(e) Our Revisionists seem not to be aware that 270 years of undisturbed possession have given to certain words rights to which they could not else have pretended, but of which it is impossible any more to dispossess them. It savours of folly as well as of pedantry even to make the attempt. Διδαχή occurs 30,—διδασκαλία 21 times,—in the N. T. Etymologically, both words alike mean “teaching;” and are therefore indifferently rendered “doctrina” in the Vulgate,[582]—for which reason, “doctrine” represents both words indifferently in our A. V.[583] But the Revisers have well-nigh extirpated “doctrine” from the N. T.: (1st), By making “teaching,” the rendering of διδαχή,[584]—(reserving “doctrine” for διδασκαλία[585]): and (2ndly), By 6 times substituting “teaching” (once, “learning”) for “doctrine,” in places where διδασκαλία occurs.[586] This is to be lamented every way. The word cannot be spared so often. The “teachings” of our Lord and of His Apostles were the “doctrines” of Christianity. When S. Paul speaks of “the doctrine of baptisms” (Heb. vi. 2), it is simply incomprehensible to us why “the teaching of baptisms” should be deemed a preferable expression. And if the warning against being “carried about with every wind of doctrine,” may stand in Ephes. iv. 14, why may it not be left standing in Heb. xiii. 9?
(f) In the same spirit, we can but wonder at the extravagant bad taste which, at the end of 500 years, has ventured to substitute “bowls” for “vials” in the Book of Revelation.[587] As a matter of fact, we venture to point out that φιάλη no more means “a bowl” than “saucer” means “a cup.” But, waiving this, we are confident that our Revisers would have shown more wisdom if they had let alone a word which, having no English equivalent, has passed into the sacred vocabulary of the language, and has acquired a conventional signification which will cleave to it for ever. “Vials of wrath” are understood to signify the outpouring of God's wrathful visitations on mankind: whereas “bowls” really conveys no meaning at all, except a mean and unworthy, not to say an inconveniently ambiguous one. What must be the impression made on persons of very humble station,—labouring-men,—when they hear of “the seven Angels that had the seven bowls”? (Rev. xvii. 1.) The φιάλη,—if we must needs talk like Antiquaries—is a circular, almost flat and very shallow vessel,—of which the contents can be discharged in an instant. It was used in pouring out libations. There is, at that back of it, in the centre, a hollow for the first joint of the forefinger to rest in. Patera the Latins called it. Specimens are to be seen in abundance.
The same Revisionists have also fallen foul of the “alabaster box of ointment.”—for which they have substituted “an alabaster cruse of ointment.”[588] But what is a “cruse”? Their marginal note says, “Or, ‘a flask:’ ” but once more, what is “a flask”? Certainly, the receptacles to which that name is now commonly applied, (e.g. a powder-flask, a Florence flask, a flask of wine, &c.) bear no resemblance whatever to the vase called ἀλάβαστρον. The probability is [pg 201] that the receptacle for the precious ointment with which the sister of Lazarus provided herself, was likest of all to a small medicine-bottle (lecythus the ancients called it), made however of alabaster. Specimens of it abound. But why not let such words alone? The same Critics have had the good sense to leave standing “the bag,” for what was confessedly a box[589] (S. John xii. 6: xiii. 29); and “your purses” for what in the Greek is unmistakably “your girdles”[590] (S. Matth. x. 9). We can but repeat that possession for five centuries conveys rights which it is always useless, and sometimes dangerous, to dispute. “Vials” will certainly have to be put back into the Apocalypse.
(g) Having said so much about the proposed rendering of such unpromising vocables as μνημεῖον—διδαχή—φιάλη, it is time to invite the Reader's attention to the calamitous fate which has befallen certain other words of infinitely greater importance.
And first for Ἀγάπη—a substantive noun unknown to the heathen, even as the sentiment which the word expresses proves to be a grace of purely Christian growth. What else but a real calamity would be the sentence of perpetual banishment passed by our Revisionists on “that most excellent gift, the gift of Charity,” and the general substitution of “Love” in its place? Do not these learned men perceive that “Love” is not an equivalent term? Can they require to be told that, because of S. Paul's exquisite and life-like portrait of “Charity,” and the use which has been made of the word in sacred literature in consequence, it has come to pass that the word “Charity” connotes many ideas to which the word “Love” is an entire stranger? that “Love,” on the contrary, has come to connote many unworthy notions which in “Charity” find no place at all? And if this be [pg 202] so, how can our Revisionists expect that we shall endure the loss of the name of the very choicest of the Christian graces,—and which, if it is nowhere to be found in Scripture, will presently come to be only traditionally known among mankind, and will in the end cease to be a term clearly understood? Have the Revisionists of 1881 considered how firmly this word “Charity” has established itself in the phraseology of the Church,—ancient, mediæval, modern,—as well as in our Book of Common Prayer? how thoroughly it has vindicated for itself the right of citizenship in the English language? how it has entered into our common vocabulary, and become one of the best understood of “household words”? Of what can they have been thinking when they deliberately obliterated from the thirteenth chapter of S. Paul's 1st Epistle to the Corinthians the ninefold recurrence of the name of “that most excellent gift, the gift of Charity”?
(h) With equal displeasure, but with even sadder feelings, we recognize in the present Revision a resolute elimination of “Miracles” from the N. T.—Not so, (we shall be eagerly reminded,) but only of their Name. True, but the two perforce go together, as every thoughtful man knows. At all events, the getting rid of the Name,—(except in the few instances which are enumerated below,)—will in the account of millions be regarded as the getting rid of the thing. And in the esteem of all, learned and unlearned alike, the systematic obliteration of the signifying word from the pages of that Book to which we refer exclusively for our knowledge of the remarkable thing signified,—cannot but be looked upon as a memorable and momentous circumstance. Some, it may be, will be chiefly struck by the foolishness of the proceeding: for at the end of centuries of familiarity with such a word, we are no longer able to part company with it, even if we were inclined. The term [pg 203] has struck root firmly in our Literature: has established itself in the terminology of Divines: has grown into our common speech. But further, even were it possible to get rid of the words “Miracle” and “Miraculous,” what else but abiding inconvenience would be the result? for we must still desire to speak about the things; and it is a truism to remark that there are no other words in the language which connote the same ideas. What therefore has been gained by substituting “sign” for “miracle” on some 19 or 20 occasions—(“this beginning of his signs did Jesus,”—“this is again the second sign that Jesus did”)—we really fail to see.
That the word in the original is σημεῖον, and that σημεῖον means “a sign,” we are aware. But what then? Because ἄγγελος, in strictness, means “a messenger,”—γραφή, “a writing,”—ὑποκριτής, “an actor,”—ἐκκλησία, “an assembly,”—εὐαγγέλιον, “good tidings,”—ἐπίσκοπος, “an overseer,”—βαπτιστής, “one that dips,”—παράδεισος, “a garden,”—μαθητής, “a learner,”—χἁρις, “favour:”—are we to forego the established English equivalents for these words, and never more to hear of “grace,” “disciple,” “Paradise,” “Baptist,” “Bishop,” “Gospel,” “Church,” “hypocrite,” “Scripture,” “Angel”? Is it then desired to revolutionize our sacred terminology? or at all events to sever with the Past, and to translate the Scriptures into English on etymological principles? We are amazed that the first proposal to resort to such a preposterous method was not instantly scouted by a large majority of those who frequented the Jerusalem Chamber.
The words under consideration are not only not equivalent, but they are quite dissimilar. All “signs” are not “Miracles,”[591] though all “Miracles” are undeniably “signs.” [pg 204] Would not a marginal annotation concerning the original word, as at S. Luke xxiii. 8, have sufficed? And why was the term “Miracle” as the rendering of σημεῖον[592] spared only on that occasion in the Gospels; and only in connection with S. Peter's miracle of healing the impotent man, in the Acts?[593] We ask the question not caring for an answer. We are merely bent on submitting to our Readers, whether,—especially in an age like the present of wide-spread unbelief in the Miraculous,—it was a judicious proceeding in our Revisionists almost everywhere to substitute “Sign” for “Miracle” as the rendering of σημεῖον.
(i) Every bit as offensive, in its way, is a marginal note respecting the Third Person in the Trinity, which does duty at S. Matth. i. 18: S. Mark i. 8: S. Luke i. 15: Acts i. 2: Rom. v. 5: Heb. ii. 4. As a rule, in short, against every fresh first mention of “the Holy Ghost,” five lines are punctually devoted to the remark,—“Or, Holy Spirit: and so throughout this book.” Now, as Canon Cook very fairly puts the case,—
“Does this imply that the marginists object to the word ‘Ghost’? If so, it must be asked, On what grounds? Certainly not as an archaism. The word is in every Churchman's mouth continually. For the sake of consistency? But Dr. Vance Smith complains bitterly of the inconsistency of his colleagues in reference to this very question,—see his Texts and Margins, pp. 7, 8, 45. I would not suggest a doctrinal bias: but to prove that it had no influence, a strong, if not unanimous, declaration on the part of the Revisers is called for. Dr. Vance Smith alleges this notice as one of the clearest proofs [pg 205] that the Revisers ought in consistency to discard the word as ‘a poor and almost obsolete equivalent for Spirit.’ ”[594]