Daniel 2 is one of the most extraordinary chapters in all of Scripture. In it, a pagan king has a dream he can’t shake, his entire corps of professional wise men fails to help him, and a Jewish exile steps forward with a revelation from God that lays out the entire future of human civilization in a single image.

This is also the chapter where the text switches from Hebrew to Aramaic, and where we encounter our first genuinely significant divergence between the three textual traditions.

Let’s dig in.

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Daniel 2:1 — A Textual Puzzle in Three Voices

Daniel 2:1 (NRSVUE):

“In the second year of the reign of Nebuchadnezzar, Nebuchadnezzar dreamed dreams; his spirit was troubled, and his sleep left him.”

Right away, we have a problem. Daniel 1:5 told us that the training program lasted three years. If Daniel arrived in Nebuchadnezzar’s accession year (around 605 B.C.), then the “second year” of Nebuchadnezzar’s reign would fall during Daniel’s training, not after it. Yet the narrative clearly places Daniel’s dream interpretation after his training is complete (he’s already been presented to the king in 1:18-20).

This is one of those places where the three traditions actually say different things.

The Masoretic Text and Theodotion both read “the second year” (שְׁנַת שְׁתַּיִם, shenat shtayim in the Aramaic MT; δευτέρῳ, deuterō in Theodotion). But the Old Greek, preserved in Papyrus 967, reads “the twelfth year” (δωδεκάτῳ, dōdekatō). That’s not a minor scribal slip. “Twelfth” and “second” don’t look anything alike in Greek.

This is a moment worth pausing on, because it shows us three different approaches to the same text.

The Masoretic Text preserves the “harder reading,” the one that creates the chronological tension. In textual criticism, the harder reading is often considered more likely to be original, on the principle that scribes are more likely to smooth out a difficulty than to create one.

The Old Greek apparently resolves the difficulty by reading (or translating from a source that read) “twelfth year,” which would place the dream well after Daniel’s training was complete and well into Nebuchadnezzar’s established reign. Some scholars argue this reflects a different Hebrew/Aramaic source text; others argue the Old Greek translator (or the tradition behind Papyrus 967) adjusted the number to fix a perceived historical problem.

Theodotion follows the Masoretic Text’s “second year,” as it typically does throughout Daniel.

So how do we handle this? If we follow the Masoretic/Theodotion reading (”second year”), the resolution lies in the same accession-year dating system we discussed in chapter 1. In the Babylonian system, the year a king took the throne was his “accession year,” and his official “year one” began the following New Year. Combined with the ancient practice of counting partial years as full years (inclusive reckoning), Daniel’s “three years” of training could have spanned parts of only two calendar years. By the “second year” of Nebuchadnezzar’s reign in Babylonian reckoning, the training would have recently concluded.

If we follow the Old Greek reading (”twelfth year”), there’s no chronological problem at all, but we lose something important: the theological implication that God gave Nebuchadnezzar this dream almost immediately, at the very beginning of his reign, as if to say: “Before you’ve even settled into your throne, let me show you how this ends.”

I find both readings instructive. The Masoretic Text’s “second year” creates urgency: God confronts the most powerful man in the world when his reign has only just begun. The Old Greek’s “twelfth year” creates plausibility: Daniel is well established, the dream comes at a moment of imperial confidence. As we’ve seen before with this kind of divergence, both readings enrich our understanding. They aren’t contradictions; they’re complementary angles of vision.

Daniel 2:2-4 — The Wisdom Establishment Fails

Daniel 2:2-4a (NRSVUE):

“So the king commanded that the magicians, the enchanters, the sorcerers, and the Chaldeans be called to tell the king his dreams. When they came in and stood before the king, he said to them, ‘I have had a dream, and my spirit is troubled by the desire to understand the dream.’ The Chaldeans said to the king...”

Now look at the next two words in verse 4: “...in Aramaic.”

This is where the text physically switches languages. From this point forward, through the end of chapter 7, the book of Daniel is written in Aramaic, not Hebrew.

Whether the phrase “in Aramaic” (אֲרָמִית, Aramit) is a narrator’s note flagging the language change for the reader, or whether it describes the Chaldeans literally speaking in Aramaic (as opposed to Akkadian, the native language of Babylon), is debated.

It may be both.

The phrase serves as a literary signal: we are now in the Aramaic section, the section that addresses the nations, the section about empires and their place under God’s sovereignty. As we discussed in our last post, this language switch is deliberate and meaningful.

Notice the four categories of wise men Nebuchadnezzar summons: magicians (חַרְטֻמִּים, chartummim), enchanters (אַשָּׁפִים, ashaphim), sorcerers (מְכַשְּׁפִים, mekhashshephim), and Chaldeans (כַּשְׂדִּים, kasdim).

This is the full weight of Babylon’s intellectual and spiritual establishment. These were not charlatans; they were the educated elite of the most powerful empire on earth. Trained in astronomy, mathematics, dream interpretation, divination, and the reading of omens, they represented centuries of accumulated expertise.

And they’re about to be completely humiliated.

Daniel 2:5-11 — Did the King Forget His Dream?

Daniel 2:5 (NKJV):

“The king answered and said to the Chaldeans, ‘My decision is firm: if you do not make known the dream to me, and its interpretation, you shall be cut in pieces, and your houses shall be made an ash heap.’”

Here we encounter one of the most interesting translation debates in the chapter. The Aramaic phrase מִלְּתָא מִנִּי אַזְדָּא (milleta minni azda) has traditionally been rendered as “the thing has gone from me” (KJV), implying that Nebuchadnezzar had forgotten his dream and was demanding that the wise men both recover it and interpret it.

But many modern scholars argue that azda more likely means “the decree is firm” or “the matter is decided.” In this reading, Nebuchadnezzar remembers the dream perfectly well but is deliberately withholding it as a test. If the wise men can tell him the dream (which he already knows), he’ll know they have genuine access to divine knowledge. If they can only offer an interpretation of a dream he tells them, they might be making it up.

This is a place where the three traditions actually help us. The Old Greek doesn’t have the ambiguous phrase at all.

Daniel 2:5 (OG/N.E.T.S.):

“Unless you tell me the dream with certainty and disclose its sense, you will be made an example, and your possessions will be expropriated into the royal treasury.”

Notice the clarity of the phrase here. The OG’s Nebuchadnezzar is straightforwardly demanding that the wise men prove their abilities by telling him both the dream and its meaning.

Theodotion follows the MT more closely.

Daniel 2:5 (Theodotion/Brenton):

“The thing has departed from me; if ye do not make known to me the dream and the interpretation, ye shall be destroyed.”

The OG supports the “decree is firm” reading by omitting the problematic phrase entirely. Whether the OG translator was working from a source text that didn’t contain it, or whether he interpreted the Aramaic the same way modern scholars do and simply rendered the meaning rather than the ambiguous words, the result is the same: in the OG, there’s no question that Nebuchadnezzar is issuing a deliberate challenge, not confessing a memory lapse.

Verses 6-10 show little variance between the translations, apart from minor word choices apart from one detail in verse 8 that we’ll talk about in a minute.

After the king threatens the wise men with death and dismemberment if they cannot do as he’s asked (v. 5), he promises great rewards if they can (v. 6). They tell him again to tell them the dream and they’ll interpret it (v. 7). And he replies that he knows they’re just buying time and if they can tell him the dream he’ll know they can interpret it, but if they can’t then they’ll die (v. 8-9). To which they, quite naturally, respond that no man on earth could possibly tell the king his dream, which is why no king, lord, or ruler has ever asked such of thing of his wise men (v. 10).

Now, about that discrepancy in verse 8. Brenton, in agreement with the KJV (which, as I noted in my post about Bible translations a few weeks ago, Brenton built his translation on in the same way that N.E.T.S. is based on the NRSV), returns to the argument for Nebuchadnezzar not remembering his dream.

Daniel 2:8b (Theodotion/Brenton):

“because ye see that the thing has gone from me.”

Daniel 2:8b (NKJV)

“because you see that my decision is firm:”

And once again, there’s no mention of this in the OG. In fact, it omits the second half of verse 8 altogether.

And there’s another divergence worth noting in verse 11, after the wise men protest that nobody can meet the king’s demand. Look at who they say could answer:

Daniel 2:11 (Theodotion/Brenton):

“There is no one else who shall answer it before the king, but the gods, whose dwelling is not with any flesh.”

Daniel 2:11 (OG/N.E.T.S.):

“There is no one who can disclose these things except some angel, whose habitation is not with any flesh.”

In both the Masoretic and Theodotion, the Chaldeans invoke “the gods” (plural), consistent with their polytheistic worldview. The OG’s Chaldeans invoke “some angel,” a monotheistic framework. This is a pattern we’ll see again and again in the OG: the translator consistently nudges polytheistic language toward monotheistic categories.

This is getting ahead of ourselves a bit, but I feel it’s worth noting that we’ll see the same instinct in chapter 3, where the OG renders “a son of the gods” as “an angel of God.”

Although it’s certainly possible that he was working with a different vorlage (source text), the OG translator seems unwilling to let pagan polytheistic language stand without correction, even when it’s placed in the mouths of pagan characters.

Daniel 2:12-23 — From Death Sentence to Doxology

What follows is one of the most dramatic reversals in the book. Nebuchadnezzar orders the execution of all the wise men of Babylon (v. 12), which would include Daniel and his friends since they’re being trained in the Babylonian wisdom tradition. One thing to note is that verse 13 makes it clear that the killing of the wise men had already begun when Daniel hears about it. He speaks to the guard who came to kill Daniel and his friends (v. 14-15), and asks the king for time (v. 16), then goes home and prays with Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah (v. 17-18).

God reveals the dream to Daniel in a night vision (v. 19), and Daniel’s response is a hymn of praise that is one of the theological gems of the book.

Now, for comparison, let’s look at the text of Daniel’s hymn in all 3 translations.

Daniel 2:20-23 (NRSVUE):

“Blessed be the name of God from age to age, for wisdom and power are his. He changes times and seasons, deposes kings and sets up kings; he gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to those who have understanding. He reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what is in the darkness, and light dwells with him. To you, O God of my ancestors, I give thanks and praise, for you have given me wisdom and power, and have now revealed to me what we asked of you, for you have revealed to us what the king ordered.”

Daniel 2:20-23 (Theodotion/Brenton):

“May the name of God be blessed from everlasting and to everlasting: for wisdom and understanding are his. ²¹ And he changes times and seasons: he appoints kings, and removes them, giving wisdom to the wise, and prudence to them that have understanding: ²² he reveals deep and secret matters; knowing what is in darkness, and the light is with him. ²³ I give thanks to thee, and praise thee, O God of my fathers, for thou hast given me wisdom and power, and hast made known to me the things which we asked of thee; and thou hast made known to me the king's vision.”

Daniel 2:20-23 (OG/N.E.T.S.):

“Let the name of the great Lord be blessed forever, because wisdom and majesty are his. 21 And he changes seasons and times, deposing kings and setting up, giving to the sages wisdom and understanding to those who have knowledge and revealing deep and obscure things and knowing what is in the darkness and in the light, and with him there is release. 23 You, Lord of my ancestors, I acknowledge and praise, because you gave me wisdom and intelligence, and now you have shown as much as I petitioned in order to disclose regarding these things to the king.”

Notice the verbs. God changes times and seasons. God deposes kings and sets up kings. God gives wisdom. God reveals hidden things. And then Daniel’s personal application: “You have given me wisdom and power.”

There’s that verb again. נָתַן (natan), “to give.” God is the giver. He gave Judah into Babylon’s hand. He gave Daniel wisdom. He gave the four youths knowledge. And now He gives Daniel the dream.

This isn’t just repetition. It’s a theological architecture. Daniel’s entire worldview is built on the conviction that God is the ultimate source and agent behind everything that happens; the exile, the provision, the revelation. Nothing comes to Daniel except through God’s hand.

Compare how all three traditions render Daniel’s hymn. The substance is consistent, but the vocabulary choices reveal the character of each tradition.

The OG opens:

“Let the name of the great Lord be blessed forever, because wisdom and majesty are his” (N.E.T.S.).

Theodotion (Brenton) opens:

“May the name of God be blessed from everlasting and to everlasting: for wisdom and understanding are his.”

Where the MT/Theodotion says “God,” the OG says “the great Lord.” Where the MT/Theodotion pairs “wisdom and power/understanding,” the OG pairs “wisdom and majesty.” These aren’t contradictions; they’re different windows onto the same praise. The OG’s “majesty” emphasizes God’s royal splendor. The MT’s “power” emphasizes God’s active force.

And the OG adds a phrase in verse 22 that has no parallel in the MT or Theodotion. After saying that God “reveals deep and obscure things” and “knows what is in the darkness and in the light,” the OG concludes: “and with him there is release.“ That final phrase, “with him there is release,” is unique to the OG. It carries a profound theological resonance: the God who reveals hidden things is also the God who sets captives free. For exiles in Babylon, that would have been no small comfort.

There’s also a subtle but important detail in verse 23: Daniel says “you have revealed to us.” Not “to me.” He includes his three friends, the ones who prayed with him. The revelation came to Daniel alone, but the prayer that preceded it was communal.

And the OG’s Daniel prays differently than the Theodotion/MT Daniel before the revelation comes. The OG says Daniel “proclaimed a fast and supplication” and sought “help from the Lord Most High about this mystery” (v. 18). Theodotion says they “sought mercy before the God of heaven concerning this mystery.” The OG’s language is more liturgical, more formal; a proclaimed fast, a formal supplication, the title “Lord Most High.”

The Theodotion version is simpler: they sought mercy before God. Both describe prayer, but the OG’s prayer has the feel of organized worship, while the Theodotion’s has the feel of desperate, personal pleading.

Daniel 2:28 — A God in Heaven

Daniel 2:28 (NRSVUE):

“...but there is a God in heaven who reveals mysteries, and he has disclosed to King Nebuchadnezzar what will happen at the end of days.”

When Daniel stands before Nebuchadnezzar, he doesn’t invoke the covenant name of God. He doesn’t say “The Lord God of Israel” or use any specifically Jewish language. He says “there is a God in heaven” (אִיתַי אֱלָהּ בִּשְׁמַיָּא, itay Elah bishmaya). This is the universal language of monotheism, accessible to a pagan king who would have no framework for understanding the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

But it’s more than diplomatic sensitivity. Daniel is making a theological claim that would have landed with enormous force in a Babylonian court. Babylon’s gods were associated with specific locations, specific temples, specific cities. Marduk was Babylon’s god. Sin was the moon god of Ur and Harran. Nabu was the god of Borsippa. Their power was local and territorial.

Daniel says: there is a God in heaven. Not in a temple. Not in a city. In heaven. Above all territories, above all empires, above all other claimants to divine authority. And this God reveals mysteries. He does what no magician, enchanter, sorcerer, or Chaldean could do.

But here’s where the three traditions diverge in a way that connects to a pattern we’ve been tracking. The MT and Theodotion both have “there is a God in heaven.” The Old Greek has something different.

Daniel 2:28 (OG/N.E.T.S.):

“But there is a Lord in heaven illumining mysteries who has disclosed to King Nabouchodonosor what must happen at the end of days.”

Two differences. First, “Lord” (κύριος, kyrios) instead of “God” (θεός, theos). The OG consistently uses the more explicitly covenantal title “Lord” where the MT/Theodotion uses the more universal “God.” This is the same pattern we noted in chapter 1, where the OG called the temple vessels “sacred vessels of the Lord” rather than “vessels of the house of God.”

Second, the OG says God is “illumining” (φωτίζων, phōtizōn) mysteries, not just “revealing” them. The image shifts from disclosure to illumination, from unveiling to lighting up. It’s a small difference, but it changes the metaphor: in the MT, God pulls back a curtain; in the OG, God turns on a light.

Daniel 2:31-45 — The Statue and the Stone

Now we arrive at the dream itself, and here I need to be careful, because how you interpret this passage affects how you read nearly every other prophecy in the book.

Daniel 2:31-33 (NRSVUE):

“You were looking, O king, and lo! there was a great statue. This statue was huge, its brilliance extraordinary; it was standing before you, and its appearance was frightening. The head of that statue was of fine gold, its chest and arms of silver, its middle and thighs of bronze, its legs of iron, its feet partly of iron and partly of clay.”

Daniel 2:34-35 (NRSVUE):

“As you looked on, a stone was cut out, not by human hands, and it struck the statue on its feet of iron and clay and broke them in pieces. Then the iron, the clay, the bronze, the silver, and the gold, were all broken in pieces and became like the chaff of the summer threshing floors; and the wind carried them away, so that not a trace of them could be found. But the stone that struck the statue became a great mountain and filled the whole earth.”

The interpretation follows in verses 36-45: each section of the statue represents a successive world empire, and the stone represents God’s kingdom, which will destroy all human kingdoms and endure forever.

Here’s what is generally agreed upon across the major interpretive traditions:

The head of gold is Babylon. Daniel says this explicitly: “You, O king... you are the head of gold” (v. 38).

The chest and arms of silver is the empire that follows Babylon. Most interpreters identify this as Medo-Persia.

The belly and thighs of bronze is the third kingdom, which “shall rule over the whole earth” (v. 39). Most interpreters identify this as Greece under Alexander the Great, whose empire was the most geographically extensive of the four.

The legs of iron, with feet of iron mixed with clay, is where the debate heats up. The traditional Christian interpretation identifies this as Rome; the fourth empire that followed Greece and was characterized by iron-like military power but internal instability (iron mixed with clay).

The critical scholarly interpretation often identifies it as a divided Greek kingdom (the Seleucid and Ptolemaic empires after Alexander’s death), which would make the entire vision end in the second century B.C.

I find the Rome identification far more compelling, and here’s why this matters for the dating debate over Daniel.

Even if you take the most skeptical possible position and date the writing of Daniel to the Maccabean period (around 167-164 B.C.), the fourth kingdom in this vision cannot be the Seleucid Empire. The Seleucids are part of the third kingdom: they’re one of the fragments of Alexander’s empire, which is the bronze belly and thighs. The fourth kingdom has to be something after Greece, something characterized by iron-like strength and eventual internal fracture.

That’s Rome.

And in the 160s B.C., Rome had not yet conquered the eastern Mediterranean. It wouldn’t take control of Judea until 63 B.C. under Pompey. A second-century author might have known about Rome’s growing power, but predicting its dominance over the known world and its eventual fragmentation? That’s predictive prophecy, no matter when you date the book.

The stone “cut without hands” represents God’s kingdom, established without human effort, which will shatter all human empires and fill the earth. Christians have always seen this as a reference to Christ’s kingdom, which was inaugurated at His first coming and will be consummated at His return. The stone strikes the statue at its feet (the final form of human government), suggesting that the fullness of the kingdom comes at the end of the succession of empires, not in the middle.

All three textual traditions agree on the basic structure and interpretation of the dream. The Old Greek has some minor variations in vocabulary and phrasing, but the four-kingdom sequence and the stone are consistent across all three voices. This is a passage where the traditions sing in unison.

Daniel 2:46-49 — The King Bows

Daniel 2:46-47 (NRSVUE):

“Then King Nebuchadnezzar fell on his face, worshiped Daniel, and commanded that a grain offering and incense be offered to him. The king said to Daniel, ‘Truly, your God is God of gods and Lord of kings, and a revealer of mysteries, for you have been able to reveal this mystery!’”

This is a remarkable moment, but we need to be careful about what it means and what it doesn’t.

Nebuchadnezzar “worships” Daniel. The Aramaic verb is סְגִד (segid), which means to prostrate oneself, to pay homage. This is the same word used in chapter 3 for worshiping the golden image. The king is treating Daniel as a vessel of divine power, which was entirely consistent with ancient Near Eastern practice: you honored the messenger because of the god behind him.

But notice Nebuchadnezzar’s confession. Here the three traditions diverge in a way that’s theologically significant.

Daniel 2:47 (Theodotion/Brenton):

“Of a truth your God is a God of gods, and Lord of kings, who reveals mysteries.”

Daniel 2:47 (OG/N.E.T.S.):

“It is certain; your God is God of gods and Lord of lords and Lord of kings who alone brings to light hidden mysteries, because you have been able to disclose this mystery!”

The OG adds two things the MT/Theodotion doesn’t have. First, it inserts “Lord of lords” between “God of gods” and “Lord of kings,” creating a triple title instead of a double one. Second, and more importantly, it adds the word “alone” (μόνος, monos). In the OG, Nebuchadnezzar doesn’t just acknowledge Daniel’s God as the highest among many. He says this God alone reveals mysteries. No other deity can do what this God does.

Is this monotheistic conversion? In the MT/Theodotion, it’s clearly henotheistic acknowledgment. Nebuchadnezzar is saying “Your God is the highest God,” adding Daniel’s God to the top of the Babylonian pantheon without abandoning Marduk or any other deity.

But the OG’s “alone” pushes the confession further toward genuine monotheism. If this God alone can do what He does, the implication is that the other gods can’t, which raises the question of whether they’re really gods at all. The OG seems to be nudging Nebuchadnezzar’s confession in a direction the MT leaves more ambiguous, which is consistent with the OG’s pattern of sharpening the theological polemic throughout the book.

This is the first of several moments in Daniel where a pagan king is forced to acknowledge the God of Israel. Each one goes a little further. In chapter 3, Nebuchadnezzar will acknowledge that God can rescue from fire. In chapter 4, he’ll acknowledge that God rules over kings, and in the OG’s version, he’ll go all the way to declaring “God is one.” In chapter 5, Belshazzar will learn too late that God weighs and judges. In chapter 6, Darius will decree that all people must tremble before Daniel’s God.

The trajectory is clear: empire after empire, king after king, each one forced to acknowledge the God in heaven. Forced, not by armies, but by revelations they can’t explain and deliverances they can’t deny. And the OG consistently makes each confession a little stronger, a little more monotheistic, than the Masoretic does.

The chapter closes with Daniel being promoted to chief of the wise men and ruler over the province of Babylon, and his three friends receiving positions of authority alongside him. The exiles are now running the empire.

All three traditions agree on the substance of this ending, though the Old Greek may use slightly different language for the specific administrative titles. The theological point is the same: God elevates the faithful within the very system that tried to assimilate them.

Reflections: The God Who Reveals

Daniel 2 is, at its core, a chapter about revelation. The wise men of Babylon can’t access the king’s dream because no earthly system of wisdom, however sophisticated, can penetrate the mind of God. Only God reveals mysteries. And He reveals them not to the powerful, not to the professionally trained, but to an exile who prays.

That’s a pattern worth noticing, because it shows up everywhere in Scripture. God doesn’t reveal His plans to the impressive. He reveals them to the faithful. Moses was a fugitive. David was a shepherd. Mary was a teenager. And Daniel was a prisoner of war eating vegetables in a foreign land.

When Daniel stands before Nebuchadnezzar and says “There is a God in heaven who reveals mysteries,” he’s not just answering a king’s question. He’s making a claim that echoes through the ages: the God of Israel is not a local deity with limited jurisdiction. He is the God of heaven, who knows the future, who raises up kings and brings them down, and who reveals His plans to those who seek Him.

And then there’s the stone.

The stone cut without hands. The kingdom established without human effort. The mountain that fills the whole earth. This is the image that should keep us grounded when we watch the news and wonder whether the world is spinning out of control. The statue is impressive; gold and silver and bronze and iron, gleaming and terrifying. But it has feet of clay. And a stone is coming.

Not a stone shaped by human politics or human armies or human cleverness. A stone cut without hands.

That stone is Jesus. And His kingdom will have no end.

Coming Up Next

Next week, we’ll enter Daniel 3 and the fiery furnace, where the three friends whom Daniel just placed in positions of authority will be tested by the very king they serve. And we’ll briefly touch on the first major addition from the Greek traditions: the Prayer of Azariah and the Song of the Three Young Men, one of the most magnificent hymns in ancient literature. We’ll also begin to see the Greek versions start to flex their muscles with readings that diverge more noticeably from the Masoretic Text.

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There’s a single verse in the Old Testament that reads completely differently depending on which ancient manuscript you open. And the difference isn’t a minor translation nuance. It changes the entire framework for how God relates to the nations of the world.

In Part 1, we established that elohim is a category term for beings possessing divine or spiritual power and authority. In Part 2, we walked through Psalm 82, where God judges the corrupt members of His own divine council for governing the nations unjustly. We saw how Daniel 10 shows this system in active operation, with spiritual “princes” assigned to nations and actively resisting God’s purposes.

If you missed parts 1&2, check them out below:

But we haven’t yet answered a critical question: where did this system come from? When were divine beings assigned to govern the nations? And why did God keep Israel for Himself?

The answers are in Deuteronomy 32:8-9. And the answers change depending on which Bible you’re holding.

Let’s get into it!

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Three Texts, Three Readings

This is one of those rare passages where we don’t just have two textual traditions to compare. We have three. The Masoretic Text, the Septuagint, and the Dead Sea Scrolls all preserve different readings of the same verse. And the differences are not small.

Let me show you all three.

The Masoretic Text

“When the Most High (עֶלְיוֹן, Elyon) divided the nations their inheritance, when He separated the sons of man, He set the boundaries of the peoples according to the number of the sons of Israel (בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל, bene yisra’el).” (Deuteronomy 32:8)

The Septuagint

“When the Most High divided the nations, when He scattered the sons of Adam, He set the boundaries of the nations according to the number of the angels of God (ἀγγέλων θεοῦ, angelōn theou).” (Deuteronomy 32:8, LXX)

The Dead Sea Scrolls (4QDeutj)

“When the Most High gave to the nations their inheritance, when He separated the sons of man, He set the boundaries of the peoples according to the number of the sons of God (בני אלהים, bene elohim).” (Deuteronomy 32:8, 4QDeutj)

Read those again slowly. The same verse. Three different manuscripts. Three different readings at the critical point.

The MT says God set national boundaries according to the number of the “sons of Israel.”

The LXX says He set them according to the number of the “angels of God.”

The Dead Sea Scrolls say He set them according to the number of the “sons of God.”

The LXX and Dead Sea Scrolls agree with each other in substance: the number in question refers to divine beings, not to the human descendants of Jacob. The MT stands alone in reading “sons of Israel.”

What’s Going On Here?

The majority of textual scholars, including both those who hold the Masoretic Text in highest regard and those who favor the LXX, agree that the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Septuagint preserve the earlier reading. The reasoning is straightforward: it’s much easier to explain why a scribe would change “sons of God” to “sons of Israel” (to avoid what looked like polytheistic language) than to explain why anyone would change “sons of Israel” to “sons of God” (which creates the very theological difficulty the scribe would want to avoid).

This is a basic principle of textual criticism called lectio difficilior, or “the more difficult reading.” When two manuscripts disagree, the reading that is harder to explain theologically is usually the older one, because scribes had a tendency to smooth out difficulties, not create them. “Sons of God” in a context that seems to acknowledge multiple divine beings is a much more “difficult” reading than “sons of Israel,” which fits comfortably within standard monotheistic theology.

The Hebrew text that the LXX translators were working from apparently read bene elohim or bene el, which they rendered as “angels of God” (ἀγγέλων θεοῦ). This is the same translation strategy they used in Job 1:6 and 2:1, where the Hebrew bene ha-elohim (”sons of God”) is rendered as “the angels of God” in the Greek. The LXX translators consistently understood bene elohim as referring to heavenly beings and translated accordingly.

The Dead Sea Scrolls fragment 4QDeutj, dating to around 50 A.D. but copied from earlier manuscripts, preserves the Hebrew as בני אלהים (bene elohim), “sons of God.” This is crucial because it gives us a Hebrew witness that agrees with the Greek translation. The two witnesses, one in Greek and one in Hebrew, independently confirm the same original reading.

And they truly are independent. The Septuagint translators were working in Alexandria, Egypt. The scribes who produced the Qumran manuscripts were working in the Judean desert. These communities had no collaborative relationship. They represent separate textual traditions. And they agree against the Masoretic Text.

It’s also worth noting that Deuteronomy 32:43, the conclusion of the same poem (the Song of Moses), shows a similar pattern. The MT has a shorter version of this verse, while the LXX and Dead Sea Scrolls preserve a longer version that includes references to “heavenly ones” and “gods” worshiping alongside the nations. The poetic structure of the longer version, with balanced parallel lines, is demonstrably more original than the shorter MT version, which disrupts the parallelism. This suggests a consistent editorial pattern in the MT of this particular chapter: references to other divine beings were removed or altered.

Now, if you’ve been reading this Substack for any length of time, you know what I’m about to say.

Why the MT Is NOT Simply “Wrong”

This is a critical both/and moment, and I want to give it the space it deserves.

The standard scholarly narrative goes something like this: the original text read “sons of God,” referring to divine beings. Later scribes, uncomfortable with what they perceived as polytheistic implications, changed it to “sons of Israel” to eliminate the reference to other divine beings. The MT preserves this later, theologically motivated alteration. Case closed.

I understand this argument. I find the textual evidence for the priority of the LXX/DSS reading compelling. I think it’s very likely that the earliest Hebrew text of this verse did read “sons of God” rather than “sons of Israel.”

But I don’t think that means the Masoretic reading is theologically empty. And here’s where I suspect I’ll part ways with a great many scholars.

Even if the MT reading arose from a later scribal change, that reading creates a theological correspondence that is genuinely illuminating: the 70 nations in the Table of Nations (Genesis 10) correspond to the 70 descendants of Jacob who went to Egypt (Genesis 46:27, Exodus 1:5, Deuteronomy 10:22). God structured the world with Israel as the template. The number of nations matches the number of Israel’s founding family.

That’s not accidental. And it’s not meaningless.

The MT reading gives us the covenantal architecture of God’s plan. God arranged the world’s national boundaries in correspondence with His covenant people. Israel was always at the center of God’s design for the nations. The world was built to receive Israel’s witness.

The LXX/DSS reading gives us the cosmic architecture of God’s plan. God assigned divine beings to oversee the nations while keeping Israel for Himself. The world’s governance has both an earthly and a heavenly dimension, and God’s direct involvement with Israel is unique among all the nations of the earth.

Both of these are true. Both are operating at the same time. The covenantal plan (MT) and the cosmic plan (LXX/DSS) are not contradictory. They’re complementary layers of the same reality, consistent with the “on earth as it is in heaven” principle that runs throughout Scripture.

The number 70 bridges both readings. Seven times ten. Divine completeness multiplied by totality. Whether you read it as 70 nations corresponding to 70 sons of Israel or 70 nations corresponding to 70 divine beings, the number itself carries the same symbolic weight: God’s ordering of the world is total, intentional, and complete.

And the number 70 doesn’t stop there. Seventy elders accompanied Moses up Mount Sinai to eat and drink in the presence of God (Exodus 24:9). Seventy elders received the Spirit to help govern Israel (Numbers 11:24-25). Jesus sent out 70 (or 72, depending on the manuscript) disciples to the harvest (Luke 10:1). The number keeps appearing at moments when God’s governance is being extended, structured, or renewed. It’s a number that carries the weight of divine ordering across both testaments.

I believe God preserved both readings because both tell part of the truth. The LXX reveals the cosmic machinery. The MT reveals the covenantal purpose. And when you hold them together, you see the full architecture of God’s government over the nations.

The Babel Question

Now, does Deuteronomy 32:8 refer to the Tower of Babel?

The language certainly echoes the Babel narrative. “When He separated the sons of man” and “He set the boundaries of the peoples” sound like they’re describing the dispersion recorded in Genesis 11:1-9, where God confused the languages and scattered humanity across the earth.

And the placement is suggestive. Genesis 10 (the Table of Nations, listing 70 peoples) immediately precedes Genesis 11 (the Babel account). The Table of Nations describes the result of the dispersion; Babel describes the mechanism. Deuteronomy 32:8 could be looking back at both, describing the divine purpose behind what happened: God divided the nations and assigned them to divine overseers.

But I want to be honest about something: the text doesn’t name Babel. It doesn’t mention a tower, confused languages, or the plain of Shinar. The connection is inferential, not explicit. It’s a reasonable inference. It may even be the correct one. But it is an inference.

Why does this matter? Because in biblical scholarship, the difference between “the text says” and “I infer from the text” is the difference between building on rock and building on sand. I’ve seen too many elaborate theological systems constructed on inferences treated as certainties. I’d rather show you what the text actually says and let you draw your own conclusions about what it implies.

What the text actually says is this: at some point in the past, when the Most High divided humanity into nations, He assigned those nations to divine beings while keeping Israel as His own direct possession. Whether this happened at Babel, or at some other moment in the primeval history, the text doesn’t specify.

What About the Ugaritic Parallels?

Some scholars point to the Ugaritic texts, which describe 70 sons of the Canaanite god El, as the background for Deuteronomy 32:8. The argument is that the biblical author borrowed or adapted the Canaanite concept of 70 divine beings governing 70 nations.

Please allow me to acknowledge this with honest transparency. The parallel exists. It’s interesting. It may reflect a shared cultural memory of something real, since both Israelite and Canaanite traditions could be drawing on genuine knowledge of the spiritual world, filtered through different theological frameworks.

But I need to establish a methodological principle that will govern this entire series: ancient Near Eastern texts can illuminate Scripture, but they must never drive its interpretation.

We don’t need Ugarit to understand Deuteronomy 32. The Bible provides its own internal logic. The number 70 appears in Genesis 10 (70 nations), Genesis 46:27 (70 descendants of Jacob), Exodus 24:9 (70 elders who see God on Sinai), and Numbers 11:24 (70 elders who receive the Spirit). The symbolism is woven into the fabric of Israel’s own story, independent of anything happening in a Canaanite temple.

I’m not saying we should ignore the ANE background entirely. Context matters immensely. But Scripture interprets Scripture. The first question we should ask about any biblical passage is, “What does the rest of the Bible say about this?” not “What does Ugarit say about this?”

Deuteronomy 4:19-20: The Confirming Passage

And as it happens, the Bible itself confirms the Deuteronomy 32:8 framework earlier in the same book. Deuteronomy 4:19-20 is a passage that rarely gets the attention it deserves:

“And take heed, lest you lift your eyes to heaven, and when you see the sun, the moon, and the stars, all the host of heaven, you feel driven to worship them and serve them, which the Lord your God has allotted to all the peoples under the whole heaven. But the Lord has taken you and brought you out of the iron furnace, out of Egypt, to be His people, His inheritance, as you are this day.” (NKJV)

Read that carefully. God “allotted” the host of heaven to all the peoples. The word “allotted” (חָלַק, chalaq) means to apportion, to distribute, to divide as an inheritance. God distributed the heavenly host to the nations as their portion.

And then, in the very next breath: “But the Lord has taken you and brought you out of Egypt, to be His people, His inheritance.”

The structure is identical to Deuteronomy 32:8-9. The nations get divine beings as their allotment. Israel gets God Himself. The nations relate to God through intermediaries. Israel relates to God directly.

This isn’t a one-off statement buried in an obscure passage. It’s a foundational claim about how God has structured the world, made twice in the same book of the Bible. Deuteronomy 4 states it as a warning (don’t worship what was given to the nations). Deuteronomy 32 states it as a hymn of praise (God kept you for Himself). Both passages tell the same story from different angles.

Verse 9: “For the Lord’s Portion Is His People”

We cannot leave Deuteronomy 32:8 without reading verse 9, because verse 9 is the theological payoff of everything verse 8 establishes.

MT: “For the Lord’s portion is His people; Jacob is the lot of His inheritance.” (NKJV)

LXX: “And His people Jacob became the portion of the Lord; Israel was the line of His inheritance.”

Read the two verses together and the picture is stunning. The Most High divided the nations among divine beings. Every nation got a divine governor. But God chose one nation for Himself. He didn’t delegate Israel to an angel. He didn’t assign a “prince of Israel” in the same way Persia and Greece had their princes. He kept Israel as His own direct possession, His inheritance, His portion.

This is what makes Israel unique in all the earth. It’s not that Israel was better, smarter, or more righteous than other nations. Deuteronomy itself makes this clear: “The Lord did not set His love on you nor choose you because you were more in number than any other people, for you were the least of all peoples” (Deuteronomy 7:7, NKJV).

Israel is unique because of the nature of its relationship with God. Every other nation related to God through an intermediary, a divine being who was supposed to reflect God’s justice and righteousness to that people. Israel related to God directly. No middleman. No angelic bureaucrat. The Creator of the universe, the Most High, made this small, stubborn, frequently disobedient people His personal inheritance.

And this is why the corruption of the divine council matters so much. When the divine governors of the nations turned corrupt (as Psalm 82 describes), the nations under their care suffered. Injustice flourished. The poor were crushed. The foundations of the earth were shaken. The nations had no direct access to God; they only knew what their corrupt overseers showed them.

But Israel had God Himself. And through Israel, God’s true character, His justice, His mercy, His holiness, was supposed to reach the nations. Israel was to be “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (Exodus 19:6), mediating God’s presence to a world governed by beings who had abandoned their mandate.

The Great Commission Connection

And this, brothers and sisters, is why the Great Commission is not just a New Testament add-on. It’s the climax of a cosmic story that begins in Deuteronomy 32.

When the risen Christ declared, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to Me. Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations” (Matthew 28:18-19, NKJV), He was announcing the reclamation of the disinherited nations.

Think about what “all authority in heaven and on earth” means in the context of what we’ve been studying. If the nations were assigned to divine beings, and those divine beings held authority over those nations, then “all authority” means Christ has displaced the corrupt governors. The prince of Persia has been overruled. The prince of Greece has been overruled. Every spiritual power that held the nations in darkness has been subjected to the authority of the risen King.

And the mechanism of reclamation is the Gospel. Not angelic warfare. Not cosmic force. The preaching of the good news to every nation, tribe, language, and people. Through the church, the nations that have been under corrupt spiritual governance since the dispersion are hearing, for the first time, the voice of the true God who made them.

This is why Paul, who understood the divine council framework better than almost anyone (read Ephesians 3:10, where he says the church’s purpose is to make God’s wisdom known “to the principalities and powers in the heavenly places”), was so passionate about reaching the Gentiles. Every Gentile nation that received the Gospel was a nation being reclaimed from the corrupt divine governors. Every church planted in Asia Minor, Greece, or Rome was a beachhead in territory that had been held by fallen elohim since the days of Babel.

The book of Acts isn’t just a travelogue of Paul’s missionary journeys. It’s the story of Deuteronomy 32 being reversed. The nations, disinherited and delegated to corrupt spiritual powers, are being brought back under the direct authority of the God of Israel through His Son, Jesus Christ.

And consider this: at Pentecost (Acts 2), the Holy Spirit descends and the disciples speak in the languages of “every nation under heaven” (Acts 2:5). Jews and proselytes from Parthia, Media, Elam, Mesopotamia, Cappadocia, Pontus, Asia, Egypt, Libya, Rome, Crete, Arabia, all hear the Gospel in their own tongues. If the dispersion at Babel divided the nations and assigned them to divine beings, then Pentecost is the first great act of reversal. The nations are being called back. The languages that were confused at Babel are being used, now, to proclaim the one God who made them all.

Why This Matters for You

If you’re a believer, this framework changes how you understand three things:

First, it changes how you understand missions. The Great Commission isn’t just about saving individual souls, although it is that. It’s about reclaiming entire nations from spiritual powers that have held them in darkness. When missionaries carry the Gospel to an unreached people group, they are participating in the cosmic reversal of Deuteronomy 32. They’re carrying the light of God into territory that has been under corrupt spiritual governance for millennia. That’s not a metaphor. That’s the biblical framework.

Second, it changes how you understand prayer. Daniel prayed for three weeks and the answer was delayed by spiritual resistance (Daniel 10). When you pray for nations, for governments, for unreached peoples, you are engaging a reality that has both earthly and heavenly dimensions. Your prayers matter not just on the human level but on the cosmic level, because behind every nation’s government is a spiritual dimension that needs to be addressed.

Third, it changes how you understand Israel. God’s relationship with Israel is unique, not because Israelites are special humans, but because God chose to relate to them directly rather than through a divine intermediary. That choice was not revoked when Israel rejected Jesus. Paul is emphatic about this in Romans 11:29: “The gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable.” God’s direct relationship with Israel remains, and it has cosmic significance within the framework of Deuteronomy 32.

Both/And, All the Way Down

Let me close by returning to where we started: three texts, three readings.

The Dead Sea Scrolls preserve what is most likely the oldest reading: “sons of God.” Divine beings. The cosmic framework at its most explicit.

The Septuagint translates the concept into Greek: “angels of God.” The translators understood what was at stake and rendered it faithfully, albeit with their own interpretive vocabulary.

The Masoretic Text reads “sons of Israel.” Whether this arose from a scribal change or represents an alternative tradition, it creates a theological correspondence between the 70 nations and the 70 members of Jacob’s family that is genuinely illuminating.

I don’t believe we have to choose between these readings. I believe God preserved all three because all three tell part of the truth. The cosmic architecture (DSS/LXX) and the covenantal architecture (MT) operate simultaneously. God assigned divine beings to the nations and structured the world around His covenant people. The number 70 ties both realities together in a single, breathtaking act of divine ordering.

This is the beauty of comparative textual reading. No one tradition has the whole picture. But together, they reveal an architecture of cosmic governance that is far more intricate, far more purposeful, and far more Christ-centered than any single text conveys on its own.

What’s Ahead

In Part 4, we’re going to tackle one of the most familiar sentences in all of Scripture: “Let us make man in our image.” Who is the “us”?

The Trinity? The divine council? Both?

We’ll see how Genesis 1:26 fits into the framework we’ve been building, and why the answer isn’t either/or but both/and, with the Trinitarian meaning operating at a deeper level than the original audience could have fully grasped.

It’s a passage where progressive revelation does its finest work. I hope you’ll join me for it.

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I want to share something with you that I’ve been wrestling with for a while now.

When I started this publication, I followed the standard Substack model: free posts as the main course, with a paid tier offering deeper series and the occasional study. It seemed obvious. It’s what almost everyone does.

And honestly, it’s effective.

But I’ve been increasingly convicted that what I do here, comparing the Masoretic Text and the Septuagint, exploring what the apostles saw when they looked at Scripture, opening up the riches of God’s Word, shouldn’t sit behind a paywall. I’m not running a course. I’m not selling expertise. I’m trying to help fellow believers see something I believe matters deeply, and I want the only barriers to that to be the ones each reader chooses for themselves.

So here’s what’s changing: The LXX Scrolls is going completely free.

Every post. Every series. The Divine Council series that we’re in the middle of. The Walking Through Daniel commentary as it unfolds verse by verse. The Greek word studies. The Tabernacle series down the road. All of it, freely available to anyone who wants to read it. No doors. No gatekeepers. No paywall.

What’s staying the same is more important than what’s changing. My publishing schedule isn’t changing: Verse or chapter posts every Saturday and Wednesdays alternating between Greek word studies and longer series installments. The quality, depth, and care that goes into each post stays exactly where it’s been. If anything, I’m more committed than ever, because freeing the work from the paywall means I’m writing for everyone who shows up.

A few things you might be wondering about

Are the ebooks and audiobooks still for sale?

Yes. The books I publish through Amazon (and elsewhere) under the Two Witnesses, One Truth series are a separate thing. They’re polished, curated products designed to live on your digital shelf for years to come. A Substack post is a teaching. A book is a product. The teaching here is free. The books are a growing resource for those who prefer that format as well as a way to sustain this work, and they remain available for readers who want a permanent, organized, easily navigable version they can mark up and return to.

Can I still support this publication if I want to?

Absolutely. Substack has a built-in paid subscription (in this case a recurring support rather than paying for access or a product, and I’ll keep that option open for anyone who feels called to partner with this work financially. It’s not a subscription to anything extra anymore, since everything is free. It’s patronage, plain and simple. You’re not buying access. You’re helping me keep writing. I’m grateful for every reader who participates in that way, but there’s zero pressure or expectation. The work is the work, whether you read freely or support it.

What about current paid subscribers?

I’ve reached out to each of you personally by email/Substack message. You signed up under the old model and I want to honor that. If you haven’t seen my message, you might need to check your junk mail.

Why now

I don’t have a dramatic story here. No moment of crisis. No vision in the night.

What I have is a conviction that wouldn’t leave me alone. It came from an unexpected source: a creator whose work I don’t even particularly resonate with, who mentioned in passing that he keeps his writing freely accessible because teaching about Jesus should be free.

That line lodged in my head and stayed there for weeks. I prayed about it. I tried to talk myself out of it. I worked through the financial implications and the practical questions. And I kept coming back to the same place: this is the right call for this publication.

I don’t know exactly what this means for the future of The LXX Scrolls financially. The ebook catalog is real and growing, and the pledge option is there for readers who want to partner with the work. Beyond that, I’m trusting that since the Lord called me to this, He’ll provide the means to keep doing it. So far He’s provided beyond my wildest dreams.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for being part of this. The scrolls are open.

In His glorious name,
Kevin

Before we open Daniel 1 together, I want to emphasize something about this book that might change how you read it forever. I touched on this in the introduction last week, but allow me to dig a little deeper into this.

The Hebrew version of Daniel is bilingual.

Not bilingual the way we usually mean it, where the author happens to know two languages. I mean the text itself switches languages partway through. Daniel opens in Hebrew (1:1 through 2:4a), then abruptly switches to Aramaic at 2:4b, stays in Aramaic through the end of chapter 7, and then switches back to Hebrew for the rest of the book (chapters 8 through 12).

This isn’t a minor curiosity. It’s one of the great mysteries of the book, and it sets up everything we’re about to read.

Why Two Languages?

Here’s what makes this so puzzling: the language switch doesn’t follow the natural structural division of the book.

If you were going to divide Daniel into two halves, the obvious split would be between chapters 6 and 7. Chapters 1 through 6 are stories about Daniel and his friends, told mostly in the third person. Chapters 7 through 12 are visions received by Daniel, recorded mostly in the first person. Stories, then visions. Neat and tidy.

But the language doesn’t follow that split. The Aramaic section begins in the middle of a story (chapter 2) and runs through the first vision (chapter 7). The Hebrew bookends the Aramaic on both sides: chapter 1 and chapters 8 through 12.

Why?

Several theories have been proposed, and I think the most compelling ones aren’t mutually exclusive. The first is structural. Chapters 2 through 7 form a chiastic pattern in Aramaic: chapter 2 (four kingdoms + God’s kingdom) mirrors chapter 7 (four beasts + God’s kingdom); chapter 3 (faithfulness under persecution) mirrors chapter 6 (faithfulness under persecution); chapter 4 (God humbles a king) mirrors chapter 5 (God judges a king). This chiasm is a self-contained literary unit, and the Aramaic frames it as such.

The second theory is about audience. Aramaic was the lingua franca of the ancient Near East, the language of empire, diplomacy, and commerce. Hebrew was the language of Jewish identity, covenant, and worship. The Aramaic section (chapters 2-7) addresses themes that concern the nations: the rise and fall of empires, the sovereignty of God over pagan kings, the vindication of the faithful in foreign courts. The Hebrew sections (chapter 1 and chapters 8-12) address themes that concern Israel specifically: the exile, the restoration of Jerusalem, the coming of the Messiah, the end of days.

In other words, the bilingual structure mirrors the message. God is sovereign over both Israel and the nations, and He speaks to both, in both of their languages. This is a both/and book from its very bones.

It’s worth noting that this bilingual structure is a feature of the Masoretic Text’s source language. The Greek translations (both the Old Greek and Theodotion) rendered everything into Greek, so a reader of the Septuagint wouldn’t necessarily know the underlying language had changed. But scholars have observed that the Greek translations sometimes show different vocabulary patterns and translation techniques in the Hebrew sections versus the Aramaic sections. These are subtle fingerprints of the bilingual original showing through the Greek surface that an exceptionally attentive reader may have noticed.

Now, let’s dig in.

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Daniel 1:1-2 — God Gave

Daniel 1:1-2 (NRSVUE):

“In the third year of the reign of King Jehoiakim of Judah, King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon came to Jerusalem and besieged it. The Lord let King Jehoiakim of Judah fall into his power, as well as some of the vessels of the house of God. These he brought to the land of Shinar, and placed the vessels in the treasury of his gods.”

The very first verse raises a question that critics have seized on for centuries: Daniel says Nebuchadnezzar came to Jerusalem in the third year of Jehoiakim’s reign. But Jeremiah 25:1 dates Nebuchadnezzar’s first year to the fourth year of Jehoiakim. Is this a contradiction?

In fact, it is not. The discrepancy is resolved by understanding two different systems for counting the years of a king’s reign. The Babylonian system used what’s called “accession-year dating,” where the partial year in which a king took the throne was called his “accession year,” and his official “year one” didn’t begin until the next New Year. The Judean system (which Jeremiah uses) counted the accession year as year one. The result is that the same historical event, Nebuchadnezzar’s first campaign against Jerusalem around 605 B.C., falls in Jehoiakim’s third year by Babylonian reckoning and his fourth year by Judean reckoning.

Daniel, writing from Babylon after years (possibly decades) in the Babylonian court, naturally uses the Babylonian system. Jeremiah, writing from Jerusalem, uses the Judean system. Both are correct. This is actually an incidental mark of authenticity: a second-century forger trying to pass off a work as Daniel’s would almost certainly have followed Jeremiah’s dating to avoid the appearance of contradiction.

But the dating isn’t even the most important thing in these two verses. Look at the theology.

“The Lord let King Jehoiakim of Judah fall into his power.” The NKJV puts it even more directly: “The Lord gave Jehoiakim king of Judah into his hand.”

The Hebrew verb here is נָתַן (natan), “to give.” This is the theological key that unlocks the entire chapter. Nebuchadnezzar didn’t overpower God. God gave Judah into Babylon’s hand. The exile was divine judgment.

The subtext here is that even a catastrophe such as this was under God’s sovereign control.

And remember this verb. It will come back.

There’s one more detail here that’s easy to miss. The text says Nebuchadnezzar brought the temple vessels to “the land of Shinar.” Not “Babylon,” but “Shinar.” This is an archaic name, a deliberate echo of Genesis 11:2, where humanity settled in the plain of Shinar and built the Tower of Babel. It appears again in Zechariah 5:11, where wickedness is carried to Shinar. By using this ancient name instead of “Babylon,” the author is framing the exile within a larger biblical narrative: Shinar/Babylon has always been the place where human pride rises against God. Daniel’s story is the latest chapter in a conflict that goes all the way back to Genesis.

All three textual traditions agree on the substance of these verses, though the Old Greek and Theodotion render “the Lord” with κύριος (kyrios), which is the standard Greek translation of both Adonai and the divine name throughout the Septuagint.

Daniel 1:3-7 — The Remaking of Israel’s Best

Daniel 1:3-5 (NRSVUE):

“Then the king commanded his palace master Ashpenaz to bring some of the Israelites of the royal family and of the nobility, young men without physical defect and handsome, versed in every branch of wisdom, endowed with knowledge and insight, and competent to serve in the king’s palace; they were to be taught the literature and language of the Chaldeans. The king assigned them a daily portion of the royal rations of food and wine. They were to be educated for three years, so that at the end of that time they could be stationed in the king’s court.”

Ashpenaz is identified as the רַב סָרִיסָיו (rav sarisav), which most translations render as “chief of the eunuchs” or “chief court official.” The Hebrew word סָרִיס (saris) is ambiguous; it can refer to a castrated court official (a eunuch in the literal sense) or simply to a high-ranking palace administrator.

But the use of this term raises a haunting possibility: that Daniel and his companions were themselves made eunuchs upon arrival in Babylon.

This isn’t idle speculation. Isaiah 39:7 records a prophecy delivered to King Hezekiah: “Some of your own sons, who are born to you, shall be taken away; they shall be eunuchs in the palace of the king of Babylon.”

If Daniel and his friends were of royal or noble descent (as verse 3 states), they may have been the direct fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy. The text never confirms or denies this, but the use of saris is suggestive.

It’s worth noting that both Greek versions use the term εὐνοῦχος (eunouchos), which more explicitly means “eunuch,” though this was also used broadly for court officials in Greek.

Look at the criteria for selection: “without physical defect,” “handsome,” “versed in every branch of wisdom,” “endowed with knowledge and insight.” These terms echo the qualifications for both sacrificial animals (Leviticus 22:21-22, “without blemish”) and for priestly service. There’s a bitter irony here: Babylon is selecting Israel’s finest young men using language that mirrors service to God, but repurposing them for service to a pagan king.

And then comes the renaming.

Daniel 1:6-7 (NRSVUE):

“Among them were Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah, from the tribe of Judah. The palace master gave them other names: Daniel he called Belteshazzar, Hananiah he called Shadrach, Mishael he called Meshach, and Azariah he called Abednego.”

The Hebrew names of these four young men are theophoric, meaning they contain the name of God woven into their very identity:

Daniel (דָּנִיֵּאל) means “God is my judge.” The divine name El is embedded in his name.

Hananiah (חֲנַנְיָה) means “The Lord is gracious.” The suffix -yah is a shortened form of the divine name.

Mishael (מִישָׁאֵל) means “Who is what God is?” Again, El appears.

Azariah (עֲזַרְיָה) means “The Lord has helped.” Another -yah suffix.

Every time their parents called their names, they were making a theological statement about the God of Israel. Now Babylon strips those names away and replaces them:

Daniel becomes Belteshazzar, almost certainly invoking the Babylonian god Bel (Marduk). We know this because Nebuchadnezzar himself says in Daniel 4:8 that the name is “according to the name of my god.”

Hananiah becomes Shadrach. The exact etymology is debated, but many scholars connect it to Shudur Aku, “command of Aku,” the Sumerian moon god.

Mishael becomes Meshach. This may be a deliberate distortion of the Hebrew; if Mishael asks “Who is what God is?”, Meshach may twist it to “Who is what Aku is?”, replacing the true God with a pagan deity.

Azariah becomes Abednego, most likely “servant of Nebo” (also known as Nabu), the Babylonian god of wisdom and writing.

This is cultural conquest through naming. Babylon takes young men whose very identities proclaim the God of Israel and assigns them identities that invoke pagan gods. It’s an attempt to rewrite their souls.

The Greek versions transliterate these Babylonian names slightly differently across manuscripts, but the substance is consistent across all three traditions. What matters is the theological violence of the act: Babylon can change their names, but as the rest of the book will demonstrate, Babylon cannot change who they are.

Daniel 1:8-16 — The Line in the Sand

Daniel 1:8 (NRSVUE):

“But Daniel resolved that he would not defile himself with the royal rations of food and wine, so he asked the palace master to allow him not to defile himself.”

The Hebrew phrase here is powerful. “Daniel resolved” translates וַיָּשֶׂם דָּנִיֵּאל עַל־לִבּוֹ (vayyasem Daniel al-libbo), literally “Daniel set upon his heart.” This is the language of deliberate, settled conviction. This is solid resolve forged deep in his core, not some spur-of-the-moment decision.

But why the food? What exactly was the problem?

It wasn’t simply a matter of kosher dietary laws, though those would certainly have been relevant. The deeper issue at hand is that food served at the king’s table would have been consecrated to Babylonian gods first. Eating it meant participating, however indirectly, in pagan worship. For Daniel, accepting the king’s food meant accepting the king’s gods.

In other words, covenant betrayal dressed up as court etiquette.

What’s in view here is the first test of faithfulness in the book, and it’s significant that it’s about something as mundane as food. Daniel didn’t draw the line at the language classes (he learned Babylonian literature and language willingly). He didn’t draw the line at the new name (he presumably answered to Belteshazzar without protest). But he drew the line at food, because food in the ancient Near East was inextricably tied to worship.

The palace master initially refuses.

Daniel 1:10 (NRSVUE):

“The palace master said to Daniel, “I am afraid of my lord the king; he has appointed your food and your drink. If he should see you in poorer condition than the other young men of your age, you would endanger my head with the king.””

Now, notice what Daniel does. He doesn’t suggest the palace master overcome his fear. He doesn’t plead his case. He doesn’t fight at all.

Now, the text tells us that Daniel had the palace master’s favor and compassion, so we can imagine that might have played a part in Daniel’s decision here. But as to what the basis of that relationship is, the text doesn’t tell us. Maybe Daniel earned his respect. Maybe the became something resembling friends. Who knows?

In the end, what matters is that Daniel chooses not to create strife with the palace master. Rather, he chooses to go around him.

Daniel proposes a test to the guard appointed by the palace master. He’ll give them ten days of vegetables and water instead of the king’s food. If they look worse for it, Daniel will comply.

The word for “vegetables” in the Hebrew is זֵרֹעִים (zero’im), which literally means “things sown” or “seeds.” The Old Greek renders this σπέρματα (spermata), also “seeds,” while Theodotion uses a similar term. The point is the same across all three traditions: Daniel chooses the simplest possible diet, one with no risk of idolatrous contamination.

After ten days, Daniel and his friends look healthier than the youths eating the king’s food. The guard permanently removes their royal rations, providing a quiet victory. So there is no confrontation, no public scene, no shame or disgrace, just faithful conviction rewarded by God’s provision.

I find it interesting that there is no indication of the palace master having been involved in any way with the taking away of the king’s rations from the young men. Did he even know about it? The text doesn’t tell us, but it’s one of the things that I ponder in this passage.

Now, the number ten will recur as a testing motif later, both in Daniel and elsewhere in Scripture (cf. Revelation 2:10, where the church in Smyrna is told it will suffer tribulation “for ten days”). Whether this is a deliberate pattern or simply a natural marker for a testing period, it’s a detail worth noticing as we move through the book.

Daniel 1:17-20 — God Gave (Again)

Daniel 1:17 (NRSVUE):

“To these four young men God gave knowledge and skill in every aspect of literature and wisdom; Daniel also had insight into all visions and dreams.”

There it is again. The verb נָתַן (natan), “to give.” God gave Jehoiakim into Nebuchadnezzar’s hand (v. 2), and now God gives these four young men knowledge and wisdom (v. 17). The same God who permitted the catastrophe also provides for the faithful within it. The verb frames the entire chapter, and it tells you everything you need to know about the theology of Daniel: God is the one who gives, and God is the one who takes away, and both are acts of sovereignty.

Notice the distinction: all four receive knowledge and skill in literature and wisdom (the Babylonian curriculum), but Daniel alone receives the ability to understand “visions and dreams.” This sets up the rest of the book. Daniel’s friends will be tested by fire in chapter 3, but Daniel will be tested by revelation. He’s being equipped for a prophetic role that none of the others will share.

Daniel 1:19-20 (NRSVUE):

“The king spoke with them, and among them all no one was found to compare with Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah; therefore they were stationed in the king’s court. In every matter of wisdom and understanding concerning which the king inquired of them, he found them ten times better than all the magicians and enchanters in his whole kingdom.”

There’s that ten again. And the comparison isn’t with other exiles or other trainees; it’s with the entire Babylonian wisdom establishment. The magicians (חַרְטֻמִּים, chartummim) and enchanters (אַשָּׁפִים, ashaphim) were the professional class of wise men, scholars, diviners, and interpreters who formed the intellectual backbone of Nebuchadnezzar’s court. Four teenage exiles, fresh out of a three-year training program, outshine them all.

This isn’t presented as a reward for Daniel’s dietary faithfulness (though the connection is implied). It’s presented as a gift from God. The four youths didn’t earn their wisdom through study alone; God gave it to them. The same sovereignty that sent them into exile equipped them to thrive there.

All three textual traditions agree on the substance of these verses. This is one of the sections where the Old Greek, Theodotion, and the Masoretic Text tell the same story in essentially the same way, with only minor stylistic differences in word choice.

Daniel 1:21 — The Man Who Outlasted an Empire

Daniel 1:21 (NRSVUE):

“And Daniel continued there until the first year of King Cyrus.”

One verse. Easy to skim past. But this is a staggering statement.

Daniel arrived in Babylon as a teenager around 605 B.C. The first year of Cyrus over Babylon was 539 B.C. That’s roughly sixty-six years. Daniel outlasted the entire Babylonian Empire.

This doesn’t mean Daniel died in Cyrus’s first year. He’s still alive in Daniel 10:1, which is dated to the third year of Cyrus. The point of verse 21 isn’t about when Daniel died; it’s about how long he endured. He was there when Nebuchadnezzar took him from Jerusalem. He was there when Nebuchadnezzar went mad. He was there when Belshazzar threw his blasphemous feast. He was there when the Persian armies breached the walls. He was there when the empire that stole him from his homeland collapsed.

And through it all, Daniel continued. The Hebrew word is simply וַיְהִי (vayehi), “and he was.” He existed. He persisted. He remained.

Empires rise and fall. Daniel remained.

A Note on Textual Differences in Chapter 1

Daniel 1 is one of the chapters where all three traditions are relatively close. The dramatic divergences we discussed in the introduction post (the kind where the Old Greek tells a fundamentally different version of the story) don’t show up until chapters 4 through 6. In chapter 1, the Old Greek and Theodotion generally track the Masoretic Text with only minor differences in word choice, phrasing, and the rendering of proper names.

That said, there’s one feature of the Old Greek across the early chapters that’s worth mentioning.

The N.E.T.S. introduction to Daniel notes that the Old Greek translator of chapters 1 through 3 works more closely with the Semitic source text than the translator of chapters 4 through 6, where the divergences become enormous.

Scholars have debated whether the Old Greek of Daniel was produced by a single translator or by multiple translators working on different sections. The relatively close agreement in chapter 1 suggests that whoever translated this section was working carefully with a Hebrew text very similar to what we have in the Masoretic tradition.

However, where the NETS introduction implies that the translator of chapters 4-6 was merely being loose or interpretive with the translation, I would argue (as should come as no surprise if you’ve been with me for any length of time) that it’s likely that the translator was working from a very different Hebrew source than what survives today and that source merely agreed with the Masoretic much more closely in the early chapters than it does in 4, 5, and 6.

But in any case, for now all three voices are singing a remarkably similar tune.

Reflections: In Babylon, But Not of Babylon

Daniel 1 is a chapter about identity under pressure. Everything that defined these young men was stripped away: their homeland, their temple, their freedom, possibly even their bodies (if the eunuch implication is correct). And then their names were taken, replaced with labels honoring foreign gods.

Babylon’s strategy was total assimilation. Learn our language. Eat our food. Wear our names. Become us. Forget where you came from. Forget who your God is.

And it almost looks like it’s working. Daniel and his friends do learn the language. They do enter the king’s service. They do answer to their Babylonian names. From the outside, they look like successful products of the Babylonian educational/indoctrination system.

But there’s a line. And Daniel draws it.

Not at the obvious things; not at the language or the education or even the names. At the food. At the quiet, daily, seemingly insignificant act of sitting down to eat. Because Daniel understood something that many believers miss: faithfulness isn’t primarily about the dramatic moments. It’s about the daily ones. It’s about what you do when nobody’s watching and no one would blame you for going along.

In a word: integrity.

“Daniel set upon his heart.” He decided in advance. He didn’t wait until the food was in front of him to figure out what he believed. He had already resolved who he was and whose he was before the pressure arrived.

I think that’s the biggest takeaway for us. We all live in some version of Babylon. We all face cultural pressure to assimilate, to adopt the names and values and habits of the world around us. And the pressure is rarely dramatic. It’s rarely a fiery furnace or a lions’ den. It’s a daily meal. It’s a small compromise. It’s the quiet erosion of convictions that nobody else even notices.

And here’s the part that gives me hope: the same God who allowed the exile also provided within it. The same God who gave Judah into Babylon’s hand also gave Daniel wisdom, favor, and endurance. The sovereignty of God isn’t just about the catastrophes. It’s about the provision that sustains you through them.

Daniel continued until the first year of King Cyrus.

Empires fell. Daniel remained.

By the grace of the God who gives and gives and gives.

Coming Up Next

Next week, we’ll open Daniel 2, where Nebuchadnezzar has a dream that shakes the foundations of his empire. Daniel interprets it, revealing God’s plan for the ages. The Aramaic section begins, and with it, some of the most sweeping prophecy in all of Scripture.

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Most word studies start by introducing a word and showing you how it’s used. This one is going to start a little differently. Because today’s word appears at one of the most dramatic points of textual divergence between the Hebrew Masoretic Text and the Greek Septuagint anywhere in the Old Testament.

We’re talking about Genesis 4:7. The verse where God speaks to Cain just before Cain murders Abel.

In the Hebrew, you get one of the most vivid pieces of imagery in all of Scripture: sin as a wild beast crouching at the door, ready to pounce. It’s the verse that has shaped two thousand years of Christian thinking about sin, temptation, and spiritual warfare.

But in the Greek? That imagery is gone. Completely gone. No door. No crouching. No predator.

Instead, you get this: “Be still: his recourse is to you, and you will rule over him.”

Same verse. Two radically different pictures. And at the heart of the divergence sits one Greek word. A word that means “turning,” “return,” or “submission.”

That word is ἀποστροφή (apostrophē). And what we do with it determines how we read the entire scene.

Let’s dig in.

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The Word

ἀποστροφή (apostrophē)

Pronunciation: ah-poh-stroh-FAY

Strong’s: G654 (related)

Meaning: A turning, a turning toward, a return; recourse; submission; subjection; in rhetorical contexts, an address directed specifically toward someone

Root: From ἀπό (apo, G575 — “from, away from”) + στρέφω (strephō, G4762 — “to turn”). The compound literally means “a turning from” or “a turning back,” but in usage it broadens to include the idea of turning toward something or someone with focused attention.

LXX frequency: Rare. The noun ἀποστροφή appears only a handful of times. Most significantly, it appears in Genesis 3:16 and Genesis 4:7, where the LXX uses it to translate the difficult Hebrew word תְּשׁוּקָה (teshuqah).

NT frequency: The noun ἀποστροφή itself does not appear in the New Testament. The related verb ἀποστρέφω appears multiple times, generally meaning “to turn away from.”

The Two Texts

Before we can talk about what ἀποστροφή means, we need to see exactly where it shows up. So let’s lay out both versions of Genesis 4:7 side by side.

Genesis 4:7 (NRSV): “If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it.”

Genesis 4:7 (LES): “Have you not sinned if you offer rightly but do not divide rightly? Calm down! His recourse will be to you, and you will rule him.”

These are not the same verse. They are not even close to the same verse.

The Hebrew gives us a warning: sin is a predator at the door, and Cain must master it. The Greek gives us... what, exactly? A statement about offerings, a command to calm down, and a curious assertion about someone’s “recourse” being toward Cain.

The pivot point in the Greek is ἀποστροφή. It’s the word translated “recourse.” And it’s the same word that shows up in Genesis 3:16, where the LXX translators chose it to render the Hebrew word for “desire” in God’s words to Eve: “your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.”

That’s not a coincidence. That’s a clue.

The Hebrew Behind the Greek: תְּשׁוּקָה (teshuqah)

The Hebrew word the LXX is translating with ἀποστροφή is תְּשׁוּקָה (teshuqah). And here’s something fascinating: this word appears only three times in the entire Hebrew Bible. Three times. That’s it.

Genesis 3:16 — “your teshuqah shall be for your husband”

Genesis 4:7 — “its teshuqah is for you”

Song of Songs 7:10 — “I am my beloved’s, and his teshuqah is for me”

That’s the entire data set. With only three occurrences, we don’t have a lot of contextual clues to nail down the precise meaning. And the word’s etymology is genuinely uncertain. Some scholars derive it from a root meaning “to long for” (hence “desire”). Others derive it from a root meaning “to turn” or “to run after.”

When the Septuagint translators encountered teshuqah in the third century B.C. (and remember, they were Jewish scholars working from a Hebrew text closer in time to the original than what we have today) they consistently chose words built on the στρέφω family. ἀποστροφή (”a turning toward”) in Genesis 3:16 and 4:7. ἐπιστροφή (”a turning toward”) in Song of Songs 7:10.

For these ancient Jewish translators, teshuqah meant some kind of turning. Not lurking. Not desire in the sense of predatory craving. A turning. Possibly with the sense of orientation, attention, or even devotion.

This matters because it means the Septuagint isn’t randomly inventing a different reading of Genesis 4:7. It’s reading the same Hebrew word and choosing a different valid sense of that word. The Hebrew can support both readings. The translators just landed on a different one.

The Hebrew Picture: Sin as a Crouching Beast

Let’s take the Hebrew reading on its own terms first.

The Masoretic Text of Genesis 4:7 paints a vivid picture. The word translated “lurking” or “crouching” is רֹבֵץ (rovetz), a participle from the verb רָבַץ (ravats), which means “to crouch, to lie down, to recline.” In Hebrew literature, this word is often used of animals lying in wait. Think predators in a position of readiness to pounce.

So in the Hebrew, sin is personified as a beast. It’s not just present; it’s positioned. Crouching at the door of Cain’s heart, watching, waiting for the moment to strike. And God warns Cain: this thing wants you. Its teshuqah is for you. But you can— and must —master it.

The word translated “master” or “rule over” is מָשַׁל (mashal), the same word that appears in Genesis 3:16 (”he shall rule over you”) and throughout the Old Testament for ruling, governing, having dominion. Cain is being told that sin desires him, but he has been given the capacity to dominate the predator at his door.

This is one of the most profound theological statements in Genesis. It assumes human moral agency. It assumes accountability. It assumes that no matter how strong the pull of sin is, the human being is not helpless against it. Sin is a beast at the door, but Cain is not its prey unless he chooses to be.

For two millennia, Christians have read this verse as one of the great warnings of Scripture. Watch your heart. Sin is not passive. It hunts. And you must hunt it back.

The Greek Picture: A Different Scene Entirely

Now look at the Greek.

The LXX of Genesis 4:7 has no door. No beast. No crouching. The translators rendered the Hebrew differently at almost every point. Where the Hebrew has “if you do well... and if you do not do well,” the Greek has “if you offer rightly... but do not divide rightly.” Where the Hebrew has “sin is lurking at the door,” the Greek has nothing. That entire image disappears. And where the Hebrew has teshuqah directed at Cain (sin’s desire is for him), the Greek has ἀποστροφή directed at Cain (someone’s “recourse” is to him).

So who is the “his” in the Greek? Whose recourse turns toward Cain?

This is the question that scholars have argued about for centuries. There are three main answers, and they all have weight.

Option 1: The Antecedent Is Sin.

This view holds that even though the LXX translators removed the imagery of sin crouching at the door, the pronoun “his” (or “its”) still grammatically refers back to sin since it’s the only previously mentioned subject in the verse. Under this reading, the Greek is essentially saying: “If you do not divide your offering rightly, have you not sinned? Calm down. Sin’s recourse is still toward you, but you must rule over it.”

This is the reading favored by some who want to preserve continuity with the Hebrew. It keeps the same basic theological warning— that sin is targeting Cain —while softening the predatory imagery.

Option 2: The Antecedent Is the Sin Offering.

This view notices something important about the LXX’s translation choices. The Greek doesn’t just say “sin,” it brings in cultic vocabulary. “If you offer rightly but do not divide rightly” is sacrificial language. The Greek word ἁμαρτία (hamartia, “sin”) can also mean “sin offering” in the LXX, and is used that way throughout Leviticus. Under this reading, the LXX is saying that Cain’s offering itself was the problem, that he didn’t divide it correctly, perhaps failing to follow proper sacrificial protocol. And the “his recourse is to you” might refer to the sin offering’s return; that is, the rejected sacrifice that comes back to the offerer.

This is a sophisticated reading and it has scholarly defenders, but it’s also somewhat strained. Not only does it require reading a lot of cultic theology into a few Greek words, but it also relies on some odd phrasing for something that is not being personified.

Option 3: The Antecedent Is Abel.

This is the reading that the Lexham English Septuagint adopts. The LES translates: “His recourse will be to you, and you will rule him.” And the LES is generally one of the most careful and reliable English translations of the LXX available.

Under this reading, the Greek is making a statement about the relationship between the two brothers. Abel— the only other person in the immediate context —has a natural ἀποστροφή toward Cain. As the elder brother in an ancient Near Eastern family, Cain holds the position of authority. Abel’s life turns toward him in the way that younger brothers in that culture were oriented toward elder brothers. And God is reminding Cain of this relationship: your brother looks to you. You hold the position of leadership. Don’t squander it.

This reading fits the immediate context with remarkable precision. The very next thing that happens in the narrative is that Cain attacks the brother who looks to him. The LXX’s reading turns God’s warning into a poignant statement about responsibility; Cain isn’t just facing the threat of sin, he’s facing the temptation to abuse the very person who is naturally disposed toward him.

Where I Land

After studying this carefully, I find the LES reading the most compelling. The “his” in the Greek of Genesis 4:7 most naturally refers to Abel.

Here’s why.

The LXX has removed the personification of sin from the verse. Sin doesn’t appear as a character. There’s no “crouching at the door.” There’s no figure positioned to receive a pronoun. By contrast, Abel is in the scene. He’s the brother whose offering was accepted, whose presence has driven Cain to rage, and who is about to be murdered. He’s the only natural antecedent for “his.”

And the cultural context fits perfectly. In the ancient Near East, the firstborn son held a position of authority within the family. Younger brothers were expected to defer to elder brothers in matters of leadership and inheritance. This was not domination; it was structure. A younger brother’s life had a natural orientation— a turning toward —the elder brother. That orientation is exactly what ἀποστροφή describes.

What God is doing in the Greek text, on this reading, is reminding Cain of a relationship that is about to be tragically betrayed. Your brother looks to you. He’s oriented toward you. You hold authority over him by birth order. So calm down. Stop letting your anger rage. Don’t destroy what is naturally given to you.

It’s heartbreaking when you read it this way. Because the next thing Cain does is rise up against the brother whose life is turning toward him.

A Word About the Cultic Layer

Before we go further, I want to address something about the LXX’s translation that’s worth understanding.

The Greek of Genesis 4:7 begins with “if you offer rightly but do not divide rightly.” This is sacrificial language. Some scholars take this to mean that the LXX is claiming Cain’s offering itself was the problem— that he failed to follow proper sacrificial protocol, perhaps not dividing his offering correctly between altar and consumption, or perhaps offering something inappropriate.

There’s something to this. The LXX is clearly framing the discussion in cultic terms.

But I don’t think the LXX is reducing Cain’s failure to a procedural mistake. And here’s why: the New Testament’s interpretation of this passage doesn’t go that direction.

Hebrews 11:4 says: “By faith Abel offered to God a more excellent sacrifice than Cain, through which he obtained witness that he was righteous, God testifying of his gifts” (NKJV).

Faith. That’s what made Abel’s offering acceptable. Not the species of animal. Not the precise division. Faith. The trust in God that produced an offering of the heart.

Whatever the LXX’s “do not divide rightly” means at a procedural level, the deeper issue Scripture identifies is Cain’s heart. He brought an offering without faith. Without trust. Without the kind of devotion that says, “God, this is for You, because You’re worth it.” And God, who looks at the heart before He looks at the offering, saw the difference.

The cultic layer in the LXX may be pointing to a real procedural failure. But the procedural failure is a symptom, not the disease. The disease is what was happening in Cain’s heart, which was the same thing that was about to drive him to murder. The LXX may add detail at the surface, but it doesn’t change the underlying diagnosis.

The Genesis 3:16 Connection

Here’s where things get really interesting.

Remember that ἀποστροφή appears not just in Genesis 4:7, but also in Genesis 3:16. God speaks to Eve after the Fall:

Genesis 3:16 (NRSV): “Yet your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.”

Genesis 3:16 (LES): “Your turning will be toward your husband, and he will rule you.”

The same Hebrew word— teshuqah —is rendered with the same Greek word: ἀποστροφή. And the parallel goes deeper. In both verses, ἀποστροφή is paired with κυριεύω/ἄρχω vocabulary, some form of “ruling over.”

This parallel has launched centuries of theological discussion. What does it mean that the same word pair appears in both passages? Several observations are worth making:

First, the LXX translators clearly saw a connection. They didn’t just happen to use the same word; they applied the same translation strategy to the same Hebrew word in similar contexts. To them, teshuqah meant something like “a turning toward,” a directed orientation, in both cases.

Second, the relationships parallel each other in important ways. Genesis 3:16 describes the woman’s orientation toward her husband, and his ruling over her. Genesis 4:7 describes someone’s orientation toward Cain, and Cain’s ruling over them. In both cases, you have an orientation paired with a position of authority.

Third, the parallel raises a profound question. If ἀποστροφή in Genesis 3:16 is about Eve’s orientation toward Adam— her devotion, her turning toward her husband —could ἀποστροφή in Genesis 4:7 be about Abel’s similar orientation toward Cain? A familial, structural turning toward the one in authority?

I think it could. And I think the Septuagint translators may have seen exactly this parallel. Both verses are about orientation within a structured relationship: wife toward husband, younger brother toward elder. And both verses involve someone in authority who has a choice to make about how to use that authority.

Adam was supposed to receive Eve’s teshuqah with love and stewardship. Cain was supposed to receive Abel’s ἀποστροφή with brotherly responsibility. In both cases, the one in authority had a sacred trust.

And in Cain’s case, that trust was about to be catastrophically broken.

My Both/And Reading

You know by now that I don’t think we have to choose between the Hebrew and the Greek. I believe both texts are the authoritative Word of God and intentionally preserved by God to tell the fuller story. So when the MT and the LXX present such radically different pictures of Genesis 4:7, my instinct isn’t to pick one and discard the other. It’s to ask what they show us together.

When I hold these two readings side by side, here’s what I see:

The Hebrew tells us about the spiritual warfare. There is a real enemy. Sin is not passive. It is positioned at the door of Cain’s heart, ready to pounce. Cain has been given the moral capacity to master it, but he must engage. He must fight. The Hebrew warns us about what is happening inside the human heart and what threatens to overtake it.

The Greek tells us about the relational responsibility. There is a real brother. Abel is not just present; he’s oriented toward Cain in the natural family structure. Cain holds authority, and that authority comes with a sacred duty. The Greek warns us about how we treat the people whose lives are turned toward ours.

And here’s what’s beautiful: these are two angles on the same moment. Cain is being warned simultaneously about the predator inside him and the brother before him. Master the sin, and honor the brother.

Reading them together, I see something like this:

“If you do well, will you not be lifted up? But if you offer rightly yet do not divide correctly, have you not sinned? Sin is crouching at the door, its desire set upon you; nevertheless, you must master it. Even so, your brother remains turned toward you, and you shall rule over him.”

This is my interpretation, offered humbly. I recognize that the Greek’s pronoun is genuinely ambiguous and that other readings have merit. But for me, holding the texts together reveals something neither one says alone: Cain’s failure was both internal (he didn’t master the sin at his door) and relational (he didn’t honor the brother whose life turned toward his). Both failures came from the same heart. And both failures led to the same tragic end.

What This Means for Us

Three things.

First: The texts of Scripture are richer than any single translation can capture. When the Masoretic Text and the Septuagint diverge as dramatically as they do here, that’s not a problem to be solved. It’s a depth to be explored. The Hebrew gives us the imagery of sin as a beast at the door. The Greek gives us the imagery of relational orientation. Both are true. Both are needed. Both are God’s Word.

Second: We are responsible for what we do with the people whose lives turn toward ours. Whether you read the LXX’s “his recourse is to you” as referring to Abel specifically or as a general statement about relational orientation, the principle holds. Other people are turned toward us— spouses, children, siblings, friends, congregants, students —and we hold a kind of authority in those relationships. ἀποστροφή reminds us that this is a sacred trust. The way you treat the people who look to you matters to God. Cain failed in this trust. Don’t repeat his mistake.

Third: The battle is internal, but the consequences are relational. Cain’s failure to master the sin at his heart’s door led to the murder of his brother. This is the pattern of every relational catastrophe in human history. We don’t deal with the predator inside, and the people around us pay the price. The Hebrew’s warning and the Greek’s warning are feeding each other, they’re not competing. Master the sin in your heart, or you will sin against the people who turn toward you. Both warnings, together, give us the full picture.

The story of Cain and Abel is, in a real sense, the story of every fractured human relationship. And the choice God presented to Cain— the choice to master sin and honor his brother —is the same choice God presents to us every single day.

If this study challenged you or opened up new ways of seeing Genesis 4, share it with someone who loves digging into Scripture as much as you do.

The LXX Scrolls is free to read and always will be. If this work has been worth something to you, there are a few ways to say so:

Buy the ebooks. Completed teaching series are available as polished ebooks under the Two Witnesses, One Truth series. Buying through Curios will support this work most directly but they’re also available on Amazon (and elsewhere) if you’re loyal to a particular ereader.

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Hello brothers and sisters,

Today is Mother’s Day, and I want to sit with you for a few minutes around one of the most remarkable women in all of Scripture. A woman whose tears were witnessed by God, whose prayer was answered against all odds, and whose song became the template for the song Mary would sing a thousand years later.

Her name is Hannah. And before we get to her song, we have to walk through her sorrow.

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A Woman Who Wanted to Be a Mother

The story opens with a household full of tension. Elkanah loved his wife Hannah, but she had no children, and his other wife, Peninnah, did. Year after year, the family made the pilgrimage to the house of the Lord at Shiloh, and year after year, Hannah’s anguish was reopened like a wound.

The text in the Septuagint puts it plainly:

“because the Lord did not give her a child despite her anguish and despite the hopelessness of her anguish. She lost heart because of this: that the Lord kept her womb closed by not giving her a child. This is how she behaved year after year when she would go up to the house of the Lord: She was disheartened and wept and did not eat.” (1 Kingdoms 1:6-7, LES)

Read that again. The hopelessness of her anguish. Year after year. Disheartened and weeping and unable to eat.

This is the part of Hannah’s story I don’t want us to rush past. Because today, in churches all over the world, women are sitting in pews carrying this exact weight. Women who have wanted children for years and never received them. Women who have lost children and live with grief that resurfaces every Mother’s Day. Women who feel passed over, forgotten, or unseen.

Hannah was one of you. And the Holy Spirit thought her tears were important enough to preserve in Scripture forever.

At the Temple

Eventually, Hannah’s grief drove her to the only place it could go. She went to the house of the Lord and poured out her soul before God. Her vow is one of the most beautiful prayers in Scripture:

“Adonai, Lord Eloai Sabaoth, if you are looking, you are looking upon the humiliated state of your slave. Remember me and give your slave seed of men, and I will give him to you as a devoted one until the day of his death.” (1 Kingdoms 1:11, LES)

Notice how she addresses God. Not casually. Not familiarly. Adonai, Lord Eloai Sabaoth. Three reverent titles stacked together, the way you reach for someone’s full name when you really need them to hear you.

And notice what she asks for: “seed of men.” That phrase echoes back to the very first promise God made after the Fall, in Genesis 3:15, where the seed of the woman would crush the serpent’s head. Hannah isn’t just asking for a child. She’s asking to be part of a story that goes back to Eden and forward to the Messiah. She doesn’t know it yet, but the son she’s praying for will be the prophet who anoints David, the king from whose line the true Seed will come.

Her prayer was so intense, so consuming, that the priest Eli mistook her for a drunk woman:

“And Hannah answered and said, ‘No, sir! I am a woman who has had a hard day. And I have not drank wine and intoxicating drink, and I am pouring out my soul before the Lord. Do not regard your slave as a pestilent daughter because I have been stretching out my great number of words until now.’” (1 Kingdoms 1:15-16, LES)

A woman who has had a hard day.

Friends, if there’s a more honest description of what it feels like to bring our deepest grief to God, I haven’t found it. Hannah doesn’t dress up her prayer. She doesn’t perform piety. She just says, in essence, “I am a woman who has had a hard day, and I am pouring out my soul before the Lord.”

That’s a prayer you can pray today.

The Lord Remembered Her

What happened next is captured in one of the most beautiful sentences in all of Scripture:

“Elkanah entered his house at Ramah and knew Hannah, his wife, and the Lord remembered her. And she conceived, and it happened at the time of the days she bore a son and called his name Samuel.” (1 Kingdoms 1:19-20, LES)

The Lord remembered her.

Not because He had ever forgotten. God doesn’t forget. But Scripture uses this language to mark moments when God acts on what He has always known. He remembered Noah in the ark. He remembered His covenant with Abraham. And here, He remembered a weeping woman at Shiloh whose tears had been counted, whose prayers had been heard, whose anguish had never escaped His notice for a single moment.

If you are waiting today, the God who remembered Hannah remembers you.

Giving Him Back

Here’s the part of Hannah’s story that, as a father, just hits different. Once Samuel was weaned, she kept her vow. She brought him to Shiloh and gave him back to the Lord:

“For this is the child I prayed for, and the Lord gave my request that I asked from him. And I have given him to the Lord all the days that he lives to be used by the Lord.” (1 Kingdoms 1:27-28, LES)

She prayed for years to receive him, and then she gave him away.

This is a kind of faith I’m not sure I’ll ever fully understand and I can only dream of having. The mothers I admire most are the ones who hold their children with open hands, who know from the very beginning that their children belong to God first. Hannah is the patron saint of that posture. She received what she had begged for, and then she let it go, because she trusted that the God who gave was wiser than her grip.

And it’s this Hannah, the Hannah who wept and prayed and received and surrendered, who breaks into one of the most extraordinary songs in all of Scripture.

Hannah’s Song

I want to read this slowly. Sit with it. This is a woman who has walked through years of barrenness and ridicule and finally found her voice:

“My heart was made firm in the Lord; my horn was lifted high in my God: my mouth was widened against my enemies. I was glad in your deliverance. because no one is holy like the Lord, and no one is righteous like my God; there is no one holy except you.

Do not boast, and do not speak lofty words nor allow big talk to come out of your mouth, because the Lord is a God of knowledge and a God who prepares his own business.

The bows of the mighty have become weak, and those who were weak have been clothed with might. Full of bread, they suffer loss, and being weak, they neglect the land. For the barren woman bore seven, and the woman who is many in children has become weak.

The Lord puts to death and brings to life; he leads down to the grave and leads up. The Lord makes poor and makes rich; he humbles and exalts. He lifts up the poor from the earth, and from the dung pile he raises the beggar to sit him with the princes of the people and makes them to inherit the throne of glory.” (1 Kingdoms 2:1-8, LES)

Notice the past tense. My heart was made firm. My horn was lifted high. I was glad in your deliverance. Hannah isn’t just hoping anymore. She’s looking back. She has walked through the valley, and now she stands on the other side and sings about what God has already done.

The song builds toward a sweeping vision of God’s reversal of all human pride. There’s a section in the middle of the song, found in the Septuagint, that mirrors the prophet Jeremiah:

“The wise must not boast in his wisdom, and the strong must not boast in his strength, and the wealthy must not boast in his wealth. Rather the one who boasts should boast in this: to understand and to know the Lord and to practice justice and righteousness in the midst of the land.” (1 Kingdoms 2:9b-10a, LES)

Although not quite word for word, this is close enough to the Septuagint text of Jeremiah 9:23-24, woven directly into Hannah’s song, that some scholars view it as the translators inserting the text directly from Jeremiah.

Either way, notice that this woman’s prayer doesn’t just speak for herself. It speaks for the prophetic tradition. Hannah is singing the same song that every prophet of Israel will sing, that wisdom and strength and wealth are nothing, and the only true boast is knowing the Lord. Which creates an interesting parallel with Paul in Galatians 6:14 when he says that he’ll boast in nothing unless it be our Lord Jesus Christ.

And then comes the closing line, the one that turns everything we’ve just read into a Messianic prophecy:

“The Lord went up into the heavens and thundered. He will judge the heights of the earth and give strength to our kings, and he will lift high the horn of his anointed.” (1 Kingdoms 2:10b, LES)

The horn of his anointed. The Greek word here is christou, the same word the New Testament uses for Christ. A thousand years before Mary cradled her newborn Son and called Him Jesus, a barren woman in Shiloh sang about Him. Knowingly or not.

The Mother Who Sang After Her

When Mary visits her cousin Elizabeth in Luke 1, and Elizabeth blesses her, Mary breaks into song. We call it the Magnificat. And anyone familiar with Hannah’s prayer hears it immediately:

“And Mary said: ‘My soul magnifies the Lord, And my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior. For He has regarded the lowly state of His maidservant; For behold, henceforth all generations will call me blessed. For He who is mighty has done great things for me, And holy is His name. And His mercy is on those who fear Him From generation to generation. He has shown strength with His arm; He has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. He has put down the mighty from their thrones, And exalted the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things, And the rich He has sent away empty. He has helped His servant Israel, In remembrance of His mercy, As He spoke to our fathers, To Abraham and to his seed forever.’” (Luke 1:46-55, NKJV)

Look at the echoes:

Hannah: “My heart was made firm in the Lord.” Mary: “My soul magnifies the Lord.”

Hannah: “He looked upon the humiliated state of your slave.” Mary: “He has regarded the lowly state of His maidservant.”

Hannah: “The bows of the mighty have become weak, and those who were weak have been clothed with might.” Mary: “He has put down the mighty from their thrones, and exalted the lowly.”

Hannah: “Full of bread, they suffer loss.” Mary: “He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich He has sent away empty.”

This is why I wanted us to read Hannah’s song from the Septuagint today. Mary is singing the Bible she knew. The Greek Old Testament that shaped her prayers and her worship and her understanding of who God is. When the angel announced that she would bear a Son, Mary reached for the song of another mother who had been remembered by God, and she made it her own.

Two women. A thousand years apart. Singing the same song about a God who lifts up the lowly and remembers the forgotten.

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What Hannah Teaches Every Mother

I want to close with three thoughts, one for each kind of woman who might be reading this on Mother’s Day morning.

To the mother who is waiting. Maybe you long for a child you’ve never had. Maybe you’re praying for a prodigal to come home. Maybe you’re waiting on something that has nothing to do with motherhood at all but everything to do with feeling unseen by God. Hannah waited for years. She was provoked, misunderstood, and even her own husband missed the depth of her pain. But the Lord remembered her. He sees you. Your tears at the temple are not wasted.

To the mother who is grieving. Mother’s Day can be the hardest day of the year. The mother who has lost a child. The woman who longed to be a mother and never was. The daughter who is mourning her own mother today. Hannah’s song doesn’t paper over pain. It rises out of pain. The deepest joy in Scripture is always joy that has walked through grief, and your grief is held by a God who has counted every tear.

To the mother who is rejoicing. If today is a celebration for you, hold it with open hands the way Hannah did. Your children are gifts, not possessions. The mothers I admire most are the ones who, like Hannah, know from the beginning that their children belong to God first. That posture can only deepen your love for your children.

The Song Goes On

Hannah’s prayer changed Israel’s history. She didn’t know it at the time. She was just a woman who wanted a child and trusted God enough to give him back. But her song was picked up by a young woman in Nazareth who made it her own. And that song is still being sung today, in every corner of the world, by every believer who has ever discovered that the Lord lifts up the lowly.

The God who heard Hannah hears you. The God who remembered her remembers you.

Happy Mother’s Day, brothers and sisters.
Now go and make sure your mothers have the best day possible.

And may your hearts be made firm in the Lord. May your horn be lifted high in your God.

The LXX Scrolls is free to read and always will be. If this work has been worth something to you, there are a few ways to say so:

Buy the ebooks. Completed teaching series are available as polished ebooks under the Two Witnesses, One Truth series. Buying through Curios will support this work most directly but they’re also available on Amazon (and elsewhere) if you’re loyal to a particular ereader.

Become a supporter. A monthly or annual pledge through Substack helps me to bring the Septuagint to those who never knew they needed it.

Send a one-time tip. If this post has blessed you and you want to express that directly, you can Buy Me a Coffee.

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© 2026 LXX Scrolls. All rights reserved.

It’s no secret that I love the book of Daniel. It is so rich, with so much soft spoken theology, so many promises, so many prophecies, and truly one of the most remarkable men in all of Scripture (not to mention one of the clearest depictions of spiritual warfare in the entire Bible)!

Now, I want to tell you something that most Christians have never heard, something that might genuinely surprise you: the book of Daniel exists in three different ancient versions. And when I say “different,” I don’t mean minor spelling variations or slightly different word choices. I mean that in some chapters, these three versions tell the story in dramatically different ways, with entire sections that appear in one version and are completely absent from another.

What makes this even more remarkable is that one of these versions was so thoroughly replaced in church history that for over a thousand years, almost nobody even knew it existed.

This is the story of the three voices of Daniel. And we’re going to listen to all three of them.

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The Version You’ve Never Read

If you’ve ever picked up a study Bible or a parallel Bible that includes the “Septuagint version” of Daniel, there’s something you need to know: you almost certainly weren’t reading the original Greek translation.

Let me explain.

For most books of the Old Testament, when we talk about “the Septuagint,” we’re talking about the Greek translation produced by Jewish scholars in Alexandria, Egypt, beginning around 270 B.C. That translation is what the apostles quoted, what the early church preached from, and what shaped Christian theology for the first several centuries of the faith.

Daniel was part of that translation. Jewish scholars rendered the Hebrew and Aramaic text of Daniel into Greek, probably sometime in the second century B.C. Scholars call this version the “Old Greek” (or OG for short), and it is the earliest Greek translation of Daniel that we know of.

But here’s the twist: by the first or second century A.D., the early church had almost entirely stopped using the Old Greek of Daniel. They replaced it with a different Greek translation, one attributed to a Jewish translator named Theodotion.

The replacement was so thorough that for over a millennium, only two manuscripts of the original Old Greek survived. Two. Out of the countless copies of the Greek Bible produced across the ancient world, the Old Greek of Daniel was preserved in a single medieval manuscript (Codex Chisianus, dating to somewhere between the 9th and 11th centuries) and one early papyrus (Papyrus 967, dating to the 2nd or 3rd century A.D., discovered in Egypt in 1931).

Everything else was Theodotion’s version, passed off under the label “Septuagint” for centuries.

Daniel is the only book of the Bible where this happened. For every other Old Testament book, the original Septuagint translation remained the standard Greek text. But for Daniel, the church made a conscious decision to swap one Greek translation for another.

The question is why.

Why the Church Replaced Its Own Bible

To understand the replacement, you have to understand the difference between the two translations.

The scholarly consensus is that the Old Greek translator of Daniel took a relatively free approach to the text. He wasn’t doing a word-for-word rendering; he was telling the story in Greek, sometimes expanding the narrative with additional details, sometimes condensing it, sometimes offering what amounts to an interpretive paraphrase rather than a strict translation.

However, as I often do, I would like to challenge this just a bit and suggest the possibility that this translator was simply working from a different source text than the ones we have today. After all, we have evidence from the Dead Sea Scrolls that there were multiple versions of several books of the Bible in circulation at the time. Nothing tells this story more plainly than the finding of two wildly different versions of Jeremiah in the scrolls that were preserved by the community at Qumran, with neither showing any signs of being preferred over the other.

Now, in the narrative chapters (especially chapters 4 through 6), the Old Greek version diverges wildly from the Hebrew and Aramaic text that we know from the Masoretic tradition. The Old Greek version of chapter 4 (Nebuchadnezzar’s madness) and chapter 6 (the lions’ den) are both significantly longer than what we find in the Masoretic Text, with expanded dialogue, additional narrative details, and more vivid characterization. Chapter 5 (the writing on the wall), by contrast, is significantly shorter in the Old Greek, omitting large portions of Daniel’s speech to Belshazzar.

How different are we talking? A detailed comparison of the Greek texts in Daniel 4 through 6 reveals that less than 19% of Theodotion’s vocabulary matches the Old Greek in those chapters. When they do agree, about 83% of the shared vocabulary is verbatim, which strongly suggests that what little agreement exists is due to later scribal correction of Old Greek manuscripts toward Theodotion’s text rather than to any shared textual tradition.

To put that plainly: in those three chapters, the Old Greek and Theodotion are essentially different books.

Theodotion’s version, by contrast, hews much more closely to the Hebrew and Aramaic text that has survived in the Masoretic tradition. It follows the word order more carefully, uses more consistent vocabulary equivalents, and produces a Greek text that can be mapped back onto the Semitic source with relative ease. For Christians who were debating with Jewish scholars about messianic prophecies in Daniel, or for church fathers who wanted to cite Daniel in doctrinal disputes, Theodotion’s closer alignment with the Hebrew made it a more useful tool.

Jerome, writing in the fourth century, noted bluntly that the Old Greek version of Daniel had been rejected by the churches because it “differs widely from the original.” Origen, a century before Jerome, had already given Theodotion’s Daniel a prominent place in his Hexapla (his monumental six-column comparison of biblical texts), and in his own writings, Origen almost invariably quoted Daniel from Theodotion rather than the Old Greek.

The early church made a pragmatic decision: Theodotion’s Daniel was more useful, more defensible, and closer to the Hebrew that their Jewish interlocutors recognized. So they adopted it. And the Old Greek was quietly set aside.

But Here’s the Irony

As I mentioned above, the irony is that the Old Greek may preserve older readings. The Dead Sea Scrolls fragments of Daniel (found in eight manuscripts across Caves 1, 4, and 6 at Qumran) occasionally side with the Old Greek against both the Masoretic Text and Theodotion.

And there’s another wrinkle. The text we call “Theodotion’s Daniel” may not actually be Theodotion’s at all.

The historical Theodotion is traditionally dated to the second century A.D., during the reign of Emperor Commodus (around 190 A.D.). But quotations from “Theodotion’s Daniel” appear in texts written well before that, including in the Shepherd of Hermas and in the writings of Justin Martyr, both from the mid-second century. The New Testament itself, written in the first century, occasionally appears to quote Daniel in forms that align more closely with Theodotion than with the Old Greek.

How can a translation be quoted before its supposed translator was even born?

Contemporary scholarship has largely resolved this puzzle. The text we call “Theodotion’s Daniel” most likely belongs to an earlier tradition known as the Kaige recension, a first-century B.C. revision of the Old Greek that systematically brought the text closer to the Proto-Masoretic Hebrew version. A historical translator named Theodotion may have existed in the second century, but the Daniel text attributed to him was already in circulation at least a century before he lived. His name was attached to a pre-existing text, much like a brand name being applied to a product that someone else invented.

What this means for us is significant: the text that replaced the Old Greek in church use wasn’t a late, secondary translation. It was itself an ancient witness, probably originating in the first century B.C. in Judea, reflecting a Jewish scholarly tradition that valued close alignment with the emerging standard Hebrew text.

So we don’t have a “good” Greek translation and a “bad” one. We have two ancient Greek witnesses, each with its own character, its own strengths, and its own history. And we have the Hebrew and Aramaic Masoretic Text.

Three voices. Three witnesses. One book.

What We Have, Then

Let me lay out what we’re working with in this series.

The Masoretic Text is the Hebrew and Aramaic text of Daniel as preserved by Jewish scribes across the centuries. It’s the basis for virtually every English translation you’ve ever read, whether that’s the NKJV, the NRSVUE, the NIV, or any other modern Bible.

Now, this is where my both/and position gets slightly complicated.

There is no direct evidence that the Old Greek version of Daniel is based on an older Hebrew/Aramaic source. There is no manuscript or even fragment that suggests there is an ancient version of the text that matches the differences found in the Old Greek.

The Dead Sea Scrolls provide strong confirmation of the Masoretic Text’s reliability here. Fragments from every chapter except chapter 12 have been found at Qumran (and even chapter 12 is indirectly attested, since the non-biblical scroll known as the Florilegium quotes Daniel 12:10).

So does this mean the Old Greek version is just a bad translation?
Not in the slightest. Here’s the thing to remember: just because we’ve never found one doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. There is enough evidence supporting the idea that the Septuagint readings represent different vorlagen (source texts) that it is reasonable (though not defensible, evidentiarily speaking) to take the position that most if not all of the different readings in the Greek are representative of older Hebrew manuscripts that no longer exist.

Just remember that we have no such extant text proving that the Old Greek of Daniel came from a different Hebrew source.

Now, Daniel is unusual among Scripture in that it’s bilingual. The book opens in Hebrew (1:1 through 2:4a), then switches to Aramaic at 2:4b. From there it stays in Aramaic until 7:28, where it switches back to Hebrew for the remainder of the book.

We’ll explore why that matters when we reach chapter 1 in the next post.

The Old Greek is the earliest translation of Daniel, produced by Jewish scholars probably in the second century B.C., though some scholars suggest it could have been translated in the 3rd century.

Specifically, Robert Dick Wilson argues that it contains linguistic forms consistent with 3rd century usage rather than 2nd. While E.W. Bullinger maintained that the entire Old Testament was translated between 285 and 270 B.C. (though he appears not to have had any evidence beyond the semi-legendary Letter of Aristeas). That fact is debated though, for while in some uses the Hebrew term “The Law” was used to identify the entire Old Testament, most scholars agree that even in ancient usage, the term typically referred only to the first five books (the Pentateuch or Torah), traditionally attributed to Moses.

And why does that matter? you might be asking. Well, simply put, the dating of the original authorship of the book of Daniel is highly debated. Largely on account of the incredibly specific prophecies that predicted the fall of the Babylonian, Medo-Persian, and Greek empires as well as the ascendancy and decay of the Roman Empire.

My contention, as some scholars note, is that we have pretty convincing evidence that Daniel was written considerably before the late 2nd century B.C. that most critical scholars agree on. Many consider it’s authorship to be as late as 100 B.C.

J. Paul Tanner argues that while the late 2nd century is the “critical” consensus, the fact that the book of Daniel had already appeared in Qumran with significant textual variants speaks to a much earlier authorship.

Consider, based on traditional paleographic dating techniques, the fragments of Daniel that have been found among the Dead Sea Scrolls have been dated to between 125 B.C. and around 50 A.D. Clearly, this presents a problem for the critical scholarly consensus. Especially when we consider the 2025 study that places the dating of those fragments potentially as early as 230 B.C.!

So, even if the 2025 study is flawed and the earliest reliable dating we have is to 125 B.C., a text does not become authoritative and accepted as canon Scripture AND develop significant textual variants in just a couple of decades. In todays world, yes, absolutely, but in ancient Israel?

I find the arguments for that unconvincing.

Now, back to the Old Greek version. It survives in very few manuscripts, the most important being Papyrus 967 (2nd-3rd century A.D.) and Codex Chisianus (9th-11th century A.D.).

The Old Greek is thought by most scholars to be a freer translation, sometimes expanding the narrative, sometimes compressing it, and occasionally diverging so dramatically from the Masoretic Text that scholars debate whether the Old Greek translator was working from a different Hebrew/Aramaic source text (as we discussed above) or was simply taking significant interpretive liberties.

For our English rendering of the Old Greek, we’ll be using the N.E.T.S. (New English Translation of the Septuagint) as it’s the most accessible English translation.

Theodotion (or more accurately, the Kaige-Theodotion tradition) is the Greek text that replaced the Old Greek in church use by the first or second century A.D. It follows the Hebrew and Aramaic much more closely than the Old Greek does, making it a more transparent window into the Semitic source text.

Theodotion’s Daniel is what you’ll find in most printed editions of the Greek Septuagint today. For our English rendering of Theodotion, we’ll be using Brenton’s English Translation of the Septuagint.

One interesting detail worth noting: the earliest Old Greek manuscript, Papyrus 967, arranges the chapters of Daniel differently from the Masoretic Text. In Papyrus 967, chapters 7 and 8 are placed before chapters 5 and 6. This actually follows the chronological order of events in the book (the visions of chapters 7 and 8 are dated earlier than the events of chapters 5 and 6), rather than the thematic arrangement we find in the Masoretic Text, where all the stories come first (chapters 1-6) and all the visions follow (chapters 7-12).

Even the structure of the book has more than one voice.

Why Three Voices Matter: The Both/And Framework

If you’ve been reading The LXX Scrolls for any length of time, you know that the heart of everything I do here is what I call the “both/and” hermeneutic. It’s the conviction that both the Masoretic Text and the Septuagint are authoritative, that both have been intentionally preserved by God, and that together they tell a fuller story than either tells alone.

This isn’t a compromise position. It’s not splitting the difference between competing claims. It’s the recognition that God chose to preserve His Word through multiple faithful communities, in multiple languages, across multiple centuries, and that the differences between these traditions aren’t errors or corruptions. They’re harmonies. Different angles on the same truth.

With Daniel, we get to extend that framework to three voices instead of two. And the results are extraordinary.

When all three traditions agree (which they often do, especially in the visionary chapters 7 through 12), our confidence in the text grows. Three independent witnesses confirming the same reading is powerful evidence of careful transmission.

When two traditions agree against the third, we get to ask why the third diverges. Is it preserving an older reading? Offering a theological interpretation? Working from a different source? Every divergence is an invitation to dig deeper.

And when all three traditions say something materially different (which happens more than you might expect, particularly in chapters 4 through 6), we get to hold those differences together and ask: what does each voice contribute to our understanding of what God is saying through this text?

As I say so often, this isn’t about finding contradictions. It’s so much more important than that. This work is all about finding the fullness of Scripture across multiple witnesses.

How This Series Will Work

Starting with the next post, we’re going to walk through Daniel chapter by chapter, verse by verse. Here’s how we’ll handle the three-version comparison:

When all three traditions say essentially the same thing (which is the majority of the time), we’ll present a single English translation, choosing whichever version best captures the point of the verse. We’ll note in passing where the Greek versions have minor or superficial differences.

When two or all three traditions diverge in a meaningful way, we’ll lay out each divergent version side by side so you can see the differences for yourself. These are the moments where the comparative reading pays off, and we won’t rush through them. And as always, I’ll be providing cultural and historical context throughout.

For the most part, I’ll reserve my own personal reflections for the end of each chapter. For the body of each post, I want the texts to speak for themselves so you can draw your own conclusions. You don’t need me telling you what to think about what you’re reading. But I will discuss any competing interpretations and scriptural connections, and at the end I’ll share where the text lands for me personally.

From there, as always, you can accept my perspective or not. I’ve said this before but it bears repeating. My goal with these discussions is not to convince you of my position. I don’t want to change your mind. I just want to provide you with as much information as I can, then point you back to Scripture and give you the opportunity to be as noble as the Bereans (see Acts 17:11).

Fair warning: some of these posts will be long. Daniel is dense. The textual comparisons add a layer that most commentaries skip entirely. But I promise you this: you are going to see things in this book that you have never seen before, even if you’ve read Daniel a hundred times.

A Word About the Additions

Both Greek traditions (the Old Greek and Theodotion) include material that isn’t found in the Masoretic Text. These are commonly known as the “Additions to Daniel”:

The first is the Prayer of Azariah and the Song of the Three Young Men, which is inserted into the middle of chapter 3. It rests between what we know as verses 23 and 24 in our English Bibles. It contains a beautiful penitential prayer and one of the most magnificent hymns of praise in all of ancient literature.

Susanna is the story of a righteous woman falsely accused by corrupt elders and vindicated by a young Daniel’s wisdom. In some Greek manuscripts, this story appears as a prologue before chapter 1; in the Vulgate, it’s placed as chapter 13.

Bel and the Dragon, two short narratives in which Daniel exposes the fraudulence of idol worship with almost detective-story logic. These are usually placed as chapter 14.

These additions are considered canonical Scripture by the Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, Oriental Orthodox, and Assyrian churches. Protestant tradition does not include them in the canon. They are not attested in the Dead Sea Scrolls.

Regardless of where you land on their canonical status, I find these additions genuinely fascinating. They tell us how ancient Jewish and Christian communities understood Daniel’s character, his calling, and his relationship with God. We’ll be giving them their own dedicated post at the end of this series.

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What’s Coming

Here’s the roadmap. Over the coming Weeks, we’ll work through:

Every chapter of Daniel (1-12), with verse-by-verse textual comparison and historical context.

A dedicated post on the Additions (Susanna, Bel and the Dragon, and the Prayer of Azariah).

Chapters that diverge dramatically between the three traditions (especially chapters 4, 5, and 6) will get extra attention.

Chapter 9 (the Seventy Weeks) will receive a focused treatment of Daniel’s prayer (one of the most remarkable prayers in all of Scripture) with a condensed discussion of the prophecy itself and a link to my existing in-depth post on Daniel’s Seventy Weeks prophecy for those who want to dig into (or reread) the full deep dive.

Some chapters may be split across two posts if the material runs long. I’d rather give a chapter the space it deserves than rush through it or dump a 12,000 word post on you.

This is going to be a journey. Daniel is one of the most complex, most debated, and most rewarding books in the Bible. It has court tales and apocalyptic visions, earthly politics and heavenly warfare, lions’ dens and the Ancient of Days. Not to mention the first reference to the Messiah as the Son of Man. It was written in two languages, preserved in three traditions, and it speaks as powerfully today as it did when Daniel first received these words in Babylon twenty-five centuries ago.

I’m so glad you’re here for this.

I can’t wait to dig in.

The LXX Scrolls is free to read and always will be. If this work has been worth something to you, there are a few ways to say so:

Buy the ebooks. Completed teaching series are available as polished ebooks under the Two Witnesses, One Truth series. Buying through Curios will support this work most directly but they’re also available on Amazon (and elsewhere) if you’re loyal to a particular ereader.

Become a supporter. A monthly or annual pledge through Substack helps me to bring the Septuagint to those who never knew they needed it.

Send a one-time tip. If this post has blessed you and you want to express that directly, you can Buy Me a Coffee.

Thank you for being part of this journey, your support makes this work possible

© 2026 LXX Scrolls. All rights reserved.

Imagine a courtroom scene. Not a human courtroom with a judge in black robes and a jury in uncomfortable chairs. Something far more ancient, far more terrifying. God Himself rises to render judgment. But He’s not judging humans. He’s judging beings your English translation probably calls “gods.”

And He’s furious.

That’s Psalm 82. And if you’ve never read it carefully, you’re about to encounter one of the most explosive passages in all of Scripture.

In Part 1 (free for all subscribers), we established the foundation: the Hebrew Bible consistently depicts God presiding over an assembly of powerful spiritual beings, and the word elohim is a category term denoting divine or spiritual power and authority. We saw how the Septuagint translators understood this word across different contexts, and we began to see how the divine council framework illuminates passages that most modern Christians have either overlooked or domesticated.

If you missed part 1, check it out below:

Now it’s time to look at the passage where the whole system is put on trial.

Let’s get into it!

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The Text Side by Side

Before we interpret Psalm 82, we need to read it. All of it. And we need to read it in both traditions, because the Septuagint’s handling of this psalm is remarkably revealing.

Let’s walk through the entire psalm verse by verse.

Verse 1

Masoretic Text:

“God (אֱלֹהִים, elohim) stands in the congregation of God (אֵל, el); He judges among the gods (אֱלֹהִים, elohim).”

Septuagint (Psalm 81:1 LXX):

“God (ὁ θεός, ho theos) stood in the assembly of gods (συναγωγῇ θεῶν, synagōgē theōn); in the midst he judges gods (θεούς, theous).”

Notice immediately what the Septuagint does. The LXX translators, working in the 3rd century B.C., rendered elohim in both its occurrences here with forms of θεός (theos), the standard Greek word for “god.” There is no ambiguity. They did not translate elohim as “judges” (which would have been κριταί, kritai). They did not translate it as “rulers” or “mighty ones.” They used theoi, “gods.”

This is the same LXX that, as we saw in Part 1, rendered elohim as “the judgment-seat of God” in Exodus 21:6 and as “before God” in Exodus 22:8-9. The translators were perfectly capable of choosing alternative renderings when the context demanded it. Here, in Psalm 82, they chose “gods.” Deliberately. Because they understood the psalm to be describing God presiding over an assembly of genuine divine beings, not a courtroom of human magistrates.

Also worth noting is the word the LXX uses for “assembly”: συναγωγή (synagōgē). Yes, the same word that would later describe Jewish houses of worship. In the 3rd century B.C., it simply meant “a gathering, an assembly.” The gods are gathered. God is presiding. Court is in session.

Verses 2-4: The Indictment

MT:

“How long will you judge unjustly, and show partiality to the wicked? Selah. Defend the poor and fatherless; do justice to the afflicted and needy. Deliver the poor and needy; free them from the hand of the wicked.”

LXX:

“How long will you judge unjustly, and accept the persons of sinners? Judge the orphan and the poor; justify the humble and needy. Rescue the needy, and deliver the poor out of the hand of the sinner.”

The charges are specific: these beings are judging unjustly, showing favoritism to the wicked, and failing to protect the vulnerable. God gave them authority to govern, and they’ve used that authority to oppress rather than protect.

Notice the language. God isn’t accusing these beings of failing to attend religious services or neglecting theological orthodoxy. The accusation is about justice. About how they’ve used the power entrusted to them. The poor aren’t being defended. The fatherless aren’t being protected. The wicked are being shown partiality.

This matters because it connects directly to what we established in Part 1: elohim denotes power and authority. These beings have real power. They were given genuine authority. And they’ve corrupted it.

Verse 5: The Consequence

MT:

“They do not know, nor do they understand; they walk about in darkness; all the foundations of the earth are unstable.”

LXX:

“They knew not, neither did they understand; they walk on in darkness: all the foundations of the earth shall be shaken.”

This verse is devastating. The corrupt governors of the nations are so blinded by their own rebellion that they don’t even understand the consequences of what they’re doing. They walk in darkness. And because of their corrupt governance, the very foundations of the earth are destabilized.

Read that again. The corruption of the divine council doesn’t just affect the spiritual realm. It shakes the foundations of the earth. When the beings God appointed to govern the nations act unjustly, the created order itself groans under the weight of their misrule.

Paul would later echo this idea in Romans 8:19-22, where he describes all of creation “groaning” and waiting for its liberation. The corruption of the cosmos is not merely a human problem. It is a systemic failure that reaches into the heavenly structures of governance that God put in place.

Verses 6-7: The Sentence

MT:

“I said, ‘You are gods (אֱלֹהִים, elohim), and all of you are sons of the Most High (בְּנֵי עֶלְיוֹן, bene elyon). But you shall die like men (כְּאָדָם, ke-adam), and fall like one of the princes (הַשָּׂרִים, ha-sarim).’”

LXX:

“I said, ‘You are gods (θεοί, theoi), and all of you are sons of the Most High (υἱοὶ ὑψίστου, huioi hypsistou). But you die like men (ὡς ἄνθρωποι, hōs anthrōpoi), and fall like one of the rulers (τῶν ἀρχόντων, tōn archontōn).’”

Here it is. The most decisive verses in this entire debate.

God Himself addresses these beings as elohim and calls them “sons of the Most High.” Then He pronounces judgment: “You shall die like men.”

This is where the “human judges” interpretation collapses under its own weight, and I want to take a moment to explain why I feel so strongly about this.

Who Are These “Gods”?

There are three major interpretations of who these beings are. Let’s look at each one honestly.

Interpretation 1: Human Judges

The traditional evangelical reading holds that the “gods” in Psalm 82 are human rulers or judges whom God appointed to exercise judicial authority in Israel. They’re called “gods” because they represent God’s authority on earth.

The argument goes something like: just as God told Moses, “I have made you a god to Pharaoh” (Exodus 7:1), so human judges are sometimes called elohim because they wield divinely delegated authority.

This interpretation has a long pedigree. As we saw in Part 1, the Targum Onkelos rendered elohim as “judges” (dayyanei) in the legal passages of Exodus 21-22. Rashi and other medieval Jewish commentators followed suit. Many English translations embed this reading by translating elohim as “the mighty” or “rulers” rather than “gods.”

And there is something to this view. God does appoint human leaders, and those leaders are accountable to Him. The call to “defend the poor and fatherless” and “do justice to the afflicted” certainly sounds like the kind of charge you’d give to earthly rulers.

But I find this interpretation unconvincing.

Interpretation 2: The Trinity

A minority view holds that the “gods” represent the Trinity, with God the Father addressing the other persons of the Godhead. This view struggles badly with the context, since God is condemning the “gods” for judging unjustly and showing partiality to the wicked.

You can’t apply those charges to the Son or the Holy Spirit. The context is one of judgment upon corrupt rulers, not an intra-Trinitarian conversation.

For that reason I don’t think this view warrants further discussion.

Interpretation 3: Genuine Divine Beings

The third interpretation is that Psalm 82 describes God presiding over an assembly of genuine divine beings, members of the divine council who were assigned governance over the nations, and who have governed corruptly.

This is the reading that the Septuagint translators clearly held (they used θεοί, “gods,” not κριταί, “judges”). It’s the reading that makes sense of every detail in the text. It’s the reading that Michael Heiser championed, and it’s the only one I believe has the stability and coherence to have a chance of being correct.

Let me show you why.

The “You Will Die Like Men” Problem

Here is the decisive argument, and I want you to sit with it for a moment.

Verse 7:

“But you shall die like men, and fall like one of the princes.”

If these “gods” are already human judges, then this threat carries no weight whatsoever. Think about it. You don’t threaten a human being with human mortality. That’s not a punishment; that’s a Tuesday.

“You’re doing a terrible job as judge! And as punishment, you’re going to... die. Like every other human who has ever lived. Just like you were always going to.”

That’s not judgment. That’s a biology lesson.

But if these “gods” are divine beings, beings who do not naturally experience death as humans do, then the threat is extraordinary. God is telling immortal spiritual beings that as a consequence of their corruption, they will be subjected to human mortality.

They will die like men, implying that dying like men is not their natural condition. The very word “like” (כְּ, ke- in Hebrew; ὡς, hōs in Greek) makes a comparison. You only compare someone to something they are not. You wouldn’t say to a fish, “You shall swim like a fish.” You would say to a bird, “You shall swim like a fish,” because swimming is not the bird’s natural mode.

“You shall die like men” only works as a judgment if the beings being addressed are not men.

I’ve heard attempts to salvage the “human judges” reading here. Some suggest it means they’ll die like common men, stripped of their privilege and status. Others argue it means they’ll die like Adam (since ke-adam could be read as “like Adam”). But these readings feel strained. Forced. The most natural reading of the Hebrew and the Greek is the most devastating one: beings who should not die are being told they will die like mortals.

And “fall like one of the princes” reinforces the point. The word for “princes” here is שָׂרִים (sarim), the same word used in Daniel 10 for the spiritual “princes” over nations, the “prince of Persia” and the “prince of Greece” who opposed the angel sent to Daniel. The LXX renders it ἀρχόντων (archontōn), “rulers,” the same root that Paul uses in Ephesians 6:12 for the “principalities” that believers wrestle against.

The vocabulary connects Psalm 82 to the cosmic warfare framework of Daniel 10 and Ephesians 6. These aren’t retired magistrates losing their pensions.

The only reading that doesn’t require extreme mental gymnastics is that these are powerful spiritual rulers being sentenced to fall.

The Connection to Daniel 10

Speaking of Daniel 10, this is where the divine council framework moves from poetry into narrative, and where the system described in Psalm 82 is shown to be actively operational centuries later.

In Daniel 10, the prophet has been fasting and praying for three weeks. Finally, an angelic messenger arrives, and his first words explain the delay:

“The prince of the kingdom of Persia withstood me twenty-one days; and behold, Michael, one of the chief princes, came to help me, for I had been left alone there with the kings of Persia.” (Daniel 10:13, NKJV)

And then, a few verses later:

“Do you know why I have come to you? And now I must return to fight with the prince of Persia; and when I have gone forth, indeed the prince of Greece will come... No one upholds me against these, except Michael your prince.” (Daniel 10:20-21, NKJV)

The “prince of Persia” is not the human king of Persia. A human king, no matter how powerful, does not have the ability to physically detain an angel for twenty-one days. This is a spiritual being assigned to, or claiming authority over, the nation of Persia. The “prince of Greece” is another such being, already waiting in the wings for when Persia’s dominion ends. And Michael is identified as the prince assigned to Israel (Daniel 10:21, 12:1).

This is the Psalm 82 system in action. God assigned divine beings to govern the nations (a framework we’ll explore in depth in Part 3 when we look at Deuteronomy 32:8-9). Those divine beings were supposed to govern justly, administering God’s authority on His behalf.

Most of them didn’t.
They became the corrupt “gods” that Psalm 82 condemns.

What Daniel 10 adds to the picture is a sense of active, ongoing conflict. The spiritual governance of nations isn’t a static arrangement set up long ago and left alone. It’s a living, contested reality. The prince of Persia actively opposes God’s messenger. Michael has to fight to break through. The spiritual rulers of nations resist the will of God in real time, and their resistance has real consequences for God’s people on earth.

Think about this: Daniel had been praying for three weeks without an answer. Not because God wasn’t listening, not because God didn’t care, but because the answer was being fought over in the heavenly realm. If that doesn’t change how you think about unanswered prayer, I don’t know what will.

And Psalm 82 is God’s response to the corruption of this system. The divine court convenes. The charges are read. The sentence is pronounced. These corrupt governors will fall.

Jesus Quotes Psalm 82

Now we come to one of the most misunderstood moments in the Gospels: John 10:34-39.

The context is critical. Jesus has just said, “I and My Father are one” (John 10:30, NKJV). The Jewish leaders pick up stones to kill Him for blasphemy. They say, “You, being a Man, make Yourself God” (v. 33).

And here is Jesus’ response:

“Is it not written in your law, ‘I said, you are gods’? If He called them gods, to whom the word of God came, and the Scripture cannot be broken, do you say of Him whom the Father sanctified and sent into the world, ‘You are blaspheming,’ because I said, ‘I am the Son of God’?” (John 10:34-36, NKJV)

This passage has been read two very different ways, and I think one of them is clearly right and the other misses the point entirely.

The Wrong Reading: “We’re All Gods”

The most common popular reading goes something like this: “Jesus is saying that even human judges were called ‘gods’ in the Old Testament, so why are you upset that He calls Himself the Son of God?”

On this reading, Jesus is essentially downplaying His claim. He’s saying, “Look, lots of people have been called ‘gods’ in Scripture. I’m just calling Myself the Son of God. That’s less than what Scripture calls human judges. So calm down.”

I think this reading is dead wrong, for one simple reason: look at what happens next.

After Jesus makes this argument, does the crowd relax? Do they put down their stones and say, “Oh, you’re right, I guess we were overreacting”?

No. Verse 39:

“Therefore they sought again to seize Him.”

They escalate. They go from wanting to stone Him (an impulsive mob reaction) to seeking to arrest Him (a deliberate, calculated response). Whatever Jesus said in verses 34-36, it did not calm them down. It made things worse.

If Jesus had just said, “We’re all gods together, so relax,” they would have relaxed. The tension would have dropped. They would have gone back to debating theology in the Temple courts.

Instead, they tried to arrest Him.
Because He doubled down.

The Right Reading: The A Fortiori Argument

I believe Jesus is making what’s called an a fortiori argument, a “from the lesser to the greater” argument. And when you see it, the passage transforms from confusing to devastating.

Here’s the logic:

Premise: Scripture applies the word theoi (”gods”) to beings who are lesser than God. These are the divine council members of Psalm 82, powerful spiritual beings to whom the word of God came (in the form of God’s indictment of their corruption). And Scripture cannot be broken.

Therefore: If Scripture can apply the word “gods” to beings who are clearly inferior to God, beings who are being judged and condemned, then how can you accuse Me of blasphemy for claiming to be the Son of God? I, whom the Father sanctified and sent into the world?

Jesus isn’t lowering Himself to the level of the Psalm 82 “gods.” He’s raising the argument to an entirely different plane. He’s saying: “Your own Scripture acknowledges the existence of beings called ‘gods’ who are inferior to the Father. I’m not claiming to be one of them. I’m claiming to be the Son of God, sanctified and sent by the Father Himself. If those lesser beings can be called ‘gods,’ how much more right do I have to my title?”

This is why they tried to arrest Him. He didn’t back down. He didn’t equivocate. He used Psalm 82 to establish a premise (lesser beings are called gods in Scripture) and then drove home the conclusion: He is greater than those beings, not merely equal to them.

The a fortiori structure proves Christ’s superiority to the divine council. He is not one of the elohim. He is the Elohim who judges them. He is the God of verse 1 who stands in the assembly and renders judgment. He is the God of verse 8 who inherits all the nations.

And His opponents understood exactly what He was claiming, which is why they sought to seize Him.

Notice something else: this argument only works if the “gods” of Psalm 82 are genuine divine beings. If they’re just human judges, the a fortiori doesn’t have any force. “If human judges can be called gods, then I can call myself the Son of God” is a weak argument. Jesus would be saying He’s on roughly the same level as corrupt magistrates.

But if they’re divine council members, the argument is explosive: “If genuine spiritual powers can be called gods, then the One whom the Father sanctified and sent into the world has an infinitely greater claim to divine title.”

That’s an argument that gets you arrested.

Verse 8: The Prayer That Points to Christ

Let’s not skip the final verse of Psalm 82. It’s easy to miss, but it’s the theological climax of the entire psalm.

MT:

“Arise, O God, judge the earth; for You shall inherit all the nations.”

LXX:

“Arise, O God, judge the earth; for You shall inherit among all the nations.”

After the indictment, after the sentence, the psalmist cries out: Arise, O God! Take the nations back. Inherit what these corrupt governors have mismanaged.

This is a prayer for God Himself to step in, to replace the corrupt divine administrators with His own direct rule. The nations that were parceled out to the elohim (a framework we’ll examine in Part 3 with Deuteronomy 32:8-9) need to be reclaimed.

And from a Christian perspective, this prayer was answered at the cross. When Jesus died and rose, He “disarmed principalities and powers” and “made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them” (Colossians 2:15, NKJV). The corrupt spiritual rulers were stripped of their illegitimate authority. And the risen Christ declared: “All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth. Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations” (Matthew 28:18-19, NKJV).

All the nations. The nations that Psalm 82:8 asks God to inherit. The nations that were groaning under corrupt divine governance. Jesus is inheriting them. And He’s doing it through His church, through the Great Commission, through the proclamation of the Gospel to every people and language and tribe.

Psalm 82 isn’t just an ancient poem about heavenly politics. It’s the setup for the Great Commission.

What the LXX Adds to the Picture

Before we close, I want to highlight one detail that only the Septuagint preserves.

As we noted, the LXX translates this psalm with remarkable literalness. Scholars have observed that the Greek of Psalm 81 (LXX numbering) follows the Hebrew structure almost word for word, preserving the original positioning of nouns and verbs rather than adapting them to natural Greek word order. This is unusual. Many psalms receive freer, more idiomatic Greek translations. But Psalm 82 gets what scholars call an “interlinear-type” translation, sticking as close to the Hebrew as possible.

Why does this matter? Because it means the LXX translators were being extremely careful with this psalm. They weren’t paraphrasing. They weren’t interpreting. They weren’t even rewording the poetry to sound more natural in Greek. They were rendering the Hebrew as precisely as they could. So when they chose θεοί (theoi) for elohim, they meant it. These are gods. Not judges. Not rulers. Gods.

Their deliberate precision tells us that whatever theological discomfort the content of this psalm might have caused them, they were unwilling to soften it. They let the text say what it says. God judges among the gods. And the gods will die like men.

The Masoretic Text preserves the same unflinching message. Both traditions agree: this psalm is about divine beings, divine corruption, and divine judgment.

Why This Matters for You

If Psalm 82 is about corrupt divine beings governing the nations unjustly, then several things follow for your daily walk with God:

First, the world’s injustice isn’t just a human problem. Behind the systems of oppression, behind the corrupt governments, behind the ideologies that grind the poor into dust, there are spiritual powers at work.

This doesn’t excuse human responsibility. But it does explain why injustice is so persistent, so structural, so seemingly impossible to root out.

The foundations of the earth are shaken because the governors of the earth, both visible and invisible, are corrupt.

Second, God sees it. God doesn’t shrug at cosmic injustice. He rises. He convenes His court. He pronounces judgment. Psalm 82 is a promise that corruption, even at the highest levels of spiritual governance, will not go unanswered.

Third, and most importantly, Christ is the answer to Psalm 82:8. “Arise, O God, judge the earth; for You shall inherit all the nations.” That prayer is being answered right now, every time the Gospel is preached to someone who has never heard it. Every time a church is planted in a nation that was once under the dominion of darkness. Every time a believer prays “Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,” they are praying the prayer of Psalm 82:8.

The nations are being reclaimed. The corrupt governors are being displaced. And the risen Christ is inheriting what was always rightfully His.

If you’ve found this helpful or insightful, please share it with a friend who loves Scripture as much as you do.

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What’s Ahead

In Part 3, we’re going to look at the most textually controversial verse in this entire discussion: Deuteronomy 32:8.

This is the passage where the Masoretic Text, the Septuagint, and the Dead Sea Scrolls all read differently, and where a both/and approach reveals God’s extraordinary architecture for governing the nations.

We’ll see how 70 nations, 70 descendants of Jacob, and 70 divine beings all converge in a single verse, and how the differences between the traditions don’t contradict each other but instead reveal complementary layers of the same cosmic design.

It’s going to be one of the most important lessons in this entire series. I can’t wait to share it with you!

The LXX Scrolls is free to read and always will be. If this work has been worth something to you, there are a few ways to say so:

Buy the ebooks. Completed teaching series are available as polished ebooks under the Two Witnesses, One Truth series. Buying through Curios will support this work most directly but they’re also available on Amazon (and elsewhere) if you’re loyal to a particular ereader.

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I want to start today by clearing something up, because this misconception is so widespread that it’s become the default way the Armor of God is taught in most churches.

Paul did not invent the Armor of God.

He did not sit in his Roman prison cell, look up at the guard chained to his wrist, and think, “Oh! That’s a good illustration. Let me write a letter about how Christians should be like Roman soldiers.”

I’ll admit that’s a solid Sunday school version.

It’s charming.

It’s memorable.

It’s a great visual for younger children.

But it’s also wrong.

Paul was doing what Paul always did. He was pulling from the Old Testament Scriptures. Specifically, he was reaching back to the prophet Isaiah, where centuries before any Roman legion existed, God Himself is described putting on armor to go to war for His people. Yes, Paul made some adjustments in how he presented it to the Ephesians. But the roots of every single piece of that armor are in the prophets.

And here’s the part most people miss, the part that changes everything about how you read Ephesians 6:

The Armor of God is literally that. God’s armor. He wore it first. Long before He ever presented it to us.

When Paul tells you to “put on the full armor of God,” he isn’t handing you a Roman soldier’s kit. He’s telling you to clothe yourself in the very things God Himself wore into battle. And, more than that, he’s telling you to become the kind of person who can actually wear it.

Because this armor isn’t a costume you slip on before you go out to face the day. It isn’t a magical protective forcefield you activate by reciting Ephesians 6 over your morning coffee. It is, put simply, the life of a fully devoted follower of Jesus Christ.

You don’t put it on. You become it.

Let’s dig in.

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The Source: Isaiah 59 and the Divine Warrior

Before we look at any individual piece of armor, we have to look at where Paul got this imagery.

The primary source text is Isaiah 59:17. Israel has been unfaithful. Injustice is everywhere. There is no one righteous enough to intercede. And then, in one of the most dramatic moments in all of prophetic Scripture, God Himself steps into the breach:

Isaiah 59:17 (NRSVUE):

“He put on righteousness like a breastplate and a helmet of salvation on his head; he put on garments of vengeance for clothing and wrapped himself in fury as in a mantle.”

Isaiah 59:17 (NKJV):

“For He put on righteousness as a breastplate, and a helmet of salvation on His head; He put on the garments of vengeance for clothing, and was clad with zeal as a cloak.”

Isaiah 59:17 (LXX, N.E.T.S.):

“And he put on righteousness like a breastplate and placed a helmet of salvation on his head, and he clothed himself with a garment of vengeance and with his cloak.”

Look at that. The breastplate of righteousness. The helmet of salvation. God wore these first.

The Hebrew here is striking. “Breastplate” is שִׁרְיָן (shiryan), which appears relatively rarely in the Hebrew Bible. “Righteousness” is צְדָקָה (tzedaqah), the familiar covenantal term for right-relationship and right-action. And “helmet” is כּוֹבַע (kova), paired with יְשׁוּעָה (yeshuah) — salvation, deliverance, rescue.

And here’s the moment the Septuagint becomes important for our reading of Ephesians. The LXX translates shiryan as θώραξ (thōrax), and kova as περικεφαλαία (perikephalaia). Those are the exact same Greek words Paul uses in Ephesians 6:14 and 6:17. Exactly the same.

Paul isn’t reaching for Roman military vocabulary. He’s reaching for the Septuagint of Isaiah 59. The Bible he preached from. The Bible the Ephesians heard read in their synagogues. When his readers heard θώραξ τῆς δικαιοσύνης (thōrax tēs dikaiosynēs, “breastplate of righteousness”), they weren’t picturing a legionary. They were hearing Isaiah.

But Isaiah 59 isn’t the only source. Paul also draws from Isaiah 11:5 (the belt/girdle), Isaiah 52:7 (the feet of the one who brings good news), and Isaiah 49:2 and Hosea 6:5 (the sword as God’s word). The Armor of God is a tapestry of prophetic imagery, and Paul is weaving it together to show you what a life submitted to Christ actually looks like.

Let’s take it piece by piece.

The Belt of Truth

Ephesians 6:14a:

“Stand, therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist.”

The Greek here is ἡ ὀσφὺς… ἐν ἀληθείᾳ (hē osphys… en alētheia), literally “your loins in truth.” The imagery is of a soldier tucking up his long robe so he can move freely in battle. Nothing hanging loose. Nothing flapping around to trip him up.

The source text is Isaiah 11:5, the famous messianic prophecy about the shoot from the stump of Jesse:

Isaiah 11:5 (NRSVUE):

“Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist, and faithfulness the belt around his loins.”

Isaiah 11:5 (LXX, N.E.T.S.):

“And he shall be girded with righteousness around his waist and bound with truth around his sides.”

And here is our first truly illuminating LXX/MT comparison. The Hebrew has צֶדֶק (tzedeq, righteousness) and אֱמוּנָה (emunah, faithfulness). The LXX, however, renders the second term as ἀλήθεια (alētheia): truth.

This is huge. The Hebrew emunah carries the sense of steadfastness, reliability, the kind of faithfulness you can stake your life on. The Greek ἀλήθεια is the word for truth, reality, that which corresponds to what actually is. They overlap, but they’re not identical. And when Paul reaches for this imagery in Ephesians, he reaches for the LXX reading. Truth. ἀλήθεια.

This is why I say the Belt of Truth is so much more than people think.

Yes, speaking truth builds up the belt in you. And not just in the form of saying what is true and refusing to say what isn’t. It’s also a matter of saying all of what is true. Lies of omission are still lies. Integrity matters. Keeping your word matters. Being the kind of person whose promises can be trusted is non-negotiable.

But those things are not the fruit of having the Belt of Truth. They are what builds the belt.

The fruit of having a strong Belt of Truth is discernment.

Think about it this way. Truth is not just a set of propositions. Truth is a Person. Jesus says in John 14:6, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” When Paul tells you to fasten the belt of truth around your waist, he is telling you to clothe yourself in Christ Himself. And when you know the Truth, as the Person He is, in His character, in His ways, you develop the capacity to recognize truth when you encounter it, and to recognize the counterfeit when Satan offers it.

The Belt of Truth is what lets you stand in a room full of compelling lies and know they’re lies. It is what lets you read a theologically slick book and sense the off notes before you can even articulate what’s wrong. It is what lets you hear a smooth-talking preacher (or salesman!) and think, “something isn’t right here.”

And the Hebrew emunah is still underneath this, because the LXX and MT together give us the fuller picture. Truth and faithfulness belong together. Discernment without faithfulness becomes cynicism. Faithfulness without discernment becomes naivety. The belt holds both.

The Breastplate of Righteousness

Ephesians 6:14b:

“…and put on the breastplate of righteousness.”

The breastplate covers the heart and the vital organs. In Paul’s imagery, it is the righteousness of Christ covering the vital center of who you are.

This one gets the most attention in most teachings on the Armor of God. It’s the big one. The flashy one. And ironically, I think it’s actually one of the most understated pieces, because it is often taught in a way that misses what it really is.

It’s not God’s protection in the sense of a plate of metaphoric metal that defends us. It’s not a covering that hides you from sight or influence. It is the righteousness imputed to you by Christ. The one you live out in the process of sanctification as you walk with Him.

And here’s the piece most modern teaching gets wrong: we treat the Breastplate of Righteousness as something that happens to us once, at conversion, and then we wear it like a static badge.

But that’s not how Paul uses it, and it’s certainly not how Isaiah used it.

Go back to Isaiah 59:17. God puts on righteousness like a breastplate to go to war against injustice. This is an active, engaged, dynamic righteousness. It is righteousness that does something.

And go to Isaiah 59:16, the verse right before it: “He saw that there was no one, and was appalled that there was no one to intercede; so his own arm brought him victory, and his righteousness upheld him.”

God’s righteousness is what upholds Him in battle. And when that same righteousness is imputed to you in Christ, it upholds you in the same way. But only if you are actually walking in it.

No one is perfect. We are all sinners. But we are called to a process of ongoing sanctification, that continual process of being convicted of sin and excising it from our lives. Not because of the law. Not because we are trying to earn anything. But out of love and devotion for the One who gave us His righteousness in the first place.

The Breastplate of Righteousness is the imputed righteousness of Christ, yes. But it is also the lived righteousness of a heart that has been transformed by that gift. Both/and. Not one or the other.

If you claim Christ’s righteousness but refuse to let Him change how you live, you are wearing the breastplate like a piece of costume armor. And costumes do not stop arrows.

The Shoes of the Readiness to Spread the Gospel of Peace

Ephesians 6:15:

“And having shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace.”

The Greek is fascinating: ἐν ἑτοιμασίᾳ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου τῆς εἰρήνης (en hetoimasia tou euangeliou tēs eirēnēs), “in the readiness of the gospel of peace.”

The source text is Isaiah 52:7:

Isaiah 52:7 (NRSVUE):

“How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of the messenger who announces peace, who brings good news, who announces salvation, who says to Zion, ‘Your God reigns.’”

Isaiah 52:7 (LXX, N.E.T.S.):

“Like a season upon the mountains, like the feet of one bringing glad tidings of a report of peace, like one bringing glad tidings of good things, because I will make your salvation heard, saying to Sion, ‘Your God shall reign.’”

Paul quotes this verse directly in Romans 10:15, applying it to the preaching of the gospel. So when he picks up foot imagery in Ephesians 6:15 and pairs it with the “gospel of peace,” he is pulling straight from Isaiah 52.

And once again, this piece seems simple on the surface but really it’s anything but.

This isn’t just speaking the Gospel to people. It isn’t simple evangelism in the sense of tract-distribution or door-knocking. This is about how you live. It’s about how other people perceive you. Do your actions and attitudes reflect the love, grace, and mercy of Jesus? Are you speaking Jesus to people in a loving way, a gentle way, a kind way that emphasizes God’s grace and mercy?

And here I have to say something that I know will make some readers uncomfortable and maybe even a little angry. I believe the modern Church needs correction on this point, so I’m going to say it as plainly as I know how:

We are not called to foment fear. We are not called to preach hellfire to unbelievers.

The unsaved are never going to respond to a Gospel of fear. God knows this. It is why He called us to preach and spread the Gospel. And “Gospel” is just the English rendering of εὐαγγέλιον (euangelion), which means Good News.

Hell, fire, torment, and judgment are not Good News.

They are real. They are biblical. They are true. But they are not the Gospel, and they are not what Paul is telling us to shod our feet with when we step out into the world.

Now before you come for me in the comments, let me be clear: there is absolutely a time and a place for correction. There is absolutely a time to speak hard truths about sin and judgment. But that time and place is inside the church, among believers.

Look at what Scripture actually says.

Paul gives us an explicit procedure for correcting a brother who sins, and Jesus gives us the same thing in Matthew 18:15-17:

“If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault between you and him alone. If he hears you, you have gained your brother. But if he will not hear, take with you one or two more, that ‘by the mouth of two or three witnesses every word may be established.’ And if he refuses to hear them, tell it to the church. But if he refuses even to hear the church, let him be to you like a heathen and a tax collector.

Notice the phrase “your brother.” It’s not talking about your biological brother. Throughout the New Testament, the term “brother” is reserved for your fellow believers. This is for your brothers (or sisters) in Christ.

This procedure is for believers correcting believers.

And Paul is even more explicit in 1 Corinthians 5:12-13:

“For what have I to do with judging those also who are outside? Do you not judge those who are inside? But those who are outside God judges. Therefore “put away from yourselves the evil person.””

Read that again. “What have I to do with judging those outside?” Paul is telling the Corinthian church, a church that tolerated sexual immorality within its own membership, that their job is to address the sin within the church, not to go crusading against the sin of the surrounding pagan culture.

Let that sink in. The apostle who wrote more of the New Testament than anyone else explicitly tells us that judging outsiders is not our job. That’s God’s job.

So what is our job toward outsiders? The Gospel. The good news that God loved the world so much He sent His Son. The good news that no matter what they have done, grace is available. The good news of peace with God through Jesus Christ.

We praise and preach in public. We correct in private, within the body.

This is a leadership maxim, and it is also a pattern the New Testament bears out consistently. Jesus was gentle with sinners and sharp with hypocrites. He had compassion on the woman at the well and harsh words for the Pharisees. He broke bread with tax collectors and flipped the tables of the money-changers in the temple.

Notice the pattern: the people outside the religious community received grace, while those inside who should have known better received correction.

That is the shape of the Shoes of the Readiness to Spread the Gospel of Peace. When you step out into your workplace, your neighborhood, your family gatherings with unbelieving relatives… you are stepping out in readiness to bring good news. Peace. Grace. Mercy. Love. The invitation of a Father who wants His lost children to come home.

If what you are actually bringing is judgment, shame, and fear, then your feet are shod with something, but it isn’t the Gospel of peace.

The Shield of Faith

Ephesians 6:16: “With all of these, take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one.”

The Greek word Paul uses here is θυρεός (thyreos), which refers to the large, full-body shield. The one that could be locked together with other soldiers’ shields to form a wall. Not a little round buckler. A door-sized shield. You could hide behind this thing.

And the word for faith, πίστις (pistis), is where we need to do some careful work.

Most of our English Bibles translate πίστις as either “faith” or “belief,” often interchangeably. But these are not the same thing. Not even close.

What is faith? It is an unfortunate translation pattern in many English Bibles that renders πίστις as “belief” in some contexts. Because there is so much more to true pistis than just mental assent.

I believe in the existence of stars. I believe the core of the earth is molten. I believe my daughter will do well on her math test. That’s all “belief” in the sense of cognitive agreement with a proposition.

James 2:19 tells us:

“You believe that there is one God. You do well. Even the demons believe—and tremble!”

Even the demons believe. Belief, by itself, doesn’t save. Belief doesn’t justify. Faith does.

And faith, put most simply, is trust.

Do you trust Jesus? I mean, really trust Him? If He calls you to do something, will you do it without reservation? Even when logic, the world, your finances, and your family all tell you it’s a terrible idea?

Do you trust Him to be Lord of your life and your soul even when the world tells you that’s foolish? When everyone around you tells you that you’re throwing away everything you have? When literally every person around you tells you that you’re making a mistake and it will end in disaster, do you have enough faith in Jesus to do what He’s calling you to do anyway, in the face of that extreme opposition?

Because that is what faith really is.

The apostles had it. Almost every one of them died horrific deaths for their refusal to renounce it. That’s not belief. That’s trust so deep it survives torture.

And a quick note on the mustard seed. In Matthew 17:20, Jesus says that if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, “Move from here to there,” and it will move. People constantly misread this verse as being about the size of your faith. That’s the wrong question.

It’s about the quality of your faith. Do you trust Him to take care of you even when the world says He can’t? The mustard seed is the smallest of garden seeds, but it grows into one of the largest garden plants. Jesus isn’t saying “you need more faith.” He’s saying “even a tiny amount of real trust is enough, because real trust is alive and it grows.”

That is the Shield of Faith. Real, living, active trust in the Person of Jesus Christ, large enough to quench every flaming arrow the enemy throws at you. Because you have settled in your heart that He is worthy of your trust, and nothing the world shouts can shake that.

The Helmet of Salvation

Ephesians 6:17a:

“Take the helmet of salvation…”

The Greek is περικεφαλαίαν τοῦ σωτηρίου (perikephalaian tou sōtēriou). The word for salvation here is σωτήριον (sōtērion), the neuter form that emphasizes the means or instrument of deliverance.

Going back to Isaiah 59:17 LXX: καὶ περιέθετο περικεφαλαίαν σωτηρίου ἐπὶ τῆς κεφαλῆς. Same vocabulary. Paul is quoting directly.

This piece is a little self-explanatory on the surface. Yes, it’s about having salvation. Knowing your soul has been saved. But here is the part a lot of people miss: salvation isn’t just about eschatology. It’s not just about the ultimate destination of your soul.

Salvation is a multi-temporal event and process. This is one of the richest theological truths in all of Scripture, and so many Christians have never been taught it clearly.

You WERE saved when you gave your life to Christ. The Greek aorist tense; a completed action in the past. “By grace you have been saved through faith” (Ephesians 2:8). This is your justification. Your legal standing before God has changed forever.

You ARE BEING saved right now, in this very moment, as you undergo the process of sanctification. “To us who are being saved” (1 Corinthians 1:18, present tense). This is your ongoing transformation into the image of Christ.

You WILL BE saved when you stand before the Father and Christ steps up to say, “This one’s mine. My righteousness is her righteousness.” “The one who endures to the end will be saved” (Matthew 24:13, future tense). This is your glorification.

The Helmet of Salvation encompasses all three. Past, present, and future. And there is an aspect of this that is the certainty of your salvation. The settled confidence that you belong to Him.

But, and I really need you to hear this, it is so much more than just the confidence. It is a humble heart that acknowledges you can do nothing of yourself, that your salvation is a gift freely given that you could never earn, no matter how good you are. No matter how much time you have spent being sanctified. That you have salvation not because of anything you did but rather because of who He is.

And yes, the fact that this piece is portrayed as a helmet carries its own weight. The helmet protects the head. The head is the seat of thought. The salvation of your mind is part of what the Helmet represents.

This is where 2 Corinthians 10:5 becomes central: “We destroy arguments and every proud obstacle raised up against the knowledge of God, and we take every thought captive to obey Christ.”

Every. Thought. Captive.

The Helmet of Salvation, at its fullest expression, is the ability to consistently take your thoughts captive and submit them to Christ. You keep only the ones that align with His character. A cleaning up of your mind, including the words and concepts you think about, the activities you desire, the things you daydream about, the content you consume, the mental spaces you allow yourself to wander into.

This isn’t legalism. This is the natural outworking of salvation moving through every layer of who you are, including the layer that no one else ever sees.

The Sword of the Spirit

Ephesians 6:17b:

“…and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”

This is the only offensive piece of the armor. Everything else is defensive. And Paul doesn’t leave any ambiguity about what this sword is. He tells us directly: ῥῆμα θεοῦ (rhēma theou), the word of God.

A note on the Greek. Paul uses ῥῆμα (rhēma) here, not λόγος (logos). Some teachers make a huge distinction between these terms, but in practice the distinction is often overstated. Both can refer to God’s word. Rhēma tends to emphasize the spoken or specific word, a word for a moment, a situation, an encounter. It fits beautifully here, because the sword is wielded in the moment of battle.

The source text for this imagery reaches across several prophets. Isaiah 49:2 says of the Servant: “He made my mouth like a sharp sword.” Hosea 6:5: “Therefore I have hewn them by the prophets; I have killed them by the words of my mouth.” The writer of Hebrews picks this up and expands it in Hebrews 4:12: “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword.”

And nowhere is the Sword of the Spirit exemplified better than in the forty days Jesus spent in the wilderness being tested by Satan.

I believe there were dozens, possibly hundreds, of testings Satan presented to Jesus during those forty days that are not enumerated in Scripture. But the three we are given in Matthew 4 and Luke 4 are exemplary of the point.

Satan comes with temptation. Jesus responds with Scripture. “It is written…” Every single time.

Notice what Jesus does not do. He does not argue philosophy. He does not out-debate Satan on ethics. He does not even directly refute Satan’s logic. He simply wields the Word. And the enemy has no answer to it.

That is what the Sword of the Spirit does.

But here is where I have to be careful, because this is where modern Christianity often misses the point entirely. The Sword of the Spirit is not about memorizing Scripture so you can win arguments on social media. It is not about being able to quote chapter and verse on command. It is not about having a concordance in your head.

It is about living it.

Incorporating the words of Scripture into everything you say and do every day. Living out your values and your choices in accordance with the words of Scripture. Letting the Word shape how you treat your spouse, how you parent your children, how you handle your money, how you respond when someone cuts you off in traffic, how you speak about people when they aren’t in the room.

This is what it really means to possess the Sword of the Spirit. To know, to live, to love, to eat and drink and breathe the words of Scripture in everything you do, every single day.

Memorization is good. I’m not against memorization. But a memorized verse that doesn’t change how you live is a sword hanging on the wall as decoration. A sword is useful only when it is wielded. And you wield Scripture by letting it cut into you first, before you ever try to use it in the world.

So What Are We Actually Called To?

Is all of this a tall order? You bet it is.

A life of discernment rooted in Truth Himself. A life of lived-out, ongoing, transformative righteousness. Feet shod with the Good News, bringing peace to outsiders and leaving correction for the inside of the body. Faith that is trust deep enough to follow Jesus into the teeth of the world’s opposition. A mind so saturated in salvation that every thought is taken captive. And a life so shaped by Scripture that the Word itself becomes the weapon.

It is hard. It is, honestly, nearly impossible if we try to do it in our own strength.

But that’s the point.

The Armor of God is God’s armor. He wore it first. Isaiah 59 shows us God Himself putting on righteousness and salvation and going to war for a people who could not save themselves. And the entire trajectory of the New Testament is God giving that same armor— His very own armor —to His adopted sons and daughters.

You don’t manufacture this armor. You don’t earn it. You don’t buy it.

You receive it. And then, slowly, through a lifetime of walking with Him, you grow into it until it fits. Until the armor and the life become the same thing. Until people can see Jesus when they look at you, because you have been so thoroughly clothed in Him that the two are no longer easy to tell apart.

That is what Paul means when he tells us to put on the full armor of God.

Not a costume.

A life.

Please Join Me In A Closing Prayer

Holy Father,

We confess that we have too often treated Your armor as something we slip on before we face the day, rather than something we grow into over a lifetime. We have settled for belief when You have called us to trust. We have swung the Sword at outsiders when You called us to extend the Gospel of peace. We have worn the Breastplate as a badge when You meant it to be a way of living.

Forgive us.

Clothe us afresh. Gird us with Your truth, so that we may discern what is real in a world of counterfeits. Set Your breastplate over our hearts, and let the righteousness You have imputed to us also work itself out into the way we live. Place our feet in readiness to carry good news to those who need to hear it. Strengthen our shield, and grow our trust in You until no arrow of the enemy can shake it. Settle the helmet of salvation over our minds, and give us the grace to take every thought captive. And teach us to wield Your Word, not as a weapon against others, but as a life that cuts through our own flesh first.

Make us the kind of people who don’t just put on Your armor, but who have become it.

In the name of Jesus, who wore it before us and who fights for us still,

Amen.

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Coming Up Next

Alright friends, I hope you’re ready for this.

Did you know that there are TWO different ancient Greek versions of the book of Daniel? The original Greek version, typically referred to as the Old Greek, was included in the Septuagint until around the early to mid third century, when it was slowly replaced by the Theodotion version, though it’s debated whether Theodotion actually translated it.

Now, in fairness, there are a number of books that were “revised” by Theodotion in the late 2nd century, but most have only minor adjustments that brought them a little more in line with the Hebrew texts of the day.

Daniel is the major exception to that, along with Tobit (one of the books of the Apocrypha/Deuterocanon, if you’re unfamiliar) and the apocryphal additions to Daniel comprising: Susanna, The Prayer of Azariah and the Song of Three Young Men, and Bel and the Dragon, which we will be talking about.

Now, I can practically hear you asking, “Kevin, why does this matter?”

Well, simple. It was less than a year ago that I realized myself that there was an older Greek version that diverges significantly not just from the Hebrew but also from the Theodotion version that most readers of the Septuagint are familiar with. So I’ve been wanting to dig in not only to this Old Greek version but also a deep comparison between the Masoretic, Theodotion, and the Old Greek.

If you’ve been with me for any length of time you’ll know that the way the different versions of Scripture diverge fascinates me, and this one more than most because I love the book of Daniel. It’s one of the most theologically rich and narratively gripping books in the entire Bible.

And in some places the Old Greek is so different that you'd swear you were reading a different book entirely. Some chapters are an almost totally different presentation than we’re familiar with. But even those that aren’t, individual verses preserve readings that fundamentally alter our understanding of characters, events, and especially prophecies.

So, starting next week, we’re going to start a journey through the entire book of Daniel in three different translations. We’re going to mine it for textual and theological riches that we can submit to the both/and method and see what really might be being said in this amazing book.

We’re going to start with an introduction to the translations of Daniel. We’ll talk about the what and the why and talk about method. The following week we’ll dig into chapter one across these three translations and then we’ll be working our way through a chapter a week (usually), so we can really take our time and dig into the depths of each chapter so we don’t miss anything. Which obviously means that for the longer or denser chapters, we’ll be splitting them up to tackle across multiple posts.

For those of you doing the math, you’re right. At that pace, we’re going to be immersed in the riches of the book of Daniel for at least the next five months.

I can’t wait to dig into this with you. If you haven’t subscribed yet, do it now! I promise, you’re not going to want to miss this.

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There’s a moment in Genesis 4 that most of us blow right past. It comes in the middle of the story of Cain and Abel, sandwiched between the brothers’ offerings and the murder that follows. It’s easy to miss because the English makes it sound like a simple observation. God “had regard” for Abel. God “did not have regard” for Cain.

But in the Septuagint, the Greek word the translators chose to describe what God did when He turned His attention to Abel isn’t a word for casual observation. It’s not a glance. It’s not a passing notice.

It’s ἐπεῖδεν (epeiden). And it means something far deeper than “looked at.”

It means God saw Abel. Really saw him. Saw him with favor. Saw him with approval. Saw into the heart behind the offering and found something worth receiving.

And then the text uses a completely different word for what God did with Cain. A word that means He simply didn’t turn His attention that direction at all.

That distinction (between being truly seen by God and being passed over) is one of the most profound and recurring themes in all of Scripture. And it starts right here, with a single Greek verb.

Let’s dig in.

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The Word

ἐπεῖδον (epeidon)

Pronunciation: eh-PAY-don

Strong’s: G1896

The specific form in Genesis 4:4: ἐπεῖδεν (epeiden) — aorist indicative active, 3rd person singular. “He looked upon.”

Meaning: To look upon; to regard with favor (or with purpose); to direct one’s gaze toward someone or something with intent

Root: From ἐπί (epi, G1909 — “upon”) + εἴδω (eidō, G1492 — “to see, to perceive, to know”). The compound literally means to see upon, to direct your sight onto something with deliberate attention. It’s not peripheral vision. It’s a fixed, purposeful gaze.

NT frequency: 2 occurrences (Luke 1:25; Acts 4:29)

LXX frequency: 21 occurrences across the Psalms, the Pentateuch, and the Prophets

The Scene: Two Offerings, Two Verbs

The Septuagint of Genesis 4:4-5 presents one of the sharpest contrasts in the entire Old Testament, and it does it through a deliberate change of vocabulary.

Genesis 4:4 (LXX):

“And Abel also brought of the firstborn of his sheep and of their fat. And God looked upon Abel and upon his gifts” (καὶ ἐπεῖδεν ὁ θεὸς ἐπὶ Ἄβελ καὶ ἐπὶ τοῖς δώροις αὐτοῦ, kai epeiden ho theos epi Abel kai epi tois dōrois autou).

Genesis 4:5 (LXX):

“But upon Cain and upon his sacrifices He did not attend“ (ἐπὶ δὲ Κάϊν καὶ ἐπὶ ταῖς θυσίαις αὐτοῦ οὐ προσέσχεν, epi de Kain kai epi tais thysiais autou ou proseschen).

Two brothers. Two offerings. Two completely different Greek verbs.

For Abel: ἐπεῖδεν (epeiden) — God looked upon him. Turned His full gaze toward him. Regarded him with favor.

For Cain: οὐ προσέσχεν (ou proseschen) — God did not attend to him. Didn’t turn His attention his way. The verb here is προσέχω (prosechō), which means “to turn one’s mind toward, to pay attention to, to attend.” And the οὐ negates it flatly: He simply didn’t.

Notice: the Septuagint doesn’t say God looked at Cain and rejected him. It says God didn’t look in Cain’s direction at all. There’s a difference between being examined and found wanting, and never being examined in the first place. God’s gaze went to Abel. And it stopped there.

This raises the question that has occupied theologians for millennia: why?

The text doesn’t tell us explicitly. But the writer of Hebrews does: “By faith Abel offered to God a more excellent sacrifice than Cain, through which he obtained witness that he was righteous, God testifying of his gifts” (Hebrews 11:4, NKJV).

Faith. That’s what drew God’s ἐπεῖδεν. Not the category of offering (grain versus animal), not the economic value, not the ritual precision. God looked upon Abel because Abel’s offering came from a heart of faith.

And the beautiful thing about the Greek is that ἐπεῖδεν captures exactly this. It’s not just “God saw the gift.” It’s “God looked upon Abel and upon his gifts.” The person came first. God saw the offerer before He evaluated the offering.

A Family of Verbs: How God “Sees” Throughout Scripture

Here’s where this study opens up in a way I wasn’t expecting when I started researching it.

The LXX and the New Testament don’t always use the exact same Greek verb when describing God’s compassionate gaze toward the suffering. Instead, they use a family of related “looking” verbs. These are words built on the same root concepts but with slightly different nuances. And tracing this family across Scripture reveals one of the most beautiful theological patterns in the Bible.

ἐπεῖδον (epeidon) — “to look upon, to regard with favor”

This is our primary word. Beyond Genesis 4:4, it appears in a stunning range of LXX passages:

Psalm 31:7 (LXX 30:8):

“I will be glad and rejoice in Your mercy, for You have looked upon my humiliation” (ἐπεῖδες τὴν ταπείνωσίν μου, epeides tēn tapeinōsin mou).

David, hunted and desperate, declares that God has seen his low estate. Not just noticed it. Seen it with the kind of attention that leads to action.

Psalm 54:7 (LXX 53:9):

“For He has delivered me out of all trouble, and my eye has looked upon my enemies” (ἐπεῖδεν ὁ ὀφθαλμός μου, epeiden ho ophthalmos mou).

And in the New Testament:

Luke 1:25: Elizabeth, after conceiving John the Baptist in her old age, says:

“Thus the Lord has dealt with me, in the days when He looked upon me (ἐπεῖδεν, epeiden), to take away my reproach among people” (NKJV).

Acts 4:29: The early church prays:

“Now, Lord, look upon (ἔπιδε, epide) their threats, and grant to Your servants that with all boldness they may speak Your word.”

ἐπιβλέπω (epiblepō) — “to look upon, to gaze at, to regard with compassion”

This is a close relative. Same prefix (ἐπί, “upon”), but built on βλέπω (blepō, “to see, to look”) rather than εἴδω. The difference is subtle: εἴδω carries a sense of perceiving or knowing, while βλέπω emphasizes the act of looking. But theologically, they function almost identically when used of God’s gaze.

1 Samuel 1:11: Hannah prays:

“O Lord of hosts, if You will indeed look on (ἐπιβλέψῃς, epiblepsēs) the affliction of Your maidservant and remember me...”

Luke 1:48: Mary’s Magnificat:

“For He has regarded (ἐπέβλεψεν, epeblepsen) the lowly state of His maidservant” (NKJV).

Luke 9:38: A father pleads for his demon-possessed son:

“Teacher, I implore You, look on (ἐπιβλέψαι, epiblepsai) my son, for he is my only child.”

James 2:3:

“If you show attention (ἐπιβλέψητε, epiblepsēte) to the one wearing the fine clothes...” Here the word is used negatively; don’t give this kind of divine-quality attention to the rich while ignoring the poor.

Do you see the thread?

The same family of words— ἐπεῖδον and ἐπιβλέπω —appears when God directs His gaze toward the afflicted, the barren, the humiliated, the forgotten. And it appears when humans plead with God to see them in their distress.

The Golden Thread: God Sees the Overlooked

Here’s the pattern that emerges when you trace these “looking” verbs across the LXX and the New Testament. It’s breathtaking.

Leah — the unloved wife, the one Jacob never wanted, the woman whose very presence was a reminder of her father’s deception. Genesis 29:31-32 tells us that when the Lord saw that Leah was unloved, He opened her womb. And Leah names her firstborn Reuben, saying: “The Lord has looked upon my affliction.”

The LXX of this verse uses language that connects directly to the ταπείνωσις (tapeinōsis, “humiliation, low estate”) vocabulary we’ve been tracing. Leah is overlooked by her husband. But she is not overlooked by God.

Hannah — barren, taunted by her rival Peninnah, weeping in the temple so bitterly that the priest thinks she’s drunk. Her prayer in 1 Samuel 1:11 uses ἐπιβλέπω: “If you will look upon the affliction of your servant...” God does look. Samuel is born. And through Samuel, the entire monarchy of Israel is established.

Hannah was invisible to everyone except God. And when God looked, everything changed.

Elizabeth — old, barren, living in the hill country of Judea, hidden from public life. When she finally conceives, she uses our word; ἐπεῖδεν: “The Lord has looked upon me, to take away my reproach” (Luke 1:25). For decades, Elizabeth’s barrenness was her social shame. Then God turned His gaze her direction, and from that gaze came John the Baptist, the forerunner of the Messiah.

Mary — young, poor, unmarried, from a nowhere town called Nazareth. When the angel appears to her, Mary responds with the Magnificat, and the key word is ἐπέβλεψεν (from ἐπιβλέπω): “He has regarded the lowly state (ταπείνωσιν, tapeinōsin) of His maidservant” (Luke 1:48).

The same word. The same concept. The same pattern.

Mary uses the exact same noun for her condition— ταπείνωσις, “low estate, humiliation” —that the LXX uses for Leah’s affliction and David’s suffering in Psalm 31. She’s placing herself in a theological tradition that stretches back to the very first time God looked upon someone the world had overlooked.

And from Mary’s ταπείνωσις comes Jesus.

If this study challenged you, encouraged you, or made you think, please share it with someone who’s wrestling with these questions. These conversations are too important to have in an echo chamber.

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The Contrast: What It Means to Be Un-Seen

If ἐπεῖδεν is the word for God’s favorable, purposeful gaze, then the negative in Genesis 4:5 is its shadow.

οὐ προσέσχεν (ou proseschen). God did not attend. Did not turn His face. Did not look.

This isn’t hatred. It isn’t punishment. It’s something that might actually be worse: non-attention. God’s gaze went somewhere else.

The Psalms are filled with the anguished cry of the person who feels un-seen by God:

“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me?” (Psalm 13:1, NKJV)

“Why do You stand afar off, O Lord? Why do You hide in times of trouble?” (Psalm 10:1, NKJV)

The psalmists understood that the worst thing isn’t God’s judgment. It’s God’s silence. God’s turned back. The absence of the ἐπεῖδεν.

And yet, remarkably, the pattern we’ve been tracing suggests that God’s ἐπεῖδεν is drawn to exactly the people the world ignores. Leah, the unloved wife. Hannah, the barren woman mocked by her rival. Elizabeth, the old woman carrying decades of social shame. Mary, the peasant virgin girl from a backwater town.

God doesn’t see the way the world sees. The world looks at power, status, beauty, productivity, and success. God looks at the broken, the humble, the desperate, and the faithful.

Mary understood this perfectly. In the very next line of the Magnificat after declaring God’s ἐπέβλεψεν on her low estate, she sings:

“He has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. He has put down the mighty from their thrones, and exalted the lowly” (Luke 1:51-52, NKJV).

That’s the pattern. The ἐπεῖδεν of God reverses the world’s values. The one the world overlooks is the one God sees. And the one God sees is the one through whom He works.

What This Means for Us

Three things.

First: Your invisibility is not permanent. If you feel unseen by the people around you, by the systems you navigate, by the world that seems to reward everyone else while passing you by, know this: the God who ἐπεῖδεν Abel, who ἐπεῖδεν Leah, who ἐπεῖδεν Elizabeth, sees you too. His gaze is not random. It is not accidental. And it is drawn, over and over throughout Scripture, to exactly the people the world overlooks. Your low estate is not a disqualification. In the economy of God, it might be a qualification.

Second: God sees the heart before the offering. Genesis 4:4 says God looked upon Abel and upon his gifts. Person first, offering second. Hebrews 11:4 confirms that faith was the distinguishing factor. This means you cannot buy God’s attention with impressive works. You cannot earn His gaze with religious performance. He sees through the gift to the giver. He sees through the action to the motive. And what He’s looking for is faith. The kind of trust that brings your best to God because you believe He’s worth it, not because you think you can manipulate Him with it.

Third: When God sees, God acts. ἐπεῖδεν is never passive in Scripture. When God looks upon someone, something happens. He looks upon Leah, and her womb opens. He looks upon Hannah, and Samuel is born. He looks upon Elizabeth, and the forerunner of the Messiah is conceived. He looks upon Mary, and the Incarnation begins.

God’s gaze is creative. It doesn’t just observe, it produces. When God turns His face toward you, He isn’t just acknowledging your existence. He’s initiating something. What that something is, you may not know yet. But the pattern of Scripture is clear: God sees. Then God moves.

The God who looked upon Abel in Genesis 4 is the same God who looked upon Mary in Luke 1. And from the first glance to the last, His eyes have always found the faithful, the humble, and the overlooked.

He sees you.

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This is one of the most common questions Christians ask. Walk into any church small group, post it on any Christian forum, or ask any pastor after service, and you’ll get the same question in a dozen variations:

“Which Bible translation is the most reliable?”

“What’s the best Bible for serious study?”

“Should I read the ESV or the NIV?”

“Is the KJV still the best?”

I saw a version of this question just the other day here on Substack, and it stopped me in my tracks. Not because it’s a bad question. It’s a perfectly natural one. But because lurking beneath it is an assumption that most Christians never think to examine.

The assumption is this: somewhere behind all these English translations, there is one single, authoritative original text, and the “best” translation is the one that gets closest to it.

It sounds reasonable. It feels obvious. And it’s not entirely wrong.

But it’s not entirely right, either.

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The Question Behind the Question

Here’s what most believers don’t realize. When you pick up an English Bible, your Old Testament is almost certainly translated from a Hebrew text called the Masoretic Text. This is a carefully preserved manuscript tradition that was standardized by Jewish scholars (the Masoretes) between the 6th and 10th centuries A.D. It’s an extraordinary work of preservation, and it deserves the reverence it receives.

But it’s not the only ancient text of the Old Testament that exists.

More than two centuries before Christ, Jewish scholars in Alexandria translated the Hebrew Scriptures into Greek. That translation is called the Septuagint, and it was the Bible of the early church. It’s the text the apostles quoted. It’s the Scripture Paul preached from. When the New Testament writers cite the Old Testament (which they do over 300 times), they are almost (but not quite) always quoting the Septuagint rather than the Hebrew text that your English Bible is based on.

And here’s the thing that changed everything we thought we knew about “the original text.”

In 1947, a Bedouin shepherd stumbled into a cave near the Dead Sea and found a collection of ancient scrolls that would reshape biblical scholarship forever. The Dead Sea Scrolls contained Hebrew manuscripts a thousand years older than the oldest Masoretic Text we had. And when scholars began comparing them, they discovered something remarkable: some of these ancient Hebrew manuscripts agreed with the Masoretic Text. Some agreed with the Septuagint. And some agreed with neither.

There is no single, monolithic “original” Hebrew text sitting behind all our translations. There never was. There were multiple textual traditions, preserved by different communities, each faithfully transmitting what they had received.

The book of Jeremiah makes this point more dramatically than any other book of the Bible. The Septuagint version of Jeremiah is roughly one-seventh shorter than the Masoretic Text. It’s not just missing a few words here and there. It has approximately 2,700 fewer words, and the material is arranged in a different order. The Oracles Against the Foreign Nations, for example, appear in the middle of the book in the Septuagint but at the end in the Masoretic Text. This isn’t a minor shift, this is a dramatic difference that makes reading the two versions side-by-side quite complicated!

For centuries, scholars debated why. Did the Greek translators cut the text? Did later Hebrew scribes expand it? Was one version a corruption of the other?

Then the Dead Sea Scrolls provided the answer. In Cave 4 at Qumran, archaeologists found multiple Hebrew scroll fragments of Jeremiah. Two of them (4QJer-a and 4QJer-c) follow the longer Masoretic tradition. But a third (4QJer-b) follows the shorter text and different arrangement of the Septuagint.

Both versions. In Hebrew. In the same cave.

The Qumran community possessed both the longer and shorter versions of Jeremiah, and the scrolls show no signs of marginal corrections, no notes flagging one as more authoritative than the other, no evidence that anyone at Qumran considered one version to be “the real one” and the other defective. Both were preserved, copied, and treated as Scripture.

The lesson here is that this is not a problem to be solved. This is evidence that God preserved His Word through multiple faithful traditions, and that the early Jewish community was comfortable holding both versions as authoritative.

It’s not a crisis. It’s not a reason to question the Bible or your faith. It isn’t even a problem. What it is, friends, is a gift.

Because when you read the Masoretic Text and the Septuagint side by side, they don’t contradict each other (except in a couple of very rare instances). What they do is complement each other. They’re two angles of vision on the same divine revelation, like two witnesses testifying to the same truth from different vantage points.

I believe both the Masoretic Text and the Septuagint are authoritative. I believe God intentionally preserved both traditions to tell a fuller story than either is capable of telling alone. I believe that neither is more authoritative than the other.

Point blank: in almost every case, both readings are correct. What might at first look like a contradiction dissolves when you read them side by side and consider the fuller picture of putting all the details together.

This is the heart of the “both/and” perspective that drives everything I write at The LXX Scrolls. And it’s the lens through which I want to examine this question about Bible translations.

Because the real question isn’t “which translation is most reliable?” The real question is: which translations, used together, give me the fullest picture of what God has revealed?

That one small shift changes everything about how you evaluate your options.

A Brief Word on Translation Philosophy

Before we walk through specific translations, you need to understand the spectrum that all Bible translations fall on. This isn’t complicated, but it matters.

On one end, you have formal equivalence, sometimes called “word-for-word” translation. These translations prioritize matching the structure and vocabulary of the original Hebrew and Greek as closely as possible. The English follows the original language’s word order, grammar, and idiom wherever it can. The result is highly literal and excellent for detailed study, but it can sometimes read stiffly because Hebrew and Greek don’t structure sentences the way English does.

On the other end, you have dynamic equivalence, sometimes called “thought-for-thought” translation. These translations prioritize conveying the meaning of the original text in natural, readable modern English. The translator asks, “If the biblical author were writing in English today, how would he say this?” The result is clear and accessible, but it requires the translator to make more interpretive decisions about what the text means before rendering it.

Beyond both of these, you have paraphrase. A paraphrase isn’t really a translation at all. It’s one person’s interpretation of what the text means, rewritten in their own words. Paraphrases can be devotionally powerful, but they blur the line between what the text says and what the paraphraser thinks it means.

No translation is purely one thing. Every translation sits somewhere on this spectrum. Even the most literal translation has to make interpretive choices, and even the most dynamic translation is constrained by what the original actually says.

Here’s the key principle I want you to hold onto as we go through these translations: a single Hebrew or Greek word can often be validly translated by multiple different English words. This is true of any language. The Hebrew word חֶסֶד (chesed), for example, can be translated as “lovingkindness,” “steadfast love,” “mercy,” “covenant loyalty,” or “faithfulness,” and every one of those is a legitimate rendering depending on context. The Greek word λόγος (logos) can mean “word,” “reason,” “speech,” “message,” or “account.”

Let me show you how this plays out in practice. Take Isaiah 7:14, one of the most famous messianic prophecies in the Old Testament. The Hebrew word עַלְמָה (almah) is translated “virgin” in the KJV and NKJV, but “young woman” in the NRSV.

Which is right?

They both are.

The Hebrew word refers to a young woman of marriageable age, and in the cultural context, the assumption of virginity was embedded in that. The Septuagint translators, working more than a century before Christ, chose the Greek word παρθένος (parthenos), which specifically and unambiguously means “virgin.” Matthew, writing under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, quotes the Septuagint’s word when he applies this prophecy to Mary (Matthew 1:23).

Is “young woman” wrong? No. Is “virgin” wrong? No. Each captures a real dimension of what the text communicates. And reading both together, alongside the Septuagint’s explicit παρθένος, gives you the fullest picture. That’s the both/and approach in microcosm.

Different translations bring out different facets of these rich, multivalent words. That’s not a weakness. It’s a feature. A “both/and” approach to translations mirrors my both/and approach to textual traditions. Think of it like watching a filmed event. You’ll get a certain amount of truth from a single angle, but you’ll see so much more of the truth when you can see it from multiple angles.

With that in mind, let’s dig in.

The Translations

King James Version (KJV) — 1611

The King James Bible is the most influential English book ever published. Commissioned by King James I and translated by 47 scholars working from the Textus Receptus (for the New Testament) and the Masoretic Text (for the Old Testament), the KJV has shaped English literature, worship, and culture for over 400 years.

Its language is majestic. There’s a reason people still memorize the 23rd Psalm in the KJV. Phrases like “the valley of the shadow of death” and “though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels” have become part of the English language itself. For sheer beauty and literary power, nothing else even comes close.

But the KJV has a strength that often goes unrecognized, and it’s one I think is genuinely important. The KJV preserves a linguistic distinction that modern English has lost: the difference between singular and plural “you.” In the KJV, “thee” and “thou” are singular (addressing one person), while “ye” and “you” are plural (addressing a group). This matters because both Hebrew and Greek make this distinction, and knowing whether a passage is addressed to an individual or a community can change how you understand it. Modern translations flatten this distinction because modern English doesn’t have it anymore.

The KJV’s preservation of this nuance has tremendous value.

That said, the KJV has real limitations. It was based on the best manuscript evidence available in the early 17th century, but we now have access to far more manuscripts, including some that are significantly older. The archaic language also creates genuine comprehension barriers. Words have changed meaning over 400 years: “prevent” used to mean “precede,” “conversation” meant “conduct” or “behavior,” “expedient” meant fitting, profitable, or advantageous, and “let” meant “hinder.” A modern reader encountering these words will simply misunderstand what the text is saying.

The KJV remains a treasure. But for study purposes, I would pair it with a modern translation that can illuminate what the 17th-century English is actually saying.

New King James Version (NKJV) — 1982

The NKJV is what happens when you take the KJV’s translation philosophy and put it in modern English. Produced by 130 scholars, it updates the language while preserving the formal equivalence approach. It’s still based on the Textus Receptus for the New Testament and the Masoretic Text for the Old Testament, but it includes footnotes showing readings from the Nestle-Aland/UBS critical texts and the Majority Text. This gives you a window into how different manuscript traditions read at key points.

The NKJV retains the dignity and rhythm of the KJV without requiring you to parse Elizabethan English. It capitalizes divine pronouns (He, Him, His when referring to God), which many readers appreciate as a mark of reverence. And its footnote apparatus is quietly one of the best features of any English Bible: those little markers showing variant readings from different manuscript traditions are gold for anyone who wants to study the text seriously.

It does lose the singular/plural “you” distinction that the KJV preserves. That’s a real loss. But the trade-off in readability is worth it for most readers.

The NKJV is my anchor translation for The LXX Scrolls. It’s where I start before comparing with anything else.

New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition (NRSVue) — 2021

The NRSVue is the latest in a lineage that stretches back through the NRSV (1989), the RSV (1952), and ultimately to the English Revised Version of 1885. It was produced by an ecumenical committee of scholars and is based on the Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia for the Old Testament and the Nestle-Aland 28th edition / UBS 5th edition for the New Testament. These are the most current critical texts available.

In academic and ecumenical circles, the NRSV tradition is the gold standard. Seminaries use it. Scholarly publications quote it. The NRSVue incorporates the latest Dead Sea Scrolls scholarship and textual discoveries, making it one of the most up-to-date translations on the market.

It strikes an excellent balance between accuracy and readability, leaning toward the formal end of the spectrum without becoming wooden. Where it differs from the NKJV, you often discover something important about the underlying text or the latest scholarship.

Its most debated feature is its use of gender-inclusive language where the original is ambiguous. For example, the Greek word ἀδελφοί (adelphoi), which literally means “brothers,” is sometimes rendered “brothers and sisters” when the context suggests the author was addressing a mixed audience. Some readers appreciate this as a more accurate rendering of the original intent. Others see it as an interpretive step that goes beyond what the text says. You’ll need to decide for yourself where you land on that question.

The NRSVue is my scholarly companion. When the NKJV raises a question, the NRSVue often answers it, or at least shows me where the scholarly conversation is happening.

New American Standard Bible (NASB) — 1971 / 1995 / 2020

The NASB has long been regarded as one of the most literal major English translations. Produced by the Lockman Foundation, it uses the Biblia Hebraica for the Old Testament and the Nestle-Aland Greek text for the New Testament.

Its greatest strength is its commitment to formal equivalence. The 1995 edition, in particular, is widely considered the “most literal readable” English translation. It also has a helpful transparency feature: words added for English clarity that aren’t in the original languages are printed in italics, so you always know what the translators supplied.

A brief note on the editions: the 2020 update introduced gender-inclusive language (such as adelphoi as “brothers and sisters”), modernized some vocabulary, and made other changes that have divided the NASB’s user base. Some long-time readers feel the 2020 moved away from the strict formal equivalence that defined the translation. Others appreciate the improved readability. Both the 1995 and 2020 remain excellent translations. Which you prefer depends on whether you prioritize strict literalness or contemporary accessibility. To their credit, the Lockman Foundation continues publishing the 1995 alongside the 2020, so you can choose.

I have nothing against the NASB. It’s a fine translation. My preference for the NRSVue in the “rigorous study” slot comes down to the NRSVue being based on more current critical texts and incorporating the latest manuscript scholarship, but the NASB would serve you well in that role too.

English Standard Version (ESV) — 2001

The ESV is a revision of the RSV produced by a team of over 100 evangelical scholars and published by Crossway. It describes itself as “essentially literal” and has become the default translation for many Reformed and evangelical churches.

It produces clean, readable prose while maintaining strong literalness. The study Bible editions are excellent. And it retains traditional gender language, which appeals to readers who prefer that approach.

Where I occasionally find the ESV less satisfying is in certain renderings that feel like they’re shaped by a particular theological tradition rather than emerging naturally from the text. Some of its choices in passages related to gender roles, for example, have been criticized by scholars as reflecting complementarian theology rather than neutral translation. I want to be gentle about this because the ESV is a serious, scholarly translation and these are debatable points. But I do think readers should be aware that every translation carries its translators’ theological fingerprints to some degree, and the ESV is no exception.

If your church uses the ESV, you’re in good hands. It’s a reliable, well-executed translation. I simply find that the NRSVue and NKJV together cover the same ground with fewer theological presuppositions baked into the English.

New International Version (NIV) — 1978 / 2011

The NIV is the world’s most popular modern English Bible translation. Produced by an international team of over 100 scholars under the Committee on Bible Translation, it uses the Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia for the Old Testament and the Nestle-Aland / UBS texts for the New Testament.

Its strength is readability. The NIV reads like natural, modern English while maintaining genuine scholarly rigor behind the scenes. For devotional reading, public worship, and accessibility, it’s hard to beat. The sheer size of its ecosystem (study Bibles, devotionals, apps, commentaries) means you’ll never lack for supporting resources.

Its weakness is the flip side of its strength. As a dynamic equivalence translation, the NIV sometimes interprets rather than translates. It smooths over textual difficulties rather than preserving them for the reader. This makes for a better reading experience, but it means you’re sometimes getting the translation committee’s interpretation of an ambiguous passage rather than the ambiguity itself.

Here’s a concrete example of why this matters for the both/and approach. When a Hebrew or Greek word has multiple valid meanings, a formal equivalence translation will often preserve that ambiguity, letting you see the range of possibilities. A dynamic equivalence translation like the NIV picks the meaning the translators think best fits the context and renders only that meaning. You get clarity, but you lose the texture. And sometimes, that texture is exactly where the richness lies.

The 2011 update, like the NRSVue and NASB 2020, introduced gender-inclusive language that was controversial among its user base. The underlying translation, however, remains solid.

For detailed word studies, you’ll want to pair the NIV with something more literal. But for the sheer experience of reading Scripture in clear, natural English, the NIV is excellent.

New Living Translation (NLT) — 1996 / 2015

The NLT began as a revision of Kenneth Taylor’s Living Bible paraphrase, but the team of 90+ scholars who worked on it essentially produced a new translation. Despite its origins, the NLT is a genuine committee translation with serious scholarly oversight, not a paraphrase.

It sits further toward the dynamic end of the spectrum than the NIV, and it excels at one thing above all others: clarity. When the NKJV and NRSVue are both saying something you can’t quite parse, the NLT will make it plain. It also captures the emotional and narrative flow of Scripture beautifully, making it ideal for reading large sections at a time. If you’ve never read an entire epistle in one sitting, try it in the NLT. You’ll see the argument’s flow in a way that verse-by-verse study in a formal translation can sometimes obscure.

Its trade-off is the same as any dynamic translation, but more so. It paraphrases away ambiguities that are present in the original, and its casual tone can feel too informal for prophetic and poetic literature. You wouldn’t want to do a detailed word study in the NLT. But that’s not what it’s for.

The NLT is my “accessibility bridge.” When the formal translations are opaque, the NLT illuminates. And when I’m recommending a first Bible for someone who’s never read Scripture before, the NLT is almost always what I reach for.

New English Translation (NET) — 2005

The NET Bible is a sleeper pick that deserves far more attention than it gets. Produced by a team of more than 25 scholars, it was designed from the ground up as a digital-first Bible.

Its signature feature is staggering: over 60,000 translator’s notes. No other English Bible comes close. These notes explain why the translators chose a particular rendering, discuss variant readings in the manuscripts, present alternative translations, and engage with scholarly debates. If you’ve ever wondered why two translations render the same verse differently, the NET’s notes will show you.

The translation itself is solid, sitting in a moderate position on the spectrum between formal and dynamic. But the notes are what make it irreplaceable. And it’s freely available online at netbible.org.

If you’re the kind of reader who wants to understand the translation process itself, the NET Bible is an essential tool.

World English Bible (WEB/WEBUS) — 2000 (ongoing)

The World English Bible is an updated revision of the American Standard Version (1901), produced by Michael Paul Johnson and volunteers. It uses the Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia for the Old Testament and the Majority Text for the New Testament.

Its greatest strength is that it’s completely public domain. You can quote it, reproduce it, distribute it, and publish it without any copyright restrictions. For mission work, digital publishing, and free distribution, this is invaluable.

The WEB is readable, modern, and competent. It’s not as polished as translations backed by major publishers and large academic teams, but it’s a solid, honest translation.

One note: the WEB renders the tetragrammaton (the four-letter name of God, יהוה) as “Yahweh.”

I’m not sure I’ve ever come out and said this, so allow me to be transparent about it. I’m not convinced that scholars are correct about the pronunciation of the divine name, and I hold (somewhat loosely, as I do most of my theological positions) to the old Hebrew view that the name of God is too holy to be spoken casually. So in my own writing (and speaking) I refer to God as “God,” “Father,” “Adonai,” or “Lord.” I use “YHWH” only when directly quoting Scripture that includes it.

The WEB’s choice is a legitimate scholarly decision, but it’s one I personally don’t choose to follow.

GOD’S WORD Translation (GW) — 1995

The GW was produced by the God’s Word to the Nations Mission Society, originally rooted in Lutheran scholarship. It employs what it calls “Closest Natural Equivalence,” a middle ground between formal and dynamic equivalence.

What makes the GW unusual is its production process. Unlike most Bible translations, which use part-time scholars, the GW employed full-time biblical scholars and full-time English editorial reviewers who worked together at every stage. The result is exceptionally clear, natural English.

It’s excellent for new believers and readers who find more formal translations intimidating. But some of its vocabulary choices concern me. Rendering δικαιόω (dikaioō, “to justify”) as “God’s approval” weakens a theologically vital concept. Justification is more than God’s positive reaction to us; it’s our acquittal from sin. Similarly, rendering χάρις (charis, “grace”) as “kindness” loses the dimension of undeserved favor that makes grace what it is.

These are the kinds of trade-offs that happen when readability is weighted heavily against precision. The GW makes those trade-offs honestly and openly, and the translation itself is competent. Just be aware that some key theological terms have been softened.

Literal Standard Version (LSV) — 2020

The LSV is a modern revision of Robert Young’s Literal Translation (1862), produced by the Covenant Christian Coalition. It is, by its own description, the most literal English translation currently available.

It’s based on the Masoretic Text for the Old Testament and the Textus Receptus / Majority Text for the New Testament, but it consults the Septuagint and Dead Sea Scrolls where the evidence warrants. One of its distinctive features is that it includes the Septuagint’s Genesis chronology alongside the Masoretic chronology in bracketed text, so you can see both traditions side by side. For anyone interested in textual comparison, that’s a remarkable feature.

The LSV transliterates the tetragrammaton as “YHWH” rather than substituting “LORD,” preserves verb tenses more consistently than any other English translation, and capitalizes divine pronouns. It’s also released under a Creative Commons license, making it freely available.

The trade-off is readability. The LSV is so literal that it can be difficult for devotional reading. Hebrew and Greek sentence structures don’t always work in English, and the LSV preserves those structures even when they sound awkward. But for deep word studies and understanding the grain of the original languages, it’s an excellent resource.

The Message (MSG) — 2002

The Message is a paraphrase by Eugene Peterson, a pastor and scholar who worked from the original Hebrew and Greek languages. Peterson’s goal was to capture the tone, rhythm, and emotional force of Scripture in contemporary American English.

Peterson was a genuine scholar, and his pastoral heart shows through on many pages. When it works, The Message can make a familiar passage come alive in ways that send you running back to the original text with fresh eyes. There’s value in that.

But I have to be direct about my concerns.

The Message is one man’s interpretation. And because it’s a paraphrase rather than a translation, Peterson’s theological perspectives shape every page. The reader has no way to distinguish between what the text actually says and what Peterson thought it meant. In places, his renderings depart significantly from the wording of the original.

Let me give you a few examples. In Romans 12:1, where the NKJV reads “present your bodies a living sacrifice,” Peterson renders it “Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering.” The spirit isn’t entirely wrong, but the specificity of Paul’s language about bodies, sacrifice, and worship has been dissolved into a general sentiment about everyday life.

The theological precision is gone.

Or consider Ephesians 6:12. Where the NKJV reads “we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places,” Peterson gives us “This is no afternoon athletic contest that we’ll walk away from and forget about in a couple of hours. This is for keeps, a life-or-death fight to the finish against the Devil and all his angels.” The atmospheric energy is there, but the specific theological vocabulary of principalities, powers, and rulers of darkness (which maps onto a detailed biblical theology of spiritual authority) has been replaced with something much vaguer.

These aren’t trivial differences. When you flatten Paul’s precise theological vocabulary into general impressions, you lose the ability to trace those concepts through Scripture and build a coherent understanding of what the text is teaching.

When you read a formal translation like the NKJV or NRSVue, you’re reading what the text says. You’re free to interpret it. When you read The Message, you’re reading Peterson’s interpretation of what the text means. You’ve lost the ability to do your own work because the interpretive decisions have already been made for you.

The Message should never be used as a primary study Bible. It should never be the text you base doctrine on. If you enjoy it devotionally or occasionally consult it to clarify an opaque passage, that’s fine. Keep it on your shelf. But always, always, always read it alongside a real translation.

The Passion Translation (TPT) — 2011-present

I want to be careful here. Brian Simmons, the creator of The Passion Translation, appears to be a sincere believer with a genuine desire to make Scripture accessible and emotionally resonant. I don’t question his faith, and nothing I’m about to say should be taken as a personal attack.

But I have a responsibility to be honest about this work, because the integrity of Scripture is at stake.

The Passion Translation is produced almost entirely by one person. Every major Bible translation in history has used committees of scholars specifically to prevent individual theological biases from shaping the text. The Passion Translation has no meaningful committee oversight. Simmons has identified himself as the “lead translator,” but there is little evidence of a scholarly team providing the kind of rigorous academic oversight that translations require.

More concerning: The Passion frequently inserts words, phrases, and entire concepts that do not appear in any Hebrew, Aramaic, or Greek manuscript. Andrew Shead, head of Old Testament and Hebrew at Moore Theological College and a member of the NIV Committee on Bible Translation, has documented that the Psalms in The Passion are at least 50% longer than the original text due to inserted material.

That’s not translation. It’s addition.

Simmons also claims to translate from “the original Aramaic,” by which he means the Syriac Peshitta. But the scholarly consensus is overwhelming: the New Testament was written in Greek. The Peshitta is a translation from the Greek dating to at least the 2nd century A.D. It is not a source text. Treating it as if it were “the original” is a fundamental methodological error.

The Passion Translation’s renderings consistently align with New Apostolic Reformation theological positions, inserting concepts like “experiencing the kingdom in fullness” where the Greek text of Mark 1:15 simply says “the kingdom of God has come near.” Bible Gateway removed The Passion in January 2022 due to scholarly concerns about its accuracy.

I would recommend against using The Passion Translation. If you enjoy it devotionally, please cross-reference every passage with a reputable translation. It should never be used for study, doctrine, or preaching.

Tree of Life Version (TLV) — 2014

The Tree of Life Version is a Messianic Jewish translation produced by the Tree of Life Bible Society. It was created by a team of over 70 translators, scholars, and contributors, including both Jewish believers in Yeshua/Jesus (Messianic Jews) and Christian scholars. It uses the Masoretic Text for the Old Testament and the Nestle-Aland 27th edition for the New Testament.

The TLV does something no other major English translation attempts: it restores the Jewish context that most English translations flatten. It uses “Yeshua” instead of “Jesus,” “Miriam” instead of “Mary,” and follows the traditional Jewish order of Old Testament books (Torah, Prophets, Writings) rather than the Christian rearrangement. It includes Hebrew transliterated terms with a glossary, messianic prophecy footnotes throughout the Old Testament, and a wealth of resources connecting readers to the Jewish roots of the Christian faith.

What caught my attention is how the TLV handles the divine name. It renders the tetragrammaton as “Adonai,” reflecting traditional Jewish reverence for the unspoken name of God. This aligns with my own practice. I’m drawn to that approach because it honors the weight and holiness of the name without presuming to know its correct pronunciation.

My friend Diane Ferreira of “She’s So Scripture” primarily uses the TLV, and her Messianic Jewish perspective has enriched my own understanding of how Jewish believers in Jesus engage with the same texts through a complementary lens.

The TLV is a committee translation with recognized scholarly credentials. It’s not a paraphrase or a one-man project. The Hebrew transliterations can be jarring for readers unfamiliar with them, and the Messianic Jewish perspective is a specific lens that not every reader will share. But as a window into the Jewish roots of the faith and a complement to standard English translations, the TLV is a fascinating and valuable resource.

Septuagint Translations: Brenton, N.E.T.S., and the Lexham English Septuagint

Now we arrive at the translations closest to my heart. And I need to share an observation that surprised me when I first realized it.

Until very recently, every major English translation of the Septuagint was built on top of an existing translation of the Masoretic Text.

Let me explain what that means. Sir Lancelot Brenton’s 1851 translation of the Septuagint used KJV-era English conventions as its starting point, departing from KJV phrasing only where the Greek text demanded it. The New English Translation of the Septuagint (N.E.T.S., 2007) explicitly uses the NRSV as its “base of referral,” defaulting to NRSV wording wherever the Septuagint and the Masoretic Text agree. The Orthodox Study Bible uses the NKJV as its base, correcting wherever the Septuagint differs.

In each case, the English you’re reading in passages where the two traditions agree is shaped by translation from Hebrew, not from Greek. Even though you’re holding a “Septuagint translation,” the English phrasing in those shared passages reflects the Masoretic tradition’s influence.

This isn’t necessarily a problem. For comparative study, it’s actually a feature. When the English matches the underlying MT-based translation, you know the two traditions agree. When it differs, you’re seeing the Septuagint’s distinctive voice. But it means that in a very real sense, no major English Septuagint has been a fully independent translation of the Greek text.

Until the Lexham English Septuagint.

But I’ll come back to that in a moment. Let’s walk through these translations one by one.

Sir Lancelot Brenton’s Septuagint — 1851

Brenton’s translation was the first widely available English rendering of the Septuagint, based primarily on the Codex Vaticanus. For over 160 years, it was essentially the only English Septuagint most readers could access. It remains widely available and freely accessible, and it serves as the Old Testament base (with modifications) for the Orthodox Study Bible.

Its weaknesses are a product of its age. The Victorian-era English can be wooden and difficult. It’s built on KJV-era conventions, so the English often reads like the KJV even where the underlying text is Greek. And it’s not based on the most current critical editions of the Septuagint text.

But for a free, accessible starting point for reading the Septuagint in English, Brenton remains a solid choice.

New English Translation of the Septuagint (N.E.T.S.) — 2007

The N.E.T.S. was produced by an international team of over 30 scholars under the International Organization for Septuagint and Cognate Studies (IOSCS). It’s based on the critical edition of the Göttingen Septuagint (where available) and Rahlfs’ edition for the rest.

As I mentioned, the N.E.T.S. deliberately uses the NRSV as its “base of referral.” Where the Septuagint and the Masoretic Text agree, the English defaults to NRSV phrasing. Where they differ, the translators rendered the Greek independently. This approach is actually a powerful feature for comparative study: when the English matches the NRSV, you know the LXX and MT agree at that point. When it differs, you’re looking at the Septuagint’s distinctive reading.

The N.E.T.S. is the most scholarly and academically respected English translation of the Septuagint. If you’re doing serious comparative work on the textual traditions, this is an essential resource. Its weakness is that it’s designed primarily as a scholarly tool, not for devotional reading, and it does not include a New Testament (it covers only the Old Testament and Apocrypha).

Lexham English Septuagint (LES) — 2019 (2nd edition)

Here’s where things get exciting.

I only recently realized that the Lexham English Septuagint is a genuinely fresh, independent translation of the Septuagint. It is not built on the KJV, NRSV, NKJV, or any other MT-based English translation. Ken Penner, a professor of religious studies at St. Francis Xavier University and a member of the IOSCS, translated directly from Swete’s edition of the Greek Septuagint into modern English.

That makes the LES the only major English Septuagint that lets you read the Greek Old Testament in English without it being filtered through a translation of the Hebrew. The English reflects the natural flow and vocabulary of the Greek text itself, not a Hebrew-to-English translation that’s been corrected where the Greek differs.

Scholars have praised the LES for its reliable textual basis and faithful, consistent translation. Michael Haykin of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary has called it “by far the best on the market.” It’s available in print in a beautifully typeset single-column format, and on the Logos Bible Software platform.

It’s based on Swete’s edition rather than the more current Göttingen critical text, and it’s still relatively new with a growing user base. But for readers who want to encounter the Septuagint as its own text rather than as a correction layer on top of a Masoretic translation, the LES is the only choice.

I’m planning to begin a readthrough of it soon, and I expect it will open up dimensions of the text I haven’t seen before. That’s the kind of discovery that keeps this work alive.

The Orthodox Study Bible (OSB) — 2008

The Orthodox Study Bible deserves its own mention, though it’s a study Bible rather than a standalone translation.

Published by Thomas Nelson, the OSB uses the NKJV for the New Testament. For the Old Testament, it presents a fresh translation from the Septuagint by St. Athanasius Academy of Orthodox Theology, using the NKJV as its base text and correcting wherever the Septuagint differs from the Masoretic Text. It includes the Deuterocanonical books and was overseen by 14+ Orthodox bishops and numerous scholars.

The OSB’s significance goes beyond its text. It demonstrates that an entire major branch of Christianity, Eastern Orthodoxy, the second largest Christian communion in the world, has always treated the Septuagint as its authoritative Old Testament. This isn’t a fringe position. It’s the tradition of hundreds of millions of Christians who trace their lineage to the apostolic church.

The commentary is drawn from the first ten centuries of Christian interpretation, giving you access to how the Church Fathers read these texts. That patristic perspective is invaluable. The OSB also includes icons, liturgical resources, and daily prayer guides.

Like Brenton and the N.E.T.S., the OSB uses an existing English translation (the NKJV) as its base, correcting wherever the Septuagint differs. The result is functionally a Septuagint-based Old Testament, though the English phrasing in passages where the MT and LXX agree reflects the NKJV’s translation from Hebrew.

The commentary reflects Eastern Orthodox theology specifically, which may not align with every reader’s perspective. But even if you’re not Orthodox, the OSB offers something you can’t get from any other study Bible: a window into how the Septuagint tradition has been read and understood by one of the oldest continuous Christian communities in the world.

Why the Septuagint Translations Matter

If you’ve been with me for any length of time, you’ve probably heard this refrain before. But just in case, allow me to clarify the point.

The Septuagint is the entire reason I do what I do. I was first exposed to the Brenton translation of the LXX quite early in my walk with Jesus and I was immediately fascinated with it. The ways it differs from the Hebrew text grabbed my attention and has yet to let go.

So please understand that these are not just “alternative” versions of Scripture for academic curiosity. The Septuagint was the Bible of the early church. It was the text the apostles quoted. It was the Scripture that shaped Christian theology for its first three centuries.

Having a Septuagint translation alongside your MT-based English Bible allows you to see where the two traditions agree, where they diverge, and how those differences enrich your understanding of God’s Word.

The fact that until the LES, every major English Septuagint was built on an MT-based translation tells you something about how deeply embedded the Masoretic tradition is in English-speaking Christianity. That’s not a bad thing. The Masoretic Text is a treasure. But it’s worth being aware of, and it’s worth having access to the Septuagint on its own terms.

This is the heart of the both/and approach.

My Recommendation: A Study Stack

So after all of that, which Bible should you read?

All of them.

Okay, I’m kidding. Partially. In fact, I do think that being exposed to numerous translations can only benefit the believer. I myself just recently completed a parallel read of the NKJV, The Message, and the Septuagint, which makes a total of ten different translations that I’ve read.

And in case I haven’t made this point clearly enough, having read the Bible cover to cover more than a dozen times in ten translations I still consider myself an amateur. My understanding of Scripture is far from masterful. So if I had to make a realistic suggestion, it would be this:

At least read more than one translation. Two or three in parallel will provide the greatest benefit.

I realize this might sound like like a cop-out. Especially considering the title of this post.

But I promise, it’s not. The real point of this post from the very start has been that no single translation captures everything the original texts contain. That’s not a failure of translation. It’s the nature of language itself. And the solution isn’t to keep trying to find that one perfect translation that doesn’t really exist. It’s to read multiple translations and let them illuminate each other.

Here’s the stack I recommend for serious study:

1. NKJV — Your Anchor

Strong formal equivalence, readable modern English, dignified language, and an excellent footnote apparatus that shows variant readings from different manuscript traditions. This is your foundation. Start here.

2. NRSVue — Your Scholarly Companion

Based on the best available critical texts, informed by the latest Dead Sea Scrolls scholarship, with ecumenical credibility. Where it differs from the NKJV, pay attention. You’ve probably found something important about the underlying text.

3. NLT — Your Accessibility Bridge

When the NKJV and NRSVue are both saying something you can’t quite parse, the NLT will make it clear. It excels at capturing the emotional and narrative flow of Scripture. It’s also the one I’d hand to a new believer who’s never read the Bible before.

4. A Septuagint Translation — Your Window into the Early Church’s Bible

This is where the both/and method comes alive. Read the passage in your MT-based translations first, then check the Septuagint. Where they differ, dig in. That’s where the richest discoveries happen.

Which Septuagint translation? If you want the most independent rendering of the Greek, not filtered through an MT-based English translation, the Lexham English Septuagint is the one to get. If you want the best critical text with a scholarly comparative approach, go with N.E.T.S. alongside the NRSV. If you want free and widely available, Brenton is your starting point.

A few notes on what’s not in this stack:

I didn’t include the KJV, not because it’s a bad translation, but because the NKJV does everything (sans the plural “you” that we’ve sadly lost in modern English) the KJV does in modern English. If you love the KJV’s language, keep reading it. But for study, the NKJV gives you the same textual tradition with better readability.

I didn’t include the NASB or ESV, not because they’re bad (they’re excellent), but because the NRSVue fills the “rigorous scholarly literal” slot in this stack, and it’s based on more current critical texts.

And I didn’t include the NET, but I very nearly did. Those 60,000+ translator’s notes make it an invaluable study tool. If you want to understand why translations differ, add it to your shelf.

You don’t need all four open at once for every reading session. Here’s how I actually use them in practice.

For devotional reading, I pick one. Usually the NKJV, sometimes the NLT if I want to read a larger section.

For study, I open two or three. I read the passage in the NKJV first, then check the NRSVue. If they differ, I dig into why. If the passage is especially complex, I open the NLT to make sure I’m understanding the overall meaning.

For deep textual work, especially when I’m writing for The LXX Scrolls, I open all four and add the NET for its translator’s notes. This is where the real magic happens. You begin to see the contours of the original languages through the different choices each translation makes. And when you add the Septuagint, the picture gets richer still.

The point is to let Scripture speak in all its richness. When you read the same passage in multiple translations and notice differences, those differences aren’t problems to solve. They’re invitations to dig deeper.

If you’ve found this topic insightful, helpful, or even challenging, please share it with a friend who loves Scripture as much as you do.

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What About Other Translations?

I know some of you are looking at this list and thinking, “What about the CSB?” Or the Legacy Standard Bible, the Amplified Bible, the Common English Bible, the Good News Translation, or any of the other English translations I haven’t covered here.

There are a lot of English Bibles. More than most people realize. And I couldn’t cover all of them without this post becoming a book (or three!).

Here’s the honest truth: most major English translations produced by committee are competent, faithful, and useful. The Christian Standard Bible (CSB), for example, uses what it calls “Optimal Equivalence,” sitting in a mediating position between formal and dynamic. It’s a solid, well-executed translation produced by a team of over 100 scholars, and it’s gaining significant traction in evangelical churches. If your church uses it, you’re in good hands.

The same is true of translations like the Legacy Standard Bible (a revision of the NASB 1995 spearheaded by John MacArthur’s team), the Amplified Bible (which expands key words with multiple English equivalents in brackets), and the Common English Bible (which prioritizes accessibility at a lower reading level).

Each of these has its place. Each serves a particular audience well. I chose to focus on the translations I did because they represent the major points on the spectrum, because many of them are the ones my readers are most likely to encounter and ask about, and because they are the ones I have personal experience with.

The principle remains the same regardless of which translation you use: read more than one. Let them illuminate each other. And when they differ, don’t panic. Dig in. That’s where the richest discoveries are waiting.

The Beauty of Multiple Witnesses

The diversity of English translations isn’t a sign of confusion or unreliability. It’s a reflection of the depth and richness of God’s Word.

Think about what it means that a single Hebrew word like חֶסֶד (chesed) can be validly translated as “lovingkindness,” “steadfast love,” “mercy,” “loyalty,” or “covenant faithfulness.” Each of those English words captures a real dimension of the Hebrew. None of them captures all of it. When the NKJV renders it one way and the NRSVue renders it another, they aren’t disagreeing. They’re showing you different facets of a word so rich that no single English term can contain it.

This is the same principle that drives the both/and approach to textual traditions. The Masoretic Text shows you one angle of God’s revelation. The Septuagint shows you another. And when you hold them together, you get a fuller, deeper, more textured understanding of Scripture than either tradition gives you alone.

Reading multiple translations is like looking at a diamond from different angles. You see different facets of the same jewel. Every facet is true. And the diamond is more beautiful for having all of them.

Whether you’re reading the KJV your grandmother gave you, the NRSVue you picked up in seminary, or the NLT that first made Scripture come alive for you, God’s Word is living and active. It accomplishes what He sends it out to do, regardless of which English translation carries it to your heart.

The goal isn’t to find the “perfect” translation. There is no perfect translation. There are only faithful translations that capture different dimensions of a text so vast and so deep that it overflows every language it’s poured into.

The goal is to encounter the God who speaks through all of them.

So open your Bible. Better yet, open two of them. Compare. Question. Dig deeper. Let the text surprise you.

Because when you read the Masoretic Text and the Septuagint together, when you let formal and dynamic translations speak in harmony rather than forcing them into competition, when you hold the tension between precision and clarity and let both teach you, you will see things in Scripture you never saw before.

That’s where the real discoveries happen.

And that’s what The LXX Scrolls is all about.

Coming up next

Get ready, friends. Next week we’re going to be taking a deep dive into one of my favorite passages in all of Scripture:

The Armor of God. What is it, where did it come from, what these verses really mean, and how it applies to your walk with Jesus today!

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Most Christians read their Bibles as if the spiritual realm contains exactly three categories: God, angels, and demons. It’s a tidy system. It fits neatly onto a whiteboard.

And it’s wrong.

Not completely wrong. There is one God. There are angels. There are demons (and yes, angels and demons are different). But the Hebrew Bible paints a far more complex picture of the spiritual world than most of us have been taught. There’s an entire framework of cosmic governance operating behind the scenes of Scripture, a framework that the biblical authors assumed their readers understood, and that we’ve largely forgotten.

At the center of that framework is a word. A word that appears over 2,500 times in the Old Testament. A word that most of us think we understand perfectly.

The word is אֱלֹהִים (elohim).

And I’m going to suggest that what you think it means is almost certainly incomplete.

Why This Series Exists

Before we go any further, I owe you some context, and I owe a debt of credit.

In 2015, the late Dr. Michael Heiser published The Unseen Realm: Recovering the Supernatural Worldview of the Bible, a book that brought the concept of the divine council into popular evangelical conversation for the first time. Heiser was a genuine scholar with a PhD in Hebrew Bible and Semitic languages from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, and he spent decades studying the intersection of ancient Near Eastern religion and biblical theology. His work opened a door that most Christians didn’t even know existed.

I’ve benefited enormously from Heiser’s research. I recommend his books. I think every serious student of Scripture should engage with his arguments. And I will be the first to say that on several key points, particularly his reading of Genesis 6, he is absolutely right.

But I don’t agree with him on everything.

This series is my attempt to walk through the divine council framework honestly, giving credit where it’s due, while charting an independent course where the textual and theological evidence demands it. Where I agree with Heiser, I’ll say so clearly. Where I disagree, I’ll explain why and show you the texts. As always, I invite you to study these things for yourself and let the Holy Spirit guide your understanding.

The Masoretic Text and the Septuagint will be our primary guides. And as we’ll see, they don’t always tell the same story about these divine beings in the same way. But when we read them together, we get a richer, more complete picture than either tradition offers alone.

Let’s dig in.

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The Divine Assembly in Scripture

The concept of God presiding over an assembly of heavenly beings isn’t hidden in obscure corners of the Old Testament. It’s everywhere.

Psalm 82:1 — “God stands in the congregation of the mighty; He judges among the gods.” (NKJV)

1 Kings 22:19-22 — This passage is worth slowing down for, because it’s one of the most vivid depictions of the divine council in operation. The prophet Micaiah describes a vision: “I saw the Lord sitting on His throne, and all the host of heaven standing by, on His right hand and on His left” (NKJV).

What happens next is extraordinary. God poses a question to His council: “Who will persuade Ahab to go up, that he may fall at Ramoth Gilead?” And the text says the assembled beings offered different suggestions. One said this, another said that. Then a spirit came forward and proposed a specific plan: “I will go out and be a lying spirit in the mouth of all his prophets.” And God said, “You shall persuade him, and also prevail. Go out and do so.”

Read that carefully. God is not merely informing His council of what He has already decided. He is engaging them in a deliberative process. He asks for proposals. He evaluates a suggestion. He authorizes an action. This is a king holding court. And the members of that court are real, active agents with the capacity to propose and execute plans.

And, this part is crucial, although God Himself cannot lie, clearly these spirits can lie. Read that part again: “I will go out and be a lying spirit in the mouth of all his prophets.” Now, is there every possibility that this spirit is a fallen angel? Sure there is. But we don’t know that for certain. And the fact that angels can fall and become liars (Lucifer and the other fallen angels, the Watchers, etc.) shows us that like us, angels have free will and are not bound to act within God’s character.

Isaiah 6:1-8 — Isaiah sees the Lord seated on His throne, high and lifted up, surrounded by seraphim. After the prophet’s lips are cleansed with a coal from the altar, God says, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for Us?” That plural pronoun, “Us,” isn’t a royal we. It’s God speaking in the context of His heavenly assembly, addressing the council and asking for a volunteer. Isaiah responds, “Here am I! Send me.”

Now, for the Christian, there is a legitimate tension here in that the traditional interpretation is that this is God speaking within the Trinity. But I would argue that there is no need for that tension. Look at the grammar again. “Whom shall I send, and who will go for Us?” To me, this reads as God is speaking about the sending in the singular, showing this is only God the Father speaking. But in who will go for Us, that reads to me as showing that while God the Father is the only sending authority, he is not the only one who will benefit from the sending. Ergo, the heavenly assembly.

Job 1-2 — The “sons of God” (בְּנֵי הָאֱלֹהִים, bene ha-elohim) present themselves before the Lord, and among them comes the adversary, the Satan (הַשָּׂטָן, ha-satan). Notice that the Satan arrives as part of the assembly. He has access to the council. He gives a report (”From going to and fro on the earth, and from walking back and forth on it”). And God initiates a conversation with him about Job, drawing attention to His servant’s faithfulness. The Satan then proposes a course of action, and God sets boundaries on what he is permitted to do. Again, the structure is unmistakable: a king presiding over his court, hearing reports, authorizing actions within limits He sets.

Daniel 7:9-10 — Daniel sees the Ancient of Days take His seat, with “a thousand thousands” serving Him and “ten thousand times ten thousand” standing before Him. “The court was seated, and the books were opened.” This is judicial language. The heavenly court convenes in formal session to render judgment. The imagery is breathtaking in its scale, and it reinforces what every other passage tells us: God governs through a structured assembly of powerful spiritual beings.

These passages span centuries and multiple biblical genres: poetry (Psalm 82), prophetic vision (Isaiah 6, Daniel 7), historical narrative (1 Kings 22), and wisdom literature (Job). This isn’t one author’s peculiar theology. It’s a consistent framework that runs through the entire Hebrew Bible, from the earliest texts to the latest. The biblical authors assumed their audiences understood it.

The question is why most modern Christians don’t.

The short answer is that Western Christianity, particularly since the Reformation, has tended to flatten the spiritual realm into a simple binary: God versus the devil. Angels get mentioned occasionally, demons show up in the Gospels, and everything else gets filed under “mysterious” or ignored entirely. But the biblical writers saw a far more complex, layered cosmos than that, and recovering their perspective changes how you read dozens of passages you thought you already understood.

The Hebrew Bible uses several words to describe this assembly. The word עֵדָה (edah), meaning “assembly” or “congregation,” appears in Psalm 82:1. The word סוֹד (sod), meaning “council” or “intimate circle,” appears in passages like Jeremiah 23:18 and Amos 3:7. The picture is consistent: God doesn’t rule in isolation. He reigns from a throne, surrounded by powerful spiritual beings who participate in His governance of creation.

Now, none of this diminishes God’s sovereignty in the slightest. He is not Zeus, needing the agreement of lesser gods before He can act. He is the Almighty. He does whatever He pleases. But it has pleased Him to govern through a council, to delegate authority, to assign responsibilities. And understanding this framework changes how you read dozens of passages throughout Scripture.

So What Does Elohim Actually Mean?

Here’s where things get controversial, and here’s where I part ways with both the traditional evangelical reading and, to some extent, with Heiser himself.

Most Christians have been taught that elohim simply means “God” when it has a capital G, and “gods” (meaning false gods or idols) when it has a lowercase g. Simple. Clean. Done.

But it’s not that simple.

The word elohim is applied in the Hebrew Bible to a surprising range of beings:

• The God of Israel (the overwhelming majority of uses)

• The gods of the nations (Exodus 12:12, 1 Kings 11:33)

• Members of the divine council (Psalm 82:1, 6)

• The spirit of Samuel as he appears at Endor (1 Samuel 28:13)

• Angelic beings (Psalm 8:5, which the LXX and the author of Hebrews both render as “angels”)

That last one deserves a moment. Psalm 8:5 in the MT reads: “You have made him a little lower than elohim.” Most English translations based on the Hebrew render this as “God” (NRSV, NASB) or “the heavenly beings” (ESV). But the Septuagint translators rendered elohim here as ἀγγέλους (angelous), “angels.” And when the author of Hebrews quotes this verse in Hebrews 2:7, he follows the Septuagint: “You made him a little lower than the angels.”

This tells us something crucial about how the LXX translators understood elohim. When the context pointed to God Himself, they translated it as θεός (theos), “God.” When the context pointed to the gods of the nations, they translated it as θεοί (theoi), “gods.” When the context pointed to divine beings in God’s service, they translated it as ἄγγελοι (angeloi), “angels.” And as we’re about to see, when the context was juridical, they translated it in terms of divine judicial authority. They weren’t confused. They understood that elohim was a flexible term whose meaning was determined by context, because it described a category, not a single entity.

This is not a complete list, but it establishes the point: elohim isn’t a word that exclusively refers to the one true God. It’s a category word. But what exactly does it categorize?

Heiser’s answer, which became enormously influential, is that elohim describes a being who inhabits the spiritual realm. In his framework, what makes a being an elohim is its “place of residence.” If you dwell in the spiritual world, you’re an elohim. God is an elohim. Angels are elohim. The dead (like Samuel at Endor) are elohim because they now reside in the spiritual realm.

I think Heiser was on to something important, but I believe his definition misses the mark. Let me show you why, and then I’ll offer what I think is a better reading.

The Exodus Problem

Consider Exodus 21:6. In the Masoretic Text, this verse reads:

“Then his master shall bring him to הָאֱלֹהִים (ha-elohim), and he shall bring him to the door or to the doorpost, and his master shall bore his ear with an awl, and he shall serve him forever.”

English translations are divided on how to render ha-elohim here. The KJV translates it as “the judges.” The NRSV renders it “God.” Some translations hedge with “the authorities.”

But look at what the Septuagint translators did with this verse. Working in the 3rd century B.C., with centuries of Hebrew linguistic tradition behind them, they rendered ha-elohim as:

πρὸς τὸ κριτήριον τοῦ θεοῦ (pros to kritērion tou theou): “to the judgment-seat of God”

This is fascinating, and I don’t think we’ve paid enough attention to it.

The LXX translators did not understand elohim here as “judges” (which would have been rendered with a standard Greek word for human judges). They did not understand it as “gods” plural (which they were perfectly willing to render as θεοί, theoi, when the context demanded it, as they did in Psalm 82). And they did not understand it as referring to the spiritual realm as a location.

What they understood was that elohim in this context refers to divine judicial authority. The servant is being brought before God’s own judgment-seat, the place where divine authority is exercised in legal matters.

The word κριτήριον (kritērion) is rare in the Septuagint, appearing only seven times in the entire Greek Old Testament. It refers specifically to a place or seat of judgment from which one in authority pronounces legal decisions. The LXX translators chose this word deliberately. They were telling us something about what elohim signifies in judicial contexts: not a person, not a place of residence, but an expression of divine power and authority exercised in judgment.

We see the same pattern in Exodus 22:8-9, and it’s worth walking through these verses because they reinforce the point powerfully.

In the MT, when a dispute arises between neighbors over property, the text says both parties shall come before ha-elohim (הָאֱלֹהִים). The KJV renders this as “the judges.” The NRSV renders it as “God.”

But look at what the Septuagint does. In verse 8 (LXX 22:7), the Greek reads ἐνώπιον τοῦ θεοῦ (enōpion tou theou), meaning “before God.” Not “before the judges.” Not “before the gods.” Before God. In verse 9 (LXX 22:8), the same phrase appears again, and the text adds that “the judgment of both shall come through God” (διὰ τοῦ θεοῦ, dia tou theou).

Notice what the translators did here. In Exodus 21:6, they rendered elohim as “the judgment-seat of God” (κριτήριον τοῦ θεοῦ), emphasizing the institutional authority. In Exodus 22:8-9, they rendered it as “before God” (ἐνώπιον τοῦ θεοῦ), emphasizing the divine presence behind the judgment. Different Greek phrases, but the same interpretive instinct: elohim in legal contexts refers to God’s judicial authority, not to human judges as independent agents.

And here’s the detail that really matters: the Targum Onkelos, an Aramaic paraphrase of the Torah produced by Jewish scholars, renders elohim in these same passages as dayyanei (”judges”). This is a later tradition, one that reflects rabbinic-era interpretation. The Septuagint translators, working centuries earlier, didn’t share it. They understood elohim in these judicial contexts as a reference to divine authority, not to human office-holders.

Why does this matter? Because it tells us that the “judges” interpretation, which many English Bibles treat as settled, is actually a later development in the interpretive tradition. The earliest major translation of the Hebrew Bible into another language, produced by Jewish scholars who were native Hebrew speakers, understood these passages differently.

This doesn’t mean the rabbinic reading is necessarily wrong. Judges in ancient Israel did derive their authority from God, and bringing a case “before God” could well mean bringing it before judges who represented God’s authority. But it does mean that the word elohim itself, in the minds of the earliest translators we have record of, pointed primarily to divine power and authority rather than to a human title.

And it undermines both the traditional “human judges” reading and Heiser’s “place of residence” definition simultaneously. The LXX translators didn’t render elohim as a reference to the spiritual realm. They rendered it as a reference to divine authority. The judgment-seat of God isn’t a location in the spirit world. It’s an expression of God’s sovereign judicial power operating through earthly structures.

The Elijah and Enoch Problem

Here’s another difficulty for the “place of residence” definition.

Both Elijah and Enoch were taken up into heaven. Both reside in the heavenly realm. Neither of them died (which makes them unique in all of Scripture, but that’s a topic for another day). If elohim is defined by where you reside, then both Elijah and Enoch should be called elohim. They live in the spiritual realm. They inhabit the heavenly domain.

But neither of them is ever called elohim in Scripture. Not once.

This is a significant problem for a definition that hinges on location. If being in the spiritual realm is what makes you an elohim, the absence of this label for two individuals who are clearly in the spiritual realm demands an explanation.

I think the explanation is straightforward: location doesn’t determine the category. Nature, power, and authority do.

Elijah and Enoch are humans. They were translated into heaven, but they remain human beings. They don’t possess inherent divine or spiritual power and authority in the way that the beings called elohim do. Their residence changed, but their essential nature did not.

The Witch of Endor: A Case Study

Now let’s look at one of the most fascinating uses of elohim in all of Scripture: 1 Samuel 28:13.

The scene is one of the most dramatic in the Old Testament. King Saul, desperate and abandoned by God, has sought out a medium at Endor to conjure up the spirit of the dead prophet Samuel. The medium performs her ritual, and something appears. Here’s what happens next:

“And the king said to her, ‘Do not be afraid. What do you see?’ And the woman said to Saul, ‘I see אֱלֹהִים (elohim) coming up out of the earth.’” (1 Samuel 28:13, NKJV: “a spirit”)

Notice the order carefully. The woman calls what she sees elohim before the figure is identified as Samuel. In the very next verse (v. 14), Saul asks what the figure looks like, and only then does the woman describe an old man wrapped in a robe, at which point Saul recognizes the figure as Samuel.

So the medium uses the word elohim as her initial, instinctive categorization of what she’s seeing. She doesn’t yet know it’s Samuel. She just sees something emerging from the spirit world and reaches for the word that fits: elohim.

Heiser uses this passage to argue that even the human dead are elohim because they now reside in the spiritual realm. But I think that reading presses the text too hard.

As the late Chuck Missler was fond of saying, “If you torture the data long enough, it will confess to anything.”

Consider who is speaking. This is a pagan medium, a practitioner of the occult arts. She’s operating from a Canaanite-influenced religious vocabulary, not from a precisely calibrated theological dictionary. The biblical narrator never validates her terminology. In fact, the narrator consistently calls the apparition “Samuel,” not “an elohim.” Five times in the passage, the text identifies the figure simply as Samuel, stating that Samuel spoke and Samuel said. The narrator is quite clear about who appeared. The medium’s use of elohim is her word, not the Bible’s endorsed category for the human dead.

Interestingly, the Septuagint translators handled this passage in a way that reflects their own discomfort with the theological implications. In the LXX, the medium is described as a ἐγγαστρίμυθος (engastrimythos), literally a “belly-speaker” or ventriloquist, possibly reflecting the Alexandrian Jewish view that such practitioners were frauds rather than genuine contacts with the spirit world. Yet the narrative itself still treats the apparition as genuinely Samuel. This tension in the text tells us something important: the biblical writers could acknowledge the reality of spiritual phenomena while simultaneously condemning the means by which they were accessed.

What this passage actually shows us is that a pagan practitioner categorized any spiritual apparition as elohim because she had no better word in her vocabulary for a being that manifested spiritual power and authority. She wasn’t making a theological statement about Samuel’s ontological category. She was using the only term available to her for “a powerful being from the spiritual realm.”

This is actually evidence for my definition, not Heiser’s. The medium’s instinct was to categorize the apparition by its apparent power and authority, not by its location. She saw something that radiated supernatural power and called it what her pagan framework told her to call it: elohim.

What the Septuagint Tells Us

Before I offer my own definition, I want to pause and acknowledge how significant the Septuagint evidence is for this question.

The LXX translators were Jewish scholars working in Alexandria, Egypt, somewhere around 270-250 B.C. for the Torah, with the rest completed over the following century or so. They were native speakers of both Hebrew and Greek. They were immersed in the scriptural tradition. They were intimately familiar with how elohim was used in every context of the Hebrew Bible.

And they made choices.

When they encountered elohim referring to the God of Israel, they rendered it θεός (theos), “God.” When they encountered it referring to the gods of pagan nations, they rendered it θεοί (theoi), “gods.” When they encountered it in Psalm 82, describing the divine council, they used θεῶν and θεούς (theōn and theous), “of gods” and “gods.” No ambiguity there. When they found it in Psalm 8:5 in a context suggesting heavenly beings, they used ἄγγελοι (angeloi), “angels.” And when they encountered it in the legal passages of Exodus 21-22, they rendered it in terms of divine judicial authority: “the judgment-seat of God,” “before God.”

They were not confused by the word. They understood it perfectly. And the way they translated it across these different contexts reveals something that a single English word like “God” or “gods” simply cannot capture: elohim is a term whose specific referent shifts based on context, but whose underlying meaning always involves power and authority in the divine or spiritual sphere.

This is why comparing the Masoretic Text and the Septuagint matters for this question. The Hebrew preserves the ambiguity of a single word used across multiple contexts. The Greek translation resolves that ambiguity by selecting different target words for different contexts. And in resolving it, the translators reveal what they understood the word to mean at its root.

That understanding points toward power and authority, not location.

What Elohim Really Means

So if elohim doesn’t simply mean “God” or “gods,” and if it’s not best defined by “place of residence,” what does it mean?

I believe elohim is a category term that denotes a being possessing divine or spiritual power and/or authority.

It’s a functional description, not a proper name. When applied to the God of Israel, it describes a being of infinite, uncreated, supreme power and authority. When applied to other members of the divine council, it describes beings of real but derivative, created power and authority. When applied to the gods of the nations, it acknowledges that they possess real spiritual power (even if that power is corrupt and illegitimate). And when a pagan medium uses it to describe a spiritual apparition, she’s categorizing what she sees based on its apparent power.

This reading accounts for every use of the word in Scripture without requiring us to stretch the definition to fit edge cases. It explains why the LXX translators rendered elohim in Exodus 21:6 as “the judgment-seat of God” (divine authority in action). It explains why Elijah and Enoch aren’t called elohim (they’re translated humans, not beings of inherent divine power). It explains why the medium at Endor called Samuel’s apparition elohim (she perceived spiritual power). And it maintains the absolute distinction between the Creator and all created beings, a distinction that the Bible never, ever blurs.

The God of Israel is elohim. But He is also infinitely more than every other being who bears that word. He is the Elohim above all elohim. The uncreated Source of all power. The one before whom every other powerful being in the cosmos is nothing. As Psalm 86:8 puts it: “Among the gods (elohim) there is none like You, O Lord.”

If you’ve found this insightful or helpful, please share it with a friend who loves Scripture as much as you do.

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Why This Matters

At this point, you might be thinking: “This is interesting academic stuff, but what does it have to do with my faith?”

And the answer is, everything!

If elohim is a category term for beings of divine or spiritual power and authority, then we need to take seriously the Bible’s consistent testimony that such beings exist, that they were assigned real responsibilities in God’s cosmic government, and that many of them have acted corruptly.

The divine council isn’t a theological curiosity. It’s the framework that explains:

• Why nations are so often characterized in Scripture as being under the influence of spiritual powers (Daniel 10:13, 20-21)

• Why idolatry is treated as something far more dangerous than mere foolishness; it’s engagement with real, corrupt spiritual powers (Deuteronomy 32:17; 1 Corinthians 10:20)

• Why Paul describes the Christian’s struggle not as a battle against flesh and blood but against “principalities, powers, rulers of the darkness of this age, spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12, NKJV)

• Why the cross is not merely a transaction for human sin but a cosmic event that “disarmed principalities and powers” and “made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them” (Colossians 2:15, NKJV)

Understanding the divine council doesn’t change the Gospel. The Gospel is still about Jesus Christ crucified and risen for the forgiveness of sins. But it enriches your understanding of why the Gospel was necessary and how far-reaching its effects truly are.

It wasn’t just humanity that needed redemption. The entire cosmic order, corrupted by rebellious elohim who governed the nations unjustly, needed to be set right. And that’s exactly what Christ accomplished.

Coming Up Next

Over the next several posts in this series, we’re going to walk through the divine council framework step by step. Here’s what’s ahead:

In Part 2, we’ll look at Psalm 82 in depth, one of the most remarkable passages in all of Scripture, where God Himself stands to judge the corrupt members of His own council. We’ll see how the Septuagint handles this psalm, and we’ll tackle one of the most misunderstood moments in the Gospels: when Jesus quotes Psalm 82 to the Pharisees in John 10.

In Part 3, we’ll examine the most textually controversial verse in this entire discussion, Deuteronomy 32:8, where the Masoretic Text, the Septuagint, and the Dead Sea Scrolls all read differently. We’ll see how a both/and approach to these texts reveals God’s architecture for governing the nations, an architecture that runs from Babel to the Great Commission.

From there, we’ll explore Genesis 1:26 and the “Let us” question, the fall of the Watchers in Genesis 6, the spiritual powers behind ancient thrones in Isaiah 14 and Ezekiel 28, the distinction between fallen angels and demons (yes, they’re different), and ultimately, how Christ’s death and resurrection represents the cosmic victory over every corrupt power in the heavenly realm.

It’s going to be a journey. And I think it will change how you read your Bible.

The unseen realm is more populated, more structured, and more relevant to your daily life than you’ve ever been told.

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If you’ve never read the ancient (first century B.C.), semi-legendary letter of Aristeas to Philocrates, I highly recommend giving it a read. It’s primarily only in the final sections that he touches on elements germain to our purposes (that being the creation account of the Septuagint translation), but honestly the entire letter is fascinating.

Fair warning, though, it runs quite long. Plan for at least an hour to get through it in its entirety.

Rather than providing commentary, I thought I would simply provide the text and allow you to draw your own conclusions.

However, if you’d like some background, commentary, and a modern, readably formatted text with descriptive headings in an ebook format for less than a cup of coffee, I have a version that you can download from my Curios store HERE. If you’re a Kindle reader or prefer a print version, you can get it from Amazon HERE. If you use another specific ereader/app (Kobo, Nook, Apple, Google Play, etc.), you can find it at virtually any ebook retailer HERE.

Now, without further ado, let’s dig into the letter.

The Letter Of Aristeas

Translated by H. St. J. Thackeray (1913).

[1] Since I have collected material for a memorable history of my visit to Eleazar the High priest of the Jews, and because you, Philocrates, as you lose no opportunity of reminding me, have set great store upon receiving an account of the motives and object of my mission, I have attempted to draw up a clear exposition of the matter for you, for I perceive that you possess a natural love of learning, [2] a quality which is the highest possession of man - to be constantly attempting ‘to add to his stock of knowledge and acquirements’ whether through the study of history or by actually participating in the events themselves. It is by this means, by taking up into itself the noblest elements, that the soul is established in purity, and having fixed its aim on piety, the noblest goal of all, it uses this as its infallible guide and so acquires a definite purpose. [3] It was my devotion to the pursuit of religious knowledge that led me to undertake the embassy to the man I have mentioned, who was held in the highest esteem by his own citizens and by others both for his virtue and his majesty and who had in his possession documents of the highest value to the Jews in his own country and in foreign lands for the interpretation of the divine law, for their [4] laws are written on leather parchments in Jewish characters. This embassy then I undertook with enthusiasm, having first of all found an opportunity of pleading with the king on behalf of the Jewish captives who had been transported from Judaea to Egypt by the king’s father, when he first obtained possession of this city and conquered the land of Egypt.

[5] It is worth while that I should tell you this story, too, since I am convinced that you, with your disposition towards holiness and your sympathy with men who are living in accordance with the holy law, will all the more readily listen to the account which I purpose to set forth, since you yourself have lately come to us from the island and are anxious to hear everything that tends to build up the soul. [6] On a former occasion, too I sent you a record of the facts which I thought worth relating about the Jewish race - the record [7] which I had obtained from the most learned high priests of the most learned land of Egypt. As you are so eager to acquire the knowledge of those things which can benefit the mind, I feel it incumbent upon me to impart to you all the information in my power. I should feel the same duty towards all who possessed the same disposition but I feel it especially towards you since you have aspirations which are so noble, and since you are not only my brother in character no less than in blood but are one with me as well in the pursuit of goodness. [8] For neither the pleasure derived from gold nor any other of the possessions which are prized by shallow minds confers the same benefit as the pursuit of culture and the study which we expend in securing it. But that I may not weary you by a too lengthy introduction, I will proceed at once to the substance of my narrative.

[9] Demetrius of Phalerum, the president of the king’s library, received vast sums of money, for the purpose of collecting together, as far as he possibly could, all the books in the world. By means of purchase and transcription, he carried out, to the best of his ability, the purpose of the king. On one occasion when I was present he was asked, How many thousand books are there in the library? [10] and he replied, ‘More than two hundred thousand, O king, and I shall make endeavour in the immediate future to gather together the remainder also, so that the total of five hundred thousand may be reached. I am told that the laws of the Jews are worth transcribing and deserve a place in [11] your library.’ ‘What is to prevent you from doing this?’ replied the king. ‘Everything that is necessary has been placed at your disposal.’ ‘They need to be translated,’ answered Demetrius, ‘for in the country of the Jews they use a peculiar alphabet (just as the Egyptians, too, have a special form of letters) and speak a peculiar dialect. They are supposed to use the Syriac tongue, but this is not the case; their language is quite different.’ And the king when he understood all the facts of the case ordered a letter to be written to the Jewish High Priest that his purpose (which has already been described) might be accomplished.

[12] Thinking that the time had come to press the demand, which I had often laid before Sosibius of Tarentum and Andreas, the chief of the bodyguard, for the emancipation of the Jews who had been transported from Judaea by the king’s father - [13] for when by a combination of good fortune and courage he had brought his attack on the whole district of Coele Syria and Phoenicia to a successful issue, in the process of terrorizing the country into subjection, he transported some of his foes and others he reduced to captivity. The number of those whom he transported from the country of the Jews to Egypt amounted to no less than a hundred thousand. Of these he armed thirty thousand picked men and settled them in garrisons in the country districts. (And even before this time large numbers of Jews had come into Egypt with the Persian, and in an earlier period still others had been sent to Egypt to help Psammetichus in his campaign against the king of the Ethiopians. But these were nothing like so numerous as the captives whom Ptolemy the son of Lagus transported.) [14] As I have already said Ptolemy picked out the best of these, the men who were in the prime of life and distinguished for their courage, and armed them, but the great mass of the others, those who were too old or too young for this purpose, and the women too, he reduced to slavery, not that he wished to do this of his own free will, but he was compelled by his soldiers who claimed them as a reward for the services which they had rendered in war. Having, as has already been stated, obtained an opportunity for securing their emancipation, I addressed the king with the following arguments. ‘Let us not be so unreasonable as to allow [15] our deeds to give the lie to our words. Since the law which we wish not only to transcribe but also to translate belongs to the whole Jewish race, what justification shall we be able to find for our embassy while such vast numbers of them remain in a state of slavery in your kingdom? In the perfection and wealth of your clemency release those who are held in such miserable bondage, since as I have been at pains to discover, the God who gave them their law is the God who maintains your kingdom. They worship the same God - the Lord and Creator of the Universe, as all other men, as we ourselves, O king, though we call him by different names, such as Zeus or [16] Dis. This name was very appropriately bestowed upon him by our first ancestors, in order to signify that He through whom all things are endowed with life and come into being, is necessarily the ruler and lord of the Universe. Set all mankind an example of magnanimity by releasing those who are held in bondage.’

[17] After a brief interval, while I was offering up an earnest prayer to God that He would so dispose the mind of the king that all the captives might be set at liberty-(for the human race, being the creation of God, is swayed and influenced by Him. Therefore with many diverse prayers I called upon Him who rules the heart, that the king might be constrained to grant my request. For I had [18] great hopes with regard to the salvation of the men since I was assured that God would grant a fulfilment of my prayer. For when men from pure motives plan some action in the interest of righteousness and the performance of noble deeds, Almighty God brings their efforts and purposes to a successful issue) - the king raised his head and looking up at me with a cheerful countenance asked, ‘How many thousands do you think they will number?’ Andreas, who was standing near, replied, ‘A little more than a hundred thousand.’ ‘It is a small boon indeed,’ said the king, ‘that Aristeas asks of us!’ [19] Then Sosibius and some others who were present said, ‘Yes, but it will be a fit tribute to your magnanimity for you to offer the enfranchisement of these men as an act of devotion to the supreme God. You have been greatly honoured by Almighty God and exalted above all your forefathers in glory and it is only fitting that you should render to Him the greatest thank offering in your power.’ Extremely pleased with these arguments he gave orders that an addition should be [20] made to the wages of the soldiers by the amount of the redemption money that twenty drachmae should be paid to the owners for every slave, that a public order should be issued and that registers of the captives should be attached to it. He showed the greatest enthusiasm in the business, for it was God who had brought our purpose to fulfilment in its entirety and constrained him to redeem not only those who had come into Egypt with the army of his father but any who had come before that time or had been subsequently brought into the kingdom. It was pointed out to him that the ransom money would exceed four hundred talents.

[21] I think it will be useful to insert a copy of the decree, for in this way the magnanimity of the king, who was empowered by God to save such vast multitudes, will be made clearer and more [22] manifest. The decree of the king ran as follows:

‘All who served in the army of our father in the campaign against Syria and Phoenicia and in the attack upon the country of the Jews and became possessed of Jewish captives and brought them back to the city of Alexandria and the land of Egypt or sold them to others - and in the same way any captives who were in our land before that time or were brought hither afterwards- all who possess such captives are required to set them at liberty at once, receiving twenty drachmae per head as ransom money. The soldiers will receive [23] this money as a gift added to their wages, the others from the king’s treasury. We think that it was against our father’s will and against all propriety that they should have been made captives and that the devastation of their land and the transportation of the Jews to Egypt was an act of military wantonness. The spoil which fell to the soldiers on the field of battle was all the booty which they should have claimed. To reduce the people to slavery in addition was an act of absolute injustice. [24] Wherefore since it is acknowledged that we are accustomed to render justice to all men and especially to those who are unfairly in a condition of servitude, and since we strive to deal fairly with all men according to the demands of justice and piety, we have decreed, in reference to the persons of the Jews who are in any condition of bondage in any part of our dominion, that those who possess them shall receive the stipulated sum of money and set them at liberty and that no man shall show any tardiness in discharging his obligations. Within three days after the publication of this decree, they must make lists of slaves for the officers appointed to carry out our will, [25] and immediately produce the persons of the captives. For we consider that it will be advantageous to us and to our affairs that the matter should be brought to a conclusion. Any one who likes may give information about any who disobey the decree on condition that if the man is proved guilty he will become his slave; his property, however, will be handed over to the royal treasury.’

[26] When the decree was brought to be read over to the king for his approval, it contained all the other provisions except the phrase ‘any captives who were in the land before that time or were brought hither afterwards,’ and in his magnanimity and the largeness of his heart the king inserted this clause and gave orders that the grant of money required for the redemption should be deposited in full with the paymasters of the forces and the royal bankers, and so the matter was decided and the [27] decree ratified within seven days. The grant for the redemption amounted to more than six hundred and sixty talents; for many infants at the breast were emancipated together with their mothers. When the question was raised whether the sum of twenty talents was to be paid for these, the king ordered that it should be done, and thus he carried out his decision in the most comprehensive way. [28] When this had been done, he ordered Demetrius to draw up a memorial with regard to the transcription of the Jewish books. For all affairs of state used to be carried out by means of decrees and with the most painstaking accuracy by these Egyptian kings, and nothing was done in a slipshod or haphazard fashion. And so I have inserted copies of the memorial and the letters, the number of the presents sent and the nature of each, since every one of them excelled in [29] magnificence and technical skill. The following is a copy of the memorial.

The Memorial of Demetrius to the great king. ‘Since you have given me instructions, O king, that the books which are needed to complete your library should be collected together, and that those which are defective should be repaired, I have devoted myself with the utmost care to the fulfilment of your wishes, [30] and I now have the following proposal to lay before you. The books of the law of the Jews (with some few others) are absent from the library. They are written in the Hebrew characters and language and have been carelessly interpreted, and do not represent the original text as I am [31] informed by those who know; for they have never had a king’s care to protect them. It is necessary that these should be made accurate for your library since the law which they contain, in as much as it is of divine origin, is full of wisdom and free from all blemish. For this reason literary men and poets and the mass of historical writers have held aloof from referring to these books and the men who have lived and are living in accordance with them, because their [32] conception of life is so sacred and religious, as Hecataeus of Abdera says. If it please you, O king, a letter shall be written to the High Priest in Jerusalem, asking him to send six elders out of every tribe - men who have lived the noblest life and are most skilled in their law - that we may find out the points in which the majority of them are in agreement, and so having obtained an accurate translation may place it in a conspicuous place in a manner worthy of the work itself and your purpose. May continual prosperity be yours!’

[33] When this memorial had been presented, the king ordered a letter to be written to Eleazar on the matter, giving also an account of the emancipation of the Jewish captives. And he gave fifty talents weight of gold and seventy talents of silver and a large quantity of precious stones to make bowls and vials and a table and libation cups. He also gave orders to those who had the custody of his coffers to allow the artificers to make a selection of any materials they might require for the purpose, and that a hundred talents in money should be sent to provide sacrifices for the temple and [34] for other needs. I shall give you a full account of the workmanship after I have set before you copies of the letters. The letter of the king ran as follows:

[35] ‘King Ptolemy sends greeting and salutation to the High Priest Eleazar. Since there are many Jews settled in our realm who were carried off from Jerusalem by the Persians at the time of their [36] power and many more who came with my father into Egypt as captives - large numbers of these he placed in the army and paid them higher wages than usual, and when he had proved the loyalty of their leaders he built fortresses and placed them in their charge that the native Egyptians might be intimidated by them. And I, when I ascended the throne, adopted a kindly attitude towards all [37] my subjects, and more particularly to those who were citizens of yours - I have set at liberty more than a hundred thousand captives, paying their owners the appropriate market price for them, and if ever evil has been done to your people through the passions of the mob, I have made them reparation. The motive which prompted my action has been the desire to act piously and render unto the supreme God a thank offering for maintaining my kingdom in peace and great glory in all the world. Moreover those of your people who were in the prime of life I have drafted into my army, and those who were fit to be attached to my person and worthy of the confidence of the [38] court, I have established in official positions. Now since I am anxious to show my gratitude to these men and to the Jews throughout the world and to the generations yet to come, I have determined that your law shall be translated from the Hebrew tongue which is in use amongst you [39] into the Greek language, that these books may be added to the other royal books in my library. It will be a kindness on your part and a regard for my zeal if you will select six elders from each of your tribes, men of noble life and skilled in your law and able to interpret it, that in questions of dispute we may be able to discover the verdict in which the majority agree, for the investigation is of the highest possible importance. I hope to win great renown by the accomplishment of this [40] work. I have sent Andreas, the chief of my bodyguard, and Aristeas - men whom I hold in high esteem - to lay the matter before you and present you with a hundred talents of silver, the firstfruits of my offering for the temple and the sacrifices and other religious rites. If you will write to me concerning your wishes in these matters, you will confer a great favour upon me and afford me a new pledge of friendship, for all your wishes shall be carried out as speedily as possible. Farewell.’

[41] To this letter Eleazar replied appropriately as follows:

‘Eleazar the High priest sends greetings to King Ptolemy his true friend. My highest wishes are for your welfare and the welfare of Queen Arsinoe your sister and your children. I also am well. I have received your letter and am greatly [42] rejoiced by your purpose and your noble counsel. I summoned together the whole people and read it to them that they might know of your devotion to our God. I showed them too the cups which you sent, twenty of gold and thirty of silver, the five bowls and the table of dedication, and the hundred talents of silver for the offering of the sacrifices and providing the things of which the [43] temple stands in need. These gifts were brought to me by Andreas, one of your most honoured servants, and by Aristeas, both good men and true, distinguished by their learning, and worthy in every way to be the representatives of your high principles and righteous purposes. [44] These men imparted to me your message and received from me an answer in agreement with your letter. I will consent to everything which is advantageous to you even though your request is very unusual. For you have bestowed upon our citizens great and never to be forgotten benefits in many [45] (ways). Immediately therefore I offered sacrifices on behalf of you, your sister, your children, and your friends, and all the people prayed that your plans might prosper continually, and that Almighty God might preserve your kingdom in peace with honour, and that the translation of the [46] holy law might prove advantageous to you and be carried out successfully. In the presence of all the people I selected six elders from each tribe, good men and true, and I have sent them to you with a copy of our law. It will be a kindness, O righteous king, if you will give instruction that as soon as the translation of the law is completed, the men shall be restored again to us in safety. Farewell.’

[47] The following are the names of the elders: Of the first tribe, Joseph, Ezekiah, Zachariah, John, Ezekiah, Elisha. Of the second tribe, Judas, Simon, Samuel, Adaeus, Mattathias, Eschlemias. Of [48] the third tribe, Nehemiah, Joseph, Theodosius, Baseas, Ornias, Dakis. Of the fourth tribe, Jonathan, Abraeus, Elisha, Ananias, Chabrias.... Of the fifth tribe, Isaac, Jacob, Jesus, [49] Sabbataeus, Simon, Levi. Of the sixth tribe, Judas, Joseph, Simon, Zacharias, Samuel, Selemias. Of the seventh tribe, Sabbataeus, Zedekiah, Jacob, Isaac, Jesias, Natthaeus. Of the eighth tribe Theodosius, Jason, Jesus, Theodotus, John, Jonathan. Of the ninth tribe, Theophilus, Abraham, [50] Arsamos, Jason, Endemias, Daniel. Of the tenth tribe, Jeremiah, Eleazar, Zachariah, Baneas, Elisha, Dathaeus. Of the eleventh tribe, Samuel, Joseph, Judas, Jonathes, Chabu, Dositheus. Of the twelfth tribe, Isaelus, John, Theodosius, Arsamos, Abietes, Ezekiel. They were seventy-two in all. Such was the answer which Eleazar and his friends gave to the king’s letter.

[51] I will now proceed to redeem my promise and give a description of the works of art. They were wrought with exceptional skill, for the king spared no expense and personally superintended the workmen individually. They could not therefore scamp any part of the work or finish it off negligently. [52] First of all I will give you a description of the table. The king was anxious that this piece of work should be of exceptionally large dimensions, and he caused enquiries to be made of the Jews [53] in the locality with regard to the size of the table already in the temple at Jerusalem. And when they described the measurements, he proceeded to ask whether he might make a larger structure. And some of the priests and the other Jews replied that there was nothing to prevent him. And he said that he was anxious to make it five times the size, but he hesitated lest it should prove useless [54] for the temple services. He was desirous that his gift should not merely be stationed in the temple, for it would afford him much greater pleasure if the men whose duty it was to offer the fitting [55] sacrifices were able to do so appropriately on the table which he had made. He did not suppose that it was owing to lack of gold that the former table had been made of small size, but there seems to have been, he said, some reason why it was made of this dimension. For had the order been given, there would have been no lack of means. Wherefore we must not transgress or go beyond the proper [56] measure. At the same time he ordered them to press into service all the manifold forms of art, for he was a man of the most lofty conceptions and nature had endowed him with a keen imagination which enabled him to picture the appearance which would be presented by the finished work. He gave orders too, that where there were no instructions laid down in the Jewish Scriptures, everything should be made as beautiful as possible. When such instructions were laid down, they were to be carried out to the letter.

[57] They made the table two cubits long (one cubit broad) one and a half cubits high, fashioning it of pure solid gold. What I am describing was not thin gold laid over another foundation, but the whole [58] structure was of massive gold welded together. And they made a border of a hand’s breadth round about it. And there was a wreath of wave-work, engraved in relief in the form of ropes marvelously [59] wrought on its three sides. For it was triangular in shape and the style of the work was exactly the same on each of the sides, so that whichever side they were turned, they presented the same appearance. Of the two sides under the border, the one which sloped down to the table was a very [60] beautiful piece of work, but it was the outer side which attracted the gaze of the spectator. Now the upper edge of the two sides, being elevated, was sharp since, as we have said, the rim was three-sided, from whatever point of view one approached it. And there were layers of precious stones on it in the midst of the embossed cord-work, and they were interwoven with one another by an inimitable artistic [61] device. For the sake of security they were all fixed by golden needles which were inserted in [62] perforations in the stones. At the sides they were clamped together by fastenings to hold them firm. On the part of the border round the table which slanted upwards and met the eyes, there was wrought a pattern of eggs in precious stones, elaborately engraved by a continuous piece of fluted relief-work, closely [63] connected together round the whole table. And under the stones which had been arranged to represent eggs the artists made a crown containing all kinds of fruits, having at its top clusters of grapes and ears of corn, dates also and apples, and pomegranates and the like, conspicuously arranged. These fruits were wrought out of precious stones, of the same colour as the fruits themselves and [64] they fastened them edgeways round all the sides of the table with a band of gold. And after the crown of fruit had been put on, underneath there was inserted another pattern of eggs in precious stones, and other fluting and embossed work, that both sides of the table might be used, according to the wishes of the owners and for this reason the wave-work and the border were extended [65] down to the feet of the table. They made and fastened under the whole width of the table a massive plate four fingers thick, that the feet might be inserted into it, and clamped fast with linch-pins which fitted into sockets under the border, so that which ever side of the table people preferred, might be used. Thus it became manifestly clear that the work was intended to be used either way.

[66] On the table itself they engraved a ‘maeander’, having precious stones standing out in the middle of it, rubies and emeralds and an onyx too and many other kinds of stones which excel [67] in beauty. And next to the ‘maeander’ there was placed a wonderful piece of network, which made the centre of the table appear like a rhomboid in shape, and on it a crystal and amber, as it is called, [68] had been wrought, which produced an incomparable impression on the beholders. They made the feet of the table with heads like lilies, so that they seemed to be like lilies bending down beneath the table, and the parts which were visible represented leaves which stood upright. [69] The basis of the foot on the ground consisted of a ruby and measured a hand’s breadth high all round. It had the appearance of a shoe and was eight fingers broad. Upon it the whole expanse of the foot rested. [70] And they made the foot appear like ivy growing out of the stone, interwoven with acanthus and surrounded with a vine which encircled it with clusters of grapes, which were worked in stones, up to the top of the foot. All the four feet were made in the same style, and everything was wrought and fitted so skilfully, and such remarkable skill and knowledge were expended upon making it true to nature, that when the air was stirred by a breath of wind, movement was imparted to the leaves, and [71] everything was fashioned to correspond with the actual reality which it represented. And they made the top of the table in three parts like a triptychon, and they were so fitted and dovetailed together with spigots along the whole breadth of the work, that the meeting of the joints could not be seen or even discovered. The thickness of the table was not less than half a cubit, so that the whole work [72] must have cost many talents. For since the king did not wish to add to its size he expended on the details the same sum of money which would have been required if the table could have been of larger dimensions. And everything was completed in accordance with his plan, in a most wonderful and remarkable way, with inimitable art and incomparable beauty.

[73] Of the mixing bowls, two were wrought (in gold), and from the base to the middle were engraved with relief work in the pattern of scales, and between the scales precious stones were inserted with [74] great artistic skill. Then there was a ‘maeander’ a cubit in height, with its surface wrought out of precious stones of many colours, displaying great artistic effort and beauty. Upon this there was a mosaic, worked in the form of a rhombus, having a net-like appearance and reaching right up to the [75] brim. In the middle, small shields which were made of different precious stones, placed alternately and varying in kind, not less than four fingers broad enhanced the beauty of their appearance. On the top of the brim there was an ornament of lilies in bloom, and intertwining clusters of grapes were [76] engraved all round. Such then was the construction of the golden bowls, and they held more than two measures each. The silver bowls had a smooth surface, and were wonderfully made as if they were intended for looking-glasses, so that everything which was brought near to them was reflected even more [77] clearly than in mirrors. But it is impossible to describe the real impression which these works of art produced upon the mind when they were finished. For, when these vessels had been completed and placed side by side, first a silver bowl and then a golden, then another silver, and then another golden, the appearance they presented is altogether indescribable, and those who came to see [78] them were not able to tear themselves from the brilliant sight and entrancing, spectacle. The impressions produced by the spectacle were various in kind. When men looked at the golden vessels, and their minds made a complete survey of each detail of workmanship, their souls were thrilled with wonder. Again when a man wished to direct his gaze to the silver vessels, as they stood before him, everything seemed to flash with light round about the place where he was standing, and afforded a still greater delight to the onlookers. So that it is really impossible to describe the artistic beauty of the works. [79] The golden vials they engraved in the centre with vine wreaths. And about the rims they wove a wreath of ivy and myrtle and olive in relief work and inserted precious stones in it. The other parts of the relief work they wrought in different patterns, since they made it a point of honour to [80] complete everything in a way worthy of the majesty of the king. In a word it may be said that neither in the king’s treasury nor in any other, were there any works which equalled these in costliness or in artistic skill. For the king spent no little thought upon them, for he loved to gain glory for the [81] excellence of his designs. For oftentimes he would neglect his official business, and spend his time with the artists in his anxiety that they should complete everything in a manner worthy of the place to which the gifts were to be sent. So everything was carried out on a grand scale, in a manner [82] worthy of the king who sent the gifts and of the high priest who was the ruler of the land. There was no stint of precious stones, for not less than five thousand were used and they were all of large size. The most exceptional artistic skill was employed, so that the cost of the stones and the workmanship was five times as much as that of the gold.

[83] I have given you this description of the presents because I thought it was necessary. The next point in the narrative is an account of our journey to Eleazar, but I will first of all give you a description of the whole country. When we arrived in the land of the Jews we saw the city situated [84] in the middle of the whole of Judaea on the top of a mountain of considerable altitude. On the summit the temple had been built in all its splendour. It was surrounded by three walls more than seventy cubits high and in length and breadth corresponding to the structure of the edifice. All the buildings [85] were characterized by a magnificence and costliness quite unprecedented. It was obvious that no expense had been spared on the door and the fastenings, which connected it with the door-posts, and [86] the stability of the lintel. The style of the curtain too was thoroughly in proportion to that of the entrance. Its fabric owing to the draught of wind was in perpetual motion, and as this motion was communicated from the bottom and the curtain bulged out to its highest extent, it afforded a pleasant [87] spectacle from which a man could scarcely tear himself away. The construction of the altar was in keeping with the place itself and with the burnt offerings which were consumed by fire upon it, and the approach to it was on a similar scale. There was a gradual slope up to it, conveniently arranged for the purpose of decency, and the ministering priests were robed in linen garments, down to their [88] ankles. The Temple faces the east and its back is toward the west. The whole of the floor is paved with stones and slopes down to the appointed places, that water may be conveyed to wash away the [89] blood from the sacrifices, for many thousand beasts are sacrificed there on the feast days. And there is an inexhaustible supply of water, because an abundant natural spring gushes up from within the temple area. There are moreover wonderful and indescribable cisterns underground, as they pointed out to me, at a distance of five furlongs all round the site of the temple, and each of them has countless pipes [90] so that the different streams converge together. And all these were fastened with lead at the bottom and at the sidewalls, and over them a great quantity of plaster had been spread, and every part of the work had been most carefully carried out. There are many openings for water at the base of the altar which are invisible to all except to those who are engaged in the ministration, so that all the blood of the sacrifices which is collected in great quantities is washed away in the twinkling of an [91] eye. Such is my opinion with regard to the character of the reservoirs and I will now show you how it was confirmed. They led me more than four furlongs outside the city and bade me peer down towards a certain spot and listen to the noise that was made by the meeting of the waters, so that the great size of the reservoirs became manifest to me, as has already been pointed out.

[92] The ministration of the priests is in every way unsurpassed both for its physical endurance and for its orderly and silent service. For they all work spontaneously, though it entails much painful exertion, and each one has a special task allotted to him. The service is carried on without interruption - some provide the wood, others the oil, others the fine wheat flour, others the spices; others [93] again bring the pieces of flesh for the burnt offering, exhibiting a wonderful degree of strength. For they take up with both hands the limbs of a calf, each of them weighing more than two talents, and throw them with each hand in a wonderful way on to the high place of the altar and never miss placing them on the proper spot. In the same way the pieces of the sheep and also of the goats are wonderful both for their weight and their fatness. For those, whose business it is, always select the beasts which are without blemish and specially fat, and thus the sacrifice which I have described, [94] is carried out. There is a special place set apart for them to rest in, where those who are relieved from duty sit. When this takes place, those who have already rested and are ready to assume their duties rise up spontaneously since there is no one to give orders with regard to the arrangement of [95] the sacrifices. The most complete silence reigns so that one might imagine that there was not a single person present, though there are actually seven hundred men engaged in the work, besides the vast number of those who are occupied in bringing up the sacrifices. Everything is carried out with [96] reverence and in a way worthy of the great God.

We were greatly astonished, when we saw Eleazar engaged in the ministration, at the mode of his dress, and the majesty of his appearance, which was revealed in the robe which he wore and the precious stones upon his person. There were golden bells upon the garment which reached down to his feet, giving forth a peculiar kind of melody, and on both sides of them there were pomegranates [97] with variegated flowers of a wonderful hue. He was girded with a girdle of conspicuous beauty, woven in the most beautiful colours. On his breast he wore the oracle of God, as it is called, on which twelve stones, of different kinds, were inset, fastened together with gold, containing the names of the leaders of the tribes, according to their original order, each one flashing forth in an indescribable way [98] its own particular colour. On his head he wore a tiara, as it is called, and upon this in the middle of his forehead an inimitable turban, the royal diadem full of glory with the name of God inscribed in sacred letters on a plate of gold . . . having been judged worthy to wear these emblems in the [99] ministrations. Their appearance created such awe and confusion of mind as to make one feel that one had come into the presence of a man who belonged to a different world. I am convinced that any one who takes part in the spectacle which I have described will be filled with astonishment and indescribable wonder and be profoundly affected in his mind at the thought of the sanctity which is attached to each detail of the service.

[100] But in order that we might gain complete information, we ascended to the summit of the neighbouring citadel and looked around us. It is situated in a very lofty spot, and is fortified with many towers, which have been built up to the very top of immense stones, with the object, as we were informed, of [101] guarding the temple precincts, so that if there were an attack, or an insurrection or an onslaught of the enemy, no one would be able to force an entrance within the walls that surround the temple. On the towers of the citadel engines of war were placed and different kinds of machines, and the position was [102] much higher than the circle of walls which I have mentioned. The towers were guarded too by most trusty men who had given the utmost proof of their loyalty to their country. These men were never allowed to leave the citadel, except on feast days and then only in detachments. nor did they permit any [103] stranger to enter it. They were also very careful when any command came from the chief officer to admit any visitors to inspect the place, as our own experience taught us. They were very reluctant to [104] admit us - though we were but two unarmed men- to view the offering of the sacrifices. And they asserted that they were bound by an oath when the trust was committed to them, for they had all sworn and were bound to carry out the oath sacredly to the letter, that though they were five hundred in number they would not permit more than five men to enter at one time. The citadel was the special protection of the temple and its founder had fortified it so strongly that it might efficiently protect it.

[105] The size of the city is of moderate dimensions. It is about forty furlongs in circumference, as far as one could conjecture. It has its towers arranged in the shape of a theatre, with thoroughfares leading between them. Now the cross roads of the lower towers are visible but those of the upper [106] towers are more frequented. For the ground ascends, since the city is built upon a mountain. There are steps too which lead up to the cross roads, and some people are always going up, and others down and they keep as far apart from each other as possible on the road because of those who [107] are bound by the rules of purity, lest they should touch anything which is unlawful. It was not without reason that the original founders of the city built it in due proportions, for they possessed clear insight with regard to what was required. For the country is extensive and beautiful. Some parts of it are level, especially the districts which belong to Samaria, as it is called, and which border on the land of the Idumaeans, other parts are mountainous, especially (those which are contiguous to the land of Judaea). The people therefore are bound to devote themselves to agriculture and the cultivation of the soil that by this means they may have a plentiful supply of crops. In this way [108] cultivation of every kind is carried on and an abundant harvest reaped in the whole of the aforesaid land. The cities which are large and enjoy a corresponding prosperity are well-populated, but they neglect the country districts, since all men are inclined to a life of enjoyment, for every one has a natural tendency towards the pursuit of pleasure. [109] The same thing happened in Alexandria, which excels all cities in size and prosperity. Country people by migrating from the rural districts and settling [110] in the city brought agriculture into disrepute: and so to prevent them from settling in the city, the king issued orders that they should not stay in it for more than twenty days. And in the same way he gave the judges written instructions, that if it was necessary to issue a summons against any one [111] who lived in the country, the case must be settled within five days. And since he considered the matter one of great importance, he appointed also legal officers for every district with their assistants, that the farmers and their advocates might not in the interests of business empty the granaries of the city, I mean, of the produce of husbandry.

[112] I have permitted this digression because it was Eleazar who pointed out with great clearness the points which have been mentioned. For great is the energy which they expend on the tillage of the soil. For the land is thickly planted with multitudes of olive trees, with crops of corn and pulse, with vines too, and there is abundance of honey. Other kinds of fruit trees and dates do not count compared with these. There are cattle of all kinds in [113] great quantities and a rich pasturage for them. Wherefore they rightly recognize that the country districts need a large population, and the relations between the city and the villages are properly [114] regulated. A great quantity of spices and precious stones and gold is brought into the country by the Arabs. For the country is well adapted not only for agriculture but also for commerce, and the [115] city is rich in the arts and lacks none of the merchandise which is brought across the sea. It possesses too suitable and commodious harbours at Ascalon, Joppa, and Gaza, as well as at Ptolemais which was founded by the King and holds a central position compared with the other places named, being not far distant from any of them. The country produces everything in abundance, [116] since it is well watered in all directions and well protected from storms. The river Jordan, as it is called, which never runs dry, flows through the land. Originally (the country) contained not less than 60 million acres-though afterwards the neighbouring peoples made incursions against it - and 600,000 men were settled upon it in farms of a hundred acres each. The river like the Nile rises in harvest- time and irrigates a large portion of the land. Near the district belonging to the people of [117] Ptolemais it issues into another river and this flows out into the sea. Other mountain torrents, as they are called, flow down into the plain and encompass the parts about Gaza and the district of [118] Ashdod. The country is encircled by a natural fence and is very difficult to attack and cannot be assailed by large forces, owing to the narrow passes, with their overhanging precipices and deep ravines, and the rugged character of the mountainous regions which surround all the land. [119] We were told that from the neighbouring mountains of Arabia copper and iron were formerly obtained. This was stopped, however, at the time of the Persian rule, since the authorities of the time spread [120] abroad a false report that the working of the mines was useless and expensive, in order to prevent their country from being destroyed by the mining in these districts and possibly taken away from them owing to the Persian rule, since by the assistance of this false report they found an excuse for entering the district.

I have now, my dear brother Philocrates, given you all the essential information upon this subject [121] in brief form. I shall describe the work of translation in the sequel. The High priest selected men of the finest character and the highest culture, such as one would expect from their noble parentage. They were men who had not only acquired proficiency in Jewish literature, but had studied most [122] carefully that of the Greeks as well. They were specially qualified therefore for serving on embassies and they undertook this duty whenever it was necessary. They possessed a great facility for conferences and the discussion of problems connected with the law. They espoused the middle course - and this is always the best course to pursue. They abjured the rough and uncouth manner, but they were altogether above pride and never assumed an air of superiority over others, and in conversation they were ready to listen and give an appropriate answer to every question. And all of them carefully observed this rule and were anxious above everything else to excel each other in [123] its observance and they were all of them worthy of their leader and of his virtue. And one could observe how they loved Eleazar by their unwillingness to be torn away from him and how he loved them. For besides the letter which he wrote to the king concerning their safe return, he also earnestly [124] besought Andreas to work for the same end and urged me, too, to assist to the best of my ability and although we promised to give our best attention to the matter, he said that he was still greatly distressed, for he knew that the king out of the goodness of his nature considered it his highest privilege, whenever he heard of a man who was superior to his fellows in culture and wisdom, to [125] summon him to his court. For I have heard of a fine saying of his to the effect that by securing just and prudent men about his person he would secure the greatest protection for his kingdom, since such friends would unreservedly give him the most beneficial advice. And the men who were [126] now being sent to him by Eleazar undoubtedly possessed these qualities. And he frequently asserted upon oath that he would never let the men go if it were merely some private interest of his own that constituted the impelling motive-but it was for the common advantage of [127] all the citizens that he was sending them. For, he explained, the good life consists in the keeping of the enactments of the law, and this end is achieved much more by hearing than by reading. From this and other similar statements it was clear what his feelings towards them were.

[128] It is worth while to mention briefly the information which he gave in reply to our questions. For I suppose that most people feel a curiosity with regard to some of the enactments in the law, [129] especially those about meats and drinks and animals recognized as unclean. When we asked why, since there is but one form of creation, some animals are regarded as unclean for eating, and others unclean even to the touch (for though the law is scrupulous on most points, it is specially scrupulous on such [130] matters as these) he began his reply as follows: ‘You observe,’ he said, ‘what an effect our modes of life and our associations produce upon us; by associating with the bad, men catch their depravities and become miserable throughout their life; but if they live with the wise and prudent, they find [131] the means of escaping from ignorance and amending their lives. Our Lawgiver first of all laid down the principles of piety and righteousness and inculcated them point by point, not merely by prohibitions but by the use of examples as well, demonstrating the injurious effects of sin and the [132] punishments inflicted by God upon the guilty. For he proved first of all that there is only one God and that his power is manifested throughout the universe, since every place is filled with his sovereignty and none of the things which are wrought in secret by men upon the earth escapes His knowledge. For all that a man does and all that is to come to pass in the future are manifest to [133] Him. Working out these truths carefully and having made them plain he showed that even if a man should think of doing evil - to say nothing of actually effecting it - [134] he would not escape detection, for he made it clear that the power of God pervaded the whole of the law. [135] Beginning from this starting point he went on to show that all mankind except ourselves believe in the existence of many gods, though they themselves are much more powerful than the beings whom they vainly worship. For when they have made statues of stone and wood, they say that they are the images of those who have invented something useful for life and they worship them, though [136] they have clear proof that they possess no feeling. For it would be utterly foolish to suppose that any one became a god in virtue of his inventions. For the inventors simply took certain objects already created and by combining them together, showed that they possessed a fresh utility: they [137] did not themselves create the substance of the thing, and so it is a vain and foolish thing for people to make gods of men like themselves. For in our times there are many who are much more inventive and much more learned than the men of former days who have been deified, and yet they would never come to worship them. The makers and authors of these myths think that they are [138] the wisest of the Greeks. Why need we speak of other infatuated people, Egyptians and the like, who place their reliance upon wild beasts and most kinds of creeping things and cattle, and worship them, and offer sacrifices to them both while living and when dead?’

[139] ‘Now our Lawgiver being a wise man and specially endowed by God to understand all things, took a comprehensive view of each particular detail, and fenced us round with impregnable ramparts and walls of iron, that we might not mingle at all with any of the other nations, but remain pure in body and soul, free from all vain imaginations, worshiping the one Almighty God above the whole [140] creation. Hence the leading Egyptian priests having looked carefully into many matters, and being cognizant with (our) affairs, call us “ men of God “. This is a title which does not belong to the rest of mankind but only to those who worship the true God. The rest are men not of God but of meats and drinks and clothing. For their whole disposition leads them to find solace in these things. [141] Among our people such things are reckoned of no account. but throughout their whole life their [142] main consideration is the sovereignty of God. Therefore lest we should be corrupted by any abomination, or our lives be perverted by evil communications, he hedged us round on all sides by [143] rules of purity, affecting alike what we eat, or drink, or touch, or hear, or see. For though, speaking generally, all things are alike in their natural constitution, since they are all governed by one and the same power, yet there is a deep reason in each individual case why we abstain from the use of certain things and enjoy the common use of others. For the sake of illustration I will run over one or two [144] points and explain them to you. For you must not fall into the degrading idea that it was out of regard to mice and weasels and other such things that Moses drew up his laws with such exceeding care. All these ordinances were made for the sake of righteousness to aid the quest for virtue and [145] the perfecting of character. For all the birds that we use are tame and distinguished by their cleanliness, feeding on various kinds of grain and pulse, such as for instance pigeons, turtle-doves, [146] locusts, partridges, geese also, and all other birds of this class. But the birds which are forbidden you will find to be wild and carnivorous, tyrannizing over the others by the strength which they possess, and cruelly obtaining food by preying on the tame birds enumerated above and not only so, but [147] they seize lambs and kids, and injure human beings too, whether dead or alive, and so by naming them unclean, he gave a sign by means of them that those, for whom the legislation was ordained, must practice righteousness in their hearts and not tyrannize over any one in reliance upon their own strength nor rob them of anything, but steer their course of life in accordance with justice, just as the tame birds, already mentioned, consume the different kinds of pulse that grow upon the earth [148] and do not tyrannize to the destruction of their own kindred. Our legislator taught us therefore that it is by such methods as these that indications are given to the wise, that they must be just and effect nothing by violence, and refrain from tyrannizing over others in reliance upon their own [149] strength. For since it is considered unseemly even to touch such unclean animals, as have been mentioned, on account of their particular habits, ought we not to take every precaution lest our own [150] characters should be destroyed to the same extent? Wherefore all the rules which he has laid down with regard to what is permitted in the case of these birds and other animals, he has enacted with the object of teaching us a moral lesson. For the division of the hoof and the separation of the claws are intended to teach us that we must discriminate between our individual actions with a view to the practice of virtue. For the strength of our whole body and its activity depend upon our shoulders and limbs.

[151] ‘Therefore he compels us to recognize that we must perform all our actions with discrimination according to the standard of righteousness - more especially because we have [152] been distinctly separated from the rest of mankind. For most other men defile themselves by promiscuous intercourse, thereby working great iniquity, and whole countries and cities pride themselves upon such vices. For they not only have intercourse with men but they defile their own [153] mothers and even their daughters. But we have been kept separate from such sins. And the people who have been separated in the aforementioned way are also characterized by the Lawgiver as possessing the gift of memory. For all animals “ which are cloven-footed and chew the cud “ [154] represent to the initiated the symbol of memory. For the act of chewing the cud is nothing else than the reminiscence of life and existence. For life is wont to be sustained by means of food [155] wherefore he exhorts us in the Scripture also in these words: ‘Thou shalt surely remember the Lord that wrought in thee those great and wonderful things”. For when they are properly conceived, they are manifestly great and glorious; first the construction of the body and the disposition of the [156] food and the separation of each individual limb and, far more, the organization of the senses, the operation and invisible movement of the mind, the rapidity of its particular actions and its discovery of the [157] arts, display an infinite resourcefulness. Wherefore he exhorts us to remember that the aforesaid parts are kept together by the divine power with consummate skill. For he has marked out every [158] time and place that we may continually remember the God who rules and preserves (us). For in the matter of meats and drinks he bids us first of all offer part as a sacrifice and then forthwith enjoy our meal. Moreover, upon our garments he has given us a symbol of remembrance, and in like manner he has ordered us to put the divine oracles upon our gates and doors as a remembrance of [159] God. And upon our hands, too, he expressly orders the symbol to be fastened, clearly showing that we ought to perform every act in righteousness, remembering (our own creation), and above all the [160] fear of God. He bids men also, when lying down to sleep and rising up again, to meditate upon the works of God, not only in word, but by observing distinctly the change and impression produced upon them, when they are going to sleep, and also their waking, how divine and incomprehensible [161] the change from one of these states to the other is. The excellence of the analogy in regard to discrimination and memory has now been pointed out to you, according to our interpretation of “ the cloven hoof and the chewing of the cud “. For our laws have not been drawn up at random or in accordance with the first casual thought that occurred to the mind, but with a view to truth and the [162] indication of right reason. For by means of the directions which he gives with regard to meats and drinks and particular cases of touching, he bids us neither to do nor listen to anything, thoughtlessly [163] nor to resort to injustice by the abuse of the power of reason. In the case of the wild animals, too, the same principle may be discovered. For the character of the weasel and of mice and such [164] animals as these, which are expressly mentioned, is destructive. Mice defile and damage everything, not only for their own food but even to the extent of rendering absolutely useless to man whatever [165] it falls in their way to damage. The weasel class, too, is peculiar: for besides what has been said, it has a characteristic which is defiling: It conceives through the ears and brings forth through the [166] mouth. And it is for this reason that a like practice is declared unclean in men. For by embodying in speech all that they receive through the ears, they involve others in evils and work no ordinary impurity, being themselves altogether defiled by the pollution of impiety. And your king, as we are informed, does quite right in destroying such men.’ [167] Then I said ‘I suppose you mean the informers, for he constantly exposes them to tortures and to [168] painful forms of death’. ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘these are the men I mean, for to watch for men’s destruction is an unholy thing. And our law forbids us to injure any one either by word or deed. My brief account of these matters ought to have convinced you, that all our regulations have been drawn up with a view to righteousness, and that nothing has been enacted in the Scripture thoughtlessly or without due reason, but its purpose is to enable us throughout our whole life and in all our actions [169] to practice righteousness before all men, being mindful of Almighty God. And so concerning meats and things unclean, creeping things, and wild beasts, the whole system aims at righteousness and righteous relationships between man and man.’

[170] He seemed to me to have made a good defense on all the points; for in reference also to the calves and rams and goats which are offered, he said that it was necessary to take them from the herds and flocks, and sacrifice tame animals and offer nothing wild, that the offerers of the sacrifices might understand the symbolic meaning of the lawgiver and not be under the influence of an arrogant self-consciousness. For he, who offers a sacrifice makes an offering also of his own soul in all its moods. [171] I think that these particulars with regard to our discussion are worth narrating and on account of the sanctity and natural meaning of the law, I have been induced to explain them to you clearly, Philocrates, because of your own devotion to learning.

[172] And Eleazar, after offering the sacrifice, and selecting the envoys, and preparing many gifts for the [173] king, despatched us on our journey in great security. And when we reached Alexandria the king was at once informed of our arrival. On our admission to the palace, Andreas and I warmly greeted [174] the king and handed over to him the letter written by Eleazar. The king was very anxious to meet the envoys, and gave orders that all the other officials should be dismissed and the envoys [175] summoned to his presence at once. Now this excited general surprise, for it is customary for those who come to seek an audience with the king on matters of importance to be admitted to his presence on the fifth day, while envoys from kings or very important cities with difficulty secure admission to the Court in thirty days - but these men he counted worthy of greater honour, since he held their master in such high esteem, and so he immediately dismissed those whose presence he regarded as superfluous and continued walking about until they came in and he was able to welcome them. [176] When they entered with the gifts which had been sent with them and the valuable parchments, on which the law was inscribed in gold in Jewish characters, for the parchment was wonderfully prepared and the connexion between the pages had been so effected as to be invisible, the king as soon [177] as he saw them began to ask them about the books. And when they had taken the rolls out of their coverings and unfolded the pages, the king stood still for a long time and then making obeisance about seven times, he said: ‘I thank you, my friends, and I thank him that sent you still more, and [178] most of all God, whose oracles these are.’ And when all, the envoys and the others who were present as well, shouted out at one time and with one voice: ‘God save the King!’ he burst into tears of joy. For his exaltation of soul and the sense of the overwhelming honour which had been [179] paid him compelled him to weep over his good fortune. He commanded them to put the rolls back in their places and then after saluting the men, said: ‘It was right, men of God, that I should first of all pay my reverence to the books for the sake of which I summoned you here and then, when I had done that, to extend the right-hand of friendship to you. It was for this reason that I [180] did this first. I have enacted that this day, on which you arrived, shall be kept as a great day and it will be celebrated annually throughout my life time. It happens also that it is the anniversary of [181] my naval victory over Antigonus. Therefore I shall be glad to feast with you to-day.’ ‘Everything that you may have occasion to use’, he said, ‘shall be prepared (for you) in a befitting manner and for me also with you.’ After they had expressed their delight, he gave orders that the best quarters near the citadel should be assigned to them, and that preparations should be made for the banquet. [182] And Nicanor summoned the lord high steward, Dorotheus, who was the special officer appointed to look after the Jews, and commanded him to make the necessary preparation for each one. For this arrangement had been made by the king and it is an arrangement which you see maintained to-day. For as many cities (as) have (special) customs in the matter of drinking, eating, and reclining, have special officers appointed to look after their requirements. And whenever they come to visit the kings, preparations are made in accordance with their own customs, in order that there may be no discomfort to disturb the enjoyment of their visit. The same precaution was taken in the case of the Jewish envoys.

[183] Now Dorotheus who was the patron appointed to look after Jewish guests was a very conscientious man. All the stores which were under his control and set apart for the reception of such guests, he brought out for the feast. He arranged the seats in two rows in accordance with the king’s instructions. For he had ordered him to make half the men sit at his right hand and the rest behind him, in order that he might not withhold from them the highest possible honour. When they had taken their seats he instructed Dorotheus to carry out everything in [184] accordance with the customs which were in use amongst his Jewish guests. Therefore he dispensed with the services of the sacred heralds and the sacrificing priests and the others who were accustomed to offer the prayers, and called upon one of our number, Eleazar, the oldest of the Jewish priests, to offer prayer instead. And he rose up and made a remarkable prayer. ‘May Almighty [185] God enrich you, O king with all the good things which He has made and may He grant you and your wife and your children and your comrades the continual possession of them as long as you live !’ At these words a loud and joyous applause broke out which lasted for a considerable time, and then [186] they turned to the enjoyment of the banquet which had been prepared. All the arrangements for service at table were carried out in accordance with the injunction of Dorotheus. Among the attendants were the royal pages and others who held places of honour at the king’s court.

[187] Taking an opportunity afforded by a pause in the banquet the king asked the envoy who sat in the seat of honour (for they were arranged according to seniority), How he could keep his kingdom [188] unimpaired to the end? After pondering for a moment he replied, ‘You could best establish its security if you were to imitate the unceasing benignity of God. For if you exhibit clemency and inflict mild punishments upon those who deserve them in accordance with their deserts, you will [189] turn them from evil and lead them to repentance.’ The king praised the answer and then asked the next man, How he could do everything for the best in all his actions? And he replied, ‘If a man maintains a just bearing towards all, he will always act rightly on every occasion, remembering that every thought is known to God. If you take the fear of God as your starting-point, you will never miss the goal.

[190] The king complimented this man, too, upon his answer and asked another, How he could have friends like-minded with himself? He replied, ‘If they see you studying the interests of the multitudes over whom you rule; you will do well to observe how God bestows his benefits on the [191] human race, providing for them health and food and all other things in due season.’ After expressing his agreement with the reply, the king asked the next guest, How in giving audiences and passing judgments he could gain the praise even of those who failed to win their suit? And he said, ‘If you are fair in speech to all alike and never act insolently nor tyrannically in your treatment of [192] offenders. And you will do this if you watch the method by which God acts. The petitions of the worthy are always fulfilled, while those who fail to obtain an answer to their prayers are informed by means of dreams or events of what was harmful in their requests and that God does not smite them according to their sins or the greatness of His strength, but acts with forbearance towards them.’

[193] The king praised the man warmly for his answer and asked the next in order, How he could be invincible in military affairs? And he replied, ‘If he did not trust entirely to his multitudes or his warlike forces, but called upon God continually to bring his enterprises to a successful issue, while [194] he himself discharged all his duties in the spirit of justice.’ Welcoming this answer, he asked another how he might become an object of dread to his enemies. And he replied, ‘If while maintaining a vast supply of arms and forces he remembered that these things were powerless to achieve a permanent and conclusive result. For even God instils fear into the minds of men by granting reprieves and making merely a display of the greatness of his power.’

[195] This man the king praised and then said to the next, What is the highest good in life? And he answered ‘To know that God is Lord of the Universe, and that in our finest achievements it is not we who attain success but God who by his power brings all things to fulfilment and leads us to the goal.’

[196] The king exclaimed that the man had answered well and then asked the next How he could keep all his possessions intact and finally hand them down to his successors in the same condition? And he answered ‘By praying constantly to God that you may be inspired with high motives in all your undertakings and by warning your descendants not to be dazzled by fame or wealth, for it is God who bestows all these gifts and men never by themselves win the supremacy’.

[197] The king expressed his agreement with the answer and enquired of the next guest, How he could bear with equanimity whatever befell him? And he said, ‘If you have a firm grasp of the thought that all men are appointed by God to share the greatest evil as well as the greatest good, since it is impossible for one who is a man to be exempt from these. But God, to whom we ought always to pray, inspires us with courage to endure.’

[198] Delighted with the man’s reply, the king said that all their answers had been good. ‘I will put a question to one other’, he added, ‘and then I will stop for the present: that we may turn our attention [199] to the enjoyment of the feast and spend a pleasant time.’ Thereupon he asked the man, What is the true aim of courage? And he answered, ‘If a right plan is carried out in the hour of danger in accordance with the original intention. For all things are accomplished by God to your advantage, O king, since your purpose is good.’

[200] When all had signified by their applause their agreement with the answer, the king said to the philosophers (for not a few of them were present), ‘It is my opinion that these men excel in virtue and possess extraordinary knowledge, since on the spur of the moment they have given fitting answers to these questions which I have put to them, and have all made God the starting-point of their words.’

[201] And Menedemus, the philosopher of Eretria, said, ‘True, O King - for since the universe is managed by providence and since we rightly perceive that man is the creation of God, it follows [202] that all power and beauty of speech proceed from God.’ When the king had nodded his assent to this sentiment, the speaking ceased and they proceeded to enjoy themselves. When evening came on, the banquet ended.

[203] On the following day they sat down to table again and continued the banquet according to the same arrangements. When the king thought that a fitting opportunity had arrived to put inquiries to his guests, he proceeded to ask further questions of the men who sat next in order to those who [204] had given answers on the previous day. He began to open the conversation with the eleventh man, for there were ten who had been asked questions on the former occasion. When silence was [205] established, he asked How he could continue to be rich? After a brief reflection, the man who had been asked the question replied If he did nothing unworthy of his position, never acted licentiously, never lavished expense on empty and vain pursuits, but by acts of benevolence made all his subjects well disposed towards himself. For it is God who is the author of all good things and [206] Him man must needs obey.’ The king bestowed praise upon him and then asked another How he could maintain the truth? In reply to the question he said, ‘By recognizing that a lie brings great disgrace upon all men, and more especially upon kings. For since they have the power to do whatever they wish, why should they resort to lies? In addition to this you must always remember, O King, that God is a lover of the truth.’

[207] The king received the answer with great delight and looking at another said, ‘What is the teaching of wisdom?’ And the other replied, ‘As you wish that no evil should befall you, but to be a partaker of all good things, so you should act on the same principle towards your subjects and offenders, and you should mildly admonish the noble and good. For God draws all men to himself by his benignity.’

[208] The king praised him and asked the next in order How he could be the friend of men? And he replied, ‘By observing that the human race increases and is born with much trouble and great suffering: wherefore you must not lightly punish or inflict torments upon them, since you know that the life of men is made up of pains and penalties. For if you understood everything you would be filled with pity, for God also is pitiful.’

[209] The king received the answer with approbation and inquired of the next ‘What is the most essential qualification for ruling? ‘ ‘To keep oneself’, he answered, ‘free from bribery and to practice sobriety during the greater part of one’s life, to honour righteousness above all things, and to make friends of men of this type. For God, too, is a lover of justice.’

[210] Having signified his approval, the king said to another ‘What is the true mark of piety?’ And he replied, ‘To perceive that God constantly works in the Universe and knows all things, and no man who acts unjustly and works wickedness can escape His notice. As God is the benefactor of the whole world, so you, too, must imitate Him and be void of offence.’

[211] The king signified his agreement and said to another ‘What is the essence of kingship?’ And he replied, ‘To rule oneself well and not to be led astray by wealth or fame to immoderate or unseemly desires, this is the true way of ruling if you reason the matter well out. For all that you really need is yours, and God is free from need and benignant withal. Let your thoughts be such as become a man, and desire not many things but only such as are necessary for ruling.’

[212] The king praised him and asked another man How his deliberations might be for the best? and he replied, ‘If he constantly set justice before him in everything and thought that injustice was equivalent to deprivation of life. For God always promises the highest blessings to the just.’

[213] Having praised him, the king asked the next How he could be free from disturbing thoughts in his sleep? And he replied, ‘You have asked me a question which is very difficult to answer, for we cannot bring our true selves into play during the hours of sleep, but are held fast in these [214] by imaginations that cannot be controlled by reason. For our souls possess the feeling that they actually see the things that enter into our consciousness during sleep. But we make a mistake if we suppose that we are actually sailing on the sea in boats or flying through the air or travelling to other regions or anything else of the kind. And yet we actually do imagine such [215] things to be taking place. So far as it is possible for me to decide, I have reached the following conclusion. You must in every possible way, O King, govern your words and actions by the rule of piety that you may have the consciousness that you are maintaining virtue and that you never choose to gratify yourself at the expense of reason and never by abusing your power do [216] despite to righteousness. For the mind mostly busies itself in sleep with the same things with which it occupies itself when awake. And he who has all his thoughts and actions set towards the noblest ends establishes himself in righteousness both when he is awake and when he is asleep. Wherefore you must be steadfast in the constant discipline of self.’

[217] The king bestowed praise on the man and said to another, ‘since you are the tenth to answer, when you have spoken, we will devote ourselves to the banquet.’ And then he put the question, [218] How can I avoid doing anything unworthy of myself? And he replied, ‘Look always to your own fame and your own supreme position, that you may speak and think only such things as are [219] consistent therewith, knowing that all your subjects think and talk about you. For you must not appear to be worse than the actors, who study carefully the role, which it is necessary for them to play, and shape all their actions in accordance with it. You are not acting a part, but are really a king, since God has bestowed upon you a royal authority in keeping with your character.’

[220] When the king had applauded loud and long in the most gracious way, the guests were urged to seek repose. So when the conversation ceased, they devoted themselves to the next course of the feast.

[221] On the following day, the same arrangement was observed, and when the king found an opportunity of putting questions to the men, he questioned the first of those who had been left over [222] for the next interrogation, What is the highest form of government? And he replied, ‘To rule oneself and not to be carried away by impulses. For all men possess a certain natural bent of mind. [223] It is probable that most men have an inclination towards food and drink and pleasure, and kings a bent towards the acquisition of territory and great renown. But it is good that there should be moderation in all things. What God gives, that you must take and keep, but never yearn for things that are beyond your reach.’

[224] Pleased with these words, the king asked the next How he could be free from envy? And he after a brief pause replied, ‘If you consider first of all that it is God who bestows on all kings glory and great wealth and no one is king by his own power. All men wish to share this glory but cannot, since it is the gift of God.’

[225] The king praised the man in a long speech and then asked another How he could despise his enemies? And he replied, ‘If you show kindness to all men and win their friendship, you need fear no one. To be popular with all men is the best of good gifts to receive from God.’

[226] Having praised this answer the king ordered the next man to reply to the question, How he could maintain his great renown? and he replied that ‘If you are generous and large-hearted in bestowing kindness and acts of grace upon others, you will never lose your renown, but if you wish the aforesaid graces to continue yours, you must call upon God continually.’

[227] The king expressed his approval and asked the next, To whom ought a man to show liberality? And he replied, ‘All men acknowledge that we ought to show liberality to those who are well disposed towards us, but I think that we ought to show the same keen spirit of generosity to those who are opposed to us that by this means we may win them over to the right and to what is advantageous to ourselves. But we must pray to God that this may be accomplished, for he rules the minds of all men.’

[228] Having expressed his agreement with the answer, the king asked the sixth to reply to the question, To whom ought we to exhibit gratitude? And he replied, ‘To our parents continually, for God has given us a most important commandment with regard to the honour due to parents. In the next place He reckons the attitude of friend towards friend for He speaks of “a friend who is as your own soul”. You do well in trying to bring all men into friendship with yourself.’

[229] The king spoke kindly to him and then asked the next, What is it that resembles beauty in value? And he said, ‘Piety, for it is the pre-eminent form of beauty, and its power lies in love, which is the gift of God. This you have already acquired and with it all the blessings of life.’

[230] The king in the most gracious way applauded the answer and asked another How, if he were to fail, he could regain his reputation again in the same degree? And he said, ‘It is not possible for you to fail, for you have sown in all men the seeds of gratitude which produce a harvest of goodwill, [231] and this is mightier than the strongest weapons and guarantees the greatest security. But if any man does fail, he must never again do those things which caused his failure, but he must form friendships and act justly. For it is the gift of God to be able to do good actions and not the contrary.’

[232] Delighted with these words, the king asked another How he could be free from grief? And he replied, ‘If he never injured any one, but did good to everybody and followed the pathway of [233] righteousness, for its fruits bring freedom from grief. But we must pray to God that unexpected evils such as death or disease or pain or anything of this kind may not come upon us and injure us. But since you are devoted to piety, no such misfortune will ever come upon you.’

[234] The king bestowed great praise upon him and asked the tenth, What is the highest form of glory? And he said, ‘To honour God, and this is done not with gifts and sacrifices but with purity of soul and holy conviction, since all things are fashioned and governed by God in accordance with His will. Of this purpose you are in constant possession as all men can see from your achievements in the past and in the present.’

[235] With loud voice the king greeted them all and spoke kindly to them, and all those who were present expressed their approval, especially the philosophers. For they were far superior to them [i.e. the philosophers] both in conduct and in argument, since they always made God their starting point. After this the king to show his good feeling proceeded to drink the health of his guests.

[236] On the following day the same arrangements were made for the banquet, and the king, as soon as an opportunity occurred, began to put questions to the men who sat next to those who had already responded, and he said to the first ‘Is wisdom capable of being taught?’ And he said, ‘The soul is so constituted that it is able by the divine power to receive all the good and reject the contrary.’

[237] The king expressed approval and asked the next man, What is it that is most beneficial to health? And he said, ‘Temperance, and it is not possible to acquire this unless God create a disposition towards it.’

[238] The king spoke kindly to the man and said to another, ‘How can a man worthily pay the debt of gratitude to his parents?’ And he said, ‘By never causing them pain, and this is not possible unless God dispose the mind to the pursuit of the noblest ends.’

[239] The king expressed agreement and asked the next How he could become an eager listener? And he said, ‘By remembering that all knowledge is useful, because it enables you by the help of God in a time of emergency to select some of the things which you have learned and apply them to the crisis which confronts you. And so the efforts of men are fulfilled by the assistance of God.’

[240] The king praised him and asked the next How he could avoid doing anything contrary to law? And he said, ‘If you recognize that it is God who has put the thoughts into the hearts of the lawgivers that the lives of men might be preserved, you will follow them.’

[241] The king acknowledged the man’s answer and said to another, ‘What is the advantage of kinship?’ And he replied, ‘If we consider that we ourselves are afflicted by the misfortunes which fall upon our relatives and if their sufferings become our own - then the strength of kinship is [242] apparent at once, for it is only when such feeling is shown that we shall win honour and esteem in their eyes. For help, when it is linked with kindliness, is of itself a bond which is altogether indissoluble. And in the day of their prosperity we must not crave their possessions, but must pray God to bestow all manner of good upon them.’

[243] And having accorded to him the same praise as to the rest, the king asked another How he could attain freedom from fear? And he said, ‘When the mind is conscious that it has wrought no evil, and when God directs it to all noble counsels.’

[244] The king expressed his approval and asked another How he could always maintain a right judgement? And he replied, ‘If he constantly set before his eyes the misfortunes which befall men and recognized that it is God who takes away prosperity from some and brings others to great honour and glory.’

[245] The king gave a kindly reception to the man and asked the next to answer the question How he could avoid a life of ease and pleasure? And he replied, ‘If he continually remembered that he was the ruler of a great empire and the lord of vast multitudes, and that his mind ought not to be occupied with other things, but he ought always to be considering how he could best promote their welfare. He must pray, too, to God that no duty might be neglected.’

[246] Having bestowed praise upon him, the king asked the tenth How he could recognize those who were dealing treacherously with him? And he replied to the question, ‘If he observed whether the bearing of those about him was natural and whether they maintained the proper rule of precedence at receptions and councils, and in their general intercourse, never going beyond the bounds of [247] propriety in congratulations or in other matters of deportment. But God will incline your mind, O King, to all that is noble.’ When the king had expressed his loud approval and praised them all individually (amid the plaudits of all who were present), they turned to the enjoyment of the feast.

[248] And on the next day, when the opportunity offered, the king asked the next man, What is the grossest form of neglect? And he replied, ‘If a man does not care for his children and devote every effort to their education. For w always pray to God not so much for ourselves as for our children that every blessing may be theirs. Our desire that our children may possess self-control is only realized by the power of God.’

[249] The king said that he had spoken well and then asked another How he could be patriotic? ‘By keeping before your mind,’ he replied, the thought that it is good to live and die in one’s own country. Residence abroad brings contempt upon the poor and shame upon the rich as though they had been banished for a crime. If you bestow benefits upon all, as you continually do, God will give you favour with all and you will be accounted patriotic.’

[250] After listening to this man, the king asked the next in order How he could live amicably with his wife? And he answered, ‘By recognizing that womankind are by nature headstrong and energetic in the pursuit of their own desires, and subject to sudden changes of opinion through fallacious reasoning, and their nature is essentially weak. It is necessary to deal wisely with them [251] and not to provoke strife. For the successful conduct of life the steersman must know the goal toward which he ought to direct his course. It is only by calling upon the help of God that men can steer a true course of life at all times.’

[252] The king expressed his agreement and asked the next How he could be free from error? And he replied, ‘If you always act with deliberation and never give credence to slanders, but prove for yourself the things that are said to you and decide by your own judgement the requests which are made to you and carry out everything in the light of your judgement, you will be free from error, O King. But the knowledge and practice of these things is the work of the Divine power.’

[253] Delighted with these words, the king asked another How he could be free from wrath? And he said in reply to the question, ‘If he recognized that he had power over all even to inflict death upon them, if he gave way to wrath, and that it would be useless and pitiful if he, just because he was lord, [254] deprived many of life. What need was there for wrath, when all men were in subjection and no one was hostile to him? It is necessary to recognize that God rules the whole world in the spirit of kindness and without wrath at all, and you,’ said he, ‘O king, must of necessity copy His example.

[255] The king said that he had answered well and then inquired of the next man, What is good counsel? ‘To act well at all times and with due reflection,’ he explained, ‘comparing what is advantageous to our own policy with the injurious effects that would result from the adoption of the opposite view, in order that by weighing every point we may be well advised and our purpose may be accomplished. And most important of all, by the power of God every plan of yours will find fulfilment because you practice piety.’

[256] The king said that this man had answered well, and asked another What is philosophy? And he explained, ‘To deliberate well in reference to any question that emerges and never to be carried away by impulses, but to ponder over the injuries that result from the passions, and to act rightly as the circumstances demand, practicing moderation. But we must pray to God to instil into our mind a regard for these things.’

[257] The king signified his consent and asked another How he could meet with recognition when travelling abroad? ‘By being fair to all men,’ he replied, ‘and by appearing to be inferior rather than superior to those amongst whom he was travelling. For it is a recognized principle that God by His very nature accepts the humble. And the human race loves those who are willing to be in subjection to them.’

[258] Having expressed his approval at this reply, the king asked another How he could build in such a way that his structures would endure after him? And he replied to the question, ‘If his creations were on a great and noble scale, so that the beholders would spare them for their beauty, and if he never dismissed any of those who wrought such works and never compelled others to minister to his [259] needs without wages. For observing how God provides for the human race, granting them health and mental capacity and all other gifts, he himself should follow His example by rendering to men a recompense for their arduous toil. For it is the deeds that are wrought in righteousness that abide continually.’

[260] The king said that this man, too, had answered well and asked the tenth, What is the fruit of wisdom? And he replied, ‘That a man should be conscious in himself that he has wrought no evil [261] and that he should live his life in the truth, since it is from these, O mighty King, that the greatest joy and steadfastness of soul and strong faith in God accrue to you if you rule your realm in piety.’ And when they heard the answer they all shouted with loud acclaim, and afterwards the king in the fullness of his joy began to drink their healths.

[262] And on the next day the banquet followed the same course as on previous occasions, and when the opportunity presented itself the king proceeded to put questions to the remaining guests, and [263] he said to the first, ‘How can a man keep himself from pride?’ And he replied, ‘If he maintains equality and remembers on all occasions that he is a man ruling over men. And God brings the proud to nought, and exalts the meek and humble.’

[264] The king spoke kindly to him and asked the next, Whom ought a man to select as his counsellors? and he replied, ‘ Those who have been tested in many affairs and maintain unmingled goodwill towards him and partake of his own disposition. And God manifests Himself to those who are worthy that these ends may be attained.’

[265] The king praised him and asked another, What is the most necessary possession for a king? ‘The friendship and love of his subjects,’ he replied, ‘for it is through this that the bond of goodwill is rendered indissoluble. And it is God who ensures that this may come to pass in accordance with your wish.’

[266] The king praised him and inquired of another, What is the goal of speech? And he replied, ‘To convince your opponent by showing him his mistakes in a well-ordered array of arguments. For in this way you will win your hearer, not by opposing him, but by bestowing praise upon him with a view to persuading him. And it is by the power of God that persuasion is accomplished.’

[267] The king said that he had given a good answer, and asked another How he could live amicably with the many different races who formed the population of his kingdom? ‘By acting the proper part towards each,’ he replied, ‘and taking righteousness as your guide, as you are now doing with the help of the insight which God bestows upon you.’

[268] The king was delighted by this reply, and asked another ‘Under what circumstances ought a man to suffer grief?’ ‘In the misfortunes that befall our friends,’ he replied, when we see that they are protracted and irremediable. Reason does not allow us to grieve for those who are dead and set free from evil, but all men do grieve over them because they think only of themselves and their own advantage. It is by the power of God alone that we can escape all evil.’

[269] The king said that he had given a fitting answer, and asked another, How is reputation lost? And he replied, When pride and unbounded self-confidence hold sway, dishonour and loss of reputation are engendered. For God is the Lord of all reputation and bestows it where He will.’

[270] The king gave his confirmation to the answer, and asked the next man, To whom ought men to entrust themselves? ‘To those,’ he replied, who serve you from goodwill and not from fear or self-interest, thinking only of their own gain. For the one is the sign of love, the other the mark of ill-will and time-serving. For the man who is always watching, for his own gain is a traitor at heart. But you possess the affection of all your subjects by the help of the good counsel which God bestows upon you.’

[271] The king said that he had answered wisely, and asked another, What is it that keeps a kingdom safe? And he replied to the question, ‘Care and forethought that no evil may be wrought by those who are placed in a position of authority over the people, and this you always do by the help of God who inspires you with grave judgement ‘.

[272] The king spoke words of encouragement to him, and asked another, What is it that maintains gratitude and honour? And he replied, ‘Virtue, for it is the creator of good deeds, and by it evil is destroyed, even as you exhibit nobility of character towards all by the gift which God bestows upon you.’

[273] The king graciously acknowledged the answer and asked the eleventh (since there were two more than seventy), How he could in time of war maintain tranquillity of soul? And he replied, ‘By remembering that he had done no evil to any of his subjects, and that all would fight for him in return for the benefits which they had received, knowing that even if they lose their lives, you will care for those [274] dependent on them. For you never fail to make reparation to any - such is the kind-heartedness with which God has inspired you.’ The king loudly applauded them all and spoke very kindly to them and then drank a long draught to the health of each, giving himself up to enjoyment, and lavishing the most generous and joyous friendship upon his guests.

[275] On the seventh day much more extensive preparations were made, and many others were present from the different cities (among them a large number of ambassadors). When an opportunity occurred, the king asked the first of those who had not yet been questioned How he could avoid [276] being deceived by fallacious reasoning? and he replied, ‘By noticing carefully the speaker, the thing spoken, and the subject under discussion, and by putting the same questions again after an interval in different forms. But to possess an alert mind and to be able to form a sound judgement in every case is one of the good gifts of God, and you possess it, O King.’

[277] The king loudly applauded the answer and asked another, Why is it that the majority of men never become virtuous? ‘Because,’ he replied, ‘all men are by nature intemperate and inclined to [278] pleasure. Hence, injustice springs up and a flood of avarice. The habit of virtue is a hindrance to those who are devoted to a life of pleasure because it enjoins upon them the preference of temperance and righteousness. For it is God who is the master of these things.’

[279] The king said that he had answered well, and asked, What ought kings to obey? And he said, ‘The laws, in order that by righteous enactments they may restore the lives of men. Even as you by such conduct in obedience to the Divine command have laid up in store for yourself a perpetual memorial.’

[280] The king said that this man, too, had spoken well, and asked the next, Whom ought we to appoint as governors? And he replied, ‘All who hate wickedness, and imitating your own conduct act righteously that they may maintain a good reputation constantly. For this is what you do, O mighty King,’ he said, ‘and it is God who has bestowed upon you the crown of righteousness.’

[281] The king loudly acclaimed the answer and then looking at the next man said, Whom ought we to appoint as officers over the forces?’ And he explained, ‘Those who excel in courage and righteousness and those who are more anxious about the safety of their men than to gain a victory by risking their lives through rashness. For as God acts well towards all men, so too you in imitation of Him are the benefactor of all your subjects.’

[282] The king said that he had given a good answer and asked another, What man is worthy of admiration? And he replied, The man who is furnished with reputation and wealth and power and possesses a soul equal to it all. You yourself show by your actions that you are most worthy of admiration through the help of God who makes you care for these things.’

[283] The king expressed his approval and said to another ‘To what affairs ought kings to devote most time?’ And he replied, ‘To reading and the study of the records of official journeys, which are written in reference to the various kingdoms, with a view to the reformation and preservation of the subjects. And it is by such activity that you have attained to a glory which has never been approached by others, through the help of God who fulfils all your desires.’

[284] The king spoke enthusiastically to the man and asked another How ought a man to occupy himself during his hours of relaxation and recreation? And he replied, ‘To watch those plays which can be acted with propriety and to set before one’s eyes scenes taken from life and enacted [285] with dignity and decency is profitable and appropriate. For there is some edification to be found even in these amusements, for often some desirable lesson is taught by the most insignificant affairs of life. But by practicing the utmost propriety in all your actions, you have shown that you are a philosopher and you are honoured by God on account of your virtue.’

[286] The king, pleased with the words which had just been spoken, said to the ninth man, How ought a man to conduct himself at banquets? And he replied, ‘You should summon to your side men of learning and those who are able to give you useful hints with regard to the affairs of your kingdom and the lives of your subjects (for you could not find any theme more suitable or more [287] educative than this) since such men are dear to God because they have trained their minds to contemplate the noblest themes - as you indeed are doing yourself, since all your actions are directed by God.’

[288] Delighted with the reply, the king inquired of the next man, What is best for the people? That a private citizen should be made king over them or a member of the royal family? And he [289] replied, He who is best by nature. For kings who come of royal lineage are often harsh and severe towards their subjects. And still more is this the case with some of those who have risen from the ranks of private citizens, who after having experienced evil and borne their share of [290] poverty, when they rule over multitudes turn out to be more cruel than the godless tyrants. But, as I have said, a good nature which has been properly trained is capable of ruling, and you are a great king, not so much because you excel in the glory of your rule and your wealth but rather because you have surpassed all men in clemency and philanthropy, thanks to God who has endowed you with these qualities.’

[291] The king spent some time in praising this man and then asked the last of all, What is the greatest achievement in ruling an empire? And he replied, ‘That the subjects should continually dwell in a state of peace, and that justice should be speedily administered in cases of dispute. [292] These results are achieved through the influence of the ruler, when he is a man who hates evil and loves the good and devotes his energies to saving the lives of men, just as you consider injustice the worst form of evil and by your just administration have fashioned for yourself an undying reputation, since God bestows upon you a mind which is pure and untainted by any evil.’

[293] And when he ceased, loud and joyful applause broke out for some considerable time. When it stopped the king took a cup and gave a toast in honour of all his guests and the words which they had uttered. Then in conclusion he said, ‘I have derived the greatest benefit from your presence. [294] I have profited much by the wise teaching which you have given me in reference to the art of ruling.’ Then he ordered that three talents of silver should be presented to each of them, and appointed one of his slaves to deliver over the money. All at once shouted their approval, and the banquet became a scene of joy, while the king gave himself up to a continuous round of festivity.

[295] I have written at length and must crave your pardon, Philocrates. I was astonished beyond measure at the men and the way in which on the spur of the moment they gave answers which [296] really needed a long time to devise. For though the questioner had given great thought to each particular question, those who replied one after the other had their answers to the questions ready at once and so they seemed to me and to all who were present and especially to the philosophers to be worthy of admiration. And I suppose that the thing will seem incredible to those who will [297] read my narrative in the future. But it is unseemly to misrepresent facts which are recorded in the public archives. And it would not be right for me to transgress in such a matter as this. I tell the story just as it happened, conscientiously avoiding any error. I was so impressed by the force of their utterances, that I made an effort to consult those whose business it was to make [298] a record of all that happened at the royal audiences and banquets. For it is the custom, as you know, from the moment the king begins to transact business until the time when he retires to rest, for a record to be taken of all his sayings and doings - a most excellent and useful arrangement. [299] For on the following day the minutes of the doings and sayings of the previous day are read over before business commences, and if there has been any irregularity, the matter is at once set right. [300] I obtained therefore, as has been said, accurate information from the public records, and I have set forth the facts in proper order since I know how eager you are to obtain useful information.

[301] Three days later Demetrius took the men and passing along the sea-wall, seven stadia long, to the island, crossed the bridge and made for the northern districts of Pharos. There he assembled them in a house, which had been built upon the sea-shore, of great beauty and in a secluded situation, and invited them to carry out the work of translation, since everything that they needed for the purpose [302] was placed at their disposal. So they set to work comparing their several results and making them agree, and whatever they agreed upon was suitably copied out under the direction of Demetrius. [303] And the session lasted until the ninth hour; after this they were set free to minister to their physical [304] needs. Everything they wanted was furnished for them on a lavish scale. In addition to this Dorotheus made the same preparations for them daily as were made for the king himself - for thus he had been commanded by the king. In the early morning they appeared daily at the Court, and [305] after saluting the king went back to their own place. And as is the custom of all the Jews, they washed their hands in the sea and prayed to God and then devoted themselves to reading and [306] translating the particular passage upon which they were engaged, and I put the question to them, Why it was that they washed their hands before they prayed? And they explained that it was a token that they had done no evil (for every form of activity is wrought by means of the hands) since in their noble and holy way they regard everything as a symbol of righteousness and truth.

[307] As I have already said, they met together daily in the place which was delightful for its quiet and its brightness and applied themselves to their task. And it so chanced that the work of translation was completed in seventy-two days, just as if this had been arranged of set purpose.

[308] When the work was completed, Demetrius collected together the Jewish population in the place where the translation had been made, and read it over to all, in the presence of the translators, who met with a great reception also from the people, because of the great benefits which they had [309] conferred upon them. They bestowed warm praise upon Demetrius, too, and urged him to have the whole law transcribed and present a copy to their leaders. [310] After the books had been read, the priests and the elders of the translators and the Jewish community and the leaders of the people stood up and said, that since so excellent and sacred and accurate a translation had been made, it was only right that it should remain as it was and no [311] alteration should be made in it. And when the whole company expressed their approval, they bade them pronounce a curse in accordance with their custom upon any one who should make any alteration either by adding anything or changing in any way whatever any of the words which had been written or making any omission. This was a very wise precaution to ensure that the book might be preserved for all the future time unchanged.

[312] When the matter was reported to the king, he rejoiced greatly, for he felt that the design which he had formed had been safely carried out. The whole book was read over to him and he was greatly astonished at the spirit of the lawgiver. And he said to Demetrius, ‘How is it that none of the historians or the poets have ever thought it worth their while to allude to such a wonderful [313] achievement?’ And he replied, ‘Because the law is sacred and of divine origin. And some of those who formed the intention of dealing with it have been smitten by God and therefore desisted from [314] their purpose.’ He said that he had heard from Theopompus that he had been driven out of his mind for more than thirty days because he intended to insert in his history some of the incidents from the earlier and somewhat unreliable translations of the law. When he had recovered [315] a little, he besought God to make it clear to him why the misfortune had befallen him. And it was revealed to him in a dream, that from idle curiosity he was wishing to communicate sacred truths to common men, and that if he desisted he would recover his health. I have heard, too, from the lips [316] of Theodectes, one of the tragic poets, that when he was about to adapt some of the incidents recorded in the book for one of his plays, he was affected with cataract in both his eyes. And when he perceived the reason why the misfortune had befallen him, he prayed to God for many days and was afterwards restored. [317] And after the king, as I have already said, had received the explanation of Demetrius on this point, he did homage and ordered that great care should be taken of the books, and that they should [318] be sacredly guarded. And he urged the translators to visit him frequently after their return to Judaea, for it was only right, he said, that he should now send them home. But when they came back, he [319] would treat them as friends, as was right, and they would receive rich presents from him. He ordered preparations to be made for them to return home, and treated them most munificently. He presented each one of them with three robes of the finest sort, two talents of gold, a sideboard weighing one talent, all the furniture for three couches. [320] And with the escort he sent Eleazar ten couches with silver legs and all the necessary equipment, a sideboard worth thirty talents, ten robes, purple, and a magnificent crown, and a hundred pieces of the finest woven linen, also bowls and dishes, and two golden beakers to be dedicated to God. [321] He urged him also in a letter that if any of the men preferred to come back to him, not to hinder them. For he counted it a great privilege to enjoy the society of such learned men, and he would rather lavish his wealth upon them than upon vanities.

[322] And now Philocrates, you have the complete story in accordance with my promise. I think that you find greater pleasure in these matters than in the writings of the mythologists. For you are devoted to the study of those things which can benefit the soul, and spend much time upon it. I shall attempt to narrate whatever other events are worth recording, that by perusing them you may secure the highest reward for your zeal.

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If you don’t have your own copy of Brenton’s Septuagint, you may have never read Brenton’s introduction to the 1870 re-issue edition of his English translation of the Septuagint (LXX).

Rather than providing commentary, I though I would simply provide the text and allow you to draw your own conclusions. So, without further ado, let’s dig into Brenton’s Introduction.

1870 INTRODUCTION

An Historical Account of the Septuagint Version

The earliest version of the Old Testament Scriptures which is extant, or of which we possess any certain knowledge, is the translation executed at Alexandria in the third century before the Christian era: this version has been so habitually known by the name of the Septuagint, that the attempt of some learned men in modern times to introduce the designation of the Alexandrian version (as more correct) has been far from successful.

The history of the origin of this translation was embellished with various fables at so early a period, that it has been a work of patient critical research in later times to bring into plain light the facts which may be regarded as well authenticated.

We need not wonder that but little is known with accuracy on this subject; for, with regard to the ancient versions of the Scriptures in general, we possess no information whatever as to the time or place of their execution, or by whom they were made: we simply find such versions in use at particular times, and thus we gather the fact that they must have been previously executed. If, then, our knowledge of the origin of the Septuagint be meagre, it is at least more extensive than that which we possess of other translations.

After the conquests of Alexander had brought Egypt under Macedonian rule, the newly-founded city of Alexandria became especially a place where the Greek language, although by no means in its purest form, was the medium of written and spoken communication amongst the varied population there brought together. This Alexandrian dialect is the idiom in which the Septuagint Version was made.

Amongst other inhabitants of Alexandria the number of Jews was considerable: many appear to have settled there even from the first founding of the city, and it became the residence of many more during the reign of the first Ptolemy. Hence the existence of the sacred books of the Jews would easily become known to the Greek population.

The earliest writer who gives an account of the Septuagint Version is Aristobulus, a Jew who lived at the commencement of the second century b.c. He says that the version of the Law into Greek was completed under the reign of Ptolemy Philadelphus, and that Demetrius Phalereus had been employed about it. Now, Demetrius died about the beginning of the reign of Ptolemy Philadelphus, and hence it has been reasonably inferred that Aristobulus is a witness that the work of translation had been commenced under Ptolemy Soter.

Different opinions have been formed as to what is intended by Aristobulus when he speaks of the Law: some consider that he refers merely to the Pentateuch, while others extend the signification to the Old Testament Scriptures in general: the former opinion appears to be favoured by the strict meaning of the terms used; the latter by the mode in which the Jews often applied the name of Law to the whole of their sacred writings.

The fact may, however, be regarded as certain, that prior to the year 285 b.c. the Septuagint Version had been commenced, and that in the reign of Ptolemy Philadelphus, either the books in general or at least an important part of them had been completed.

The embellishments and fictitious additions which this account soon received might be scarcely worthy of notice in this place, were it not that they are intimately connected with the authority which this version was once supposed to possess, and with the name by which it is commonly known.

A writer, who calls himself Aristeas, says that when Ptolemy Philadelphus was engaged in the formation of the Alexandrian Library, he was advised by Demetrius Phalereus to procure a translation of the sacred books of the Jews. The king accordingly, as a preliminary, purchased the freedom of more than one hundred thousand Jewish captives, and he then sent a deputation, of which Aristeas himself was one, to Eleazar the high-priest to request a copy of the Jewish Law and seventy-two interpreters, six out of each tribe. To this the priest is represented to have agreed; and after the arrival of the translators and their magnificent reception by the king, they are said to have been conducted to an island by Demetrius, who wrote down the renderings on which they agreed by mutual conference; and thus the work is stated to have been completed in seventy-two days. The translators are then said to have received from the king most abundant rewards; and the Jews are stated to have asked permission to take copies of the version.

Other additions were subsequently made to this story: some said that each translator was shut into a separate cell, and that all by divine inspiration made their versions word for word alike; others said that there were two in each cell, accompanied by an amanuensis; but at all events miracle and direct inspiration were supposed to be connected with the translation: hence we cannot wonder that the authority attached to this version in the minds of those who believed these stories was almost unbounded.

The basis of truth which appears to be under this story seems to be, that it was an Egyptian king who caused the translation to be made, and that it was from the Royal Library at Alexandria that the Hellenistic Jews received the copies which they used.

In examining the version itself, it bears manifest proof that it was not executed by Jews of Palestine, but by those of Egypt:—there are words and expressions which plainly denote its Alexandrian origin: this alone would be a sufficient demonstration that the narrative of Aristeas is a mere fiction. It may also be doubted whether in the year 285 b.c. there were Jews in Palestine who had sufficient intercourse with the Greeks to have executed a translation into that language; for it must be borne in mind how recently they had become the subjects of Greek monarchs, and how differently they were situated from the Alexandrians as to the influx of Greek settlers.

Some in rejecting the fabulous embellishments have also discarded all connected with them: they have then sought to devise new hypotheses as to the origin of the version. Some have thus supposed that the translation was made by Alexandrian Jews for their own use, in order to meet a necessity which they had felt to have a version of the Scriptures in the tongue which had become vernacular to them.

There would be, however, many difficulties in the way of this hypothesis. We would hardly suppose that in a space of thirty-five years the Alexandrian Jews had found such a translation needful or desirable: we must also bear in mind that we find at this period no trace of any versions having been made by Jews into the languages of other countries in which they had continued for periods much longer than that of their settlement at Alexandria.

The most reasonable conclusion is, that the version was executed for the Egyptian king; and that the Hellenistic Jews afterwards used it as they became less and less familiar with the language of the original.

If the expression of Aristobulus does not designate the whole of the books of the Old Testament as translated in the time of Ptolemy Philadelphus, the question arises, When, were the other books besides the Pentateuch turned into Greek? To this no definite answer could be given: we may however be certain that various interpreters were occupied in translating various parts, and in all probability the interval between the commencement and the conclusion of the work was not great.

The variety of the translators is proved by the unequal character of the version: some books show that the translators were by no means competent to the task, while others, on the contrary, exhibit on the whole a careful translation. The Pentateuch is considered to be the part the best executed, while the book of Isaiah appears to be the very worst.

In estimating the general character of the version, it must be remembered that the translators were Jews, full of traditional thoughts of their own as to the meaning of Scripture; and thus nothing short of a miracle could have prevented them from infusing into their version the thoughts which were current in their own minds. They could only translate passages as they themselves understood them. This is evidently the case when their work is examined.

It would be, however, too much to say that they translated with dishonest intention; for it cannot be doubted that they wished to express their Scriptures truly in Greek, and that their deviations from accuracy may be simply attributed to the incompetency of some of the interpreters, and the tone of mental and spiritual feeling which was common to them all.

One difficulty which they had to overcome was that of introducing theological ideas, which till then had only their proper terms in Hebrew, into a language of Gentiles, which till then had terms for no religious notions except those of heathens. Hence the necessity of using many words and phrases in new and appropriated senses.

These remarks are not intended as depreciatory of the Septuagint Version: their object is rather to show what difficulties the translators had to encounter, and why in some respects they failed; as well as to meet the thought which has occupied the minds of some, who would extol this version as though it possessed something resembling co-ordinate authority with the Hebrew text itself.

One of the earliest of those writers who mention the Greek translation of the Scriptures, speaks also of the version as not fully adequate. The Prologue of Jesus the son of Sirach (written as many suppose b.c. 130) to his Greek version of his grandfather’s work, states: οὐ γὰρ ἰσοδυναμεῖ αὐτὰ ἐν ἑαυτοῖς Ἑβραϊστὶ λεγόμενα, καὶ ὅταν μεταξθῇ εἰς ἑτέραν γλῶσσαν· οὐ μόνον δὲ ταῦτα, ἀλλὰ καὶ αὐτος ὁ νόμος καὶ αἱ προφητεῖαι, καὶ τὰ λοιπὰ τῶν βιβλὶων οὐ μικρὰν ἔχει τὴν διαφορὰν ἐν ἑαυτοῖς λεγόμενα: “For the same things expressed in Hebrew have not an equal force when translated into another language. Not only so, but even the Law and the prophecies and the rest of the books differ not a little as to the things said in them.” The writer of this Prologue had come into Egypt from the Holy Land: he had undertaken the translation of his grandfather’s work into Greek, but in explanation of the difficulty which he had to encounter in this work, he refers to the defects found even in the version of the Law, the prophets, and the other books, of which he had previously spoken. Doubtless coming into Egypt he was more conscious of the defects of the Septuagint Version than could have been the case with Egyptian Jews, who had used the translation commonly and habitually for a century and a quarter.

At Alexandria the Hellenistic Jews used the version, and gradually attached to it the greatest possible authority: from Alexandria it spread amongst the Jews of the dispersion, so that at the time of our Lord’s birth it was the common form in which the Old Testament Scriptures had become diffused.

In examining the Pentateuch of the Septuagint in connection with the Hebrew text, and with the copies preserved by the Samaritans in their crooked letters, it is remarkable that in very many passages the readings of the Septuagint accord with the Samaritan copies where they differ from the Jewish. We cannot here notice the various theories which have been advanced to account for this accordance of the Septuagint with the Samaritan copies of the Hebrew; indeed it is not very satisfactory to enter into the details of the subject, because no theory hitherto brought forward explains all the facts, or meets all the difficulties. To one point, however, we will advert, because it has not been sufficiently taken into account,—in the places in which the Samaritan and Jewish copies of the Hebrew text differ, in important and material points, the Septuagint accords much more with the Jewish than with the Samaritan copies, and in a good many points it introduces variations unknown to either.

The Septuagint Version having been current for about three centuries before the time when the books of the New Testament were written, it is not surprising that the Apostles should have used it more often than not in making citations from the Old Testament. They used it as an honestly-made version in pretty general use at the time when they wrote. They did not on every occasion give an authoritative translation of each passage de novo, but they used what was already familiar to the ears of converted Hellenists, when it was sufficiently accurate to suit the matter in hand. In fact, they used it as did their contemporary Jewish writers, Philo and Josephus, but not, however, with the blind implicitness of the former.

In consequence of the fact that the New Testament writers used on many occasions the Septuagint Version, some have deduced a new argument for its authority,—a theory which we might have thought to be sufficiently disproved by the defects of the version, which evince that it is merely a human work. But the fact that the New Testament writers used this version on many occasions supplies a new proof in opposition to the idea of its authority, for in not a few places they do not follow it, but they supply a version of their own which rightly represents the Hebrew text, although contradicting the Septuagint.

The use, however, which the writers of the New Testament have made of the Septuagint Version must always invest it with a peculiar interest; we thus see what honour God may be pleased to put on an honestly-made version, since we find that inspired writers often used such a version, when it was sufficiently near the original to suit the purpose for which it was cited, instead of rendering the Hebrew text de novo on every occasion.

Another important point on which the Septuagint stands in close connection with the New Testament is the general phraseology of the version,—a phraseology in which the traces of Hebrew elements are most marked, but with regard to which we should mistake greatly if we supposed that it originated with the New Testament writers. Thus we may see that the study of the Septuagint is almost needful to any biblical scholar who wishes to estimate adequately the phraseology and usus loquendi of the New Testament.

Besides the direct citations in the New Testament in which the Septuagint is manifestly used, there are not a few passages in which it is clear that the train of expression has been formed on words and phrases of the Septuagint: thus an intimate acquaintance with this version becomes in a manner necessary on the part of an expositor who wishes to enter accurately into the scope of many parts of the New Testament.

Thus, whatever may be our estimate of the defects found in the Septuagint—its inadequate renderings, its departures from the sense of the Hebrew, its doctrinal deficiencies owing to the limited apprehensions of the translators—there is no reason whatever for our neglecting the version, or not being fully alive to its real value and importance.

After the diffusion of Christianity, copies of the Septuagint became widely dispersed amongst the new communities that were formed; so that before many years had elapsed this version must have been as much in the hands of Gentiles as of Jews.

The veneration with which the Jews had treated this version (as is shown in the case of Philo and Josephus), gave place to a very contrary feeling when they found how it could be used against them in argument: hence they decried the version, and sought to deprive it of all authority. As the Gentile Christians were generally unacquainted with Hebrew, they were unable to meet the Jews on the ground which they now took; and as the Gentile Christians at this time believed the most extraordinary legends of the origin of the version, so that they fully embraced the opinions of its authority and inspiration, they necessarily regarded the denial on the part of the Jews of its accuracy, as little less than blasphemy, and as a proof of their blindness.

In the course of the second century, three other complete versions of the Old Testament into Greek were executed: these are of importance in this place, because of the manner in which they were afterwards connected with the Septuagint.

The first of the Greek versions of the Old Testament executed in the second century was that of Aquila. He is described as a Jew or Jewish proselyte of Pontus, and the date commonly attributed to his version is about the year a.d. 126. His translation is said to have been executed for the express purpose of opposing the authority of the Septuagint: his version was in consequence upheld by the Jews. His labour was evidently directed in opposing the passages which the Christians were accustomed to cite from the Septuagint as applicable to the Lord Jesus. The general characteristic of this version is bold literality of rendering: such an endeavour is made to render each Hebrew word and particle into Greek, that all grammar is often set at defiance, and not unfrequently the sense is altogether sacrificed. From the scrupulosity of Aquila in rendering each Hebrew word, his work, if we possessed it complete (and not merely in scattered fragments), would be of great value in textual criticism.

Another Greek translator at a subsequent period in the second century was Symmachus. He is described as an Ebionite, a kind of semi-Christian. His version seems to have been executed in good and pure Greek: perhaps he was the more particular in his attention to this in consequence of the mere barbarism of Aquila.

A third translator in the same century was Theodotion, an Ebionite like Symmachus, to whom he was probably anterior. His version is in many parts based on the Septuagint. He is less servile in his adherence to the words of the Hebrew than Aquila, although he is void of the freedom of Symmachus. His knowledge of Hebrew was certainly but limited, and without the Septuagint it is hardly probable that he could have undertaken this version.

Thus, before the end of the second century there were, besides the Septuagint, three versions of the Old Testament in Greek, known to both Jews and Christians. All this could not fail in making the Old Testament Scriptures better known and more widely read.

Although many Christians believed in the inspiration and authority of the Septuagint, yet this could not have been universally the case; otherwise the disuse of the real Septuagint Version of the book of Daniel, and the adoption of that of Theodotion in its stead, could never have taken place. This must have arisen from an apprehension of the poverty and inaccuracy of the Septuagint in this book, so that another version similar in its general style was gladly adopted.

We have now to speak of the labours of Origen in connection with the text of the Septuagint. This learned and enterprising scholar, having acquired a knowledge of Hebrew, found that in many respects the copies of the Septuagint differed from the Hebrew text. It seems to be uncertain whether he regarded such differences as having arisen from mistakes on the part of copyists, or from errors of the original translators themselves.

The object which he proposed to himself was not to restore the Septuagint to its original condition, nor yet to correct mere errors of translation simply as such, but to cause that the Church should possess a text of the Septuagint in which all additions to the Hebrew should be marked with an obelus, and in which all that the Septuagint omitted should be added from one of the other versions marked with an asterisk. He also indicated readings in the Septuagint which were so incorrect that the passage ought to be changed for the corresponding one in another version.

With the object of thus amending the Septuagint, he formed his great works, the Hexapla and Tetrapla; these were (as the names imply) works in which the page was divided respectively into six columns and into four columns.

The Hexapla contained, 1st, the Hebrew text; 2nd, the Hebrew text expressed in Greek characters; 3rd, the version of Aquila; 4th, that of Symmachus; 5th, the Septuagint; 6th, Theodotion. The Tetrapla contained merely the four last columns.

Besides these four versions of the entire Old Testament, Origen employed three anonymous Greek versions of particular books; these are commonly called the fifth, sixth, and seventh versions. Hence in the parts in which two of these versions are added, the work was designated Octapla, and where all the three appeared, it was called Enneapla.

References were then made from the column of the Septuagint to the other versions, so as to complete and correct it: for this purpose Theodotion was principally used. This recension by Origen has generally been called the Hexaplar text. The Hexapla itself is said never to have been copied: what remains of the versions which it contained (mere fragments) was edited by Montfaucon in 1714, and in an abridged edition by Bahrdt in 1769–70.

The Hexaplar text of the Septuagint was copied about half a century after Origen’s death by Pamphilus and Eusebius; it thus obtained a circulation; but the errors of copyists soon confounded the marks of addition and omission which Origen placed, and hence the text of the Septuagint became almost hopelessly mixed up with that of other versions.

The Hexaplar text is best known from a Syriac version which was made from it; of this many books have been published from a MS. at Milan; other books are now in the British Museum amongst the rest of the Syriac treasures obtained from the Nitrian monasteries. This Syro-Hexaplar translation preserves the marks of the Greek text, and the references to the other translations. It may yet be made of great use in separating the readings which were introduced by Origen from those of an older date.

There were two other early attempts to revise the Septuagint besides that of Origen. In the beginning of the fourth century, Lucian, a presbyter of Antioch, and Hesychius, an Egyptian bishop, undertook similar labours of the same kind. These two recensions (which they were in the proper sense of the term) were much used in the Eastern Churches.

From the fourth century and onward, we know of no definite attempt to revise the text of the Septuagint, or to correct the discrepancies of various copies. It is probable, however, that just as the text of the Greek New Testament became in a great measure fixed into the same form as we find it in the modern copies, something of the same kind must have been the case with the Septuagint. As to the Greek New Testament, this seems to have occurred about the eleventh century, when the mass of copies were written within the limits of the patriarchate of Constantinople. It is probable that certain copies approved at the metropolis, both politically and religiously, of those who used the Greek tongue, were tacitly taken as a kind of standard.

We find amongst the members of the Eastern Churches who use the Greek language, that the Septuagint has been and is still so thoroughly received as authentic Scripture, that any effort to introduce amongst them versions which accurately represent the Hebrew (as has been attempted in modern times) has been wholly fruitless.

Thus the Septuagint demands our attention, were it only from the fact that the whole circle of religious ideas and thoughts amongst Christians in the East has always been moulded according to this version. Without an acquaintance with the Septuagint, numerous allusions in the writings of the Fathers become wholly unintelligible, and even important doctrinal discussions and difficulties (such even as some connected with the Arian controversy) become wholly unintelligible.

As the Septuagint was held in such honour in the East, it is no cause for surprise that this version was the basis of the other translations which were made in early times into vernacular tongues. There was, however, also another reason;—the general ignorance of the original Hebrew amongst the early Christians prevented their forming their translations from the fountain itself. The especial exception to this remark is the Syriac version of the Old Testament formed at once from the Hebrew.

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If you don’t have your own copy of Brenton’s Septuagint, you may have never read Brenton’s original preface to the 1844 edition, the very first widely accessible English translation of the Septuagint (LXX).

Rather than providing commentary, I though I would simply provide the text and allow you to draw your own conclusions. So, without further ado, let’s dig into Brenton’s Preface.

ORIGINAL 1844 PREFACE

Some introduction may be necessary to a work like the present, to explain its nature and establish its utility. To translate a translation when both the original and a direct version of that are in our hands appears a thankless task, and yet it may not be difficult to show that so peculiar is the case of the Septuagint as to vindicate a process which if adopted with regard to any other work would be comparatively useless.

There^*is little doubt that part of this Version was made towards the commencement of the reign of Ptolemy Philadelphus about the year b.c. 280. The Jews of Alexandria whether by his command or of their own accord translated a portion of the Scriptures into Greek. The popular story of the seventy-two Interpreters, attributed to Aristsæas, may be dismissed as a fabulous legend; though we have internal evidence from the very words of the version that the writers belonged to Alexandria or at least to Egypt.

This portion when completed was referred to the Jewish Sanhedrim at Alexandria, and revised and approved by them, which circumstance was probably the real origin of the name Septuagint. The remaining part of the Translation was executed at different periods, and, as the wide diversity of style would lead us to suppose, by different hands.

We proceed to notice the principal advantages to be derived from the study of this ancient version, on which of course the utility of any translation made from it must depend.

The Septuagint either agrees with the Hebrew, or it differs from it. If it agrees, the manifest coincidence of the oldest version extant will form an interesting evidence of the purity of the original text,—of the fidelity of the version, and also,—of the correctness of our own translation, the authorised English Bible.

On the other hand, if the Septuagint does not agree with the Hebrew, many considerations naturally occur to our minds, involving questions of greater or less magnitude, but of deep interest to such as prize the integrity and inspiration of Scripture. Such are—the purity of the Hebrew text—the correctness of our English Translation—the value, antiquity and genuineness of the Hebrew points—the degree of sanction given by the Apostles to the Septuagint by their quotations from it in the New Testament, especially where those quotations are accompanied with variations from the Hebrew—the effects which such discrepancies should have upon our minds with regard to the extent of inspiration.

Happily for the Church of God, the grand questions of the Inspiration of Scripture, of the Purity of the sacred text, and the Correctness of the English Version do not remain to be settled. Nor if they did would the writer of these pages venture to discuss them. Here he may safely assume that they are settled. All that he has to do is to notice the bearing which a comparison of the Septuagint with the Hebrew has upon the subjects above referred to.

It cannot be denied that there are cases in which the Septuagint appears as a witness in favour of the unpointed text. Remove the points and the Hebrew is found on some occasions to speak the language of the New Testament. Perhaps we can hardly select a more striking instance of this than is afforded by Gen. xlvii. 31, compared with Hebrews xi. 21. We will give the quotation at full length that our readers may understand both the difficulty and the solution. In the English version of Heb. xi. 21, Jacob is said to have worshipped, leaning on the top of his staff: (according to the Roman versions, worshipped the top of his staff). The following is a literal quotation from the Septuagint of Genesis Avith which the English version is at variance:

Gr. προσεκύνησεν ἐπὶ τὸ ἄκρον τῆς ῥάβδου αὐτοῦ.

Eng. Ver. bowed himself upon the bed’s head.

The difference is occasioned by the punctuation of the Hebrew, the Septuagint Translators reading מטה matte, staff, the English Translators מִטָּה mittah, bed.

The writer believes this instance to be one of the strongest, if not the very strongest that can be adduced in favour of the unpointed Hebrew text, as far as the Septuagint is concerned.

Closely connected with the subject of the Hebrew points is that interesting question, How are we to reconcile the apparent discrepancies between the Apostolic quotations in the New Testament and the Hebrew original? (i. e. in those cases where neither the change nor obliteration of the points would help us.) For the apparent mistranslations are quoted by the inspired writers. One or two instances will suffice. The Septuagint rendering of Psalm iv. 4, is Ὀργίζεσθε καὶ μὴ ἁμαρτάνετε, Be ye angry and sin not. These words are quoted by St. Paul Eph. iv. 26. The meaning of the Hebrew (according to the English Version) is, Stand in awe and sin not.

Again, the literal rendering of the Hebrew in Prov. xi. 31, is, Behold the righteous shall be recompensed in the earth, much more the wicked and the sinner. But the Septuagint Version of the words is, Ἐι ὁ μὲν δίκαιος μόλις σώζεται, ὁ ἀσεβὴς καὶ ἁμαρτωλὸς ποῦ φανεῖται; If the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear? This passage is familiar to our readers as part of the first Epistle of Peter, iv. 18. Now allowing that the first instance is a more literal rendering of the original than the common one, it will hardly be said that the verse in Proverbs is more than a paraphrase of the Hebrew.^*

The question, we must remember, has been throughout, not are such citations consistent with the general tenor of Scripture truth? but do they interfere with or destroy the doctrine of plenary verbal inspiration? The writer believes they do not, and (to present the argument in as condensed a form as possible) chiefly for this reason, that what was uninspired before quotation becomes inspired after; or rather quotation by the Holy Ghost is the very stamp and seal of inspiration affixed to the words at the moment He condescends to use them. If God can employ human means, including human words and phrases too, not the pure tongue of Paradise, but language in itself (till purged by Him) witnessing to the pollution of man’s sinful lips, may not the Heavenly Dove light upon truth, which has been ignorantly perhaps, foolishly, perversely uttered, and yet truth, and therefore infinitely precious, because of its capacity to minister to the spiritual wants of the children of God? If any think this language too strong let them refer to Tit. i. 12, 13, where we have the testimony of inspiration itself to assure us that God can take words of one nationally and as it were constitutionally a liar and add this sanction, This witness is true.

Much confusion and difficulty may indeed be avoided if we bear in mind that it is throughout a question not of originality but of inspiration, save that whatever is good anywhere must of course be original with the Father of lights, whatever the channel through which it happens to flow.

In reply then to the question, how far does the apostolic quotation of a part of the Septuagint warrant the inspiration of the whole? we venture to state that it is no warrant at all. What the Holy Ghost touches it hallows—beyond this the translation, whatever its excellence, comes into our hands as the work of fallible man.

As such, however, it is highly valuable. It is not only a translation of the Old Testament, but it is the Old Testament translated into the language of the New. Let it be remembered that the Gospel was in its aspect to the world a Hellenistic thing. In the providential designs of God “the Roman was the herald to proclaim silence to the world, the Greek was the interpreter.” And this was in keeping with the extension of the Gospel to the Gentiles. It did not merely facilitate the grand scheme of universal preaching, but Greeks, in the language of Scripture, were Gentiles and Gentiles were Greeks. See John vii. 35; Rom. i. 14. There is reason to believe that the very knowledge of Hebrew now existing among us has been won, in measure at least, by the patient labour of many who at one time or another diligently compared the original Scriptures with the Septuagint.

There is indeed one benefit of a still higher order to be derived from this version than even the elucidation of the Hebrew Scriptures. This is the correction of the Hebrew text itself. There is danger, doubtless, of pressing this argument too far, and of weakening the confidence of the multitude in our copies of Scripture, but a very few instances will serve to establish the value of the Septuagint in this respect without unduly or falsely lowering the reputation of the Hebrew.^*In Genesis iv. 8, the Hebrew is rendered in the English version Cain talked with Abel his brother. But the analogy of the Hebrew language requires that the words should rather be translated Cain said to Abel his brother (the words of the speaker following). These words the Septuagint supplies, “Let us go into the field.” Again, Deut. xxxii. 43, the following words occur in the Septuagint, “Rejoice, ye heavens, with him and let all the angels of God worship him.” This passage does not occur in our present Hebrew copies, and yet they are quoted in the epistle to the Hebrews i. 6. Another very remarkable instance of the use of the Septuagint in thus correcting the Hebrew is afforded by the omission of a verse in one of the acrostic Psalms, (cxliv. 13), where the order of the alphabet requires that it should begin with נ. This verse also the Septuagint supplies.

This may be a suitable place for a few words in explanation of the obeli and asterisks of Origen. If the Septuagint does not perfectly accord with the Hebrew, there are only two ways in one or both of which they can possibly differ. 1. By the Hebrew containing what is omitted in the Septuagint. 2. By the Septuagint containing what is omitted in the Hebrew. In the former case Origen supplied the omission from some Greek translation then extant (chiefly that of Theodotion) and marked the inserted words with an asterisk; in the latter he affixed an obelus to those passages of the Septuagint to which there was nothing in the Hebrew to correspond. These two signs contribute powerfully to establish the superior claims of the Vatican copy. For on the one hand this copy contains those passages which early Christian writers represent as having been omitted in the Hebrew, but supplied and obelised by Origen. On the other hand of those passages which occur in the Hebrew but not in the Septuagint, and are said to have been marked with an asterisk by Origen, not one appears in the Vatican.

It may be urged, and that in connexion with what has been already said, that there are many reasons for publishing the Septuagint, but few for translating it. Let scholars, it may be said, make the most of it, and give others the benefit of the comparison, but the unlearned who are confined to translations may be satisfied with the translation of the Hebrew. Beyond this things might be left to find their own level. Let the Greek Septuagint be published in a cheap and accessible form and the march of mind will soon supply readers.

But the march of intellect is not the march of literature. If the reading population of the country promises to double itself in a few years, the thinking part of the community increases at a still more rapid rate. And their judgment of books must sometimes precede the reading of them. To inform this judgment is one great use of translations. It is well worthy of consideration (strange as it may appear) that the studies of the learned are, and to a certain extent must be, directed by the unlearned. These cannot indeed teach what they do not know, but they can decide what shall be taught, a material difference which has been too frequently overlooked. The sons of widows, of commercial and military men, of tradesmen and mechanics, whose success in business enables them to aspire to a better education for their children than they have themselves enjoyed, these if they receive a learned education at all, have a learned education chosen by their parents, who frequently know very little what their children are taught. They have read it may be Pope’s Homer and Dryden’s Virgil, beyond this their acquaintance with the books their children are reading does not extend.

It is a just remark, we believe, of Archbishop Whately, that it would be well if a translation of the plays acted at Westminster school were put into the hands of the boys’ mothers. If a translation of bad books is useful to teach parents what to refuse, still more desirable is a translation of good books to teach them what to choose. Why then, it may be asked, is the Septuagint so little known and so little valued? The answer is Because it has not been translated.

On the subject of the preference that should be given to sacred studies in the education of children we may learn even from Roman Catholics, one of whom represents the Septuagint as a most suitable introduction to the study of profane Greek writers.^†Our readers are familiar with the history of a king of Pontus who endeavoured in his old age to poison himself, but the antidotes he had taken in his youth happily rendered the attempt ineffectual. Too frequently in the education of children professed Christians and Protestants reverse this order. The poison is taken first and in youth, the system is deeply inoculated with it, the antidote if taken at all, is taken too late. We are well aware of the grand objection to the introduction of the Septuagint into schools, viz. that the Greek is not classical. Not to provoke the hostility of the whole learned world by venturing a word against Homer, why should not the Septuagint be allowed a place as well as Theocritus? The study of selections from this poet is considered to interfere little with the general attainment of a knowledge of Greek, though the dialect varies far more from the attic purity of Thucydides and Xenophon than does the Septuagint.

One effect that might be anticipated from the growing attention on the part of Christians to the whole Word of God and to the Hebrew Scriptures in particular, is, that the credit of the Septuagint would suffer in consequence. The writer is of opinion that the reverse will be the case. The effect may be indeed to lower the extravagant pretensions of those of its admirers who would exalt it to the disparagement of the Hebrew, or claim for it the rank of an inspired composition; but this will only reduce it to its just level, that of an extremely useful translation.

The dangerous acquirement of a little Hebrew learning will be less likely to flatter its possessor, when it is shared with many others, or improved into a competent acquaintance with the language and its difficulties. The Septuagint will be welcomed not indeed as the rival, but the handmaid of the Hebrew Scriptures, the pleasing tribute of Gentile literature to the House of God; who from the midst of all the infidelity and error that darken the earth can elicit blessings for his people; who could make the inauspicious land of Egypt at one time a shelter for ‘the young child’ from the jealousy of a Jewish king, at another the faithful repository of the written Word. The Jews were thus providentially led to deposit a pledge for the truth of the Gospel which they could never recall, and in the heart of their inspired records had treasured up a picture of the Man of Sorrows of which it was too late to deny the likeness to Jesus of Nazareth.

The translation has been made from the Vatican text (Valpy’s edition) with occasional insertions of Alexandrine readings in the notes. As these have seldom been added, except where they seemed to elucidate or otherwise improve upon the Vatican text, they would of course convey far too favourable an opinion of that copy to any one who should form a judgment of it from a review of those passages alone. The comparative merits of the two copies have been the subject of much controversy, but the question is yet undecided. The general opinion appears to be in favour of the Vatican, while at the same time many obscure passages are rendered clear, and many omissions supplied by the Alexandrine text.

Most of the references to the New Testament are taken from the list in Spearman’s Letters on the Septuagint, (pp. 348–352), a work containing some valuable remarks, but tinctured throughout with the opinions of Hutchinson, and stating, rather than answering, the question we have been considering relative to the quotations from the Septuagint found in the New Testament.

In the notes also, though very rarely, there appears the name of Thomson, the American translator. The writer has himself never seen that work, but some alterations and improvements were made from it by a friend (Mr. Charles Pridham) who had the opportunity of comparing the two, and to whom he is otherwise indebted for the correction of many errors. While thus acknowledging our obligations to Thomson, we are of course not likely to speak slightingly of his work. If there are faults, they are probably those of a vigorous and independent mind, better fitted to engage in original attempts than to submit to the drudgery of translation.

The LXX Scrolls is free to read and always will be. If this work has been worth something to you, there are a few ways to say so:

Buy the ebooks. Completed teaching series are available as polished ebooks under the Two Witnesses, One Truth series. Buying through Curios will support this work most directly but they’re also available on Amazon (and elsewhere) if you’re loyal to a particular ereader.

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I need to tell you something a little embarrassing.

The first time I heard Casting Crowns’ “If We Are the Body,” I almost laughed.

It came on while I was driving, streaming the Christian Rock station on Amazon Music. I was barely into my walk with Jesus at the time.

Okay, that’s actually overstating it. I wasn’t even a believer yet, to be honest. I was still in the exploration phase, still trying to figure out whether any of this was actually true. I had started listening to Christian music as part of that process, letting it wash over me while I drove, seeing if anything resonated. Looking for anything that could help me feel something.

And then the chorus hit. The song asks, in essence: if the church is the body of Christ, then why aren’t we reaching out, healing, teaching, going where we’re needed? Why isn’t Christ’s love showing through us?

And I felt smug. Almost vindicated.

See? I thought. Even devout Christians admit it. The church is full of hypocrites. None of these people actually live the way Christ admonished his followers to.

Now, I need to give you some context for why that was my gut reaction. I was raised in the LDS (Mormon) church in Utah, where the religion isn’t just something you do on Sunday; it’s the fabric of the community. I walked away from it at the tender age of eight because even then, something felt deeply off to me. Too much of what I was being taught didn’t add up, and too much of what I saw in the people around me (especially the church leadership) just didn’t match what they preached.

In the Mormon church where I grew up, the expectation was that you dressed up in dresses and suits for service. Showing up in jeans and a t-shirt would have been scandalous. And while the church’s official position (at least as we were told at the time) was that believers shouldn’t drink alcohol or even caffeine, the story circulating back then was that the church owned about half of the Coca-Cola company.

I’ve since learned there was little truth to that, but as a kid, it was one more brick in the wall of hypocrisy I was building. I grew up watching people preach about faithfulness and non-judgement and not working on the Sabbath (which the LDS church observes on Sunday, teaching the youth that Sunday is the Sabbath, even though biblically it’s not difficult to figure out that it’s actually Saturday) while their actual lives told a different story.

That background colored everything. I spent more than thirty years as an agnostic, convinced that organized religion was, at its core, a performance. People playing dress-up and pretending to be holy while being just as broken and selfish and greedy as everyone else (if not more so).

So when I heard a Christian band singing a song that seemed to confirm exactly that, my reaction wasn’t anger. It was a dark sort of satisfaction. It struck me as a blatant admission that even the seemingly devout knew what I knew.

I kind of avoided the song after that. Not consciously, but it didn’t pull me in the way some other music was starting to. Even though I recognized, from my own childhood experience, that the song was addressing a genuine problem in the church, I couldn’t see past my own cynicism long enough to hear what it was actually saying.

It would be months before I understood.

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How I Got Here

I should back up and tell you how I ended up listening to Christian music in the first place, because it wasn’t anything resembling a straight line.

A close friend (who has been a devout believer since she was a child) first showed me a version of a Christian believer that I had never known before. Kind. Generous. Thoughtful. Doesn’t Judge. Debates to understand, not to win.

In a word, Christ-like.

I’d known her for a few months when she introduced me to a book called The Veil by Blake K. Healy, which explores one man’s experiences seeing into the spiritual realm. I read it because I thought it would help me understand her perspective better.

I didn’t expect it to shake me the way it did.

I read it twice.

That led to a conversation that changed the trajectory of my life. I wasn’t ready to read Scripture. I was self-aware enough to realize that my heart and my mind were still too closed to approach it without cynicism. So she suggested some other books to start with. I read Lee Strobel’s The Case for Christ and J. Warner Wallace’s Cold-Case Christianity, both of which I highly recommend if you’ve never read them. After that I listened to an audio course on the New Testament by Dr. Bart Ehrman (I didn’t realize until later that he isn’t a believer, but don’t let that dissuade you. Although you have to separate out some of his nonsense, there’s quite a bit of fascinating detail in it), followed by a debate between Dr. Ehrman and Dr. Michael F. Bird about when the early church began considering Jesus God. It’s honestly a fascinating debate and I highly recommend it. But after that I read Paul and Jesus by James D. Tabor, followed by several other apologetic works that I honestly can’t remember the titles of now.

I’m sure you’re getting the point here that I was not easily convinced. I tend to be very analytical and logic-driven, so I needed to read about a lot of evidence before I could “turn off” the cynicism. Which probably makes sense when you remember that I spent a lifetime being preached at by almost everyone in my life.

Anyhow, I eventually felt ready to give actual Scripture a real chance. And true to my usual way, I didn’t dip my toe. I didn’t dabble. I dived in head-first! Over the course of about two or three months, I read the Bible cover to cover.

Twice.

First in the KJV and then the NRSVUE. I started occasionally watching the Life.Church service online and listened to Christian rock more than other types of music. I was pretty regularly praying to God, asking Him to show himself to me. To prove He was real. It sounds absurdly prideful to me now, but it’s what I was doing. Based on advice from believing friends.

In fairness, I was leaning toward believing it was true.

But true faith?

I didn’t have it. It just hadn’t clicked. I hadn’t encountered God. I had never seen anything I couldn’t explain away.

And then one morning, just another morning seemingly like any other, I was driving to work. I don’t know how to describe it other than the sunrise just looked... different. I don’t have a better word for it.

The sky was clearer. The colors were more vivid. More beautiful. It was almost as though the whole world was saturated with color. My eyes watered.

I glanced to my right and saw the sun cresting the horizon, tinged with red, and I was overcome. A presence settled over me like a physical weight. Peace suffused my entire being. Everything in the world just felt… right… for the first time in my life.

It was the Holy Spirit. I’m as convinced of that now as I was in that moment. I literally felt Him settling over me, as though He were saying, It’s okay, son. You can stop struggling now. I’ve got you.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, everything changed.

Scripture started making sense in ways it hadn’t before. My cynicism evaporated. My resistance to going to church vanished. I started discovering Bible commentators who resonated with me and I found a church to attend. I dove deeper and deeper into God’s Word, and I haven’t come up for air since.

It was somewhere around four to six months after that experience that I heard “If We Are the Body” again. And this time, I heard something completely different.

The Penny Drops

Mark Hall, the lead singer and songwriter of Casting Crowns, wrote the song as a teaching tool for his youth group. He was walking them through James 2, the passage about showing partiality in the church, giving the best seat to the rich man while telling the poor man to sit on the floor. The song paints two scenes: a girl who slips into a crowded worship service only to be met with teasing laughter, and a traveler far from home who sinks into the back row only to feel the crushing weight of judgmental stares that tell him he’d be better off back on the road.

The song isn’t an indictment of Christ. It never was. It’s an indictment of us. The church. The body.

If we are the body, and Scripture says we are, then why aren’t we doing what the body is supposed to do?

When I finally understood that, I didn’t just hear a song. I heard a conviction. Because the question the song asks isn’t whether Jesus’ arms are reaching. His arms have always been reaching to envelop us. The question is whether our arms are reaching, because we are now His hands and feet in this world.

And this time, it hit me from the opposite direction. The first time I heard the song, I heard confirmation that the church was full of hypocrites and Christ was imaginary. Now I heard something far more uncomfortable: a call to do better. Not a smug observation from the outside, but a loving rebuke from the inside. And I was on the inside now.

The cynical outsider who had spent thirty years pointing at the church’s failures was now part of the church. The mirror wasn’t aimed at someone else anymore. It was aimed at me.

At all of us.

Jesus Himself had the harshest words not for sinners, tax collectors, or prostitutes. His sharpest rebukes were aimed at the religious establishment, the Pharisees and Sadducees, the teachers of the law who knew Scripture backward and forward but had forgotten the heart of it. Who had abandoned the spirit of the law in favor of the letter. The ones who tithed their spices down to the last mint leaf but neglected justice, mercy, and faithfulness (Matthew 23:23).

Casting Crowns wasn’t doing anything Jesus hadn’t already done. They were holding up a mirror to the body and asking, Are you reflecting Him?

That realization changed how I read Scripture. And as I dug deeper, I discovered that God has been saying the same thing to His people for thousands of years.

God Has Always Told Us How to Treat People

One of the things that surprised me most when I started reading through the Old Testament with fresh eyes was how much space God devotes to how His people should treat outsiders, the poor, the vulnerable, and the stranger. This wasn’t an afterthought or a footnote. It was woven into the very fabric of the Law.

One might even say it was the point all along.

The Stranger in the Land

In Leviticus 19:33-34, God commands Israel:

“When a stranger sojourns with you in your land, you shall not do him wrong. The stranger who sojourns with you shall be to you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself; for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.” (NRSV)

Now, here’s where it gets interesting from a textual standpoint. The Hebrew word for “stranger” here is גֵּר (ger), which refers to a foreign-born resident, a sojourner, someone who has come to live among the Israelites but isn’t one of them by birth. This word appears over ninety times in the Hebrew Scriptures. The command to welcome and protect the ger is one of the most frequently repeated commands in the entire Old Testament.

But when the Septuagint translators rendered this passage into Greek, they chose the word προσήλυτος (prosēlytos), which literally means “one who has come near” or “one who has approached.” It’s derived from the verb προσέρχομαι (proserchomai), meaning “to come toward, to draw near.”

Think about what that means for a moment.

The Hebrew emphasizes the stranger’s status. They are a sojourner, someone without inherited rights, someone vulnerable. The Greek emphasizes the stranger’s action. They are someone who has drawn near, someone who has come to you. They’ve made the effort to approach.

And the command is the same in both languages: love them as you love yourself.

The verb the Septuagint uses for “love” here is ἀγαπήσεις (agapēseis), from ἀγαπάω (agapaō). This is the same word that the New Testament uses for the highest form of love, the love that God has for humanity, the love that Jesus commands His followers to show one another. This isn’t casual affection or politeness. This is the love of deliberate, sacrificial commitment.

God didn’t tell Israel to tolerate the stranger. He didn’t say to be civil. He said to love them with the same word that would later be used to describe His own love for the world.

The Prophets Sound the Alarm

And when Israel failed to do this? God sent prophets to call them out.

Ezekiel 22:29 describes the sins that led to God’s judgment on Jerusalem:

“The people of the land have practiced extortion and committed robbery; they have oppressed the poor and needy, and have extorted from the sojourner without justice” (NRSV).

Look at the list. Extortion. Robbery. Oppression of the poor. And right there alongside those sins is mistreating the stranger. In God’s eyes, refusing to show justice to the outsider was just as serious as theft and oppression.

Malachi takes it even further. In Malachi 3:5, God says:

“Then I will draw near to you for judgment; I will be a swift witness against the sorcerers, against the adulterers, against those who swear falsely, against those who oppress the hired workers in their wages, the widow and the orphan, against those who thrust aside the sojourner, and do not fear me, says the Lord of hosts” (NRSV).

Notice the company that mistreating the stranger keeps. Sorcery. Adultery. Lying under oath. Cheating workers. Exploiting widows and orphans. And thrusting aside the sojourner. God lists them all together because in His economy, they are all expressions of the same fundamental failure: the refusal to fear Him by refusing to love the people He told you to love.

This is exactly what Casting Crowns was singing about. The girl who slips into worship and gets laughed at. The traveler who sinks into the back row and gets judged. They are the ger. They are the prosēlytos. They are the ones who have drawn near, and the body of Christ is supposed to welcome them with the same ἀγάπη that God shows to us.

Jesus Takes It Personal

And then Jesus came and removed any remaining ambiguity about how seriously God takes this.

In Matthew 25:35-40, Jesus paints a picture of the final judgment. And the criteria He uses to separate the “sheep” from the “goats” isn’t theological knowledge. It isn’t doctrinal precision. It isn’t church attendance or how many worship songs you know by heart.

It’s this:

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” (NRSV)

And when the righteous ask, “Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger?” Jesus answers with what might be the most staggering words in all of Scripture:

“Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” (Matthew 25:40, NRSV)

Jesus doesn’t just command us to love the outsider. He identifies with the outsider. Every hungry person you feed, every stranger you welcome, every sick person you visit, you are serving Christ Himself. And every person you turn away, ignore, or judge? Same thing, but in reverse.

This is the weight of what Casting Crowns was asking. When a stranger walks into your church and feels the weight of judgmental stares, they aren’t just being turned away from a building. They’re being turned away from the very One whose name is on the sign out front.

Love Your Enemies. Yes, Really.

Jesus didn’t stop at strangers, either. He went further than any rabbi before or since:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:43-45, NRSV)

There it is again, ἀγαπάω (agapaō). The same word. The same love. Not just for your neighbor, not just for the stranger, but for your enemy. The person who is actively working against you.

This is the standard. This is the bar.

And when you measure the modern church against that bar? Well. Let’s just say the song starts making even more sense.

Paul’s Marching Orders

Paul, who understood this better than almost anyone, spent his letters hammering this point home to the early churches.

To the Ephesians, he wrote:

“Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear” (Ephesians 4:29, NRSV).

The Greek word Paul uses for “building up” here is οἰκοδομή (oikodomē), which literally means “the building of a house.” Our words are supposed to be like bricks laid with care, constructing something that shelters and protects. Not tearing down. Not excluding. Building up.

To the Colossians:

“Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer everyone” (Colossians 4:6, NRSV).

Everyone. Not just the people who look like you, talk like you, vote like you, or believe exactly what you believe. Everyone.

To the Romans: “If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all” (Romans 12:18, NRSV). Not just with fellow believers. With all.

And then the capstone, in Romans 12:20-21:

“No, if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink... Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (NRSV).

There’s an echo of Matthew 25 here that I find remarkable. Feed the hungry. Give drink to the thirsty. Paul isn’t just repeating Jesus’ words about judgment, he’s applying them to how we treat even those who oppose us.

The Thread That Runs Through It All

Do you see the thread?

Leviticus says love the stranger as yourself.
Ezekiel says God will judge those who oppress the stranger.
Malachi says God will be a swift witness against those who thrust aside the sojourner.
Jesus says when you welcome the stranger, you welcome Him.

Paul says build people up with your words, speak with grace to everyone, live at peace with all, and feed even your enemies.

James says that showing partiality, giving the best treatment to the wealthy and the well-dressed while marginalizing the poor and the outsider, is sin (James 2:9).

This is the through-line of Scripture from the Torah to the Epistles. God’s people are called to love without conditions, welcome without prerequisites, and serve without asking whether the person “deserves” it.

Because none of us deserved it when God loved us.

A Both/And Reading

Now, as a student of the Septuagint, I can’t let this go without pointing out something that enriches our understanding even further.

When the Septuagint translators chose προσήλυτος (prosēlytos) to render the Hebrew ger, they made a theological decision that would echo through the centuries. By the time of the New Testament, prosēlytos had taken on a more specific meaning: it referred to a Gentile who had converted to Judaism. Someone who had “drawn near” to God and His people from the outside.

This is the same word used in Acts 2:11, when Luke lists the diverse crowd present at Pentecost and includes “proselytes” among them. It’s the same word in Acts 6:5, when Nicolas of Antioch, one of the first seven deacons of the church, is described as a “proselyte,” signifying a former outsider who became a leader.

Here’s the beauty of that: the Septuagint’s translation of Leviticus 19:34 laid the linguistic groundwork for the New Testament’s vision of the church as a community that welcomes those who “draw near.” The outsider who approaches God’s people is to be loved as family. Not tolerated. Not accommodated.

Loved.

And the Hebrew text, with its emphasis on the ger‘s vulnerable status, landless, without inherited rights, dependent on the goodwill of the community, reminds us that this love must be practical, not merely sentimental. The ger needed food, legal protection, and economic opportunity. Love that doesn’t translate into tangible care isn’t the love that Scripture commands.

Both texts. Both emphases. Both true. The Greek gives us the theology of welcome. The Hebrew gives us the ethics of justice. Together, they paint a picture of what the body of Christ is supposed to look like.

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So What Does This Mean for Us?

I want to be really careful here, because I’m not writing this to beat up on the church. I love the church. I found my way to Jesus through believers who welcomed me when I had no idea what I was doing, who answered my questions without condescension, and who didn’t judge me for being a forty-something agnostic who couldn’t find Philippians in a table of contents.

But I also know that the church hasn’t always been that for everyone. And the song that once confirmed my cynicism is now a reminder that we have real work to do.

If we are the body, then we need to be the body that Jesus described. The one that feeds the hungry, welcomes the stranger, clothes the naked, and visits the sick and imprisoned. The one that speaks words that build up rather than tear down. The one that loves not just our friends and fellow believers, but even our enemies.

Jesus didn’t wait for people to clean up their act before He loved them. He ate with tax collectors. He talked with Samaritan women. He touched lepers. He forgave the thief on the cross. He didn’t set up barriers or entry requirements. He simply loved, and His love drew people in.

That’s what the body is supposed to do.

Not stand in a circle with our arms folded, sizing up anyone who tries to step inside. Not whispering behind the back of the girl who walked in wearing the wrong thing. Not giving judgmental stares to the stranger who doesn’t know when to stand or sit during the service.

Meeting people where they are. Loving them as they are. Trusting that the Holy Spirit will do the transforming work that only He can do.

Because here’s what I’ve learned since that morning drive when the Holy Spirit settled over me and everything changed: Jesus meets us where we are. He met me in my cynicism, in my smugness, in my thirty years of writing off the faith as a performance. He didn’t wait until I had my heart sorted out to reach me. He reached me first, and the heart change came after.

And if He can do that for me, then He can do it for anyone.

So since He does that for us, shouldn’t we do the same for others?

A Final Word

I still listen to “If We Are the Body.” But now when I hear it, I don’t hear confirmation that the church is broken beyond repair. I hear Christ’s own question echoing through His church:

You are My hands. Are you reaching? You are My feet. Are you going? You are My voice. Are you teaching? You are My heart. Are you loving?

And I hear the prophets behind it. Ezekiel warning that God will judge those who oppress the stranger. Malachi declaring that God will be a swift witness against those who thrust aside the sojourner. James insisting that faith without works is dead.

And I hear Paul, writing to a church that he loved with everything in him: “Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up.”

Scripture doesn’t whisper about this. It shouts. From Leviticus to Malachi, from the Sermon on the Mount to Paul’s prison letters, from the Hebrew of the Masoretic Text to the Greek of the Septuagint, the message is the same:

Love the stranger. Welcome the outsider. Feed the hungry. Clothe the naked. Speak with grace. Build up, don’t tear down. And never, ever let someone walk into the body of Christ and feel like they’d be better off back out on the road.

Because Jesus paid much too high a price for us to pick and choose who should come.

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I want to be upfront with you about something before we get started. This study is going to wade into one of the most fiercely debated passages in the entire New Testament. People I love and respect are on both sides of this, and the last thing I want to do is pretend the answers are easy when they’re not.

What I can promise you is this: I’m going to show you what the Greek actually says. I’m going to present both sides of the argument with the strongest evidence each has to offer. And then I’m going to tell you what I think and why.

You may disagree with me. That’s fine. In fact, I’d be surprised if every reader landed in the same place. But I believe the best gift I can give you is the evidence itself, presented honestly, so you can study it for yourself and let the Holy Spirit guide you to the understanding He wants you to have.

Here’s the verse:

1 Timothy 2:12 (NKJV): “And I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man, but to be in silence.”

1 Timothy 2:12 (NRSV): “I permit no woman to teach or to have authority over a man; she is to keep silent.”

That sounds pretty clear in English, doesn’t it? A woman can’t teach. A woman can’t have authority over a man. Case closed.

Except it isn’t. Because when you look at the Greek beneath the English, you find two words that are far more complicated than any translation can capture. One of them appears throughout the New Testament. The other appears exactly once in the entire New Testament. And it is nowhere in the Septuagint either.

Let’s dig in.

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The First Word: ἐπιτρέπω (epitrepō)

Pronunciation: eh-pee-TREH-poh

Strong’s: G2010

Meaning: To turn over (transfer); to permit, allow, give leave; to entrust

Root: From ἐπί (epi, G1909, “upon, over”) + the base of τροπή (tropē, G5157, “a turning, shifting”). The literal sense is “to turn something over to someone,” to hand them permission for a specific thing.

NT frequency: 18 occurrences in 17 verses

Now, ἐπιτρέπω is not a rare word. It appears throughout the Gospels and Acts, and it’s always used in a very specific way. It’s not a word for establishing permanent rules or universal commands. It’s a word for granting (or withholding) permission in a particular situation.

Look at how it’s used elsewhere in the New Testament:

Matthew 8:21: A disciple says, “Lord, permit me first to go and bury my father.” A one-time, situational request.

Matthew 19:8: Jesus says Moses permitted divorce because of the hardness of their hearts. A concession for specific circumstances, explicitly identified as not God’s original intent.

Mark 5:13: Jesus gave permission to the demons to enter the swine. A one-time allowance in a specific situation.

Acts 21:39-40: Paul asks the commander to permit him to speak to the crowd. Again, a specific, situational request.

Acts 26:1: Agrippa tells Paul, “You are permitted to speak for yourself.” Permission granted for a particular occasion.

1 Corinthians 16:7: Paul says, “I hope to stay a while with you, if the Lord permits.” Conditional. Circumstantial.

Hebrews 6:3: “And this we will do if God permits.” Same pattern.

Do you see it? In every single New Testament occurrence, ἐπιτρέπω is used in the context of situational permission. It is granting or withholding it for specific circumstances, not establishing universal, timeless regulations.

The same pattern holds in the Septuagint. The LXX uses ἐπιτρέπω in passages like Genesis 39:6, Esther 9:14, and Job 32:14, and in every case the permission is situational and limited in scope.

Andrew Perriman, in his analysis of this word, notes that the use of ἐπιτρέπω in the New Testament “is in every case related to a specific and limited set of circumstances.”

Now, here’s what’s critical: Paul does not use a command tense in 1 Timothy 2:12. He doesn’t use the imperative. He uses the present active indicative: οὐκ ἐπιτρέπω (ouk epitrepō): “I am not permitting.” This is a statement about Paul’s current practice, not a decree for all time. “I am not allowing” is grammatically and functionally different from “It shall never be allowed.”

Does that prove the restriction was temporary? No. The present indicative can express ongoing reality, not just present-moment action. Complementarian scholars like Douglas Moo have rightly pointed out that this verb form allows for a limited application but doesn’t require it. That’s an honest assessment, and I respect it.

But here’s what we can say with confidence: Paul chose this word. He had other options. When Paul wanted to establish universal principles or give binding commands to churches, he typically used stronger language: the imperative mood, or words like δεῖ (dei, “it is necessary”) or παραγγέλλω (parangellō, “I charge/command”). He uses παραγγέλλω elsewhere in this very letter (1 Timothy 1:3; 4:11; 5:7; 6:13, 17). But here? He chose ἐπιτρέπω. A word of permission. A word that, everywhere else in the New Testament, describes situational allowances.

That choice matters.

The Second Word: αὐθεντεῖν (authentein)

Pronunciation: ow-then-TANE

Strong’s: G831 (the verb αὐθεντέω, authenteō)

Meaning: This is where things get complicated. Possible meanings include: to have authority over; to domineer; to control in a domineering manner; to act on one’s own authority; to assume a stance of independent authority; and in its earliest classical usage, even to commit violence or murder.

Root: From αὐθέντης (authentēs): “one who acts on his own authority; a master; one who commits an act with his own hand.” The noun form in its earliest classical appearances (Aeschylus, Euripides) referred to murderers and perpetrators of violence. By the Roman period, the meaning had broadened significantly.

NT frequency: 1 occurrence. That’s it. This is what scholars call a hapax legomenon: a word that appears only once in the entire New Testament corpus. It also never appears in the Septuagint.

Let me explain why that matters. When a Greek word appears dozens or hundreds of times in the New Testament, we can compare its uses across different contexts and nail down its meaning with high confidence. When a word appears only once, we’re dependent on how it was used in extrabiblical Greek literature, which introduces much more ambiguity.

And αὐθεντεῖν is not only rare in the Bible. It’s rare in all of ancient Greek literature. Leland Wilshire’s exhaustive computer search of the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae database found only 314 occurrences of the word and its cognates across the entire surviving Greek corpus from the 6th century B.C. to the 6th century A.D.

So what did it mean?

The Complementarian Reading: “To have/exercise authority over”

Scholars like Andreas Köstenberger and Thomas Schreiner argue that by the first century A.D., αὐθεντέω had settled into a relatively neutral meaning: “to have authority over” or “to exercise authority.” They point to later usage in patristic writers and Byzantine Greek, where the word does sometimes carry this more neutral sense. Henry Baldwin’s study of the word (published in the influential volume Women in the Church, edited by Köstenberger and Schreiner) concluded that the predominant meaning in the centuries surrounding the New Testament period was “to exercise authority” without an inherently negative connotation.

Under this reading, Paul is saying: “I do not permit a woman to teach or to exercise authority over a man.” The two infinitives (διδάσκειν, “to teach,” and αὐθεντεῖν, “to have authority”) are two separate prohibitions: no teaching men, and no exercising authority over men. This is understood as a universal principle rooted in the creation order (Paul’s appeal to Adam and Eve in verses 13-14).

The most recent edition of the major Greek lexicon BDAG defines αὐθεντέω as “to assume a stance of independent authority, to give orders to, to dictate to.” Notably, the previous edition (BAGD) had included “domineer over someone” in its range of meaning. The updated edition dropped that connotation, though it still doesn’t define it as simple, benign authority.

The Egalitarian Reading: “To domineer/dominate”

Scholars like Linda Belleville, Philip Payne, Cynthia Westfall, and Michael Bird argue that αὐθεντεῖν carried a much stronger, more negative connotation in first-century usage. Something closer to “to domineer,” “to control in a domineering manner,” or “to usurp authority.”

Their evidence is significant:

The earliest translations. When αὐθεντεῖν was translated into other languages while Koine Greek was still a living language, the translators consistently chose negative terms. The Vetus Latina (Old Latin, 2nd-4th century) rendered it as dominari (”to dominate”). The Vulgate (4th-5th century) also has dominari in virum (”to dominate over a man/husband”). The Sahidic Coptic (3rd century) translated it as erjoeis (”to be lord”). The Peshitta Syriac (4th century) used a word whose root relates to insolence and bullying. Early Arabic translations used words meaning “to plot, to be domineering, to be imperious.”

These were people translating from Greek while Greek was their living language. They understood αὐθεντεῖν as domineering behavior, not neutral authority.

The KJV and Geneva Bible. Even the King James Version (1611) didn’t translate this as “have authority over.” It translated it as “usurp authority over,” providing a much more negative rendering. The Geneva Bible (1560) did the same. It wasn’t until the 20th century that English translations began softening αὐθεντεῖν to simple “authority.”

Paul’s own vocabulary. This is perhaps the most telling point. When Paul wanted to talk about legitimate authority in the church, he had a perfectly good Greek word for it: ἐξουσία (exousia). He uses it repeatedly throughout his letters (1 Corinthians 6:12; 7:4; 9:4-6, 12; 11:10; 2 Corinthians 2:8; 10:8; 13:10; Colossians 1:13; 2 Thessalonians 3:12; Romans 6:15; 9:21). If Paul meant “I don’t permit a woman to exercise normal, legitimate authority over a man,” why didn’t he use ἐξουσία? Why reach for a rare, ambiguous word that his readers would have had to puzzle over?

As Linda Belleville puts it: “The obvious reason is that αὐθεντεῖν carried a nuance (other than ‘rule’ or ‘have authority’) that was particularly suited to the Ephesian situation.”

Cynthia Westfall’s comprehensive linguistic study concluded that in the surviving uses of αὐθεντέω contemporary to the New Testament, “the people who are targets of these actions are harmed, forced against their will, or at least their self-interest is being overridden because the actions involve an imposition of the subject’s will, ranging from dishonour to lethal force.”

Chrysostom’s usage. John Chrysostom, writing in the 4th century— and a native Greek speaker —used αὐθεντέω in his homilies. In his tenth homily on Colossians, commenting on Colossians 3:19 (a verse addressed to husbands), Chrysostom says a husband should not αὐθεντεῖ his wife. This is translated in the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers as “act the despot.”

Chrysostom clearly understood this word as describing domineering, despotic behavior rather than benign authority.

The Grammar: One Prohibition or Two?

There’s a further grammatical question that affects everything. In Greek, the two infinitives— διδάσκειν (”to teach”) and αὐθεντεῖν (”to domineer/have authority”) —are connected by the conjunction οὐδέ (oude, “nor” or “and not”). The question is whether οὐδέ links two separate prohibitions or creates what’s called a hendiadys, which is two words joined by a conjunction to express a single idea.

If it’s two separate prohibitions, Paul is saying: (1) I don’t permit a woman to teach [a man], and (2) I don’t permit her to have authority over a man.

If it’s a hendiadys, Paul is saying something like: “I don’t permit a woman to teach in a domineering way” or “I don’t permit a woman to teach so as to domineer a man.”

Philip Payne has argued strongly for the hendiadys reading. Others have pushed back, noting that Köstenberger’s research on parallel constructions in Greek suggests the two verbs typically have the same positive or negative valence— meaning if αὐθεντεῖν is negative (domineering), then διδάσκειν should also be negative (false teaching), and if διδάσκειν is positive (legitimate teaching), then αὐθεντεῖν should also be positive (legitimate authority).

Both arguments have merit. I present them because I want you to see that this verse is far more linguistically complex than the English lets on.

One More Detail: γυνή and ἀνήρ — “Woman” or “Wife”?

Here’s something most people miss entirely. The Greek word γυνή (gunē) can mean either “woman” or “wife.” The Greek word ἀνήρ (anēr) can mean either “man” or “husband.” Both are used without the definite article in 1 Timothy 2:12, which means the text is grammatically ambiguous. Paul could be saying:

“I do not permit a woman to teach or domineer a man.”

Or he could be saying:

“I do not permit a wife to teach or domineer her husband.”

These are very different statements. If this is about wives and husbands, it’s about the dynamics of marriage relationships within the congregation, not about women in ministry in general. And the surrounding context (verses 13-15, with the reference to Adam and Eve, childbearing, and the marital dynamics of creation) could support either reading.

The Elephant in the Room: Ephesus

Here’s where this all comes together.

1 Timothy is a letter to Timothy, who was overseeing the church in Ephesus. This isn’t incidental. Paul tells us in the very first chapter why he left Timothy there: “that you may charge some that they teach no other doctrine, nor give heed to fables and endless genealogies” (1 Timothy 1:3-4, NKJV).

The entire letter is about false teaching. That’s the problem Paul is trying to solve. And Ephesus was a city uniquely positioned to produce a specific kind of false teaching.

Ephesus was home to the Temple of Artemis, which was one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World and four times the size of the Parthenon. The Artemis cult was female-led. Its priestesses held enormous social and religious power. And the cult’s mythology taught, among other things, that the female was created first and was superior to the male. In the Artemis origin myth, Artemis was born before her twin brother Apollo and helped deliver him.

Now read 1 Timothy 2:13-14 again: “For Adam was formed first, then Eve. And Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived, fell into transgression.”

Paul isn’t making a universal argument about female intellectual inferiority (which would contradict his own practice of working alongside female leaders). He’s correcting a specific false teaching that was circulating in Ephesus, the aforementioned Artemis-influenced idea that the woman came first and was therefore superior. His appeal to Genesis isn’t establishing a permanent hierarchy. It’s doing exactly what good teaching does: it’s using Scripture to refute a heresy.

And verse 15— “she will be saved through childbearing” —makes almost no sense as a universal theological statement. Saved by having babies? That contradicts salvation by grace through faith, which Paul hammered home in virtually every other letter he wrote. But it makes perfect sense if you understand that the Artemis cult taught that Artemis was the savior of women in childbirth, and that women who abandoned Artemis would die in labor. Paul is reassuring these women: you won’t die because you left Artemis. You will be brought safely through childbearing, if you continue in faith, love, and holiness.

The whole passage, from verse 8 through verse 15, is addressing specific problems in a specific church. Angry men who need to pray without wrath (v. 8). Women who were flaunting wealth through elaborate dress as they had done in Artemis worship (vv. 9-10). Women who needed to learn sound doctrine before they could teach it; women who had come out of the Artemis cult and were still spreading its ideas (vv. 11-12). And the correction of Artemis-influenced creation mythology (vv. 13-15).

The Evidence Paul’s Own Ministry Provides

If 1 Timothy 2:12 is a universal, permanent prohibition against women teaching or exercising authority over men, then Paul himself violated it. Repeatedly.

Priscilla (also called Prisca) was a leader of the church in Ephesus. Yes, the very church Timothy was overseeing. Along with her husband Aquila, she taught Apollos, correcting his theology and explaining the way of God “more accurately” (Acts 18:26). Luke mentions her name before her husband’s in four of the six times the couple appears in the New Testament. This is an unusual choice that many scholars believe indicates she was the more prominent minister of the two. Paul calls her a “fellow worker in Christ Jesus” (Romans 16:3).

Phoebe is called a διάκονος (diakonos, “deacon” or “minister”) of the church at Cenchreae (Romans 16:1). The same word is used for male church leaders throughout the New Testament (including himself, in the context of denoting his commission as a minister of the Gospel). Paul also calls her a προστάτις (prostatis, “patron” or “benefactor”), a word that in its masculine form (προστάτης) means “leader,” “chief,” or “presiding officer.”

Junia is named by Paul as “outstanding among the apostles” (Romans 16:7, NRSV). For the first twelve centuries of church history, virtually every commentator understood Junia to be a woman and an apostle. It wasn’t until the 13th century that some began arguing the name was masculine (”Junias”), and modern scholarship has overwhelmingly returned to the feminine reading.

Paul also mentions other women in ministry: Euodia and Syntyche, who “contended at my side in the cause of the gospel” (Philippians 4:2-3); Nympha, who hosted a church in her house (Colossians 4:15); and the women who prayed and prophesied in the Corinthian assembly (1 Corinthians 11:5), which was an activity Paul regulated but never prohibited.

If Paul believed women could never teach or exercise authority over men, his own ministry makes no sense.

Where I Land

I believe 1 Timothy 2:12 is Paul addressing a specific crisis in a specific church. The Greek supports this. The context demands it. And Paul’s own ministry confirms it.

ἐπιτρέπω is a word of situational permission, not universal legislation. αὐθεντεῖν is not Paul’s normal word for authority. It’s a rare word with strong overtones of domineering control that was specifically suited to the kind of behavior coming out of the Artemis cult influence in Ephesus. The grammar is ambiguous in ways that English translations flatten. And the surrounding verses (the Artemis-influenced false creation theology, the childbearing assurance) only make sense in the Ephesian context.

Paul isn’t saying women can never teach men. He’s saying: I am not currently permitting these women, in this situation, to teach in a domineering way that spreads false doctrine influenced by the Artemis cult. They need to learn sound doctrine first. And they need to stop asserting a pagan-influenced superiority over men that has no basis in the Genesis creation account.

That’s not a soft reading. It’s actually a harder one. Because it means Paul was taking false teaching so seriously that he shut it down at the source. He wasn’t being misogynistic. He was being anti-heresy. And the women who were spreading that heresy needed to stop teaching and start learning.

But I want to be clear: I understand why many faithful believers read this differently. The complementarian position has real arguments. Paul does appeal to the creation order. The word αὐθεντεῖν might carry a neutral sense. And there are other passages (1 Corinthians 14:34-35, for instance) that seem to point in a similar direction, though those verses have their own significant textual and contextual issues.

I don’t think people who hold the complementarian view are being dishonest with the text. I think they’re reading it through a lens that provides a very different set of assumptions about what kind of statement Paul is making. They see his phrase here as a universal one rather than a situational one. And the text is genuinely ambiguous enough to support both readings.

What I’m not willing to do is pretend the text is clear when it isn’t. Two rare and disputed Greek words, ambiguous grammar, a context saturated with false-teaching concerns, a city dominated by a female-led pagan cult, and a letter-writer who worked alongside female leaders throughout his ministry. That’s not a simple verse. That’s a verse that demands humility, careful study, and a willingness to hold our conclusions with open hands.

Study it for yourself. Pray about it. And whatever you conclude, treat those who disagree with the grace that Paul himself modeled when he wrote to churches wrestling with hard questions.

If this study challenged you, encouraged you, or made you think, please share it with someone who’s wrestling with these questions. These conversations are too important to have in an echo chamber.

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If you’ve read Genesis 27 more than once, you’ve probably noticed something strange about it.

Now before we go any further, I want to thank over at for inspiring me to dig into this. We were talking about the bless/curse paradox in the angelic court in Job and she brought this one to my attention. If you’d like to read Sarah’s post on this you can check it out below:

Extra Biblical Librarian

Two Texts, Two Blessings: What Did Isaac Really Say to Esau?

In my last post, I compared the character and morals of Jacob and Esau…

Read more

a year ago · 11 likes · 5 comments · Sarah

Jacob deceives his father. He steals his brother’s blessing. And when Esau comes in weeping, begging for anything his father has left to give, Isaac responds with what your English Bible probably presents as a watered-down version of the same blessing he just gave Jacob.

And if you’re paying attention, that doesn’t make sense.

Isaac himself says in verse 37: “I have made him your lord, and I have given all his brothers to him as servants. I have sustained him with grain and wine. What then can I do for you, my son?”

In other words: I have nothing left to give.

And yet, just two verses later, your Bible might tell you that Isaac blessed Esau with the fatness of the earth and the dew of heaven. The same things he gave Jacob.

Something doesn’t add up.

Unless, of course, the text doesn’t actually say what you think it says.

Let’s get into it.

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The Preposition That Divides

Let’s look at the key verse. Here’s how three major translations handle Genesis 27:39:

NKJV:

“Behold, your dwelling shall be of the fatness of the earth, and of the dew of heaven from above.”

NRSV:

“See, away from the fatness of the earth shall your home be, and away from the dew of heaven on high.”

N.E.T.S. (Septuagint):

“See, away from the fatness of the earth shall your dwelling be, and away from the dew of heaven on high.”

Did you catch that? The NKJV says Esau will live of— that is, partaking in —the richness of the earth. The NRSV and the Septuagint say Esau will live away from it. Cut off from it. Denied it.

That’s not a nuance. That’s a completely opposite meaning. One is a diminished blessing. The other is closer to a curse.

So which is it?

The Problem in the Hebrew

The culprit is a tiny Hebrew preposition: מִן (min). It’s one of the most common words in the Hebrew Bible, and it can mean several different things depending on context.

When מִן follows a verb of giving— as it does in verse 28, where Isaac blesses Jacob —it functions as a partitive. It means “some of,” or “a portion of.” So when Isaac says to Jacob, “May God give you of (מִן) the dew of heaven, and of (מִן) the fatness of the earth,” he’s saying: May you receive a share of these good things.

But when מִן follows a noun of place or dwelling— as it does in verse 39 —it typically functions as a privative. It means “away from,” “far from,” or “without.” So when Isaac says to Esau, “Your dwelling shall be from (מִן) the fatness of the earth, and from (מִן) the dew of heaven,” the grammar most naturally reads: Your home will be far from fertile land, far from the rains of heaven.

This is exactly what the great 19th-century commentators Keil and Delitzsch observed. They noted that Isaac deliberately used the same expression as in verse 28 but in the opposite sense. In Jacob’s blessing, מִן is partitive, imparting a share. In Esau’s pronouncement, מִן is privative, denying it.

It’s a devastating wordplay. Isaac echoes the language of blessing, but inverts it into a prophecy of deprivation. The very words that gave Jacob abundance now strip Esau of the same.

Albert Barnes made the same observation, noting that after a verb of giving, מִן takes the partitive sense, but after a noun of place it denotes separation. He compared it to Proverbs 20:3, where מִן likewise carries the sense of “apart from.”

Not everyone agrees, of course. Some older translations, such as the KJV, the Vulgate, and even Calvin, read verse 39 as a genuine, if lesser, blessing. The argument is straightforward: why would we assign two opposite meanings to the same preposition in the same chapter? Why not let מִן mean the same thing both times?

It’s a fair objection. And honestly, it’s the kind of ambiguity that keeps scholars and translators arguing. But here’s the thing: we don’t have to rely on grammar alone to settle this. We have the Septuagint.

What Does the Greek Say?

The Septuagint translators, working in Alexandria at least two centuries before Christ, had to make a decision about this very ambiguity. And unlike some modern English translators, they didn’t try to smooth things over.

Here’s the Greek of verse 28 (Jacob’s blessing):

δῴη σοι ὁ θεὸς ἀπὸ τῆς δρόσου τοῦ οὐρανοῦ καὶ ἀπὸ τῆς πιότητος τῆς γῆς (dōē soi ho theos apo tēs drosou tou ouranou kai apo tēs piotētos tēs gēs)

“May God give you of the dew of heaven and of the fatness of the earth.”

And here’s verse 39 (Esau’s pronouncement):

ἰδοὺ ἀπὸ τῆς πιότητος τῆς γῆς ἔσται ἡ κατοίκησίς σου καὶ ἀπὸ τῆς δρόσου τοῦ οὐρανοῦ ἄνωθεν (idou apo tēs piotētos tēs gēs estai hē katoikēsis sou kai apo tēs drosou tou ouranou anōthen)

“Behold, away from the fatness of the earth shall be your dwelling, and away from the dew of heaven from above.”

Here’s what’s fascinating: the Greek uses the exact same preposition— ἀπό (apo) —in both verses. Just like the Hebrew uses מִן in both. But the grammatical context forces different readings. In verse 28, ἀπό follows a verb of giving (δῴη, dōē), so it means “some of.” In verse 39, ἀπό describes the location of a dwelling (κατοίκησις, katoikēsis), so it means “away from.”

The N.E.T.S. translation of the Septuagint reflects this clearly: “See, away from the fatness of the earth shall your dwelling be.”

The Septuagint translators understood exactly what was happening in this text. They preserved the word play of the Hebrew by using the same Greek preposition in both verses along with a sentence structure that makes the meaning unmistakable.

For Jacob: a portion of the earth’s bounty. For Esau: exile from it.

Jubilees Agrees — And Goes Further

The Book of Jubilees, written sometime in the second century B.C., retells this scene and removes all ambiguity. Here’s what it says:

“And Isaac answered and said unto him: ‘Behold, far from the dew of the earth shall be thy dwelling, And far from the dew of heaven from above. And by thy sword wilt thou live, And thou wilt serve thy brother. And it shall come to pass when thou becomest great, And dost shake his yoke from off thy neck, Thou wilt sin a complete sin unto death, And thy seed will be rooted out from under Heaven.‘” (Jubilees 26:33-34)

Did you catch that ending? Jubilees doesn’t just agree with the “away from” reading, it goes considerably further. It adds an explicit prophecy that when Esau’s descendants finally break free from Jacob’s dominion, they will “sin a complete sin unto death” and their line will be “rooted out from under Heaven.”

That’s not in the Masoretic Text. It’s not in the Septuagint. It’s Jubilees’ own interpretive expansion.

But its agreement with the “away from” reading is significant. The author of Jubilees was working from a Hebrew text tradition (likely one very close to what the Septuagint translators used) and he clearly understood Isaac’s words to Esau as the opposite of a blessing. Not a modified or diminished version of Jacob’s blessing. The opposite of it.

This gives us three ancient witnesses all pointing in the same direction: what Isaac spoke over Esau was not a blessing at all.

But Wait — What About Brenton?

I know some of you are looking at your Brenton Septuagint right now and saying, “Kevin, my Brenton says ‘of the fatness.’ Not ‘away from.’”

You’re right. Brenton does render it that way. And this is actually one of those moments where Brenton’s translation— as beloved and foundational as it is —smooths over a difficulty in the Greek rather than preserving it.

Brenton was working in 1851, and his translation philosophy leaned toward readability and concordance with the KJV where possible. When he encountered ἀπό in verse 39, he chose the partitive reading which matches the KJV and makes the passage sound like a blessing.

But this is widely recognized by scholars as a translation choice that obscures what the Greek actually communicates. The structure of the Greek sentence, with the dwelling (κατοίκησίς) as the subject and ἀπό marking spatial separation, points clearly to the meaning “away from.”

And the N.E.T.S., which is the product of the International Organization for Septuagint and Cognate Studies and represents the best modern scholarship on the Septuagint, renders it as “away from.” The N.E.T.S. translators were deliberately tracking how the Greek text differs from the Hebrew Masoretic tradition, and in this case, the sentence structure of the Greek makes “away from” the more accurate rendering.

This is a perfect example of why I keep saying we need to read multiple translations. No single translation— not even a phenomenal one —is capable of capturing everything.

What About Esau’s Reaction?

And here’s where the “away from” reading becomes almost impossible to deny.

Look at verse 41:

NRSV:

“Now Esau hated Jacob because of the blessing with which his father had blessed him, and Esau said to himself, ‘The days of mourning for my father are at hand; then I will kill my brother Jacob.’”

N.E.T.S. (Septuagint):

“And Esau was indignant at Iakob because of the blessing with which his father had blessed him. Then Esau said in his mind, ‘Let the days of mourning for my father come near in order that I may kill my brother Iakob.’”

Esau’s reaction is murderous rage. He plots to kill Jacob.

Now, ask yourself: if Isaac had just given Esau a genuine blessing (even a diminished one, even a lesser version of Jacob’s), why would Esau respond with homicidal fury?

Think about it. If Isaac said, “You too will have fertile lands and heavenly dew, just not as much as your brother,” that’s disappointing. It’s frustrating. But is it kill-your-brother level?

No. Esau’s response makes sense only if what he received was not a blessing at all. If Isaac looked at his weeping son and said, in essence: You will live in a barren land, far from rain, surviving by the sword, serving your brother, then Esau’s rage is perfectly understandable.

Isaac had nothing left to give. He said so himself in verse 37. And when he opens his mouth over Esau, what comes out is prophecy, not benediction. Isaac speaks what the Spirit gives him to speak. And what the Spirit declared over Esau was exile, deprivation, violence, and servitude.

There was just one thin thread of hope: that someday, Esau’s descendants would break free.

The Septuagint’s “away from” reading makes Esau’s reaction coherent. The traditional “of” reading does not.

The Rabbinic Tradition

It’s worth noting that the rabbinic tradition, too, understood the rivalry between Jacob and Esau as something far deeper than a squabble over who got the better crop yield.

Genesis Rabbah, the great midrashic commentary on Genesis compiled around the 5th century A.D., contains a famous teaching on verse 22: “The voice is Jacob’s voice, but the hands are the hands of Esau.” The rabbis read this as a prophetic declaration about the two brothers’ descendants.

Jacob’s power is in his voice: prayer, study, the spoken word.

Esau’s power is in his hands: warfare, dominion, physical might.

The Talmud (Gittin 57b) explicitly connects “the hands of Esau” with Rome, declaring that “the wicked kingdom that destroyed our Temple, burned our Sanctuary, and exiled us from our land” operated through the power of Esau’s hands. The Midrash (Genesis Rabbah 67:8) traces this enmity from Esau’s personal hatred of Jacob all the way to the Roman decrees against Israel.

And the Sifre (Beha’Alotcha 69), cited by Rashi, states bluntly that “it is a given fact that Esau hates Jacob.” He uses the word הלכה (halakhah), which normally refers to binding religious law. The hatred of Esau for Jacob isn’t just a family grudge. In the rabbinic mind, it’s a cosmic principle; a spiritual reality woven into the fabric of history.

Another fascinating midrashic tradition (Genesis Rabbah 65:5) says that Isaac’s blindness was caused by angelic tears falling on his eyes during the Binding (the Akedah, Genesis 22). When Abraham raised the knife over Isaac on Mount Moriah, the angels wept, and their tears permanently dimmed Isaac’s vision.

Other rabbis (Genesis Rabbah 65:10) attributed the blindness to the smoke of Esau’s Hittite wives burning incense to idols.

Either way, the tradition saw Isaac’s inability to see as divinely orchestrated, showing that God ensured the right son received the blessing.

What’s remarkable about all of this is that the rabbinic tradition, the Septuagint, and the Book of Jubilees all converge on the same basic reading: Esau did not receive a blessing. He received a prophecy. And it was not a kind one.

Isaac’s Blessing of Jacob: What the LXX Adds

Before we leave this chapter, it’s worth backing up to look at the blessing Isaac gives Jacob, because there’s a subtle but important difference in the Septuagint’s version.

In verse 28, the Masoretic Text has Isaac begin: “May God give you of the dew of heaven...” The word for God here is הָאֱלֹהִים (ha-Elohim): “the God.”

But the Septuagint adds something. In verse 7, when Rebecca recounts Isaac’s instructions to Esau, she says Isaac planned to bless Esau “before the Lord” (ἐναντίον κυρίου, enantion kuriou). It’s a phrase not present in the Masoretic Text. The LXX explicitly frames the patriarchal blessing as happening in the presence of God, with divine authority.

This is the kind of small addition that changes how you read the whole scene. If the blessing is given “before the Lord,” then it’s not just an old man’s wish. It’s a prophetic act with divine sanction. And that makes Jacob’s acquisition of it— deceptive as it was —an act of providence rather than mere trickery.

The irony is profound. Jacob uses deception to obtain what God had already ordained for him before birth (Genesis 25:23). Rebecca’s scheme is morally questionable, but the outcome aligns with what the Lord declared when the twins were still in the womb: “the older shall serve the younger.”

The “Sword” and the “Dagger”

Here’s another textual divergence worth noting. Verse 40 in the Masoretic Text says Esau will live “by your sword” (עַל־חַרְבְּךָ, al-charbecha). Most English translations follow this.

But the N.E.T.S. rendering of the Septuagint uses “by your dagger,” translating the Greek μάχαιρα (machaira), which can mean sword, knife, or dagger. This is a smaller weapon. More personal. More desperate.

It’s a subtle shift, but it paints a different picture. A man living by his sword conjures images of a warrior, a conqueror. A man living by his dagger sounds more like a highwayman, or a brigand. This is someone scraping by on the margins, surviving through opportunistic violence rather than glorious warfare.

Given that the Septuagint’s overall portrait of Esau’s “blessing” is one of deprivation and exile, the choice of μάχαιρα feels intentional. This isn’t a warrior’s destiny. It’s a survivor’s, and barely that.

“When You Break Loose”

The one ray of hope in Esau’s pronouncement comes in verse 40. But even here, the traditions differ in emphasis.

NKJV:

“It shall come to pass, when you become restless, that you shall break his yoke from your neck.”

NRSV:

“But when you break loose, you shall break his yoke from your neck.”

N.E.T.S. (Septuagint):

“But it shall be that when perchance you bring him down, then you shall loose his yoke from your neck.”

The Hebrew verb here is רוּד (rud), a rare word that appears to mean “to roam about freely” or “to have dominion.” In the Hiphil stem, it can mean “to tear oneself loose.” There’s a sense of restless energy, of someone who refuses to stay in subjection forever.

The Septuagint uses καθέλῃς (kathelēs), from a word meaning “to bring down” or “to pull down.” It suggests that Esau won’t just escape Jacob’s dominion, he’ll actively overthrow it.

And historically, this is precisely what happened. Edom was under Israelite control from the time of David (2 Samuel 8:13-14) until the reign of Jehoram of Judah, roughly 150 years later, when the Edomites revolted and won their independence (2 Kings 8:20-22). The prophecy was fulfilled with striking precision.

But remember what Jubilees adds: when Esau’s descendants finally break free, they will “sin a complete sin unto death.” Freedom, for the line of Esau, comes at a terrible cost.

What This All Means

So what do we do with this? Three traditions— the careful grammar of the Hebrew, the Septuagint in Greek, and the Book of Jubilees —all agree that what Isaac spoke over Esau was not a blessing. It was a prophecy of hardship, exile, and servitude, with a single conditional promise of eventual freedom.

Some English translations, particularly those in the KJV tradition, have obscured this by rendering מִן as “of” rather than “away from.” And it’s important to understand why. The translators weren’t being dishonest. The Hebrew genuinely allows for both readings. מִן is ambiguous in this context, and the KJV translators chose the reading that made Esau’s “blessing” sound more like an actual blessing.

But the Septuagint translators, working centuries closer to the original Hebrew text and with access to manuscript traditions we no longer possess, made a different choice. And their choice aligns with the internal logic of the narrative, with Esau’s murderous reaction, with the geographic reality of Edom (which was, as Malachi 1:3 confirms, a desolate land), and with the broader biblical pattern of God’s sovereign election.

This is one of those places where the both/and approach really shines.

If you read only the NKJV— if you take the “of the fatness” reading —you get a story about two brothers who both received blessings, one greater and one lesser. It’s a story about divine favoritism softened by fatherly love. Isaac, unable to undo what he’d done for Jacob, still managed to scrape together something decent for Esau.

If you read the NRSV and the Septuagint, taking the “away from the fatness” reading, you get a much harder story. A story where Jacob received everything and Esau received nothing. Where Isaac, speaking under prophetic compulsion, could not bless Esau even if he wanted to. Where the words that came out of his mouth were not blessings at all, but the grim pronouncement of a future defined by barren land, the blade, and bondage.

I believe the second reading is what the text actually says. The grammar supports it. The Septuagint supports it. Jubilees supports it. Esau’s reaction supports it. The historical reality of Edom supports it.

But I also believe there’s something important in the tension. Because God’s dealings with Esau are not the whole story. God is not done with anyone. The New Testament tells us that God’s mercy extends even to those who, like Esau, despised their birthright (Hebrews 12:16-17). The story of Esau is a warning, not a final verdict. Paul himself, reflecting on the mystery of divine election, reminds us: “I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion” (Romans 9:15, echoing Exodus 33:19).

The Beauty of Comparing Texts

This is why I love doing what we do here. It’s the reason comparing the Masoretic Text and the Septuagint matters.

A single preposition. Two letters in Hebrew. Three letters in Greek. And it changes whether Isaac spoke a blessing or a curse over his eldest son.

Your English Bible chose one reading. The ancient traditions preserve what is likely the other. And when you hold them side by side, when you sit with the discomfort and the complexity and the ambiguity, you encounter a deeper truth than either reading offers alone.

You encounter a God who is sovereign in His choices. Who declared “the older shall serve the younger” before the twins drew breath. Who orchestrated events (even morally ambiguous events like Jacob’s deception) to bring about His purposes. And who, in the mystery of His wisdom, allowed His Word to be preserved in multiple traditions, each one revealing a different facet of the same diamond.

The Masoretic Text gives you the ambiguity. It lets you sit with the question: was it a blessing or not?

The Septuagint honors the ambiguity while it’s structure gives you a definite answer:
No, it wasn’t. It was a prophecy of exile. And the ancient readers knew it.

Together, they give you the full picture. And the full picture, as always, is richer than either tradition alone.

What do you think about all this? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

If you’ve found this work insightful or helpful, please share it with a friend who loves Scripture as much as you do.

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We have journeyed together through eight centuries of biblical literature and two millennia of theological reflection. We began in ancient Mesopotamia, where childbirth was already a powerful metaphor for divine activity and cosmic transformation.

We traced the birth pang imagery through Hebrew prophecy; Isaiah’s use of חוּל for judgment and restoration, Jeremiah’s intensive application to both Gentile nations and Israel herself, Micah’s explicit connection of Zion’s labor to the Messiah’s birth.

We examined how the Septuagint translators chose ὠδίνω and related terms to render the Hebrew vocabulary, creating a standardized Greek framework inherited by the New Testament writers.

We watched Jesus deliberately invoke this prophetic tradition in the Olivet Discourse, reframing the end-times tribulation as “the beginning of birth pangs.”

We explored Paul’s three-fold expansion of the metaphor to all creation groaning in labor, to sudden judgment on the ungodly, to spiritual formation and pastoral ministry.

And we culminated in John’s cosmic vision in Revelation 12, where Israel, clothed with the sun, gives birth to the Messiah while a dragon waits to devour the child, and all of redemptive history is revealed as one continuous labor narrative.

If you missed any of the earlier posts, you can get caught up below:

Now, in this final installment, we’ll synthesize everything we’ve learned and ask the crucial questions: What does this metaphor teach us about God’s purposes in history? How should it shape our understanding of suffering? What does it mean to live faithfully and hopefully in “the labor pains” today?

And when the new creation is finally born and the Kingdom arrives in fullness, what will we have learned from the long labor of history?

Let’s dig in!

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Part I: The Journey We’ve Taken — A Comprehensive Synthesis

Before we explore theological implications and pastoral applications, let’s consolidate what we’ve discovered across seven installments. The birth pang metaphor develops through Scripture in a remarkably coherent way.

Stage 1: Ancient Near Eastern Context (Part 1)

We began by establishing that the birth pang metaphor didn’t originate in Scripture. It was part of the cultural vocabulary of the ancient Near East. In Mesopotamian, Egyptian, and Canaanite literature, childbirth served as a metaphor for divine activity, cosmic transformation, and the transition from one state to another.

The key insight: In the ancient world, birth was simultaneously dangerous and hopeful. It was the moment of greatest vulnerability and greatest promise. A woman in labor was at the threshold between life and death, and the outcome— new life —was worth the agony.

When the Hebrew prophets adopted this imagery, they inherited this dual quality: suffering that is both real and productive, dangerous and hopeful, agonizing and purposeful.

Stage 2: Hebrew Vocabulary and Prophetic Usage (Parts 2-4)

Three Hebrew terms dominate the birth pang vocabulary:

חוּל (chul): to writhe, to be in anguish, to travail. The broadest term, describing the physical agony of labor and metaphorically applied to nations, armies, and the earth itself.

יָלַד (yalad): to give birth, to bear. The standard term for actual childbirth, used metaphorically when the prophet wants to emphasize the productive outcome of the labor.

חֶבֶל (chevel): labor pain, birth pang, cord. The noun describing the pangs themselves, later central to the rabbinic concept of חֶבְלֵי הַמָּשִׁיחַ (chevlei haMashiach), “the birth pangs of the Messiah.”

Isaiah deployed the metaphor strategically across four key passages:

• Isaiah 13:8 — Babylon writhes in birth pangs at God’s judgment (birth pangs as curse)

• Isaiah 21:3 — Isaiah himself experiences birth-pang agony at his own visions (birth pangs as prophetic empathy)

• Isaiah 26:17-18 — Israel is like a woman in labor who gives birth to spirit (birth pangs as spiritual labor)

• Isaiah 66:7-9 — Zion gives birth before her labor begins (birth pangs as eschatological reversal)

Isaiah’s arc moves from judgment to spiritual creation to miraculous hope. By Isaiah 66, the metaphor has been transformed: birth without labor, a nation born in a day, God Himself asking, “Shall I bring to the point of birth and not cause to bring forth?”

Jeremiah saturated his prophecy with birth imagery, applying it to Gentile nations and Israel alike. His most significant contribution is Jeremiah 30:6-7, the “time of Jacob’s distress,” where even men are described as having their hands on their stomachs “like a woman in labor.” Jeremiah universalized the metaphor: everyone writhes. No one is exempt.

Micah provided the crucial messianic link. In Micah 4:9-10 and 5:2-3, Zion’s labor explicitly produces the Messiah. The Ruler from Bethlehem comes forth after “she who is in labor has given birth.” Micah connects the dots: the birth pangs of Israel are not just judgment or distress, they are the labor that produces the Redeemer.

Stage 3: LXX Translation Creates a Greek Framework (Part 5)

The Septuagint translators, working at least two centuries before Christ, made critical linguistic decisions:

• חוּל (chul) → ὠδίνω (ōdinō, “to be in labor”)

• יָלַד (yalad) → τίκτω (tiktō, “to give birth”)

• חֶבֶל (chevel) → ὠδִν (ōdin, “birth pang, labor pain”)

This standardization created a unified Greek vocabulary for birth pang imagery that the New Testament writers inherited. When Jesus says ἀρχὴ ὠδίνων (”beginning of birth pangs”) in Matthew 24:8, he’s using the exact terminology the LXX established for the prophetic tradition.

The LXX didn’t just translate; it created a theological vocabulary.

Stage 4: Jesus Adopts the Prophetic Tradition (Part 6)

In the Olivet Discourse (Matthew 24:4-8; Mark 13:5-8), Jesus describes the signs preceding the end:

πάντα δὲ ταῦτα ἀρχὴ ὠδίνων “All these things are the beginning of birth pangs”

Jesus deliberately invokes the prophetic tradition. In doing so, He is placing Himself squarely within the framework of the prophets, not coining a new metaphor. He’s Following the traditions of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Micah and positioning Himself within the Jewish apocalyptic concept of chevlei haMashiach, the birth pangs of the Messiah.

Five truths emerge from Jesus’ usage:

1. Inevitability: The birth will happen. The Kingdom will come.

2. Inescapability: There is no way around the labor, only through it.

3. Progressive intensification: These are the beginning (ἀρχὴ) of birth pangs. They will get worse.

4. Purposeful suffering: The pain is producing something: the Kingdom.

5. Joy after anguish: John 16:21 makes this explicit: the woman forgets the anguish for joy that a child has been born.

Stage 5: Paul’s Three Expansions (Part 7)

Paul takes Jesus’ teaching and develops it in three distinct directions:

Romans 8:22-23 — Cosmic Scope:

οἴδαμεν γὰρ ὅτι πᾶσα ἡ κτίσις συστενάζει καὶ συνωδίνει ἄχρι τοῦ νῦν
“We know that the whole creation has been groaning together and suffering birth pangs together until now”

Paul universalizes the metaphor beyond anything in the prophets. Not just Israel and not just humanity. He’s showing that all creation groans in birth pangs. The triple groaning structure (creation groans, believers groan, the Spirit groans) emphasizes universal participation in the labor. With the goal being glorified sons of God revealed and, after the millennial reign that separates the glorification of the Redeemed and the ultimate new creation, all the Universe being liberated from the bondage to decay.

1 Thessalonians 5:3 — Eschatological Judgment:

ὄλεθρος ὥσπερ ἡ ὠδὶν τῇ ἐν γαστρὶ ἐχούσῃ
“destruction like the birth pang upon a pregnant woman”

Paul emphasizes two characteristics of birth pangs: suddenness (labor can begin without warning) and inevitability (once begun, there is no escape). He applies this to judgment on unbelievers who declare “peace and security,” explicitly exposing the Roman imperial propaganda as false. The same eschatological event produces deliverance for believers and destruction for unbelievers.

Galatians 4:19 — Spiritual Ministry:

τέκνα μου, οὓς πάλιν ὠδίνω μέχρις οὗ μορφωθῇ Χριστὸς ἐν ὑμῖν
“My children, for whom I am again in labor until Christ is formed in you”

Paul personalizes the metaphor, describing his pastoral anguish as birth pangs. He is in labor again (πάλιν) for the Galatians. Once previously for their conversion, and now for their restoration from legalism. The goal being that Christ is formed (μορφωθῇ Χριστὸς) in them.

Stage 6: John’s Cosmic Vision (Part 7)

Revelation 12:1-2:

γυνὴ περιβεβλημένη τὸν ἥλιον... καὶ κράζει ὠδίνουσα καὶ βασανιζομένη τεκεῖν
“A woman clothed with the sun... and she cries out, being in labor and being tormented to give birth”

John takes all the prophetic birth pang imagery and expands it to cosmic, apocalyptic heights.

The Scene:

• Woman = Israel, clothed with the sun, moon under her feet, crowned with twelve stars (recalling Genesis 37:9 and the twelve tribes)

• Male child = The Messiah, Jesus Christ, who will rule with a rod of iron (Psalm 2:9), with a secondary symbolic identification as the body of Christ, the church

• Dragon = Satan, the ancient serpent (Revelation 12:9)

• Woman’s labor = Israel’s suffering and expectation throughout redemptive history

Key elements:

1. The woman (Israel) gives birth to the Messiah

2. The child is caught up to God’s throne: in the literal sense, Christ’s ascension; symbolically, the ascension of the body of Christ (the Rapture)

3. The woman flees to the wilderness for 1,260 days: the Great Tribulation, where Israel is protected and nourished by God

4. The dragon persecutes “the rest of her offspring”: Messianic Jews, Jewish believers who hold to the testimony of Jesus

5. The dragon is ultimately defeated

Key development: John reveals that all of history is a birth narrative. From the Fall to the new creation, Israel has been in labor. The Messiah has been born. Satan has tried and failed to devour the child. And the full birth— the complete realization of the Kingdom, the new heavens and new earth —is yet future.

The Unified Biblical Trajectory

When we synthesize Parts 1-7, a clear developmental arc emerges:

Ancient Near East → Birth = transformation, productive suffering, cosmic ordering ↓
Isaiah → Applies to judgment, prophetic empathy, Israel’s struggle, Zion’s miracle ↓
Jeremiah → Universalizes: everyone in labor, all nations writhe ↓
Micah → Links to Messiah: Zion’s labor produces the Ruler from Bethlehem ↓
LXX → Standardizes Greek vocabulary (ὠδίνω, τίκτω, ὠδίν) ↓
Jesus → Adopts tradition: end-times tribulation = beginning of birth pangs ↓
Paul → Expands three ways: cosmic (all creation), judicial (Day of the Lord), ministerial (spiritual formation) ↓
John → Cosmifies: all history is labor; Israel gives birth to Messiah and His people ↓
Result → Birth pang metaphor encompasses entire biblical eschatology from Fall to new creation

Part II: Theological Implications — What the Metaphor Teaches Us

Now that we’ve traced the metaphor’s development, what does it mean? What theological truths emerge from seeing suffering-as-labor across Scripture?

1. Suffering Is Productive, Not Meaningless

The Metaphor’s Core Message:

The most fundamental truth communicated by birth pang imagery is this: Suffering is producing something.

Labor pain is not:

• Arbitrary

• Punitive for its own sake

• An end in itself

• Meaningless

It is productive. Every contraction moves the baby closer to birth. The pain has a telos, a purpose, a goal.

Biblical Examples:

• Isaiah’s Babylon (13:8) — The labor produces judgment and the fall of tyranny

• Micah’s Zion (4:9-10; 5:2-3) — The labor produces the Messiah and restoration

• Jesus’ teaching (Matthew 24:8) — The labor produces the Kingdom of God

• Paul’s creation (Romans 8:22) — The labor produces glorified sons and liberated cosmos

• John’s woman (Revelation 12:2) — The labor produces the Messiah and His people

Theological Significance:

This radically reframes how we understand suffering in the present age.

Pain without purpose → despair
Pain with purpose → hope

The Christian life is not about avoiding suffering. It’s about suffering productively. We endure tribulation in hope (Romans 8:20, 24-25) because we know the labor is producing the glory that will be revealed in us (Romans 8:18).

Pastoral Application:

When a believer asks, “Why is this happening to me?” or “Why does God allow suffering?” the birth pang metaphor provides a biblical answer:

You’re not suffering randomly. You’re in labor. God is using this pain to birth something glorious. Whether it’s in you (Christlikeness, Galatians 4:19), through you (ministry, evangelism, witness), or for you (future glory, Romans 8:18-23). The pain is temporary. The birth is coming.

2. The Outcome Is Certain — Birth Will Happen

The Metaphor’s Inevitability:

A woman in labor will give birth. Once contractions begin, the process is irreversible. The baby will be born.

This is one of the most powerful aspects of the metaphor: inevitability.

Biblical Emphasis:

• Jeremiah 30:7 — “Alas! That day is so great there is none like it; it is a time of distress for Jacob; yet he shall be saved out of it“

• Matthew 24:6 — Jesus says tribulation is coming, “but the end is not yet“ (implying: but it will come)

• 1 Thessalonians 5:3 — Destruction “will come upon them... and they will not escape“

• Romans 8:21 — Creation will be set free from bondage

• Revelation 12:5 — The male child is caught up to God (already accomplished in Christ’s ascension, with the secondary reality yet to come)

Theological Significance:

The birth pang metaphor guarantees eschatological certainty.

The Kingdom will come. Christ will return. The dead will be raised. The new creation will be born. Justice will be established. Satan will be defeated. Death will be abolished.

Just as a woman in labor will inevitably give birth, so the promises of God will inevitably be fulfilled.

Pastoral Application:

When the world seems chaotic, when evil appears to triumph, when believers are persecuted and the church suffers, remember: The baby is coming.

History is in labor. Every contraction (war, famine, earthquake, persecution) brings us closer to the birth. The pain is real, but the outcome is certain.

This is why Paul can say with confidence: “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Romans 8:18). He’s certain about the outcome.

3. We Live “Between the Contractions” — Already/Not Yet

The Metaphor’s Timeline:

The birth pang metaphor perfectly captures what theologians call inaugurated eschatology or the “already/not yet” tension of the Christian life.

Already:

• The Messiah has been born (Revelation 12:5 — “She gave birth to a male child... caught up to God”)

• The Kingdom has been inaugurated (Luke 17:21 — “The kingdom of God is in your midst”)

• The Spirit has been poured out (Acts 2 — “This is what was spoken by the prophet Joel”)

• Believers are already children of God (1 John 3:2 — “now we are children of God”)

• We already have the “firstfruits of the Spirit” (Romans 8:23)

Not Yet:

• The Kingdom has not come in fullness (Matthew 6:10 — “Your kingdom come”)

• We do not yet have resurrection bodies (Romans 8:23 — “we wait eagerly for... the redemption of our bodies”)

• Creation is not yet liberated (Romans 8:21 — creation “will be set free”)

• Not everything is yet subjected to Christ (Hebrews 2:8 — “we do not yet see everything in subjection to him”)

• We have not yet been fully glorified (1 John 3:2 — “what we will be has not yet appeared”)

The Birth Pang Metaphor Explains This:

We live in the middle of the labor.

The contractions have begun (Jesus: “This is the beginning of birth pangs”). But the baby has not yet been fully born (Paul: “creation groans... until now”). The Messiah’s literal birth, death, resurrection, and ascension have been accomplished, but the full consummation— the resurrection of the dead, the millennial reign, and ultimately the new heavens and new earth —remains future. And the most intense phase of the labor, the Great Tribulation when Israel will be sustained in the wilderness (Revelation 12:6, 14), is still ahead.

Theological Significance:

The birth pang metaphor helps us understand why Christian experience is characterized by tension:

• We have peace with God (Romans 5:1), yet we suffer tribulation (John 16:33)

• We are seated with Christ in heavenly places (Ephesians 2:6), yet we groan for redemption (Romans 8:23)

• We have eternal life now (John 5:24), yet we await the resurrection (1 Corinthians 15:51-52)

• The Kingdom is here (Luke 17:21), yet we pray for its coming (Matthew 6:10)

This is not contradiction. It’s labor.

The baby has been conceived (the Kingdom inaugurated). The contractions have begun (tribulation). But the full birth (consummation) is still ahead.

Pastoral Application:

Christians should neither:

1. Over-realize eschatology (expecting complete healing, prosperity, and victory now)

2. Under-realize eschatology (thinking the Kingdom is entirely future with no present blessings)

Instead, we live in the “already/not yet”:

• We experience real blessings now (healing, provision, answered prayer, Spirit’s presence)

• But we also experience real suffering (sickness, persecution, death, groaning)

• Both are part of the labor process

• The contractions don’t negate the blessings, and the blessings don’t eliminate the contractions

We’re between the “already” (Messiah born, Kingdom inaugurated) and the “not yet” (full birth, Kingdom consummated). We live in the labor pains of the present age, sustained and nourished by God even as we groan for what is coming.

4. Contractions Get Stronger — Progressive Intensification

The Metaphor’s Nature:

Real labor contractions progressively intensify:

• They start farther apart, then get closer together

• They start milder, then become stronger

• They start shorter, then last longer

Jesus’ phrase “the beginning of birth pangs” (ἀρχὴ ὠδίνων) implies this progression.

If Matthew 24:4-8 describes “the beginning,” what comes after?

Biblical Testimony:

Jesus goes on to describe increasing tribulation:

• Matthew 24:9-14 — Persecution, martyrdom, apostasy, gospel to all nations

• Matthew 24:15-22 — The great tribulation, “such as has not been from the beginning of the world”

• Matthew 24:29-31 — Cosmic signs, Son of Man coming, elect gathered

The progression: Beginning of birth pangs → Increasing tribulation → Great tribulation → Second Coming

Theological Significance:

If we’re living “between the contractions,” and contractions intensify, we should expect:

• Increasing frequency of wars, famines, earthquakes (not constant stability)

• Escalating persecution of Christians globally

• Growing apostasy and false teaching

• Acceleration of gospel proclamation to unreached peoples

• Intensification of spiritual warfare

The labor pains get worse before they get better.

But the wild part is this is cause for hope rather than despair. Every time a contraction gets stronger, every time it lasts longer, every time a new one comes with less downtime than the last, means we’re closer to the birth.

Pastoral Application:

When believers observe:

• Increasing hostility toward Christianity

• Escalating natural disasters

• Rising persecution of the church worldwide

• Growing apostasy and heresy

• Increasing profusion of false teaching and false prophets

They should not respond with fear or discouragement. They should recognize: The contractions are intensifying. The birth is near.

Jesus said, “When these things begin to take place, straighten up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near” (Luke 21:28).

5. Multiple Outcomes — Judgment and Deliverance

The Metaphor’s Dual Nature:

One of the most sobering aspects of the birth pang metaphor is that the same event produces different outcomes for different people:

• For believers: Deliverance, salvation, entry into the Kingdom

• For unbelievers: Judgment, destruction, exclusion from the Kingdom

Biblical Evidence:

1 Thessalonians 5:2-3 vs. 5:9:

• Verse 3: “While people are saying, ‘Peace and security,’ then sudden destruction will come upon them... and they will not escape“

• Verse 9: “For God has not destined us for wrath, but to obtain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ”

Revelation 12:

• Dragon tries to devour the child → Child is rescued (v. 5)

• Dragon persecutes the woman → Woman is protected (vv. 6, 13-16)

• Dragon wars against her offspring → They overcome by the blood of the Lamb (vv. 11, 17)

Romans 8:

• Creation groans → Will be liberated (v. 21)

• Believers groan → Will be glorified (v. 23)

• Those who reject God → Face wrath (Romans 2:5, 8)

Theological Significance:

The birth of the Kingdom is simultaneously:

• Salvation for those in Christ

• Judgment for those who don’t accept Christ

There is no neutral position. Everyone experiences the birth pangs, but:

• For believers, they are labor pains leading to glory

• For unbelievers, they are judgments leading to destruction

Pastoral Application:

This underscores the urgency of evangelism.

The contractions are intensifying. The birth is coming. When the Kingdom arrives in fullness, it will be too late. There is no escape after labor culminates in birth.

Paul’s language is stark: “they will not escape“ (1 Thessalonians 5:3).

The church’s mission in the present age is to proclaim the gospel so that as many as possible will be ready when the birth happens. Our Great Commission is to prepare all peoples to experience it as deliverance rather than destruction.

6. Joy Follows Anguish — Retrospective Reframing

The Metaphor’s Climax:

Jesus makes this explicit in John 16:20-22:

“Truly, truly, I say to you, you will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice. You will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn into joy. When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world. So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.”

The key insight here is the woman no longer remembers the anguish.

Not because the pain wasn’t real. But because the joy of the baby eclipses the memory of the pain.

Theological Significance:

Paul echoes this in Romans 8:18:

“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.”

The glory will be so overwhelming, so magnificent, so all-consuming that:

• The centuries of groaning will seem momentary

• The tribulation will appear light

• The labor will be forgotten in the joy of the birth

This is not minimizing present suffering. Paul acknowledges creation’s groaning, believers’ groaning, the Spirit’s groaning. The pain is real.

But the future glory will so far surpass the present suffering that, in retrospect, it will seem like nothing.

Biblical Examples:

• Genesis 21:6 — Sarah laughs with joy at Isaac’s birth (after decades of barrenness and pain)

• Psalm 30:5 — “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning”

• Isaiah 65:17 — “For behold, I create new heavens and a new earth, and the former things shall not be remembered or come into mind“

• Revelation 21:4 — “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away“

Pastoral Application:

This truth sustains believers in suffering:

Yes, the pain is real. Yes, the labor is long. Yes, the contractions are intense. But when you see the baby— when you see the new creation, when you receive your resurrection body, when you stand in the New Jerusalem, when you see Christ face to face —you will look back on two thousand years of church history, on your own lifetime of trials, on every tear and every groan, and you will say: “It was worth it. The baby is so beautiful. I don’t even remember the pain anymore.”

Part III: Living Faithfully in the Labor — Pastoral Application

Having traced the metaphor’s development and explored its theological implications, we now turn to practical application. What does it mean to live faithfully and hopefully in the labor pains of the present age?

1. Reframe Suffering: It’s Labor, Not Punishment

The Shift:

Many Christians default to viewing their suffering as punishment from God. They ask, “What did I do wrong?” or “Why is God angry with me?”

The birth pang metaphor reframes this entirely. Suffering is not (primarily) punitive. It is productive. It’s not about what you did wrong; it’s about what God is birthing through you.

Ministry Opportunity:

Pastors, teachers, and counselors can help believers reframe their trials:

When you face trials, don’t start with “What did I do wrong?” Start with “What is God birthing?” Maybe it’s patience. Maybe it’s character (Romans 5:3-5). Maybe it’s a deeper dependence on Christ. Maybe it’s a testimony that will reach someone you haven’t yet met. The pain is real, but it’s labor. And labor always produces something.

2. Maintain Hope: The Outcome Is Certain

The Anchor:

In a world of uncertainty, the birth pang metaphor provides an anchor of hope:

The birth will happen. The process, once begun, is irreversible. God finishes what He starts.

Biblical Grounding:

• Philippians 1:6 — “He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ”

• Romans 8:30 — “And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified” (note the past tense, this is already accomplished in God’s purpose)

• Isaiah 66:9 — ““Shall I bring to the point of birth and not cause to bring forth?” says the Lord”

Ministry Opportunity:

When believers face despair, when the labor seems too long, the pain too intense, the outcome too uncertain, remind them:

The baby is coming. God does not bring to the point of birth and then close the womb. He finishes what He starts. The labor is long, but the outcome is certain. Hold on.

3. Embrace Progressive Sanctification: Christ Being Formed

Galatians 4:19 Applied:

Paul’s language of spiritual labor has direct application for discipleship:

The Christian life is not a one-time decision. It’s a labor. Christ is being formed in you: Shaped, molded, brought to birth. And that process is painful. Growth is costly. Sanctification involves suffering. But the goal is glorious: Christ formed in you.

Ministry Opportunity:

For pastors and spiritual mentors:

You are in labor for the people you serve. Paul was. The anguish you feel for believers who backslide, who fall into sin, who are seduced by false teaching, that’s labor. You are in birth pangs until Christ is formed in them. Don’t give up. The labor is worth it.

4. Watch for the Signs: Contractions Are Intensifying

Matthew 24:32-33 — The Fig Tree Parable:

“From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts out its leaves, you know that summer is near. So also, when you see all these things, you know that he is near, at the very gates.”

Application:

Believers should be discerning observers of the times:

• Global evangelism accelerating (Matthew 24:14)

• Persecution intensifying (Matthew 24:9)

• Apostasy increasing (Matthew 24:10-12)

• Natural disasters multiplying (Matthew 24:7)

These are not reasons for fear. They are contractions. Stronger contractions mean the birth is closer.

A Word of Caution:

Discerning the times is not the same as date-setting. Jesus explicitly warned against this (Matthew 24:36: “But about that day and hour no one knows”). We can recognize the signs of labor without predicting the exact moment of birth. A woman in active labor knows the birth is near; she doesn’t know the exact minute the baby will arrive.

5. Proclaim the Gospel Urgently: No Escape After Birth

1 Thessalonians 5:3 Applied:

The urgency of evangelism flows directly from the birth pang metaphor:

The contractions are intensifying. The birth is coming. When the Kingdom arrives in fullness, it will be too late. Now is the day of salvation (2 Corinthians 6:2). Now is the time to repent and believe. The same event— the birth of the Kingdom —will be salvation for those in Christ and destruction for those apart from Christ. There is no neutral ground. Flee to Christ while there is still time. The labor is progressing. The birth is coming.

6. Endure with Joy: Remember the Baby

John 16:21 Application:

Jesus explicitly connects birth pangs to the promise that sorrow will turn to joy:

“When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world.”

Practical Application:

Believers can endure present suffering by keeping the future joy in view.

Biblical Examples:

• Hebrews 12:2 — “looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God”

• 2 Corinthians 4:17-18 — “For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen“

• Philippians 3:20-21 — “But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body”

Ministry Opportunity:

Churches should regularly preach on future hope:

Yes, the labor is hard. Yes, the contractions are painful. Yes, you’re weary. But remember the birth. Remember what’s coming: resurrection bodies, the new creation, the New Jerusalem, dwelling with God forever, no more tears, no more death, no more pain. When you see all that— when you see Christ face to face, when you receive your inheritance, when you enter the fullness of the Kingdom —you’ll look back on this life and say, “I don’t even remember the anguish anymore.” The joy will be so great that it will eclipse the memory of the pain. Hold on. The baby is coming. And when you see Him, it will all be worth it.

Part IV: What Will We Learn From the Long Labor? — Final Reflections

As we conclude this eight-part series, we return to the question posed at the beginning of Part 8:

When the new creation is finally born and the Kingdom arrives in fullness, what will we have learned from the long labor of history?

1. We Will Have Learned About God’s Faithfulness

The Lesson:

God promised a Seed who would crush the serpent’s head (Genesis 3:15). Thousands of years later— after patriarchs, judges, kings, prophets, exile, and return —the Seed came (Galatians 3:16).

God promised a new covenant (Jeremiah 31:31-34). Centuries later, Jesus inaugurated it at the Last Supper (Luke 22:20).

God promised that the dead would be raised (Daniel 12:2). Jesus rose from the dead and became the firstfruits of the resurrection (1 Corinthians 15:20).

God promised that creation would be liberated (Romans 8:21). We await this fulfillment in hope (Romans 8:24-25).

The Birth Pang Lesson:

Every contraction has been productive. Every promise has been or will be kept. What God begins, He completes. The long labor of history is a testimony to God’s unwavering, unshakable faithfulness.

2. We Will Have Learned That Suffering Produces Glory

The Lesson:

“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Romans 8:18).

When we stand in the New Jerusalem, we will know experientially what Paul stated by faith: the suffering was worth it. The labor was necessary. The pain was productive. Every tear, every groan, every persecution, every loss… it all contributed to the glory that was being birthed.

The Birth Pang Lesson:

Just as a mother looks at her child and knows that the hours of agony were necessary and worthwhile, we will look at the new creation and know that the millennia of groaning were part of the process. The glory could not have been born without the labor.

3. We Will Have Learned the Value of Hope

The Lesson:

“Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience” (Romans 8:24-25).

Throughout the long labor, hope sustained the people of God. Abraham hoped for a city whose builder and maker is God (Hebrews 11:10). Moses endured as seeing Him who is invisible (Hebrews 11:27). The prophets hoped for the Messiah. The apostles hoped for the Kingdom. The church has hoped for the return of Christ for two thousand years.

And hope did not disappoint (Romans 5:5).

The Birth Pang Lesson:

Hope is not wishful thinking. It is confident expectation based on God’s character and promises. The woman in labor hopes for the baby not because she’s naïve about the pain, but because she knows the process will produce what it promises. Christian hope is the same: we hope for the Kingdom not because we’re naïve about suffering, but because we know the God who promised it.

4. We Will Have Learned That Love Endures All Things

The Lesson:

“Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (1 Corinthians 13:7).

Christ’s love endured the cross, which is the ultimate birth pang. Our love has endured persecution, loss, and suffering. The mutual love between God and His people has sustained the labor throughout history.

The Birth Pang Lesson:

The labor of history is, at its deepest level, a labor of love. God’s love for His creation drives the redemptive process. Christ’s love for the church endured the cross. The church’s love for Christ sustains us through persecution. Love is the driving force behind the labor, and love will be the character of the new creation.

5. We Will Have Learned That the Metaphor Was True

The Lesson:

When we stand in the New Jerusalem and look back over the entire sweep of history, from Eden to the new creation we will see that all of it really was labor. Every war, every famine, every earthquake, every persecution, every natural disaster, every instance of decay and death… all of it has been part of the cosmic labor of bringing forth the new creation.

The prophets were right. Jesus was right. Paul was right. John was right.

All of history was birth pangs. Every contraction was productive. And the baby was worth the wait.

If you’ve found this helpful or insightful, please share it with a friend who loves Scripture as much as you do.

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Conclusion: Between the Contractions

We have journeyed together from ancient Mesopotamia to the New Jerusalem, tracing a single, profound image across centuries of Scripture.

We’ve seen how the birth pang metaphor began as a common cultural image in the ancient Near East, was adopted and transformed by the Hebrew prophets, standardized in Greek by the Septuagint translators, deliberately invoked by Jesus in the Olivet Discourse, theologically expanded by Paul in three directions, and brought to its cosmic climax by John in Revelation 12.

Through it all, the core message has remained consistent:

We are in labor. History is in travail. The people of God, the creation, the cosmos itself are all groaning, suffering, crying out in birth pangs. But this suffering is not the end. It is the means to the end. Something glorious is being born.

Right now, in this moment, you are living between the contractions.

The Messiah has been born, was executed, is risen, and has ascended. The Kingdom has been inaugurated. The Spirit has been poured out. The firstfruits have been given.

But the full birth is yet future. The resurrection of the dead. The return of Christ. The millennial reign. The new heavens and new earth. The New Jerusalem descending from heaven.

The contractions are real. The pain is intense. The labor is long.

But the birth is coming.

Every contraction brings us closer. Every birth pang is productive. Every groan is purposeful.

And when Christ returns— when the trumpet sounds, when the dead are raised, when the new heavens and new earth descend, when God makes His dwelling with man and wipes away every tear —we will look back on the long labor and say:

“It was worth it.”

The pain will be forgotten. The joy will be overwhelming. The Kingdom will have been born.

And we will worship the Lamb who endured His own labor to birth the new creation.

Final Word: For Those Still in Labor

If you’re reading this and you’re in pain— be it physical, emotional, or spiritual —I need you to hear this:

You’re in labor.

Your suffering is not meaningless. God is birthing something glorious:

• Christlikeness in you

• Redemption through you

• Glory for you

The contractions are real. The pain is intense. The labor is long.

But the birth is coming.

Hold on. The end is near. Your redemption is drawing close.

“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Romans 8:18).

Maranatha—Come, Lord Jesus.

Bring the birth.

The LXX Scrolls is free to read and always will be. If this work has been worth something to you, there are a few ways to say so:

Buy the ebooks. Completed teaching series are available as polished ebooks under the Two Witnesses, One Truth series. Buying through Curios will support this work most directly but they’re also available on Amazon (and elsewhere) if you’re loyal to a particular ereader.

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© 2026 LXX Scrolls. All rights reserved.

Good morning and Happy Easter, brothers and sisters.

Easter morning. The tomb is empty. The stone is rolled away. The sun is rising on the most important day in human history.

Before you head to church, before the family gathers, before the celebration begins, take a few minutes with me this morning. I want to show you something about the cross that you may have never noticed. Something hiding in the details. Something that, once you see it, will make Easter morning hit differently than it ever has before.

It starts with a single sentence spoken by a wild man in the wilderness.

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“Behold, the Lamb of God”

When John the Baptist sees Jesus walking toward him along the banks of the Jordan River, the very first thing he says is this:

“Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29, NKJV)

We hear that phrase so often in church that it washes right over us. “The Lamb of God.” We nod. We move on. We’ve heard it a thousand times.

But stop and think about who John is talking to. He’s talking to Jewish people. People who have celebrated Passover every single year of their lives. People who know exactly what a sacrificial lamb is, what it does, and what it costs.

When John says “Lamb of God,” every person on that riverbank hears Exodus 12. They hear the story of the night God delivered Israel from Egypt, the night the angel of death passed over every home marked with the blood of a lamb.

John isn’t using a metaphor. He’s making an identification.

This man walking toward you? He is the Passover Lamb. The real one. The one that every lamb slaughtered in Egypt and every lamb sacrificed in the temple has been pointing to for more than a thousand years.

The Lamb Written into the Details

Paul states it plainly: “For indeed Christ, our Passover, was sacrificed for us” (1 Corinthians 5:7, NKJV).

That’s not a poetic comparison. It’s a theological declaration. And when you go back to Exodus 12 and lay the details of the original Passover next to the details of the crucifixion, the connections are staggering. God wasn’t making this up as He went along. He was writing the story of the cross into the Passover more than a thousand years before Calvary.

Consider what God commanded about the Passover lamb and what happened to Jesus:

The lamb had to be without blemish. “Your lamb shall be without blemish, a male of the first year” (Exodus 12:5, NKJV). Jesus was sinless. He was examined by Pilate, Herod, and the Sanhedrin, and none of them could find fault in Him. Peter later wrote, “You were redeemed... with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot” (1 Peter 1:18-19, NKJV).

Not a bone of the lamb was to be broken. “Nor shall you break one of its bones” (Exodus 12:46, NKJV). When the Roman soldiers came to break the legs of the crucified men to hasten their deaths, they broke the legs of the two criminals on either side of Jesus. But when they came to Jesus, He was already dead. They didn’t break a single bone. John records this and tells us exactly why: “For these things were done that the Scripture should be fulfilled, ‘Not one of His bones shall be broken’” (John 19:36, NKJV).

The blood was applied with hyssop. God told Moses, “Take a bunch of hyssop, dip it in the blood that is in the basin, and strike the lintel and the two doorposts” (Exodus 12:22, NKJV). Hyssop. A humble, scrubby little plant. This is what delivered the blood of the lamb to the doorposts of Hebrew homes on the night that death passed over Egypt.

Now listen to what happened at the cross. When Jesus said “I thirst,” the soldiers took a sponge, filled it with sour wine, “put it on hyssop, and put it to His mouth” (John 19:29, NKJV).

Hyssop. The same plant. At the first Passover, hyssop carried the blood of the lamb to the doorway of salvation. At Calvary, hyssop was lifted to the lips of the Lamb Himself.

Augustine of Hippo noticed this connection centuries ago. He wrote that hyssop is “a mild and humble plant, but it has very strong and penetrating roots,” and connected it to Paul’s prayer in Ephesians that believers would be “rooted and grounded in love” so as to comprehend “the breadth and length and height and depth” of the cross. The humble plant that delivered salvation in Egypt points to the humble Savior who delivered salvation at Calvary.

The blood on the doorposts. In Exodus 12, the blood was applied to the two side posts and the top beam (the lintel) of each doorway. Some have observed that this pattern, blood on the left, on the right, and across the top, with the blood dripping downward, would have formed something resembling the shape of a cross. I wouldn’t build a doctrine on it, but it’s a striking image. In Egypt, the blood of a lamb on the wood of a doorframe saved Israel from death. At Calvary, the blood of the Lamb on the wood of a cross saves us from eternal death.

All leaven had to be removed from the house. Before the Passover meal, every household had to search for and remove every trace of leaven, because leaven in Scripture represents sin and corruption (Exodus 12:15; 1 Corinthians 5:6-8). The Passover was eaten in a house cleansed of all corruption.

In the same way, Jesus is the sacrifice that cleanses us from all sin. “He Himself is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the whole world” (1 John 2:2, NKJV). The Passover lamb was consumed in a purified house. The Lamb of God purifies the house.

The lamb had to be entirely consumed. God commanded, “You shall let none of it remain until morning, and what remains of it until morning you shall burn with fire” (Exodus 12:10, NKJV). Nothing was to be left over. The sacrifice had to be complete.

And Jesus’ sacrifice was complete. He was crucified, died, and was buried before evening fell. His body did not remain on the cross overnight. The sacrifice was finished in its entirety. As He Himself declared with His final breath: “It is finished” (John 19:30).

Τετέλεσται. Tetelestai. It is accomplished. It is completed. The debt is paid in full.

Easter and/or Passover?

I’ll be honest with you. The deeper I’ve gone into Scripture over the past couple of years, the more convicted I’ve become that Easter isn’t the only way Christians should celebrate what Jesus did on the cross. I believe Passover deserves a place in our lives too.

I know that might sound strange coming from someone who attends a modern evangelical church. But think about it. Jesus Himself celebrated Passover. The Last Supper was a Passover meal. When He broke the bread and poured the wine and said, “Do this in remembrance of Me,” He was taking the elements of a Seder and infusing them with their ultimate meaning.

Jesus is our Passover Lamb. Paul says so explicitly. So why wouldn’t we celebrate the feast that God designed from the very beginning to point to Him?

I’m not saying you need to become Jewish. I’m not saying Easter is wrong or inadequate. I’m saying that when you sit down at a Passover table, when you taste the bitter herbs that represent the bitterness of slavery, when you eat the unleavened bread that represents freedom from sin, when you see the lamb and remember the blood on the doorposts, you experience the Gospel in a way that no Sunday morning sermon can replicate. You taste it. You feel it. You live it.

I’ll be transparent. I wanted to begin observing Passover this year, but some unexpected expenses made it impossible for me to fully prepare for a proper Seder. Next year, God willing, my daughter and I will sit down to our first Passover table together, and I can’t wait. I want her to taste the story. I want her to see Jesus in every element on that table. I want her to understand that our faith didn’t begin at Calvary. It began at the Exodus, when God first showed us what a lamb’s blood could do.

If you’ve ever considered observing Passover as a Christian, I’d encourage you to explore it. You might be surprised at how powerfully the Spirit meets you when you celebrate the feast that Jesus Himself celebrated on the night before He became our sacrifice.

And if you want to go even deeper, Diane Ferreira over at just published a beautiful piece on the Counting of the Omer, the ancient practice that connects Passover to Shavuot (Pentecost). What most Christians don’t realize is that the disciples were in the middle of this very count when the Holy Spirit fell in Acts 2. Diane’s post includes a printable guide for counting the forty-nine days from Passover to Pentecost yourself.

I honestly can’t recommend it highly enough! Check it out below:

She's So Scripture

Counting the Omer: The Ancient Practice That Connects Passover to Pentecost

Here’s what nobody told you: Pentecost has a runway. It’s forty-nine days long, it starts at Passover, and for thousands of years Jewish people have marked every single day of it out loud…

Read more

2 months ago · 15 likes · 17 comments · She's So Scripture

What This Means for You This Easter Morning

Here’s the thing about the Passover in Exodus: the lamb’s blood had to be applied. It wasn’t enough that a lamb was slaughtered. The blood had to go on the doorpost. Each family had to act in faith. If the blood wasn’t applied, the angel of death didn’t pass over that home, no matter how much the family inside believed in God.

And the same is true for us. It’s not enough to know that Jesus died. It’s not enough to admire Him or even to believe that He existed. The blood has to be applied. By faith, personally, to the doorpost of your heart. That’s what makes Easter more than a holiday. That’s what makes it salvation.

So this morning, wherever you are, whether you’re heading to a sunrise service or sitting in your living room in your pajamas, take a moment to marvel at what God has done.

He wrote the story of the cross into the Passover more than a thousand years before Jesus was born. He put it in the unblemished lamb, in the unbroken bones, in the hyssop, in the blood on the doorposts, in the leaven swept from the house. Every detail was a promise. Every element was a prophecy. And on that fateful afternoon outside Jerusalem, every last one of them was fulfilled.

The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.

That’s not a metaphor. That’s not a title. That’s the man who loved you enough to become your Passover sacrifice, so that when death comes to your door, it will pass over you.

He is risen. He is risen indeed.

Happy Easter.

Now go celebrate. Hug your family. Worship with your church. And carry this with you today: the same God who planned every detail of the Passover planned every detail of your salvation. Nothing about the cross was an accident. Nothing about your redemption was an afterthought. God has been writing your rescue story since Exodus.

He who is mighty has done great things for you. Holy is His name.

The LXX Scrolls is free to read and always will be. If this work has been worth something to you, there are a few ways to say so:

Buy the ebooks. Completed teaching series are available as polished ebooks under the Two Witnesses, One Truth series. Buying through Curios will support this work most directly but they’re also available on Amazon (and elsewhere) if you’re loyal to a particular ereader.

Become a supporter. A monthly or annual pledge through Substack helps me to bring the Septuagint to those who never knew they needed it.

Send a one-time tip. If this post has blessed you and you want to express that directly, you can Buy Me a Coffee.

Thank you for being part of this journey, your support makes this work possible.

© 2026 LXX Scrolls. All rights reserved.