Felix Bravo’s Weblog

I like this man Arnold Schwarzenegger, once the world’s leading bodybuilder who went on to become one of the biggest stars of Hollywood, and then California governor. “The Austrian Oak” really deserves the world’s accolades. He has the build, the strength and the natural charisma to make it in the limelight. His first role in Conan The Barbarian in 1982 suddenly made him a movie star. And I never missed any of his big hits: The Terminator (1984); Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991); and Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines (2003). I would pause for a while, or postpone what I am doing if I see him on HBO; or I would rent Schwarzenegger CDs to play on my DVD player. These films alone made him one of the highest paid movie stars, his fame guaranteeing him a place in the industry’s Hall of Fame. When he ran for governor of California in 2003, and won the recall replacing Gray Davis as governor, I in this little corner of the world cheered him on. When he was re-elected to a second term in 2006, I said to myself Californians really need Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger. He could run for the White House, except that the U.S. Constitution bars him from running because he was born outside the United States.

The recent news reports say that the California Supreme Court has finally granted gays the right to be wedded, which in effect legalizes their sinful lifestyle, and the most recent one says that Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger respects the court’s decision and “will not support an amendment to the constitution that would overturn this state Supreme Court ruling.” And I said, “What’s happening to you guys?”

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An old bird advises a young bird not to spend much time hopping from one twig to another twig on an acacia tree by the side of the road that leads to the forest.

“But I want to have a good view of the world around us, the better to enjoy the beauty of it,” the young bird insists.

“Birds are not supposed to be aesthetically minded and enjoy the beauty of their surroundings. Give that job to the painters and the artists and the loafers. You are supposed to find worms to eat,” says the old bird.

“You are a tyrant among birds. You want to lord it over us. You don’t listen to reason.”

“Well, tyrants also have common sense. Remember I am much older. You are young and still need to eat plenty of worms.” It goes without saying that in the world of avian creatures, the number of worms a bird has swallowed in his lifetime is the measure of his wisdom and experience.

Because it is an argument that no one will win, the young bird has decided to abide by the peaceful co-existence policy among avian creatures: You do your thing, I’ll do mine.

It is not known if birds too have adrenalin, but this young bird is so hyperactive he really wants to hop and hop and fly from one twig to another and chirp and chirp to his heart’s content. The morning sun is not yet high up in the sky. But a little boy is up from bed, and wants to try his skill with the new slingshot his father has made for him.

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My literary romance with Burma began with Rudyard Kipling’s “Mandalay,” a piece that high school literature education could not do without. I dreamed of taking a dip in Irrawaddy River under the shadow of a pagoda on a cool afternoon, camping out in the outskirts of Rangoon while watching the stars frolic in the sky, or romping in the park with a Burmese tiger cub as a way of fulfilling my nostalgia for the youth that I’ve lost.

Other times I dreamed of getting a job as a police officer in Moulmein to see how it feels to be George Orwell, who wrote in his memoir: “In Moulmein, in Lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people — the only time in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me.” I also fancied myself being taught the Manipuri language by a Burmese girl. A minority dialect in Burma, Manipuri is more common in India than in this country of Kipling’s Mandalay romances, therefore a Burmese girl who knows it surely rises above her equals. And I imagined taking up the challenge of the Hkakabo Razi, the highest peak in southeastern Asia, living there for a month. With my Burmese girl teacher for company, I thought that challenge was more pleasurable than Everest. There we could subsist on a Burmese diet— boiled rice, a little spicy meat, some vegetables; hot noodle soup flavoured with coconut; ngapi sauce made from fermented fish; mangosteen, custard apple, and tepid green tea poured in small cups. The gentle life that is Burmese land—far from the madding crowd that is the military junta— one can have on a platter as wide as one’s palm.

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It happened a month ago. I was not sure what the man’s motive was, but he sent me an email. Well, the kind of email salesmen would invent when they wanted to make a big sales pitch.

My reply consisted of a two-letter word: No. It was the shortest reply I made for the longest that he sent, trying to promote a drug I could not afford, and even if I could, it would be the kind of drug I wouldn’t buy, since I see no need for it. He was selling me Viagra. But before I blocked his email address–before I consigned him to the spam bin–I took a second look at it. Because, believe it or not, I just received an email purporting to come from me!

Dear readers of this blog, the man was trying to copy my English, my way of writing, my style. He was trying to be me. That’s wonderful, I would say. I too would be happy to have a namesake for company. The problem was this man’s grammar was very bad and his diction was even worst!

He was my copycat, and he was not even trying hard!

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They are called “a renegade Mormon sect,” the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (FLDS), which had its beginning in the 1930s. “Renegade” because while the mainstream Mormon Church renounced polygamy in 1890, they still cling to their doctrine that a man has a God-sanctioned right to marry several women in order to go to heaven.

But if someone thought that the FLDS is the only renegade group, he is mistaken. It is in fact a renegade among renegade Mormon churches, which all had their beginning with a renegade Methodist named Joe Smith. That doctrine of plural wives had its beginning with Smith, their founder. A website says Joseph Smith had 34 wives, 11 of whom were also married, or had been married, to his associates or brothers in the faith. Joseph’s first wife was Emma Hale. But Emma was not to be the only, nor was she meant to be the last. Joe was even married to his brother Don Carlos Smith’s wife, his seventh, named Agnes Coolbrith. On the day he was wedded to her, Joe wrote in his diary, “Truly this is a day long to be remembered by the saints of the Last Days; a day in which the God of heaven has began to restore the ancient order of his Kingdom…all things are concurring together to bring about the completion of the fullness of the gospel.” Having a harem to feed his lust for women he called “the fullness of the gospel”! Think about it!

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In the previous article, we have made a suggestion that to be faithful to the text, sarki and pneumati in verse 18 have to be translated “in flesh” and “in spirit,” without articles, since these don’t appear with articles in the Greek text. Machen says, “There is no indefinite article in Greek…[It] has, however, a definite article, and where the Greek article does not appear, the definite article should not be inserted in the translation (Machen, New Testament Greek for Beginners, 26). The presence of an article before the noun changes the interpretive meaning, and therefore the interpretive translation of a word. Note for example Romans 8:2, where pneumatos, “spirit,” has an article. This is interpreted by translators to mean the third member of the Godhead, and we agree. But note also Romans 8:6, where the phrase “mind of the Spirit” (pneumatos with article) has been translated by them as “spiritually minded.” This simply shows translators do exercise control over their translations. How much more the commentaries?

I believe that both sarki and pneumati are to be classed as instrumental dative of manner. When translated in English, they look like prepositional phrases and in the clauses they function as adverbials modifying verbs. Grammarians call them adverbials because, although they function like adverbs, they are not true adverbs. In 1 Peter 3:18, the verbs these adverbials modify are found within the participles thanatotheis and zoopoietheis.

Having been “put to death in [the] flesh on one hand,” thanatotheis men sarki, Jesus was now “made alive in spirit,” zoopoietheis de pneumati. Both thanathotheis and zoopoietheis are aorist passive participles. Passive because the subject was just acted upon, or that someone other than the subject did the action on him. Aorist because it expresses not a continuing, but a one time action. Thanatotheis and zoopoietheis are two single words picturing to us like some kind of a simple snapshot what Jesus had experienced: He was put to death bodily, and was made alive spiritually. It does not mean that His spirit also died and was made alive again, but that He died in his mortal flesh and was “quickened” or “made alive” in a sphere of existence in which the power of God is displayed without hindrance or human limitation, in a state that death and mortality cannot destroy. To first century audience who understood the meanings of the Koine Greek better than we do, thanatotheis sarki and zoopoietheis pneumati picture to them in more logically convincing terms why Christians should not be afraid to suffer like Jesus. Hart says, “The advantage of suffering for well-doing has been exemplified in the experience of the Christ, who gained thereby the quickening (v. 21) and the later glory (v. 22)” (J. A. Hart, “First Epistle General of Peter,” The Expositors Greek New Testament, 5:67) Jesus’ undeserved suffering, His dying on the cross, which is His means of bringing us to God, now finds an explanation that serves to bring the concept of the blessedness of suffering closer to home.

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In making this exegesis, I have used every resource possible, from lexicons to theological dictionaries, to Greek grammar books. There is a use for commentaries, but as I have said we have to be wary of the opinions they express. Our method is to examine every possible evidence, and strive to have a balance of everything. We may be slaves of the Word, but let us not be slaves of human opinions.

1 Peter 3:10-12, the verses that come before verse 13, is an almost exact quotation of LXX Psalm 34:12-16, except that the Petrine quotation uses the singular 3^rd person while the Psalmist uses the 2^nd person. After that quote from LXX, Peter now brings the message of the inspired Scripture to bear on the situation of his Christian audience. He asks them:

VERSE 13. “And who is the one harming you if you become zealots for what is good?” In the Greek: “kai tis ho kakoson humas ean tou agathou zelotai genesthe”? The Greek kai, translated “and,” is a copulative conjunction that connects single words,” “clauses and sentences,” or introduces “an abrupt question which may often express wonder” (Bauer, Arndt, Gingrich & Danker, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, 391, 392). The Greek tis is an interrogative pronoun (“who”) and with ho kakoson humas may also be translated: “And who is going to harm you?” That is the question, to which the answer should be: “No one.” The idea behind the question also shows the conclusion to be drawn from verse 10-12 as quoted from the Psalmist. If you are a follower of what is good, nobody shall harm you.

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BACKGROUNDER. First Peter is just one of the two letters attributed to that Galilean apostle, whose name figures prominently in the Four Gospels, the Book of Acts, and in two of Paul’s epistles (Galatians and 1 Corinthians), which mention him in approving, and disapproving ways (see Galatians 1:18; 2:7-9, 11, 14; 1 Corinthians 1:12; 3:22; 9:5; 15:5).

Early church traditions had attributed to Peter the authorship of both epistles that now bears his name. Lately however, a number of modern scholars have questioned Peter’s authorship of the first epistle, their objections based mainly on their so-called “internal evidence.” It is not within the scope of this treatise to argue on the matter of Petrine authorship of 1 Peter; I assume that everyone who reads this article doesn’t have this problem.

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Arly has been on the warpath since Saturday night (she is not a Christian; but both her parents are). Listening to the accusations and counter-accusations the warring mother and daughter have been hurling against each other, I have even come to the conclusion that Arly has been on the warpath since she was twelve (she’s now twenty-four).

The occasion of the present war that I am watching today after church is the rebuke she receives Saturday night from the mother she has learned to hate. “Stop gambling! Take care of your child! Come to bed early so you will have strength for work tomorrow! Tell your husband to go find a job so he could support you and your child! Don’t pamper that good-for-nothing! You call him angel? He’s your devil!” Things like these that pain her and make her hate her more.

Oh how she hates her! She has learned to hate her since that afternoon twelve years ago when fresh from school she caught her in bed with someone else.

That story of one woman’s adulterous past has been going the rounds since the day I came and evangelized this village, and still keeps trying to destroy that soul who I think should have been given a respite from the troublings and the gossipings that like syphilis pester and destroy the souls of its victims. Oh those envious and those with criminal intents! When will they stop?

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My heart bleeds for this little prodigal, a lady 29 years old, with two kids.

Ten years ago, I dreamed of her becoming like us. I mean us, as a church. Would you believe that her grandmother had been a Christian before she died? Would you believe that her mother is now a minister’s wife? He uncle too is a preacher; her uncle’s wife is a Bible teacher; her uncle’s kids are all Christians. She has all the reasons to be like us.

I pity this victim of much injustice. Her father, she says, gave her only a name, nothing else. “I have a nice surname, an equally nice first name. But you can never eat it.”

Her story ought to be for Bannawag, or Hiligaynon or Liwayway. All defunct magazines. But that’s my wish list. A few months after she was born, her mother left her in the care of her older sister (the little girl’s aunt), who dreamed dreams for her too but could not deliver those dreams. The aunt was poor, so the little girl too lived in penury. That means she went to school without having breakfast and that her dresses and shoes were hand-me-downs.

Early in her teens, she heard that her mother married a preacher. (Her father she never heard of anymore). What was that supposed to mean? She thought she could now have a home. She thought she could now live with her mother’s new family and be treated as their own. She thought she could now go to college (because all her half-brothers and half-sisters were going to college).

That never happened. She felt the bitterness of neglect.

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