During the past two weeks of Logic, we have been talking about rules that help students determine whether or not a syllogism is valid. We’ve covered the first four:
A syllogism must have 3, and only three, terms.
The middle term must not be in the conclusion.
A term that is distributed in the conclusion must be distributed in the premises.
The middle term must be distributed at least once.
To understand these rules a student must be able to identify a syllogism’s major, minor, and middle terms. Last week, I made a big deal in class about how “if you go shopping for major or minor terms, you must go to the conclusion!” I tried my best to channel my inner Tom Haverford as I emphasized that it’s in the conclusion — not the premises — that one finds the major and minor terms.
This morning, as the students were filing in and I was hurrying them to their desks so we could start a quiz, I was presented with with this gem:
Scene by scene, the wisdom of shopping at “Conclusion” is beautifully illustrated. Thanks, Emmy!
I often hear people say they want to do graduate research that is practical and easily relatable to the common person — not the case with most textual criticism focused dissertations. Today’s episode of Here & Now was encouraging to me, however, and I hope it is for the rest of you working on the often “irrelevant” minutiae of language or textual study.
“The Surprising Outcomes of Nobel Prize-Winning Discoveries” highlights how it sometimes takes decades for the practical payoff of Nobel Prize-winning discoveries to be realized. You won’t win a Nobel Prize for your textual criticism project, but you never know how your work might suddenly become relevant to the person in the pew.
Seventh graders at HLS start their first year of Greek having already taken a few years of Latin, so they are used to seeing subject-object-verb word order in translation exercises. They are not accustomed to seeing sentences that start with a verb, often a third person verb. For example, given a sentence like ἔχουσιν ἀδελφὸς καὶ ἀδελφὴ γῆν, students would likely begin their translation, “They have …”
It seems like I spend a large chunk of the first trimester shaking a sign like the one pictured below over their heads and chanting along with them, “When I see a third person verb in a sentence, I’m going to look for a nominative subject!”
Every class makes a poster board with this mantra, but I thought this one was particularly cool.
While checking notecards today, I came across a few modern examples of parablepsis and unintentional scribal changes — the kind of stuff normally discussed in introductions to textual criticism.1For example: Emanuel Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2012), 227ff.; Paul D. Wegner, A Students Guide to Textual Criticism of the Bible: Its History, Methods, and Results (Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 2006), 44. It’s nice when you have the opportunity to test your solutions to text-critical problems by speaking with the actual scribes.
The first one is a clear example of an unintentional variant created by phonological similarity — the student wrote ο rather than ω. The neat thing is that the student was copying out of the book but made an error of hearing. She read θέλω, turned to her notecard, said the word to herself correctly as “thĕlō,” and then wrote θελο. So this was a confusion of phonologically similar letters from someone copying a written text and pronouncing the word only in her mind, not aloud.
This is a fun sort of parablepsis. The student saw διδάσκω in the vocab list and began to write the first part of the word, looked back at his book, and his eye fell on the last portion of the previous word, γράφω. So διδάσκω + γράφω = διδάφω.
One more: this time the issue is a blend of graphic similarity and interference of the native language.
The word is supposed to be βλέπω (blĕpō). The fact that π makes the sound of an English p is obviously an issue here, similar to the first example above. But this one has an added element. I don’t think the student would have made this mistake if rho (ρ), a similar looking letter to English p, were not a part of the Greek alphabet.
Even if Greek ρ makes a different sound than English p, rho provides some warrant for writing ρ in a Greek word to represent the sound of an English p.
I wanted to give these students extra credit for their scribal errors because they are just so fascinating.
For example: Emanuel Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2012), 227ff.; Paul D. Wegner, A Students Guide to Textual Criticism of the Bible: Its History, Methods, and Results (Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 2006), 44.
We are about two weeks into the 2016-17 school year, and it’s off to a great start.
Major highlight of the new year: I have 20 students coming to my 7am Greek 3, NT Readings elective. The first year I taught at HLS I set a goal of having 20 in Greek 3, so when the 20th arrived on Friday I was thrilled.
Dickey’s first chapter on accents was too short and condensed for me. I’ve never systematically studied accents, and this is step one for composition, so I’ve taken off the shelf a book I bought years ago and haven’t touched: Carson’s Greek Accents: A Student’s Manual (Baker, 1985). It’s 167 pages containing 36 short lessons, a summary of rules and principal parts, and an answer key.
I’m a few chapters in and can say two things with certainty:
This material is very well laid out and explained.
I’m so excited about this new Greek composition book. The entire preface is full of quotable material, but this paragraph I found especially noteworthy (p. iv):
To derive maximum benefit from the exercises the relevant vocabulary and gramatical forms should be memorized before each chapter is undertaken, so that the sentences can be done without the consultation of reference works. Students starting to learn prose composition are often mislead into believing that no memorization is necessary, but such deception is ultimately in no-one’s interest: the rules of Greek grammar and syntax are so complex that it is impossible even to know what to look up unless one has done a fair amount of memorization, and looking up all the vocabulary, grammar, and syntax required for even a single sentence takes so long that discouragement is inevitable and very few sentences can be done. The author, as a student, wasted years over the non-memorization method and later wished bitterly that someone had told her how much more efficient it would be just to sit down and learn things by heart; it would have been the single most useful tip anyone could have given her, so she hereby passes it on.