#Liddell & Scott (1940) A Greek–English Lexicon Oxford: Clarendon Press | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eli-kittim · 2 years

Text

🔎 Bible Contradictions: In Using the Term “Arnion,” Does the Book of Revelation Contradict John’s Gospel Which Uses the Word “Amnos” Instead❓ 🔍

By Award-Winning Goodreads Author and Bible Researcher Eli Kittim 🎓

This short essay is a brief reply to a question that was posed by a member of my “Eli Kittim Theology” group on MeWe.

——-

The member’s name is Marlo Bliss. This was his Question:

The writer of the Book of Revelation used

the term "Lambkin" / ARNI'ON <G721> for

Jesus Christ instead of "lamb" / AMNO'S <>

(lambkins require feeding). He did so 26

times. Why this contradiction to John 1.29

and 1.36?

Thanks for any reply.

*I use the DLT (Dabhar Literal Translation)

software in hebrew, greek, english and

german.*

——-

He’s basically asking the following question: if John’s Gospel uses the Greek term Ἀμνὸς twice to refer to Jesus, then why does the Book of Revelation repeatedly use the word ἀρνίον instead? Isn’t that a deviation from the canonical context? Doesn’t that constitute a Biblical contradiction❓The implication is that the Book of Revelation appears to be wrong and contradictory in its terminological usage.

First of all, it is important to establish at the outset that both ἀμνός (amnós) and ἀρνίον (arníon) mean the same thing. These terms are not self-contradictory, but rather interchangeable and complementary. Whereas **ἀμνός** (amnós) has the connotation of a consecrated or sacrificial lamb, especially a one-year old lamb, **ἀρνίον** refers to a “little lamb,” under a year old (Henry George Liddell. Robert Scott. A Greek-English Lexicon. Oxford. Clarendon Press. 1940). According to J. Thayer, the connotation of ἀρνίον (arníon) is that of pure innocence, with virgin-like (gentle) intentions.

Second, John’s Gospel uses both amnós and arníon. It’s true that John chapter 1 and verses 29 & 36 use the term Ἀμνὸς (lamb) to refer to Jesus Christ. But this term occurs only twice. And yet, the exact same gospel of John uses the alternative ἀρνία (lambs) in chapter 21 verse 15—-which is the plural form of the singular term ἀρνίον (lamb)——to refer to the *Christ-like* followers, namely, the saints of God who are becoming like Christ.

Third, the use of the word ἀρνίον (arníon) in a “messianic canonical context” is in fact scriptural, as can be seen, for example, in the Book of Jeremiah. In Jeremiah 11.19, the Septuagint (LXX) uses the Greek term ἀρνίον in an overtly messianic context:

ἐγὼ δὲ ὡς ἀρνίον ἄκακον ἀγόμενον τοῦ

θύεσθαι οὐκ ἔγνων ἐπ᾽ ἐμὲ ἐλογίσαντο

λογισμὸν πονηρὸν λέγοντες δεῦτε καὶ

ἐμβάλωμεν ξύλον εἰς τὸν ἄρτον αὐτοῦ καὶ

ἐκτρίψωμεν αὐτὸν ἀπὸ γῆς ζώντων καὶ τὸ

ὄνομα αὐτοῦ οὐ μὴ μνησθῇ ἔτι.

English translation by L.C.L. Brenton:

But I as an innocent lamb led to the

slaughter, knew not: against me they

devised an evil device, saying, Come and let

us put wood into his bread, and let us

utterly destroy him from off the land of the

living, and let his name not be remembered

any more.

This is reminiscent of Isaiah 53. In fact, Jeremiah’s aforementioned verse is a parallel to——and presents a near-verbal agreement with——Isaiah 53.7 (LXX):

καὶ αὐτὸς διὰ τὸ κεκακῶσθαι οὐκ ἀνοίγει

τὸ στόμα· ὡς πρόβατον ἐπὶ σφαγὴν ἤχθη

καὶ ὡς ἀμνὸς ἐναντίον τοῦ κείροντος αὐτὸν

ἄφωνος οὕτως οὐκ ἀνοίγει τὸ στόμα

αὐτοῦ.

Translation (NRSV):

He was oppressed, and he was afflicted,

yet he did not open his mouth; like a lamb

that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep

that before its shearers is silent, so he did

not open his mouth.

In Jeremiah 11.19, the L.C.L. Brenton translates ἀρνίον “as an innocent lamb led to the slaughter,” while the NRSV similarly renders it as a “gentle lamb led to the slaughter.” The theological idea in Jeremiah 11.19 is consistent with that of Isaiah 53.7—-which says “like a lamb that is led to the slaughter”——even though Isaiah employs the terms πρόβατον (lamb) and ἀμνὸς (sheep) instead of Jeremiah’s use of the word ἀρνίον (lamb). These thematic parallels demonstrate that the above terms are interchangeable.

Thus, the Septuagint (LXX) uses 3 alternative terms to refer to this so-called messianic “lamb” of God who “was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; … and by his bruises we are healed” (Isaiah 53.5). Two of the three terms that the LXX uses for this *slaughtered messiah* are found in Isaiah 53.7, namely, πρόβατον and ἀμνὸς. Incidentally, πρόβατον (probaton) means ἀρνίον, which comes from ἀρήν (meaning “lamb”). Thus, ἀμνός (amnós), πρόβατον (próbaton), and ἀρνίον (arníon) are essentially interchangeable terms.

The word πρόβατον (probaton), which means ἀρνίον, is also used in Gen 22.8 by the LXX to refer to the sacrificial lamb of God:

Abraham said, ‘God himself will provide the

lamb for a burnt offering, my son.’ (NRSV)

The Septuagint also uses the Greek term πρόβατον (which means ἀρνίον) to refer to the sheep which is slaughtered as a “sin offering” in Lev 4.32.

Therefore, the Book of Revelation uses the exact same term that is found not only within the Biblical canonical-context itself (Jn 21.15), but also within the writings of the Septuagint as well. So how is it contradictory❓It is not❗️

Conclusion

As you can see, the way in which the Koine Greek language has been used in both the Septuagint (LXX) and the New Testament clearly shows that the words ἀμνός (amnós), πρόβατον (próbaton), and ἀρνίον (arníon) are essentially interchangeable and complementary terms. These 3 words have all been used in terms of a “messianic sin offering,” that is, in reference to an innocent lamb that is led to the slaughter (cf. Rev. 5.6 ἀρνίον ἑστηκὸς ὡς ἐσφαγμένον/“a Lamb standing as if it had been slaughtered”). Although these terms have slightly different nuances, nevertheless they have been used consistently within a “messianic scriptural context” across the board. This is based on the principle of expositional constancy, the idea that similar terms and images are used consistently throughout scripture.

Since most scholars don’t think that John’s Gospel and the Book of Revelation were written by the same author, this would explain why they don't use the exact same terminology. Different biblical authors use different vocabularies. This fact alone doesn’t preclude their books from being seen as authoritative or inspired. On the contrary, if we look at the 27 New Testament books, this seems to be the rule rather than the exception❗️

Thus, Mr. Marlo Bliss’ accusation——that “the writer of the Book of Revelation [who] used the term "Lambkin" / ARNI'ON … for Jesus Christ instead of "lamb" / AMNO'S” was contradicting “John 1.29 and 1.36”——is unwarranted and without merit❗️

Incidentally, I looked at the so-called “DLT” (Dabhar Literal Translation) that Mr. Bliss uses, but unfortunately it is not faithful to the original Greek New Testament text. Besides, there is no disclosure or commentary about which text-types were used or if there even was a committee of scholars who edited it, which I seriously doubt, given the poor quality of the translation. I’ve also come across some YouTube videos, that are put out by the same sect, which endorse the Dabhar Literal Translation. Unfortunately, this English translation is of an inferior quality. Adherents of this cult further claim that the Book of Revelation is a “spurious” book. This sounds like a sect that has drifted away from sound Bible teaching❗️

——-

6 notes · View notes

thinksandthings · 3 years

Text

ferret

Ferrets are very cute. This is a scientific fact. They are a long, furry, domesticated subtype of the European polecat. They have a look on their face like they are ever so slightly irritated at having been recently woke up, and I love them very dearly.

Anyways, the Middle English feret (also documented as fyrette), was borrowed from the Old French firet, which is a derivative of the Latin fūr, meaning “thief.” This is also a cognate to the Ancient Greek φώρ phṓr, also “thief.”

What I find fun about the Ancient Greek, is that it also can be used to refer to a bee, specifically a “robber bee.” I absolutely love the fact that both the Latin and Greek chose to refer to tiny animals as being the perpetrators of some thievery, namely that they “carry things away,” from the Proto-Indo-European bher- meaning “carry.”

I also particularly enjoy the fact that this Latin also gave us furtive, “done in a sneaking, secretive way,” more specifically from fūrtīvus, “stolen.”

98 notes · View notes

thinksandthings · 3 years

Text

copse

I found this word in a YA fantasy book I was reading recently (because... yeah), and it took me a bit by surprise; it sounded a little out of place. So, I thought I’d find out what place it occupies exactly and tell you all about it.

Copse is actually a contraction of an older word coppice, meaning “a thicket of small trees or shrubs,” which emerged probably in the late 1500s. The English is a borrowing from the French copeiz, which has the same definition, but an additional connotation of “an overcut forest,” relating to a commercial, farming idea. This is present in some readings of the English.

Admittedly I had some trouble tracking down the Old French version, and there were hints of it existing as possibly copeiz, coupiz in the 1770s, and either couppeiz or copeis in some other places.

Nevertheless, the French was the bridge between the modern English and it’s Latin predecessor, colaphus, a noun meaning a “blow or cuff, perhaps a smack on the ear.” Although the “forest” meaning is lost here, this is where we can pick up the submeaning of “cutting down trees” which died out as the word evolved. This particular Latin word is also related to others in the language meaning “cutting,” or “being cut,” a nod to the Ancient Greek cognate κόλαφος kolaphos, which is “a blow or buffet.”

43 notes · View notes

thinksandthings · 3 years

Text

vespertine

Vespertine is a beautiful word meaning “of or related to the evening.” It is an old word, from the Middle English vespertyne, which is “belonging to evening, evening dew.”

The Latin form from whence the English comes, was vespertinus, meaning strictly “evening.” This is an adjective version of the noun vesper, which was used to either describe “evening” or “the evening star,” an entity we now recognize as the planet Venus. The Latin was a cognate to the Ancient Greek ἕσπερος hesperos, of the same definition, which is visually a little closer to the Indo-European root, u̯esperos, “evening.”

Interestingly, vesper was also adopted into English apart from it’s descriptive form, and has been used to refer to the “evening star” as well as “church services held during the evening.”

72 notes · View notes

thinksandthings · 3 years

Text

syzygy

Syzygy is a funky looking word for sure, but I quite like it. There are a lot of definitions for it depending on what sort of academic interests you have, ranging from mathematics and science to philosophy and psychology, but the thing they typically have in common is a pairing of opposites of some kind. The traditional definition comes from astronomy, where it refers to three celestial bodies aligning into a straight line. In our solar system, we might observe this during either a solar or lunar eclipse, where the three bodies in question are the earth, sun and moon.

The word is likely an English adoption from about 1847, coming through Latin from the Greek term συζυγία suzugia, or "paired, yoked together, union." This is a form of the noun σύζυγος suzugos which is defined with "yokefellow" (an interesting word by itself) and "spouse, couple (as in married pair as a couple)."

The credited Proto-Indo-European root is yewg or i̯eu alternately, both meaning "to tie together or yoke." One source I looked at remarked upon this being similar to a few other roots including "to keep separate" and "right or justice," both of which are interesting to think about.

23 notes · View notes

thinksandthings · 3 years

Text

disaster

Before I explain some of the really cool history of this word, I’ll divvy it up into its etymological parts:

Firstly, disaster as a whole was borrowed from the Italian diasastro, a compound of two halves: the prefix dis which is similar to its English cognate and simply means “not, undo, against,” while astro means “star,” from the Latin astrum of the same meaning. The Greek basis for the Latin, ᾰ̓́στρον astron, had a broader definition coming from the synonymous ᾰ̓στήρ aster, and could refer to the stars or planets, constellations, the sun and celestial bodies more generally.

ᾰ̓στήρ is also interesting because it is also noted as being able to mean “songbirds, starfish, flame or light, honorable persons” and possibly “blue daisies.”

At the root of all this is the Proto-Indo-European reconstructed root for star, ster, which is also connected to the Greek term for “lightning.”

Hopefully with this background, the semantics might make a little more sense. Although we tend to use the modern dictionary definition, which is “a sudden calamity or misfortune,” the older sense the word is derived from is “an unfavorable aspect of the planets or stars” in the astrological sense. Before the advent of astronomy as a science, the purpose of the practice of astrology was more so focused on looking for guidance and predictions regarding human life and activities. If the stars appeared to point to a negative outcome, it could be called a disaster, a dis- (negative, poor, undone) aster (position of the stars).

We also have a few other English and Latin terms which pull on these same ideas, but appeared through other layers of morphological construction. Namely, we have “lucky star,” “ill-starred,” and “star-crossed” as well as “astrum sinistrum,” which literally means “unfortunate star or misfortune.”

29 notes · View notes

thinksandthings · 4 years

Text

fancy

Fancy, in the adjective sense of pressed linens, champagne and marble, feels less interesting than the verb varieties: “to believe, to visualize or interpret as,” and my favorite, “to like or have a fancy.” I think the sound of fancying someone is sweet, like you consider them as being of a special elegance and loveliness.

What I quite like about this word is that it is apparently a contraction of the word fantasy. Around the 15th century, it was originally spelled fantsy, specifically adopting the meanings of “whim, inclination.” Our current definitions of “fine, elegant,” appeared later.

The Middle English fantasy (also spelled fantasye), came from the Old French fantasie, from the Latin phantasia, meaning “a notion, phantasm, appearance, perception.” The root Greek was the term φαντασία phantasía, a derivative of the verb φαίνω phaínō, which is “to make visible, to bring to light, to cause to appear.” You might notice its similarities to the related word for “light,” φῶς phôs, from which we get other English words like photograph, photon, etc.

Ultimately, these are all attributed to the Proto-Indo-European root bheh- or sometimes bha-, meaning “to shine.”

#https://academiaprisca.org/indoeuropean.html #Charlton T. Lewis and Charles Short (1879) A Latin Dictionary Oxford: Clarendon Press #Merriam-Webster Dictionary #Liddell & Scott (1940) A Greek–English Lexicon Oxford: Clarendon Press #Wiktionary.org #etymonline.com #language #linguistics #etymology #history #Middle English #French #Greek #Latin #fun facts #words #historical linguistics #fantasy #fancy

42 notes · View notes

thinksandthings · 4 years

Text

melancholy

I’m not quite sure why, but I tend to use this word quite frequently. I feel as though sad isn’t quite broad enough to encompass the “dispirited depression” I find in melancholy. In Old English, the word more exclusively referred to an illness associated with too much black bile in one’s body, a substance which was believed to have been secreted by the spleen.

The contemporary emotional meaning appeared in the Middle English as melancolie, a direct borrowing from the Old French, which was adopted from the Ancient Greek melankholía. This word is a compound of the two terms μέλας melas “black, dark, murky,” and χολή khole “bile.”

Interestingly, although this literal translation for the Greek is “black bile,” which we can see resurfaces in the English traditions, it was used more closely to the way we use melancholy now, as “atrabilious, gloomy.”

To circle back to a previous note, we can trace back μέλας a little further to the Proto-Indo-European root mel, meaning “to grind, hit,” but also “dark, dirty.” The other half, χολή, can be attributed to ghel, meaning “gold, flourish, pale green, shine.” Although it has this seemingly pleasant definition, it is cited as being the ancestor for many languages’ terms for “bile, gall, fury, rage, disease, etc.”

35 notes · View notes

thinksandthings · 4 years

Text

ladybug

I wasn’t quite intending for this post to be so involved, but I happened upon an article which said that in Welsh, you can call ladybugs buwch goch cwta, which translates to English as “little red cow,” which I think is absolutely adorable.

buwch: from the Middle Welsh buch meaning cow, ultimately a derivative of the Proto-Indo-European root gwou-, meaning cattle

goch: a mutation of the adjective coch, from the Latin coccum meaning “scarlet, berry, dye or dyed red,” from the Ancient Greek term κόκκος kokkos, which is a “grain, seed or the color scarlet”

cwta (I’ve also seen it spelled gota), means “short or little,” and is supposedly borrowed from a Middle English term which meant “to cut down”

It turns out, though, that the name for these beetles is actually quite complicated in a lot of European based languages.

First, to look at the taxonomic family name coccinellidae. This comes from the Latin coccineus meaning “coloured scarlet,” a term which you can also see in the Welsh, it is the same root from which we get coccum and eventually goch. There are a few other descendants of this term in nearby languages as well, like the French coccinelle and the Italian coccinella.

However, obviously, that’s not where we get the English name ladybug. In Old English, they were called lady cows (again a nod to the Welsh), in which cow was a comment on it’s spotted wings and lady was in reference to the Virgin Mary. The seven black dots displayed on its back were believed to have been symbolic of her seven sorrows as are described in Christian scripture.

Although English uses the more ambiguous lady, many languages have retained the Mary portion in the modern name, like Catalan marieta, Danish mariehøne (literally “Mary chicken”) and German Marienkäfer (literally “Mary beetle.”)

I have absolutely no idea what chickens have to do with anything, but good job Danish, I like it.

24 notes · View notes

thinksandthings · 4 years

Text

the moirai

The Moirai, or Fates, are the three goddesses of the Greek pantheon who determine the path of human destiny. With such a role, they are considered both goddesses of birth and of death, arriving when a person is born to assign them their fate, and again when they die to end it.

The oldest stories called them one collective power of Fate, namely Aisa:

Aisa - Αἶσα, the abstract concept of “fate,” related to the verb αἰτέω aitéō, which is “to ask, crave, demand, beg for”

However, in later accounts the three individual deities were separated, each performing a certain function, to form the trio of the Moirai:

Moirai - Μοῖρα, from the Ancient Greek μοῖρα moîra, “part, portion, destiny,” the verb form is μείρομαι meíromai, which means “to receive as your portion, to accept fate,” possibly from the Proto-Indo-European root smer- meaning alternately, “to remember, care for” and “allotment or assignment”

In Theogeny of Hesiod, they’re called both the children of Zeus and Themis, but also daughters of Nyx, the night:

“Also she [Nyx] bare the Destinies and ruthless avenging Fates, Clotho and Lachesis and Atropos, who give men at their birth both evil and good to have, and they pursue the transgressions of men and of gods: and these goddesses never cease from their dread anger until they punish the sinner with a sore penalty.”

Clotho - Κλωθώ, from the Ancient Greek verb κλώθω klótho, which is literally “to spin (as in wool or cotton), twist by spinning;” the youngest fate and the spinner of the thread of life

Lachesis - Λάχεσις, related to the Ancient Greek verb λαγχάνω lankhánō, which means “I obtain, receive by drawing lots, assigned to a post by lot,” the root for which may be the noun λάχος lákhos, "lot, destiny, fate;” the second fate, measurer of the thread of life

Atropos - Ἄτροπος, literally meaning “unchangeable,” compounds the prefix ἀ- a- (”gives it’s host the opposite of the usual definition, similar to English un-, as in wise to unwise”) and the verb τρέπω trépō, which is “I turn,” likely from the Proto-Indo-European root trep-, “to turn or bow one’s head (possibly out of shame);” the eldest fate, bearing the sharp shears which sever the threads of life, also known as “inevitable”

25 notes · View notes

thinksandthings · 4 years

Text

pangram

I wanted to write a post for this word after I rediscovered my favorite one: “sphinx of black quartz judge my vow.” A pangram is a short phrase or sentence which, written out, contains all of the 26 letters of the English alphabet. Some of them make more sense than others (squdgy fez, blank jimp crwth vox), but they’re actually quite fun to play with linguistically.

Pangram is a combination of two morphemes, pan- + gram. Pan is a direct borrowing from the Ancient Greek παν- pan-, the combining form of the determiner πᾶς pas, which means “each, all, every.” -gram comes from Ancient Greek as well, specifically the noun γράμμα gramma, meaning “an alphabetic letter, writing or something drawn.” It’s root verb is γρᾰ́φω, gráphō, “inscribe, or write.”

Interestingly, γράμμα could also mean “a measure or weight,” and this sense is borrowed from the Semitic family of languages where it is related to the Aramaic grwm “bone, fruit pit” and the Classical Syriac ܓܪܡܐ garma, “stone of fruit, kernel, bone.”

21 notes · View notes

thinksandthings · 4 years

Text

cemetery

I’ve just about never been able to spell this word correctly, I always want to put an a in place of the final e. The word comes from the Middle English forms simeterie, cymytory, and cimitere, which began to be spelled with cem- around the 15th century. The words came through French from the Latin coemeterium, which originated the meaning of “burial ground for the dead.”

The Greek κοιμητήριον koimētḗrion, was more or less free of the sense of mortality and meant simply “sleeping chamber” or “dorm.” Interestingly, it derived from two verbs, κοιμάω koimáō and κεῖμαι keîmai. The first meant “to put to sleep,” while the second meant “to lie.” The morbid connotation seems to have been stronger in this second verb κεῖμαι, which had a variety of interpretations including, “to lie asleep, idle,” “to lie sick or wounded,” “to lie dead, “ and “to lie neglected or unburied.”

Before this particular linguistic thread arrived in English, though, the Old English word for burial ground was licburg, a construction using the noun lic, which meant “corpse, dead body.” They may have also used lictun, which comprised of lic “corpse” + tun “enclosure, yard.”

7 notes · View notes