The Bible of the Greeks

Like the choosing of the books themselves, the why and wherefore of the LXX is murky.  Although the books are (mostly) the same as the Hebrew canon, they were re-ordered in the LXX, and this order is our modern order.  For instance, Chronicles used to be the last book, but the LXX moved it to after Kings.  Partly this is because the Hebrew books were written on scrolls, while the LXX was written in codex form (basically a bound book: more on this next week), and order doesn’t really matter when the whole is stored loosely in a box, rather than bound together in a book.  In addition, the LXX added a number of books that are not part of the Hebrew canon: 1 Esdras, Judith, Tobit, Esther (with much extra), Wisdom, Eccliasticus, Psalm 151, the Book of Baruch, the Letter of Jeremiah (aka chapter 6 of Baruch), Daniel with extras, and 1-4 Maccabees.  These are known as the deuterocanonical books, or the Apocrypha.  Unfortunately there is no record in history explaining why they were added.

Although so much is unknown about the translation of the Septuagint, it was widely used by Jesus’ day, and both Jesus and his disciples often quoted from it.  For instance, when Jesus was asked about what the children were saying in Mt 21:6, he responded by quoting Psalm 8:2, but his quotes are not quite the same as in the Old Testament.  This is because he quoted from the LXX translation, not from the original Hebrew.  Likewise, when Stephen presented his defense before the Jewish Sanhedrin in Acts 7, he quoted heavily from the Old Testament, but from the LXX.  There are many more examples, both in the New Testament and in extra-biblical letters to and from Christians: clearly the early Christians were very comfortable relying on the LXX as the word of God, despite the changes and unknowns in its origin.

In fact, the early Christians used the LXX so heavily that it practically became a Christian book, to the annoyance of the Jews.  For instance, Christians loved to use Isaiah 7:14 (“Therefore the Lord Himself will give you a sign: Behold, a virgin will be with child and bear a son…”) and apply it to Jesus: in Hebrew, it says that an almah shall conceive and bear a son.  An almah is a young woman, not necessarily a virgin.  But the LXX translated it as parthenos, which specifically means virgin.  After the LXX became popular among Christians, the Jews re-translated the verse to use neanis, which means maiden, or young women, not necessarily a virgin.  But the original Jewish translators, before there was any controversy, understood the prophecy to refer to a virgin----which makes much more sense, since it is hardly noteworthy for a sexually active young woman to conceive and bear a son.

It wasn't Greek to them: 72 elders of the Septuagint

Long before Jesus’ time, many Jews had been scattered across the Greek-speaking world, and needed their scriptures in Greek instead of Hebrew and Aramaic.  So sometime around 282 B.C Greek-speaking Jews began translating the Old Testament into Greek, an effort that was completed by about 132 B.C.  According to Jewish legend, it was written by 72 elders who translated the entire Pentateuch---the first five books of the Old Testament---in just 72 days.  Those 72 elders gave their name to the work: Septuagint comes from the Latin title versio septuaginta interpretum ("translation of the seventy interpreters").  Yes, just to be confusing: the work of Jewish elders who translated Hebrew into Greek has a Latin name!  And to be even more confusing, it is usually abbreviated as “the LXX”, which is the Roman numerals for “70”.  70, not 72 (which would be LXXXII).  Don’t ask.

The Christian apologist Justin Martyr explained the origins of the LXX:

[The Egyptian king] Ptolemy […] sent for seventy wise men from Jerusalem, who were acquainted with both the Greek and Hebrew language, and appointed them to translate the books; and that in freedom from all disturbance they might the more speedily complete the translation, he ordered that there should be constructed, not in the city itself, but seven stadia off (where the Pharos was built), as many little cots as there were translators, so that each by himself might complete his own translation; and enjoined upon those officers who were appointed to this duty, to afford them all attendance, but to prevent communication with one another, in order that the accuracy of the translation might be discernible even by their agreement. And when he ascertained that the seventy men had not only given the same meaning, but had employed the same words, and had failed in agreement with one another not even to the extent of one word, but had written the same things, and concerning the same things, he was struck with amazement, and believed that the translation had been written by divine power, and perceived that the men were worthy of all honor, as beloved of God; and with many gifts ordered them to return to their own country.  

                Oratory Address to the Greeks, 13

              

Justin was repeating a story first found in an older letter called the Letter of Aristeas, which is widely regarded as pseudo-history today.  But the important point is not exactly how many people did the translating, but that it was done at all, and that it was important enough that legends grew up around it.  In short, long before Jesus was born but late in the history of the Jews, they chose to translate their scriptures from Hebrew and Aramaic into Greek, and the result of their work is called the Septuagint, which is abbreviated LXX.  In the next post I’ll talk about the LXX itself and whether it was accepted by Jesus and his apostles (spoiler: it was), and how it affected the make-up of our modern Bible.

Peering Through the Mists of Time

The canon of the Hebrew Bible---what Christians know as the Old Testament---was settled (also known as “closed”) so long ago that the exact details have been lost. We do know, however, that it consisted of 22 books, which were collected into the Torah, the Prophets, and the Writings.

The best commentary on the canon of the Old Testament comes from the Jewish historian Josephus (who lived from 37-100 A.D.):

We have but twenty-two books containing the history of all time, books that are justly believed in; and of these, five are the books of Moses, which comprise the law and earliest traditions from the creation of mankind down to his death. From the death of Moses to the reign of Artaxerxes, King of Persia, the successor of Xerxes, the prophets who succeeded Moses wrote the history of the events that occurred in their own time, in thirteen books. The remaining four documents comprise hymns to God and practical precepts to men. "It is true our history has been written since Artaxerxes very particularly but has not been esteemed of the like authority with the former by our forefathers, because there has not been an exact succession of the prophets since that time." (Against Apion, Book 1, Section 8) 

Although he did not provide a book-by-book list, the twenty-two books of Josephus correspond very closely to the modern twenty-four books of the Hebrew canon, assuming that he included Lamentations with Jeremiah and Ruth with Judges. His remark implies that the canon has been closed for some time: his mention of Artaxerxes suggest that it was closed in the time of the prophets Ezra, Nehemiah, and Malachi, who lived at the same time as Artaxerxes. The difference in number between the Hebrew canon and the Christian Old Testament (24 vs 39) reflects changes in presentation, not content, such as dividing Samuel, Kings, and Chronicles into two parts and dividing the Minor Prophets into 12 separate books instead of just one. But the canons are the same.

Next time: Romans, Greeks, and the number 72

Who's Shooting at Whom?

The first thing that should be pointed out is that canons don’t shoot things, and cannons have no books in them.  The two words do (probably) descend from the same word, the Greek word kanna, which means a reed.  Reeds are straight, which suggests an authoritative standard, while they are also hollow tubes, which suggests tubes that shoot things.  But we’re talking about canons.

And canons do involve books (usually, anyway, although it can also be used for other collections like the Star Wars movies).  It’s a body of work that everyone accepts as authoritative.  For example, J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series has seven books.  They are all written by one author, about the same topic, and were intended from the beginning to form one whole.  No one asserts that one of those seven does not belong in the Harry Potter canon.  On the other hand, there are other books, written by the same author, about topics related to the original seven, and opinion among the fans is more divided about them.  Some would accept Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them as canonical and others do not, or give them lesser authority.  And hardly anyone thinks that Harry Potter & the Cursed Child should be canon, even though it too was written by Rowling and she has said it should be considered part of the canon. 

So a canon is a collection that is widely regarded and accepted as authoritative, but rarely declared so by any specific person or group with authority to decide what is or is not canon.  Its makeup does not necessarily even depend on the author’s intentions or opinions: rather, a canon reflects the opinions of many people, often over many years.  It's not really a popularity contest, however: it’s more accurate to say that a canon reflects the opinion of everyone, reached more or less independently, about which books should be part of the whole.  Doubtful books tend to fall out, merely because many people do not accept them and the rest find that they must use the other universally-accepted books if their arguments are to reach the widest audience.  Thus when a canon finally becomes settled it is not accepted by just 51% of people, but by something much closer to 99%.  In short, a canon becomes settled over time, not declared by an authority.

Somebody, Somewhere, Sometime

Who decided what should be in our Bible: scheming Christians in a smoke-filled backroom; the ancient version of an ambitious bishop like Cardinal Richelieu; hard-eyed fanatics rejecting any books that did not accord with their ideas?  Did they---whoever they were---pick and choose the books they liked, leaving inspired books out?  Or maybe a council like the first one in Nicaea in 325 took it on itself to choose the books.  Or (less cynically) maybe the Holy Spirit miraculously preserved just these 66 books.  Who decided and did they have any idea what they were doing?  Can Christians of the 21^st century be sure that we have the right Bible?

The Bible that we do have has been around a long, long time.  In this study we’re going to dig deep into the historical record and find out how the Bible was formalized into a canon, and whether we have the right books today.  We’ll decide if the mysterious “they” had the authority to select the books they did, and whether they included some books they shouldn’t have.  Or left some out that should’ve been in.  We’ll figure out when this happened, and who did it.

Knowing the who, what, and when of our Bible is critical to our confidence in it.  The Bible claims the authority of the creator God, and we rest our eternal souls on its words: we’d better be sure that we can rely on it, and that it didn’t gain its authority just because somebody, somewhere, sometime, decided that it should be so. 

Next time: who’s shooting at whom, anyway?