.

‘walk’ is not stative. That’s a feature of the lexeme. It’s uncancellable and its semantic. But ‘walked’ and ‘was walking’ are both activities, while ‘walked to the park’ is an active achievement. The addition of ‘to the park’ modifies the verb, so that the whole predicate becomes telic. In sentence (3) ‘walked’ is the verb, but ‘walked to the park’ is the predicate.

My point is that steps 2 and 3 of Campbell’s approach need to be integrated better, because the semantics of verbal lexemes are not enough to establish Aktionsart, they must be integrated directly with other elements of the context to establish the Aktionsart of the predicate, not the verb alone.

My other criticism is that Campbell considers ‘Aktionsart’ to be a description of the type of action ‘out there in the world’, so objectively. It’s not that I necessarily disagree with this, but I suspect more nuancing of how Aktionsart itself is a term susceptible of various meanings would help.

Chapter 6 deals with Idiolect, Genre, and Register. This is another relatively brief chapter, which mainly serves to introduce these terms and concepts to those totally unfamiliar with them. it does that, but not much more, and I am not sure the introductory student of this level will necessarily know what they should do with this information, except read the Further Reading suggestions.

The fact that two whole chapters are dedicated to Discourse Analysis demonstrate its importance as one area of emerging work in Greek studies. The first chapter deals with Halliday in particular, and gives a reasonably good overview of Halliday’s approach to DA. If I had a criticism of this chapter it’s that Campbell repeatedly draws attention to the fact that Halliday and Hasan’s approach has yet to be properly applied to Greek, or Koine Greek in particular. I suspect the reader will end this chapter wondering why Halliday’s approach is so significant and what value it has, particularly since coherence and cohesion are yet to appear as particularly interesting topics to most of those engaged in exegesis.

The second of these chapters focuses on Levinsohn and Runge, work much closer to home for most Greek students/scholars. Campbell’s chapter offers a fairly thorough and condensed overview of both of these authors, and again I am left wondering why, but for a different reason. Essentially, Campbell works through Runge’s Discourse Grammar in a chapter overview manner, much like this review. Wouldn’t it have been better to perhaps overview a little more, and provide some pointed examples, and convince the reader that they needed to read Runge, rather than what Campbell does, which is overview, exemplify, and give a virtual contents list of Runge’s whole Discourse Grammar? My second criticism of this chapter is that the main problem that Campbell raises, from Porter, with Levinsohn and Runge is that they are mainly confined to the sentence level, rather than larger discourse blocks. This is a weak criticism, because it is really just a complaint that their work didn’t do something else which it wasn’t doing anyway. Both scholars readily acknowledge the need to move from what they have done so far, to larger units in the work of Discourse Analysis. This is a mis-aimed criticism.

Some will wonder why a whole chapter of this volume needed to be given over to pronunciation, but Campbell is right that it has been a hot topic for a little while among Greek scholars. He gives a historical treatment of how the Erasmian pronunciation came about, the evidence against it for Koine, and a presentation of Lee’s reconstruction of Koine Greek, ‘essentially that of Modern Greek’ (p198). I would have liked Campbell to more clearly outline the three positions of Erasmian, Reconstructed Koine (Buth, et alii), and modern (Caragounis, Lee, et alii), but he treats Buth as virtually modern.

There’s no doubt in my mind that Erasmian should be abandoned, and there is virtual agreement amongst scholars in the field, as evidenced at the 2011 SBL conference. It is very difficult to defend the continuing practice of Erasmian, despite Wallace’s best efforts to do so on the grounds of ‘convenience’.

The final chapter deals with ‘Teaching and Learning Greek’, obviously a field I have long had an interest in and have a bunch of informed, but quite firm, opinions about. Campbell demonstrates some familiarity with emergent approaches in the field, including ‘fresh ideas for traditional methods’, and the contrast with what he calls ‘Immersion method’. Personally, I don’t think that’s the best descriptor for Communicative based methods, but it’s not terrible. I disagree that this movement traces its roots to French immersion for English-speaking Canadians in the 1960s, this is a rather truncated history of second language acquisition theory and application, and somewhat erroneous (I’m not doubting that it happened, I’m just doubting that this is the origin of communicative approaches overall); I suspect this is because of the choice to think of this methodology as primarily about ‘immersion’.

Campbell treats Buth primarily, as the best known representative in this field, with some awareness of Halcomb, and draws on material from Daniel Streett on his blog. All good sources, but again this appears to be a field where Campbell is not himself well educated, and so there is some deficiency, i would say, in his depth of knowledge of the area of SLA.

His main criticism is the difficulty in making this work on a large scale, and on a long scale. It is the critique of ‘this is too idealistic’, but also a hope that maybe it could possibly work.

The last section of this chapter deals with Greek retention, with a nod to Campbell’s own book Keep your Greek: Strategies for Busy People, a volume that I am still bewildered every became a print book, since it’s more or less a glorified collection of blog posts with a bunch of hints that you could probably brainstorm yourself if you had some time. I’m not sure this section adds much to this book either, since it appears to be a description of the other books contents and a mild plug to buy it and keep reading Greek.

Overall, Campbell has succeeded in this volume to do what he set out to – introduce some issues of current Greek scholarship to those who ought to know about them but perhaps do not and furthermore, need a helping hand to even start to approach these areas. However the book as a whole lacks some depth, and parts of it appear too cursory, perhaps too surface overall. Campbell’s book is to be applauded for indeed finding and filling a hole, and we can only hope that these areas of research reach a broader audience.

State of the Projects, October 2015

Wow, September. It went by.

Mongolia

I spent the first two weeks of the month over in Mongolia. It was a busy trip, though perhaps a little less busy socially than my last one in April. I taught a small Masters’ class, taking them through selected portions of Luke’s gospel in Greek. Overall it went quite well. My Mongolian is definitely getting worse, and this was frustrating for me at times, to not be able to express myself as fluently as I’d like or as I’d previously been able. I also had occasion to preach three times, and was able to join in the celebration of the seminary’s 20th anniversary. A good time all round. I was sick for 10 days though.

Thesis

Since my return I have settled directly into a steady work-focus. Each day I set aside the first portion of the day to directly working on the thesis, and in the last two weeks, that means I’ve written 6653 words of what I think will be chapter 3. Right now it’s labelled chapter 6. I’ve been analysing every scriptural reference that Basil makes in Against Eunomius (284 of them), under three major types, and so far I’ve completed one of those three sub-types (the smallest one, roughly 15% of references). However, I’d say it’s on track and going well. I should have most of Basil completed by the end of the year, leaving Hilary for the start of next year, and scheduled to complete on time.

Patristic Readers

Not much progress here, though in the last two weeks I’ve begun to set aside some time to move my current texts forward. Hopeful (as always), that this month can finally sort out the cover and move volume one to print.

Other

Not too much else going on project-wise. I’ve scaled back a little bit of my tutoring, which is helping focus on the thesis. I’ve got two journal articles I’m working up over the next month or so. I’d like to get back to some other fun things like a Greek Reader, but these things take time and leisure and most of my leisure is spent either in the gym so I don’t go crazy in the office, or trying to master French and German before my candidacy finishes so that I don’t seem like an ignorant PhD graduate who only reads English literature.

The New understandings in Greek, Part 2: Aktionsart

So last time I talked about the shift from thinking about Greek as tense based/focused to aspect focused. Another term that you can hear a lot about these days is Aktionsart.

But what is Aktionsart?

The bad news is that people use this term in different ways. The word Aktionsart means ‘type of action’. So we’re interested in what type of action a verb is describing.

The main disjunct is that Aktionsart is sometimes used for the type of action embedded in the meaning of a word. This is Lexical Aktionsart. Here’s an example: eating a pizza. This action has a natural endpoint (when all the pizza is gone and in my belly). Compare, sitting at my desk. ‘sitting’ does not have a natural endpoint. I could sit at my desk forever. Lexical Aktionsart is invariant, and it’s probably more common to talk about Aktionsart as Lexical Aktionsart outside the Greek grammar world.

Sometimes Aktionsart is used to describe Aspect. This is a problem in some older Grammars, and is mainly just a terminology confusion. If you encounter this, just be clear about what the Author is actually discussing.

Thirdly, Aktionsart can be used to describe the ‘type of action’ “as it happens out there in the real world”. I.e., the action that our words are talking about, as an external, objective, action, what sort of action is/was it?

Lexical Aktionsart and this third type of Aktionsart are considerably different: L.Ak is intrinsic to the word (lexeme). This third type, which at least for today I’m going to call ‘Objective Aktionsart’, depends primarily on the action/event itself, and has to be figured out from context. But then there’s a kind of fourth way of talking about Aktionsart that is (1) Lexical Aktionsart possibilities + (2) Aspect and Tense-Form + (3) Usage in a clause/context = (4) ‘Aktionsart’. This I would call something like pragmatic Aktionsart. It’s an analysis of ‘type of action’ conducted post-factum once you put together everything you know about the verb and its context.

So, how do we get to some actual Aktionsarten?

Vendler classified verbs into four categories:

  1. Activity: has duration but no end point (progressive, atelic): I am sitting
  2. Accomplishment: has duration and end point (progressive, telic): I am writing a blog post
  3. Achievement: no duration but has an end point (instantaneous, telic): I had an idea
  4. State: has duration but not a process

You can often test whether a verb/clause works for a category by the type of adverbial phrase you can add:

Activity: I sat for 10 years (duration of time without a telos)

Accomplishment: I wrote a blog post in 10 minutes (fixed duration of time with end point)

Achievement: I had an idea at 2:37am (specific instant of time)

But wait… what about something that has no duration, and is also atelic? Bernard Comrie came up with a category for this: semelfactive. This includes actions like ‘sneeze’ and ‘knock’. They are instantaneous but they do not have an ‘end’ per se. Another way to put this is that the difference between an achievement and a semelfactive is that the former has involves a change of state (idea-lessness, idea+fullness), whereas the latter does not (before and after I sneeze, I am still in the same condition of being).

Another category is added in RRG (Role and reference grammar), ‘active achievements’; one does this by creating a complex or compound, i.e. by taking an activity and adding an end point:

Mike Aubrey wrote for months    – Activity

Mike Aubrey wrote a thesis – Active Achievement

(I use Aubrey because that’s where I stole the last category from in writing this post) So now we’re up to six categories.

 

  Static? Dynamic? Telic? Punctual?
State +
Activity +
Accomplishment +
Semelfactive ± +
Achievement + +
Active Achievement + +

 

Okay, so that’s a linguistics-derived model of Aktionsart. How does this feed into Koine Greek grammar?

What I tend to see in writing about Greek grammar is a kind of blend of lexical, pragmatic, and objective Aktionsart. This is confusing! For example, two Aktionsarten often mentioned are iterative and conative. These are repeated actions, and attempted actions, respectively. These certainly aren’t (usually) lexical Aktionsarten; they can be objective Aktionsarten. Usually they are talked about as pragmatic Aktionsarten. What’s a poor student to do?

Here’s the type of list you might encounter among Greek grammarians:

  1. Conative: The action was attempted but not accomplished. (from the Latin conari, to try, attempt, endeavour). ex. I tried to study (Greek grammar, but it was too hard)
  2. Gnomic: The action is universal/timeless/generic. ex. Those that study, learn.
  3. Ingressive: The action began and is in progress. (Latin ingredi, to undertake, begin) . Ex. I began to study.
  4. Iterative: The action occurs repeatedly (though not constantly). (Latin, iterare, to repeat, redo) I keep studying Greek (to no avail).
  5. Progressive: The action is in progress. Ex. I am studying Greek (fruitlessly)
  6. Punctiliar: The action is presented as instantaneously done. I handed in that exam paper.
  7. Summary: The action is presented as a unitary or summary action. I studied Greek.

Some of these categories are pragmatic, but not all.

Take home value for the Greek reader:

  1. It’s really important that you understand the difference between Lexical Aktionsart and ‘pragmatic’ Aktionsart. Lex.Ak. is all about the lexeme, about the level of the word. It doesn’t change. Because it’s lexical. It’s actually better to think about Lexical Aktionsart as a range of possibilities, because a single verb (such as to study) can have different Aktionsarten depending on how it’s used:

A: I have been studying Greek all year. – Activity.

B: I studied this Greek text book. – Accomplishment.

But at the same time there are some Aktionsarten that to study cannot have. For example ‘study’ is not stative.

  1. So you need to think through what’s inherent to the word, and what is variable.
  2. Then you need to think through the use of the word in a clause and context. In Greek, this is going to mean considering the aspect and the tense-form, and the modifiers if any, and the context of the clause. All of these are going to shape how you understand the ‘objective occurrence in the world’ that the utterance is referring to.
  3. Only then can you really slap some kind of Aktionsart label onto something like ‘conative’ or ‘iterative’.

This is why I said at the start you can almost ignore Aktionsart. Aktionsart doesn’t actually tell you anything, it helps you articulate what you ought to already know. It gives you a set of categories and a grid of perception to think through what is actually being described, i.e. the ‘type of action’. And then, when you’ve thought that process through, you have a label to stick on it. But Aktionsart is not a category that actually gets you there – it’s not like tense-form or aspect or even person, number, mood, etc..

To put this another way, if I tell you something is perfective or imperfective, it changes how you look at that verb and think about it. If I tell you its Aktionsart, I haven’t told you anything that you couldn’t put together from the pieces of the puzzle in the first place, and so you haven’t necessarily gained any new information. Pragmatic Aktionsart is a post-factum description of what’s going on once you know what’s going on, not a prior piece of working out what’s going on.

I’m not sure I’ve really quite succeeded in this post to explain Aktionsart in a way that’s clear and accessible. I might need to give it another go. Let me know how this helped you or didn’t.

The New understandings in Greek, Part 1: Verbs, Aspect and Tense

A couple of people asked me how to go about getting up to speed on the ‘newer ways’ of talking about Ancient Greek that have become current in the last few years. In this and subsequent posts I will try my best to provide a relatively accessibly explanation of the major shifts in some of these areas, particularly for those who were trained in Koine Greek in traditional classes and are mostly used to older terminology.

This week we’re talking about the Greek verbal system.

If you pick up a traditional grammar textbook, the presentation of Greek verbs tends to break things down primarily by tenses: Present, Imperfect, Aorist, Future, Perfect, Pluperfect. Often introduced in that order too (The future gets moved around a little bit). Basically you’re taught to treat these like English tenses, with some minor modifications:

Present = English General Present & Present Continuous

Imperfect = English Past Continuous (and Past General)

Aorist = English Simple Past (and gets talked about as ‘punctiliar’, even ‘once for all’)

Future = English Future

Perfect = English Past Perfect (have verbed) (and gets talked about as ‘past with present consequences)

Pluperfect = English Further Past Perfect (had verbed)

There are advantages to this system: it actually works reasonably well as a short-hand guide for translation. It also makes things readily accessible to someone who only knows English.

But, there are several problems with this approach. Firstly, it does a very poor job of explaining tense-choice outside the indicative. Secondly, it is the outcome of an attempt to impose a Latinate grammar structure onto Greek. And that’s not good for Greek. As a Latinist, let me say this isn’t Latin’s fault. In English textbooks, it is often the relic of having tried to impose Latin grammatical categories onto English (also a bad way to do English grammar) and then onto Greek.

Introducing Aspect

Somewhere along the line grammarians woke up and realised linguistics existed. And that Latin was not the ur-language of the heavens (Gaelic is). And that other languages functioned with a category that we call Aspect. Aspect, as you can tell if you think about the word itself, is about how you view the action. In languages that have aspect, one reasonably common dichotomy is between a perfective and imperfective aspect.

perfective aspect means looking at the action as a whole, from an exterior viewpoint, as a complete entity

imperfective aspect means looking at the action in process, from an internal viewpoint, as an ongoing entity.

Both of these are choices of the speaker in describing the action, not features of the action itself. I can describe the same reality in two ways. For example,

  1. I studied Greek
  2. I was studying Greek

Sentence 1 is perfective, it describes this action as a whole, complete entity. Sentence 2 is imperfective, it describes this action as an ongoing process. This has nothing to do with tense.

Now, the closer we looked at Greek, the more we realised that Aspect was far more important to Greek than grammatical time (tense), and that the way Greek organised itself made Aspect (a) more fundamental, (b) not optional. By ‘not optional’ I mean that every time you use a Greek verb, you make a choice about aspect, you must make a choice about aspect. You don’t have to make choices about time.

As a consequence, the categories we call ‘tenses’ are not always tenses. That’s why you see a shift to calling them ‘tense-forms’, to highlight that they are forms more than simply tenses.

So we can reorganise those Greek verbs based on their aspect:

Perfective: Aorist

Imperfective: Present, Imperfect

Great, except this is only 3 out of 6 tenses. What about the other 3?

The perfect and pluperfect, when viewed in terms of aspect, turn out not to be perfective or imperfective but something else. And there isn’t consensus about how to describe that. It’s not helped that now we have some real terminological confusion: we’re talking about the ‘perfect’ tense-form, but it’s not perfective in aspect! One, fairly common, approach is to call it ‘stative’ in aspect, i.e. referring to a state of being. Con Campbell’s hypothesis is that both are actually imperfective, but that the perfect tense-form has ‘heightened proximity’ and the pluperfect tense-form has ‘heightened remoteness’. Personally, I’m persuaded by Mike Aubrey’s recent thesis, in which he says, ‘the perfect aspect refers to internal temporal structure that is either completed (completive) or exists as achieved state (resultative). It is inherently telic and will either assign an endpoint to a situation or event or denote the resultant state of that situation or event. As such, the perfect is both telic and bounded.’ (Appendix B, p199). That’s a bit complex and you can let it go over your head for now.

So there’s relative consensus that the perfect and pluperfect are doing their own thing, but there’s some discussion about what that thing is.

What about the future? Again, there’s some discussion, though generally the drift seems to be towards seeing the future tense-form as properly time significant before it’s aspectual. That is, because what demarcates the future is its time reference, there aren’t two or three different aspects for the future, there’s just the future that incorporates whatever aspect for the future tense.

What does this mean for the average Joe?

  1. It’s more important for Greek verbs to think about their aspect, before you think about their tense.
  2. Tense is almost always marked either by (a) the presence of the augment (i.e. usually the ἐ augment or its counterpart), or (b) determined contextually by things like adverbs or other indicators.
  3. The significance of choosing a tense-form lies first in considering its aspect, not in notions like ‘once for all’, ‘past with present consequences’, etc., which are almost always misleading suggestions.

 

Did this help you? Could something be explained better? Do you want to correct something I’ve said? Let me know in the comments below.

Next time I’ll talk about Aktionsart and why you can mostly ignore it most of the time.

 

 

 

An (incomplete) guide to Journals in Patristics

One of the difficulties of Patristics as a field is that there are not many journals, and it is not necessarily so easy to get a sense of what journals there are. Certainly, compared to say New Testament studies, it is difficult.

In this post I have tried to compile an annotated list of journals that I’m aware of in the field. I would welcome your input to improve and expand this post into a useful resource for those entering the field. So please let me know what I’ve missed, and any details I should add.

 

Journal of Early Christian Studies

JECS is the official journal of the North American Patristics Society, and is one of the premier journals that focuses on the area of Patristics. It is published quaterly by John Hopkins University Press. Submission Guidelines here, and Editorial board here.

Vigiliae Christianae

Is the other flagship English-language journal for the field. It is published by Brill, and accepts articles in English, French, or German.

*Studia Patristica

Studia Patristica is something of a Hybrid. Since 1955 it has published conference papers from the four-yearly Oxford Patristics conference, but those papers are peer-reviewed, so it is not exactly ‘conference proceedings’ simpliciter. It is published by Peeters. A companion imprint, Studia Patristica Supplements, publishes monographs in the field.

Zeitschrift für antikes Christentum (Journal of Ancient Christianity)

A tri-annual published by De Gruyter, with articles in German, English, French, or Italian. A particular focus on interdisciplinary work on Christianity in Antiquity.

Journal of Ecclesiastical History

Published by Cambridge University Press, a quarterly that is very highly regarded. Article length no longer than 8000 words. The scope of the journal is not strictly limited to Late Antiquity, but the breadth of Church History.

Church History

Put out quarterly by the American Society of Church History, but published by CUP, this is more or less the US equivalent to the Journal of Ecclesiastical History (see above). Submission details can be found from this page. Article length is 6-11,000 words, so on the longer end of journal submissions.

Journal of Theological Studies

Published by Oxford University Press, twice a year. Has a fairly broad scope. Length of article is also is quite broad too

Journal of Roman Studies

JRS is another Cambridge publication. Its focus is less from the theological slant, but its diverse focus on Roman history and Latin literature provides some scope for Patristics.

American Benedictine Review

A quarterly published by the American Benedicitine Review..

Harvard Theological Review

HTR is published quarterly, also handled by CUP on behalf of Harvard. Significantly, they will not accept articles that “will likely be published as part of a book within the next three years or so”, so not a place for articles that will turn into chapters. On the other hand, their OA policy is not too bad. The purview of the journal is Theology fairly broadly, but Patristics finds its place.

Studia Monastica

Published by Publicacions de l’Abadia de Montserrat, a European journal with a focus on monastic studies, accepts articles in a number of languages.

Theological Studies

Published by the Society of Jesus, out of Marquette University. No strict submission length, but guidelines suggest ca. 10,000 words.

Catholic Historical Review

Published by CUA Press, this is the journal of the American Catholic Historical Association. Publishes across the breadth of church history.

Scottish Journal of Theology

Also published by CUP. Average word length of 5-6000, with a hard limit of 8000. Bills itself as an ecumenical forum, covering systematic, historical and biblical theology.

Augustinian Studies

From the Augustinian Institute at Villanova University. Unsurprisingly, the focus of this journal is Augustine of Hippo, and articles focused on him, or at least topics related to him. Articles 4-8000 words.

Journal of Theological Interpretation

Published by Eisenbraums, twice a year. Started in 2007, focuses on issues related to the intersection between hermeneutics and interpretation, and the recent turn to ‘theological interpretation’, which opens up many fruitful conversation possibilities for Patristics and exegesis. Standard article length up to 7,500, but submissions up to 10,000 considered.

The Patristic and Byzantine Review

Published by the American Institute for Patristic and Byzantine Studies. I can’t find any current information for this, it may have ceased publication. The most recent volume appears to be 2012.

 

State of the Projects, September 2015

I see that I haven’t written one of these for awhile. Not too much to report just at present.

PhD

Is going along well, though it could be going moreso. July was a productive month, and the start of August was not bad either, though things became more focused on writing the paper for Oxford Patristics. That was a helpful experience (writing the paper), as it also crystallised a few things not just about content but about approach and methodology that will be useful going on.

Patristic Readers

Sorry, nothing to report here. My ability to allot time here has been undercut by other concerns. This very day though I will finish up a small piece of administration that hopefully will move the print volume forward in its timeline.

Looking ahead

I’m off to Mongolia for another 2 weeks, which at this stage is quite a chunk of time. I’ve laid out my best plans to resume activities quickly on my return, including a timeline for completing draft chapters, as well as a small amount of dedicated time for Patristic Readers.

 

Academia as an Honour/Shame society

It’s blindingly obvious that Academia runs as a microcosmic honour/shame society because the one thing that ranks just below actual scholarship in scholars’ concern is prestige or honour as accorded them by their peers.

This is what drives almost all academic endeavours (beyond the actual desire to study): conference papers, journal and monograph publishing, etc..

Every act of publishing is an attempt to gain the symbolic capital of prestige among academic peers, via an act of heroism, which is the public display of scholarly prowess.

In conference format, this is open to ‘counter-claims’, where others offer criticism, questions, push-back which can provide the initiator with further opportunities to demonstrate prowess and thus increase their prestige. Alternatively, failure to respond well to interaction will render their attempt to gain honour into a shameful dismantling of their scholarly prowess, and so a loss of honour, with some corresponding gain in prestige to the interlocutor.

In journal format, the initiator likewise places forth a piece of scholarship in order to gain social prestige from their peers. The more prestigious the journal, the more honour accumulates to the scholar.

The monograph likewise, though on a greater scale. The monograph, however, invites more extended interaction in the form of reviews, etc., which provide the opportunity for counter-claims and rebuttals. However the sheer prestige-gain of a monograph usually outweighs the risk of publishing (prestige wise, not economically/monetarily).

Understanding academia in this respect also helps make sense of why academics trade off their intellectual labours to publishing houses that sell their works in closed access formats for ridiculous sums: academics trade their capital for social prestige from their peers, with a socially calculated disdain for market economics. Publishers trade on that disdain to fund their business model.

One should also remember that prestige and quality are not synonymous. Prestige operates as a short-hand calculator for quality: i.e. scarcity economics means that in theory the best material ends up in the best journals, presses, etc., but in reality the system is rigged to social-networks that promote internally correlated scholars and scholarship, so that quality and prestige may actually be divorced from each other. A top-quality scholar who is not socially connected lacks the pre-requisite social capital to gain the prestige that their work ‘deserves’.

More scattered reflections from Oxford

I hope you don’t mind these rambling conference dispatches:

Day 3 at Oxford Patristics. I enjoyed some interesting papers on Gregory of Nyssa. It’s always tricky at a conference to go to papers that are not directly tied to your interests, but are tied enough that you will (hopefully) learn something new and broaden your understanding. Hearing a paper that quite directly touches on your interests, that’s a rare find!

I went to one paper about the debates among Evangelicals over Eternal Functional Subordinationism, which was (and still is a bit) a hot topic for some sectors of Evangelicals. This paper was looking at how accurately both sides have read Augustine. I had hoped for more from it, I didn’t learn anything I didn’t already know.

I spent some more time with the Digital Humanities session, and then sat around with a few powerhouses of DH afterwards. It was fascinating and enlightening to listen to them bounce ideas of each other in this intersection of geekdom and humanities/classics/patristics.

One of the great things about conferences is those moments when you realise that (most?) scholars are just like you: whenever one thinks about one’s own work there are many caveats, insecurities, and sense that it’s only barely ‘just there’; whenever you think about someone else’s, you assume there is this huge wealth and depth of knowledge of everything that backs it up. No, usually they’re just barely there like you. It’s comforting. I mean, sometimes there is a vast knowledge of everything, and that’s both scary and good. And sometimes there’s people who act like they have a vast repository of all knowledge, and you should just not worry about those people and move on with your life.

Part of me feels like I could write a series of posts deconstructing imperial and academic culture and empire of Americans, but this is probably not the time or the place.

Here are things that make conference life better (not just this one):

Presenters:

  1. Have a clear structure to your paper
  2. Have a clear handout for your paper
  3. Talk loudly, at a measured pace, with confidence
  4. If English is not your native language, speaking softly will not improve this problem.
  5. Respect your audience. They choose to give their precious attention and time to listen to your obscure and not-really-relevant-topic paper (all papers are like this, in the end. If it was universally relevant you would have written a monograph already and done a book tour).

Audience:

  1. Don’t shift to let people through to a seat, move over so they can sit where you are.
  2. Don’t leave unnecessary empty seats – they’re unnecessary!
  3. Do your absolute utmost for the cause of silence. Of course some noise is unavoidable throughout the whole conference area, but noise accumulates quickly. Whether in a session or out, keep quiet.
  4. If you don’t have a good question, don’t ask it. We don’t need your soapbox issue.

 

More rambling tomorrow, or the next day!