Review of Runge's "Discourse Grammar of the Greek New Testament" Pt 4
Before moving on to review Chapter 2 of Part 1 of Runge’s
Discourse Grammar, I want to reiterate a thing or two. First of all, if you have not read the
previous parts of this review series, I would highly encourage you to. In those reviews and the comment sections
accompanying them, I explain the vantage point from which I am approaching
Runge’s work, namely, more as a teacher in the church and less as a
linguist! As I have shown, the preface
and subtitle of Runge’s book explicitly state that coming at this grammar from
such a stance is not only fitting, but expected. Indeed, the following video is another place
that explicitly states that this is aimed at pastors, preachers and church
teachers, not simply linguists. Thus, I
am asking questions that a normal pastor or preacher might ask!
Another matter I would like to address, which Runge himself
and Mike Aburey have drawn attention to is the fact that I may be conflating
the terms Discourse Grammar and Discourse Analysis. Where I have seen the lines between these two
things as somewhat blurry, they want to draw sharp distinctions. This is fair, to be sure! Having said that, however, I do want to
suggest that if these matters are blurry to me, the book might do well to
clarify this in the preface or introduction because it might well be blurry to
others also. Furthermore, as I have
stated in the comments section of Part 3, many of the questions I have raised
thus far, particularly those having to do with Discourse Analysis (DA), are indeed
related to the contents of the Discourse Grammar (DG). This is not to say, however, that the two are
the same or that they are mutually exclusive.
For me, the two are indeed connected. Again, if this is a major point of
contention, perhaps some clarification is needed at the front part of the
book. This is not a critique as much as
it is a suggestion. I cannot imagine a
scholar writing an Introduction to the New Testament and then suggesting that
it purposefully and wholly be separated from the New Testament itself.
Moving on, we find ourselves at Chapter 2 of Part 1, a
chapter titled “Connecting Propositions”.
The aim of this chapter is to provide “a very basic overview of the
different sorts of relations that can be communicated by the most commonly used
NT Greek connectives” (17). Runge opts
to use “connective” in place of the traditional “conjunction” because “languages
commonly use forms other than conjunctions to perform the task of connecting
clause elements” (17). More
specifically, Runge reviews 9 “connectives” which, each in their own right,
“play a functional role” in the NT’s discourse “by indicating how the writer
intended one clause to relate to another” (18).
Here, I will survey Runge’s overview of the first four of these terms
and offer some thoughts of my own along the way as well. In Pt. 5 of this series, I will review the remaining 5 connectives.
One of the most interesting and insightful aspects of this
chapter has to do with Runge’s non-traditional approach. Whereas folks like Daniel Wallace have tended
map or match Greek conjunctions to English counterparts, in other words, taking
a logical approach where one word equals another in a certain context (e.g.
ascensive kai, = even, connective kai, = and, also, etc.), Runge’s functional
approach, less dependent upon using English grammar as its baseline, suggests
that there may be a unifying function that each connective performs (18). It is more helpful to understand how each
connective differs “based on the function that it accomplishes in Greek” than
to simply know “how to translate” them (19).
To put it differently, the goal is exegesis, not simply translation;
unlike translation, exegesis allows for the elaboration of various “aspects of
a passage,” even and especially those that “cannot be well-captured in
translation” (19).
Following Behagel’s Law, which asserts that “items that
belong together are grouped together syntactically” (19), Runge contends that
connectives serve the role of specifying the “kind of relationship” between
each of these items (19). He begins with
asyndeton, the grammatical concept which refers to “the linking of clauses or
clause components without the use of a conjunction” (20). Runge signals this feature with the ∅ symbol. A helpful way to think of conjunctions is to
think of them as constraining elements.
In other words, they constrain or limit the relationship between clauses
or clausal elements. For example, I
could say “I laughed and cried” or “I laughed then cried” or “I laughed but cried
too”. In the first instance, laughing
and crying are taken together, as happening at or around the same time; this is
denoted by the word “and”. In the second
instance, “then” denotes sequentiality as the crying comes after the laughing. In the third instance, the word but (modified
by “also”) denotes contrast where, on the one hand I laughed, and on the other
hand, I cried. In each instance, the
connecting words “and,” “then” and “but” help make logical connections between
two actions. However, I could just say, “I
laughed. I cried.” Note here, that there is no connecting word
such as “and” or “then” between these two actions/sentences. Even so, as a reader, you make a connection
between the two. The act of connecting
clauses or clausal elements in this way is called asyndeton. Using Runge’s method, we would employ the ∅ marking to signal asyndeton: “I laughed. ∅
I cried.” It might have been beneficial to have more
written on how to recognize asyndeton.
For example, can asyendeton be recognized through repetition (of stem,
person, number, case), parallelism, word order, etc.? Beyond the absence of a connective, are other
ways of recognizing asyndeton?
Seamlessly, Runge moves from discussing asyndeton to kai,.
The most frequent word in the New Testament, this term is usually glossed
as “and, even, also”. That seems
straight forward enough. However, Runge
suggests that this seemingly simple and familiar term actually serves the purpose
of signaling an intimate link to what comes before it. In other words, it is not simply a “connective”
(and) or “adversative” (but), rather, it is a word that links together “items
of equal status” (23-24). This also
means that it has no inherent judgment to make “regarding semantic continuity
or discontinuity” (24) but constrains such “elements to be more closely related
to one another than those joined by ∅”
(26). Further, if an author switches
from kai,, particularly in a narrative, it should
signal to readers/hearers that “a new development” is taking place, such as a
transition to or from background information (26). This nuance is certainly helpful. Still, I would have liked for Runge to
articulate, just a bit more, what he means by “status” in the phrase “equal
status”. Does this refer to time, kind,
grammar, syntax, meaning, etc.? It seems
as though it would refer to equal syntactical status, that is, equal status
within the clause, sentence, etc. itself.
However, Runge may have meant something different by this.
If the conjunction kai, signals intimacy between two elements (e.g.
clauses, phrases, etc.), which denotes their “equal status” then for Runge, de, functions as discourse marker of
development. Sitting kai, and de, side-by-side,
Runge marks kai, with (-) and de,
with
(+) symbolizing either no development or new development. As Runge says, “For speakers of English,
development is a very difficult concept to grasp. It is natural to conceive of temporal
development, as in a sequence of events, but challenging to conceptualize
logical development when it does not involve sequence” (36). Here, Runge has hit the nail on the
head! It is, perhaps, even more
difficult for those of us who have had kai, =
and/even/also or de, = but/and ingrained in us, to begin thinking about how these terms might take on new force. I must admit, I had to read this section of
Runge’s discussion more than once to really get what he was suggesting.
Drawing on Levinsohn, Runge uses the concept
of “chunking” as a way of understanding the function of de, (30).
Basically, chunking is breaking portions of a discourse down from larger
to smaller chunks. I might say that it’s
the difference between attempting to eat an entire, unsliced or uncut turkey on
Thanksgiving and slicing or shaving it up, so as to have smaller, more
manageable chunks to consume. Taking
this gross analogy a bit further, we could even depict de, as the knife that cuts the discourse into
smaller chunks. Furthermore, each new cut
or slice, each new de,, marks
a new development. Here is an example,
where de, marks a new development (+) and kai, marks no development (-):
I laughed. ∅ I
cried. ∅ I sang. ∅ I
went to the store. ∅ I danced. ∅
I
jumped.
|
I laughed de, I
cried. (I laughed +then I cried.)
De, I
sang kai, I
went to the store. (+Then I sang -and I went to the
store.)
De, I
spent money kai, I
went home. (+Then I danced -and
I jumped.)
|
It is helpful to contrast kai,
and de, to make sense of what is going
on here. You can see above, that in the
first column, we practically have a list (Runge does something similar in his
grammar) but I wanted to offer my own example with his symbols included (which
Runge does not do at this point in the grammar). In the list-like example, you can see that
the ideas are connected only through asyndeton, that is, they are logically
connected as they appear together and if you wanted, you might even try to read
them sequentially, however, the context does not suggest that they had to
happen in this order or even in the same day.
They are mere statements about things I did at some point or
another. They are connected logically, by
way of being mentioned together, but not sequentially.
That all changes in the second column. Here asyndeton is not used. Instead, explicit connectives are used. Furthermore, you can see how the connectives
denote explicit developments, or not, by way of using kai, or de,. Where kai, is used, there are no new developments;
the kai, is, instead, functioning to
relate the clausal elements equally or revealing their equal status. The de,
on the other hand, is marking a new development. To put it differently, where a de, appears, we have new chunks or
slices. Thus, in each line, we have a
new chunk or development, which is denoted by de,. This perspective that Runge offers, while
challenging to wrap one’s mind around at first, is really valuable once
grasped. It allows us to follow the discourse
in a new way and discern whether and where new developments may be taking place
or not. The initial payoff may seem
minimal but in all reality, the final dividends may prove incredibly rich.
This leads us to review the fourth discourse grammar
element, the narrative to,te, which “can
fulfill the same role as a connective in contexts where none are present”
(especially Mt and Acts) (37). The role
of to,te is not to tell one about a
specific amount of time that has passed but rather, that sequentiality is in
view and as such, a new development has occurred. This is not too far from the discussion above
about de,. So, how is it that “they differ from one
another?” (38) Runge suggests that while δέ is the “default development marker” it does not “specify the exact nature of
the development” (38). To,te, however, “makes explicit that the
development that follows is temporal in nature” whether that temporality is
generic or not (38). To clarify, to,te is a “low-level break in the text”
which marks a new development but does not lead the reader to believe that a
whole new topic is in view! Just as
well, the segmenting effect of to,te has
the capability of attracting emphasis or attention. Runge gives some excellent examples of this.
In closing, let me give a quote from Runge as well as a
snapshot of a table or chart which features the connectives and their
functions, as described thus far (42):
“So far we have
looked at two kinds of connective relationships: indicating the continuity of
two joined elements (∅ versus καί), and signaling whether
what follows represents the next step or development of what precedes (δέ and τότε).”
As a teacher and student of languages, I have found that it
is often the shortest words that pack the most punch or carry the most
force. It is so easy to focus on the “theological
words” or the big words at the exclusion of the short words. Runge’s discussion thus far has not only
reminded me of this but has helped me look at Greek differently, forcing me to
pay extra close attention to these tiny connectives. The further I get into Runge’s work, the more
I become convinced of the fact that such an approach is incredibly valuable for
those studying the New Testament. So,
head on over to Logos and pick up your copy of Runge’s work, I don’t think for
a second that you’ll regret it!