Felix Bravo’s Weblog

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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That’s nothing unusual, but my brain seems to enjoy doing what I hate doing most: Reminiscing memories I wanted to tell nobody about.

…Be drawn to my tales if you want to learn of my pain….The pain was in my head and in my stomach. Who could resist the ripe star apples? I only breakfasted on coffee every morning before school, walked the long arduous road to education, and lunched on nothing at noon. I had seen the star apple trees in my school grounds now as I came over here, how their limbs have been bent by too many winds and storms, like the storms of my life which in a way too had been bent and conditioned for survival. I was then a young Catholic boy, having not learned yet how to ask for grace that comes from above. But I had mastered the way of looking up and looking around the crowns of the star apple trees. Star apple trees, to my way of thinking then, operated on the law of diminishing returns; whenever I looked up, while the watching eyes of our industrial arts teacher were not looking around, those fruits would surely diminish. There were five of us hungry youths who kept returning to our favorite tree as we saw its fruits ripe and ready for the taking. We had been caught not only once but many times, but we kept on returning. It is true that I graduated from that school with honors, but I too had been dishonored by the guardian of the star apple trees. He had kept a list of our sins; we also keep an array of scars on our thighs, cuts his fingers had made whenever he caught us. The star apple trees had been my angst, personally speaking. I thought I could not graduate….

And I also remember Miss Elizabeth Dooma, my Baptist teacher, and Mr. Eduardo Montoyo Sr. (back then he was still known as a Baptist pastor although he had already left that denomination and ministered to a small church of Christ in the city of Bacolod). These two fought for me–a young Catholic boy–as cats fought a dog. The dog was the establishment that wanted to take me off the honor list for failing the PMT. They fought the principal’s ruling (the principal too was a Baptist, but of a different stripe). The PMT commandant too was a Baptist. I had not listened to their very hot discussion about me. But I heard that the noble Miss Dooma and the equally noble Mr. Montoyo turned the table on the principal and skinned the PMT commandant. Thanks to them, I graduated with honors.

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“Where are you going and how long will you be away?”

That’s my youngest child Abby asking. My former students at the Manila School of Evangelism would remember that little girl five years old in 1989 who kept telling them she missed her mother and that she wanted to go home, but she would not without her daddy. Her way to defy parental separation was to leave her mom for a while and live with me as I kept transferring from one job to another. Yes, she was that close to me when she was young. But the long night time in that school room that became our sleeping quarters after school hours would often pester her heart like a virus. She would cry out for Dioly’s motherly presence and her way to connect with her was to pour teardrops over Mr. Felipe Cariaga’s junk phone, and I would grant her that wish—in my newfound skill of mastering the art of make believe— and she would cry on that phone the whole night, stopping only when sleep invited her to rest, and then she would blurt out in her gentlest way, teary-eyed and tired, “Pauli na ta” (”Let’s go home,” meaning to Bacolod, meaning leave this job). This rite repeated itself from day to day, from night to night.

Brother Rudy Gonzales of Olongapo City would probably remember that tyke who would not separate from me even in her sleep. We slept for a night in their house in Upper Kalaklan.  This is so because after that stint with Manila School of Evangelism we found ourselves bound for a new job at San Narciso, in Zambales. (Thanks for the hospitality and the good memories, brother Rudy!).

Posted by Ed.  Read more if you wish>>>

“What have you been doing lately?” someone asks. Well, does it look like I have been absent from my blog desk for a year? I smile as I reply to the question. I have been busy lately, writing, writing, writing. Writing for someone else but not for my blog.

And I have been busy corresponding, arguing over the Internet, discussing with a man who is perhaps known to some of you, perhaps a friend also to some of you. And in deference to your love and friendship for that man, I am not going to mention his name. I love this man’s soul too, and regardless of our disagreement doctrinally, he is still my brother. He has often told his readers what he thinks about the true church. That leaves in my mind no doubt nor misunderstanding that he has left our group. He castigated me one time because I am too church-of-Christsy, something that I have always denied. Told him I am just a Bible-believer. But he would not be convinced. And I have found his difficulty to understand me verrrrry difficult to understand.

The man has a noble ancestry. His grandfather had spent his lifetime braving the wilds of Africa, to bring the gospel to that unlit nook of the world. His grandmother, daughter of the missionary family who came with his grandfather, was a brave soul too. These both will have great rewards in heaven, I am sure. His father had embraced the anti-orphan home controversy, but, unlike the noisiest and the most argumentative among them in the “anti” persuasion (Fanning Yater Tant, Roy Cogdill, Wallace Little and the rest of them), he had chosen to keep his beliefs private and never went out on the warpath to castigate his brethren for innovating the Herald of Truth and the Orphans Homes. I admire his father as I do admire Homer Hailey.

Posted by Ed. Read more if you please>>>