The following is a “memory aid” that will apparently help you to learn Greek – there’s a whole book of ‘em…

ummm… okay…
With thanks to Peter for pointing it out… I think…
The following is a “memory aid” that will apparently help you to learn Greek – there’s a whole book of ‘em…

ummm… okay…
With thanks to Peter for pointing it out… I think…
got me a more appropriate coffee mug for class…

(also, I’ve just updated my blog theme – nice, huh?)
This is part of an email that was forwarded to me today…
I’m a first year student here at the university and have not been attending lectures since Friday due to swine flu. I was wondering if you knew of an email address for my Greek Lecturer, or some way of contacting him to explain my absence from class and from the test. Unfortunately I can’t be very helpful here as I only know him as, ‘Didaskale Mathios’ which is as we address him in class.
Hehehe… my Greek students know me in Greek before they know me in English!! Sweet
Con Campbell’s post here has created quite a stir on the Biblical Greek email list. I’m pretty much in agreement with his points – interlinears (and strong’s concordance) are not for people who read & use Greek; they are for people who would like to think they read & use Greek!!
Well I didn’t show the students the picture of the teeth. Instead I introduced myself thusly:
Chairete! Eimi didaskalos. Didasko Hellenike. To onoma mou Mathaios estin.
I didn’t translate it for them; I told them that in two weeks’ time I’ll say it again, and by then they’ll be able to understand it themselves. Classes start next week, so time will tell!
Later today I’ll be addressing brand new Nottingham theology students about learning Greek. Tomorrow they sign up for their first year modules, so I suppose the idea is to give them a sense of why Greek is worth studying, and what the module will be like. I suppose I could mention that Greek is invaluable for studying the New Testament, early Jewish literature, Greek philosophy, and the Patristics… but I think I’ll try another approach: lying…
Failing to learn Greek rots your teeth:

Simple as that.
Over the last few days I’ve been dramatically reading stories to my kids in Attic Greek, translating after each sentence. So far, Cara has picked up the noun “ploion” (boat) and the verb “horao” (I see). Hmmm… it does make me wonder whether it’s worth introducing them to the language in a more consistent and thoughtful way. Ed Ball, at uni, suggested I should get them onto Latin first – but honestly, the eastern patristics are just so much more chic than the western patristics right now, so I’m sticking with Greek. Of course, I won’t force it – the kids are welcome to opt out of Greek when they turn 18…
Well my optimism was rewarded with the smug satisfaction of being pretty much right about this book (Greek Verbs in the New Testament and Their Principal Parts). Mind you, I guess I’d already read the back cover, so perhaps I should wipe that stupid grin from my face. After all, “a fool’s lips bring him strife, and his mouth invites a beating” (Proverbs 18:6).
Anyway, the book aims to explain how Greek verbs change the way they do, using the “principal parts” as a way in to that topic. Vance looks at different types of verbs (eg. ’second’ verbs, contract verbs, liquid verbs, etc) and helps the reader to see some sense in the distinctive forms that they take. So the verbs that are unlike “luo” are not simply lumped together and labelled “irregular”, but rather understood on their own terms. Even in the section on verbs that don’t fit into any of his main categories, Vance says, “the factors that determine whether a Greek verb is irregular are somewhat arbitrary.” (p105)
The bulk of the book consists of lists of actually-occuring principal parts of (allegedly) all of the verbs in the New Testament – BUT the lists are not for the purpose of memorisation, but rather for the purpose of illustration of the ‘rules’ and patterns that are the substance of the book’s explanatory sections.
I think it will work well as a reference – so if a student asks, “Why does the aorist passive of this verb look like this?” or if I’m reading the NT and wonder “If this is an aorist active, why does it end in ‘ka’ instead of ’sa’?”, this book will quickly provide some direction and clarification.
As F.W. Danker summarises on the back cover of the book, “Vance takes the wraps off much of the mystery surrounding the many forms that Greek verbs undergo while donating meaning to a literary text.”
Recently I purchased the book Greek Verbs in the New Testament and their Principal Parts, by Laurence M. Vance. The book aims to explain why the Greek verbs change the way that they do – getting beyond the basic (and rather unhelpful) categories of “regular” and “irregular”. And then all of the principal parts that occur in the Greek New Testament are listed, in categories. Something like that anyway – I haven’t had the chance to read it yet, as no sooner had it arrived than Peter swiped it off my desk, silencing my protests with a growl and a stern look, and carrying it off to his jungle lair to read it through. [Peter, if you are reading this, I realise it didn't really happen like this, but the actual version of events is far less exciting, so please forgive this embellishment.] Anyway, Peter said it was worth reading, so I’m planning to sit down and read it through tomorrow. I’ll aim to give it a brief review when I’m done. If anyone else has read it, I’d be interested in your opinion.
