Please, tell me what it says in the original Greek

Some time ago, I started to notice a habit shared by many of the mainline clergy of my acquaintance. Whenever a subject comes up that touches on their professional expertise, they turn awkward and apologetic. This might happen in a sermon, in a pastoral conversation, or just casually over a beer. In particular, any occasion that calls on their knowledge of biblical languages seems to give them a paroxysm of embarrassment. They cannot say the words “in the original Greek” without groaning, apologizing, adding layers of irony to the phrase. They seem so ashamed of some of the very knowledge that qualifies them to wear their collars that I almost feel bad asking them to share that knowledge with me.

This is very weird. It is a good thing to know biblical languages. In particular, given the way the Christian world long downplayed the knowledge of Hebrew—a situation that only started to be rectified during the Reformation—and given the historic association between the spread of humanistic, “useless” knowledge and political liberation and democracy, it is wonderful that thousands of humble pastors know difficult ancient languages. It is something to be happy about, if not exactly proud of—the way the Cuban government justly boasts of that island’s 99 percent adult literacy rate. (Cubans are then made to waste a lot of that literacy on a censored press. Nothing’s perfect.)

It would be even cooler if we made our clergy learn Sanskrit or Yoruba or classical Chinese or ancient Babylonian too, just to have something to compare the biblical modes of writing to, but I suppose their jobs are hard enough, and we don’t want the MDiv to take even longer than it does. Also, biblical languages are hard. I have tried to teach myself both Hebrew and biblical Greek, with thus far pathetic results. Seminarians talk about their Hebrew classes the way my undergraduates talk about Calculus 2. These accomplishments are hard won, and it is weird indeed not to use them frequently and without shame. Athletes don’t apologize for being graceful and strong.