ranting

literary license, or forgot to read the whole thing?

Monday, 06-Jan-2014 marked the beginning of my first (official) online course that I’m teaching for Johnson University. The course is a 7-week intensive study of 1 Corinthians for the MA in Intercultural Studies program. To be fair, the course is really a 5-week intensive on 1 Corinthians, seeing that week 1 deals with introductory matters and week 7 is missions orientated–in view of what we learn from 1 Corinthians, of course.

While preparing for/writing the course, I had the opportunity to revisit the text in a rather detailed manner–something that I have not done since the middle of October. (I took a break from 1 Corinthians because I needed to, seeing that I spent nearly 5 years exegeting the thing). In this revisiting, I was also able to look at a few things more closely–things that I could only consider briefly when doing my PhD. One of these bits was the Thanksgiving portion of the letter (i.e. 1 Cor 1.4-9), which contains a number of salient details relevant to what Paul argues in the letter.

In my preparations for this course, I wanted to interact with English translation and consider how they deal with certain portions of the text. When I did this with the Thanksgiving section, something struck me as rather surprising. The specific passage in mind is 1 Cor 1.4-5, which I translate as: “I always give thanks to my God concerning you for the grace of God that was given to you in Christ Jesus, since in all things you were made rich in him [Jesus]–in all speech and all knowledge” (εὐχαριτω τω θεω μου παντοτε περι ὑμων ἐπι τη χαριτι του θεου τη δοθειση ὑμιν ἐν Χριστω ͗Ιησου, ὁτι ἐν παντι ἐπλουτισθητε ἐν αὐτω, ἐν παντι λογω και παση γνωσει).

By and large, the majority of English translation agree on the big ticket items in this passage: God is always the recipient of Paul’s thanksgiving, the Corinthians are always the indirect object, God’s grace is always the “thing” given to the Corinthians, Christ Jesus is always the agent through whom God’s grace comes, the Corinthians are always rich in/because of Christ, and there is always something about “speech” and “knowledge.” Admittedly, some will add a flourish here and there, ostensibly to make the text “come alive” to its readers, and these flourishes range between “Hey, that’s quite good” (e.g. “Every time I think of you–and I think of you often!–I thank God for your lives of free and open access to God, given by Jesus” [MSG]) and “Okay . . . I think I see what you’re doing” (e.g. “I never stop thanking my God for being kind enough to give you Christ Jesus” [CEV]).

Moreover, especially when comparing translations on the final clause (i.e. “in all speech and all knowledge”), there are a few that offer what look to be explanatory interpretations of what (they think) Paul is saying. For example, while the Greek simply says, “in all speech and all knowledge”, others will suggest further details:

  • Amplified Bible: “in full power and readiness of speech (to speak your faith) and complete knowledge and illumination (to give you full insight into its meaning)”
  • Complete Jewish Bible: “particularly in power of speech and depth of knowledge”
  • Darby’s Translation: “in all word (of doctrine), and all knowledge”
  • Living Bible: “He has helped you speak out for him and has given you a fill understanding of truth”
  • New Living Translation: “with all of your eloquent words and all of your knowledge”[1]

All of these kinds of flourishes and explanatory interpretations could be seen as exercising artistic or literary license, which is sometimes needed when doing translation. However, in one translation it appears as though the excitement of receiving their literary license caused the translators to forget everything else. The translation in question?  The New International Reader’s Version (or NIrV)–published by the same people who did the NIV (and tried to corner the market with multiple types of it) and the late TNIV.[2] The over-exuberant reading? Here you go (with reference to the Greek for comparison):

  • Greek: ἐν παντι λογω και παση γνωσει (“in all speech and all knowledge”)
  • NIrV: “All your teaching of the truth is better.  Your understand of it is more complete”

Excuse me?! How the . . . Have you read 1 Corinthians!? Did you happen to pick up a commentary on 1 Corinthians or even a scholarly article and, I don’t know, see what scholars have to say?! “Better” and “more complete” than what–a rock? Two minutes more reading of the letter will demonstrate that the Corinthians’ teaching and understanding are precisely what Paul addresses. And it’s clear that he ain’t happy with either (or both). “All your teaching of the truth is better. Your understanding of it is more complete.” Give me a break. You should have your license revoked, or at least suspended.

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[1] I happen to like this one, mainly because I think it brings out Paul’s sarcasm, which obviously appeals to mine.
[2] Although, you can still access this version online.

just all kinds of wrong

I truly wish I was making this up, but alas it is legit.  A Baptist College in Elgin, IL has flexed its well-defined complementarian muscles and organized study programs it deems appropriate for men and women ladies.[1]

Here is the “General Studies for Men” track:Screen Shot 2014-01-04 at 07.54.51Ah yes, the obligatory course on “Appropriate Music”, which none of the three schools I went to offered. It’s no wonder I still have struggles in my life–with all that Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Bizet, Tchaikovsky, and (heaven forbid) the modern Yo-yo Ma blaring in my ears all the time. Maybe I can audit that course… And I know prospective (male) students are saying, “Dude, Brother, I can’t wait to take ‘Biblial Counseling’ my Senior Year!” I can only assume that 2 hours on “Church Epistles” either means an incredibly truncated look at NT epistles, which is sad, or how to write killer church newsletters. And why do I have a feeling that 3 hours on “Manuscript Evidences” (in conjunction with “Biblical Apologetics”) means: how to defend and honor the KJV against all the pagan corruptions (e.g. NIV, NASB, or even the Catholic “Spirit of the Reformation Bible”)?

And here is the “General Studies for Ladies” track:Screen Shot 2014-01-04 at 07.57.17Wait, what happened to all the theology courses? The Church education? Or even “Biblial Counseling”? Oh, I forgot; we’re talking about ladies here, which means they only need to know “Basic Keyboarding” and “Word Processing” skills so that they can tackle that “Secretarial Elective” their Sophomore year–can’t waste time on all that heady, abstract, theology stuff.  Moreover, they can’t lose any ground on “How to Rear Infants/Children”, which also means they need to know how to “Sew”(!). And if they’re feeling really ambitious, they can take 6 hours of a “Domestic Science Elective”, which, for PBC, I’m assuming means operating hi-tech appliances in the home.[2] Why else would you give it a fancy title if it wasn’t something technical?

…this kind of stuff truly breaks my heart.

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[1] Why they use an imbalanced pairing in terms is beyond me. One would think that if you’re going to use “men” then its natural pairing would be “women.”  Or, if you’re going to use “ladies” then its natural pairing would be “gentlemen.” 
[2] Turns out, I’m not too far off the mark. Here are some course descriptions that I can only assume fit the Elective:
“CE307: Advanced Cooking. This course is designed to give the student the skills necessary to work with large group meal preparation.”
“CE308: Advanced Sewing. This course is designed to further develop the basic skills found in CE 206 Sewing.”
“CE410: Home Maintenance. This course provides basic principles of home care to include principles of color, line, fabric and room arrangements.  Students will be required to develop ideas for the arrangement of a variety of rooms and presentations.”

why just those two?

This is nothing but a quick rant. More like a sucker-punch, really. While reading through Carson & Moo’s, An Introduction to the New Testament (as you do on a Wednesday morning), particularly the chapter on the Corinthian letters (go figure), I found this rather strange observation:

Both Corinthian epistles are occasional letters, that is, they are letters addressed to specific people and occasioned by concrete issues

–Carson-Moo, Introduction (2005), 415.

This is strange because, with the possible exception of Ephesians (though I’m not convinced that it is an exception), all of Paul’s letters are occasional.[1] So why specifically designate–or single out–only the Corinthians letters as “occasional”? Is it because those letters address more problems in one go than the other letters do? If so, that in itself does not necessarily make them more “occasional” than the others and thus worthy of the description. It simply means the Corinthians had more problems, and the proliferation of problems in one location is (essentially) the occasion for writing… four letters.

Poor form, guys. Poor form.

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[1] Admittedly, Carson-Moo acknowledge this point later (see 490), but they hardly do anything with it. In fact, the acknowledgement reads more like a throw-away line than anything else.

feeling feisty

Ever since a well-meaning individual tried to convince me of the merits of Dispensationalism,[1] I have done my best (when I have the spare time) to become acquainted with its ideas/teachings/hermeneutic/etc. I do this because I want to be sure that I am either accepting or rejecting something for the right reasons. That study began just over 6 years ago, and I’m sure it will continue for many more–and I’m okay with that.

What I’m not okay with are the repeated attempts by some Dispensationalist scholars to (try and) substantiate a position or interpretation that is otherwise passé or even unsustainable. In particular, I am thinking of the twin (and necessarily linked) ideas of: 1) a clear and essential distinction between Israel and the Church, and 2) the pre-tribulation rapture of the Church. To put it mildly: both of these are crap (especially the second one) and there is no biblical support for either one–or both. The only way one reaches something remotely close to these ideas is if one presupposes the “truth” of both and then imposes them onto a small handful of text(s) that supposedly teach them.

However, throughout 6 years of studying Dispensationalism and reading through countless books and articles on the subject, I cannot begin to recall the number of times I’ve seen people still trying to uphold these two points and claiming them as taught/supported/proved in the Bible. I cannot, for the life of me, understand why this sort of thing persists. The only guess I can fathom is that such scholars are seeking to preserve loyalty to Dispensational teaching rather than allowing Scripture to speak for itself. (That may be a tad extreme…). One fairly recent example should suffice, which comes from an article by the late Zane Hodges (1933-2008).  Please note the assumptions and presuppositions driving his entire line of argument:

A growing number of evangelicals question the doctrine of the Pre-tribulation Rapture of the Church, claiming that the New Testament nowhere teaches it.  Even proponents of the Pre-tribulation Rapture often defend it as if it results from a series of inferences drawn from scattered biblical texts.  Or, they may cite a few isolated proof-texts (like Revelation 3:10).  Unfortunately, few pre-tribulational expositors attempt to justify this doctrine by appealing to a coherent exegesis of an extended passage of Scripture.  Yet, the apostle Paul directly teaches the Rapture of the Church as a deliverance before the Great Tribulation’s judgments in one such passage, 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11.

–Z. Hodges, “1 Thessalonians 5:1-11 and the Rapture,” CTS Journal 6 (2000): 22

There are so many things I could say about this paragraph, but for the sake of my own sanity I will confine my remarks to Hodge’s final point: “the apostle Paul directly teaches the Rapture of the Church as deliverance before the Great Tribulation’s judgments in one such passage, 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11.” Let me see how I can say this… Paul teaches no such thing–not in 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11 or anywhere!  (I think that works). In order to say that Paul does teach such a thing, one has to presuppose a clear and essential distinction between Israel and the Church, which further presupposes (and requires) separate divine agendas for each, and then read 1Thess 5.1-11 through that lens.  Moreover, one has to do all of this in spite of the fact that Paul would never endorse that twofold presupposition–in fact, his arguments (elsewhere) about “Israel” and the church obliterate the foundation for such a distinction. Thus, if Hodges is going to follow the principle of “interpreting Scripture with Scripture”, then he’s going to have a difficult[2] time squaring what Paul does say about “Israel” and the church with what Dispensationalism assumes the Bible/Paul says about them.

I’ll finish reading Hodges article, primarily because I already started it but also fairness dictates I consider the whole of his argument. However, I have terrible suspicion that it’s going to be nothing but a Dispensationally-driven eisegesis of a Pauline text that deserves more respect than that.

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[1] I should point out that, based on several conversations with the individual noted, the “Dispensationalism” in question is an amalgam of the Classical and Revised (or Modified) varieties.
[2] On this point, I’m being kind.

more statistical loathing

I have grown to dislike and even distrust the use of statistics, particularly in the form of percentages. (See here and here for examples of why this is so). Admittedly, some uses are rather comical. For instance, just the other day there was an advert on TV for mascara (Maxfactor, I think it was) and the voice-over made grand statements about women’s views on the product. Based on the VO’s claims, one would think that he was speaking for the whole of womankind. Hardly. At the bottom of the screen appeared the percentage of women supporting the claims made and number surveyed. The figures? 74% of 70 women!¹ No typo. Seven, zero. My first (cynical) thought was: “So, you [Maxfactor] basically got your own PR department to offer some opinions.”

As benign or even banal as this instance might be, it adheres to or relies on (and possibly even perpetuates) a rather malignant rhetorical ploy: shape opinion on the basis of persuasively strong claims supported by high percentages.² For example: “The majority of people (78%) believe _[insert hot-button issue here]_ should be permitted” or “…feel that _____ is unfair.” The underlying assumption appears to be: with language such as “majority” or “most people” and percentages exceeding 50%, we can make the issue appear to be prevailing and widespread, and if we can get people to believe the language and percentages, then we can shape public opinion in a particular direction. To remain in my cynicism, this usually means: the “majority” we’re documenting is the cultural norm, so you might want to get on board rather than fight against the “majority” view.

However, because I am that annoying person who asks, when confronted with percentages: ” ‘x’% of how many surveyed?”, and because the survey pool is hardly ever deep and wide enough or representative of the whole, I will neither be persuaded by the claims made (because they do not represent the whole they claim to) nor accept the data to be empirical evidence of public views/opinions (because it’s not). Moreover, I will not pretend that, say, 1500 people surveyed constitute a “majority” view and that I must accept their view, which is really a “minority” one (based on comparative figures), simply because they’re touted as the majority in a particular survey. In fact, I don’t have to accept anything simply because a few say so–and do so rather loudly (i.e. delusionally pretending to be the many).³ I accept things because they are worthy of acceptance, but that requires an entirely different (and more substantial) kind of conversation.

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¹ I’m not sure if they’re doing this in the States (or anywhere else), but here in the UK it is now common practice in adverts to show both the percentage and the number of people surveyed.
² It is, therefore, no wonder that the survey-data is either tucked away at the end of the article or on a completely different site.
³ Current issues in American politics illustrate what happens when a few are allowed to shape the many, and do so on the assumption that the few are portrayed as more powerful than the many.

another one left behind

I have four e-mail addresses: personal, University, joint (i.e. my lovely wife and me), and Yahoo. The first is the one I prefer and use most often, the second is used out of necessity, the third is for random things, and the last is lovingly called, my “crap e-mail.” It’s the one I use when I have to sign up for things or give out a valid e-mail address. Thus, it’s the one that receives the most crap (or spam).

However, because it’s a Yahoo address this means I occasionally have to endure the Yahoo homepage, which is usually nothing more than a cesspool of banal dronings about superficialities masquerading as real news. Admittedly, every so often there is something important and newsworthy, but it’s typically late in the feed or sandwiched between useless slices of stale drivel. (Can you tell I have a slight disdain for Yahoo?)

In exceptional cases (and by that I mean their rarity, not their quality), I find something that is simply laughable–not because it is funny but because it is painfully pathetic. Case in point: this morning I was slapped in the face with this story. My angst is not with the story itself. I truly feel for the woman who was inadvertently harpooned and I do pray that she makes a full recovery. My beef, however, is with the ineptitude at keeping the details straight–let alone consistent. Or valid. Or right. Here’s what I mean.

Take a look at the way in which the story is advertised in the newsfeed:

Screen Shot 2013-05-09 at 09.01.07

Now, I ask you, dear reader: do you remember seeing anything in the original story about the women being “inches away from death”? I don’t. I do, however, remember seeing that “the harpoon came within 1cm of killing the woman.” In case you missed it:

Screen Shot 2013-05-09 at 09.01.12

Last time I checked, “1cm” is a far cry from “inches”–the plural form implying more than one inch. Come on, people; it’s basic education! You know, the stuff you learned when you were about 5. (Another child left behind).

I think what bugs me even more is that the newsfeed presents the “inches from death” as though it’s a legitimate quotation, but it’s not. No one in the article says that! Ever. So, not only are the technical details inconsistent (i.e. patently wrong) yet presented as though nothing’s really problematic, the quotation doesn’t even exist yet it is proffered as though it does. That’s just poor and painfully pathetic reporting.

I think I need more coffee….

let the beatings begin

Once this post goes live I’m bound to get an ear-full from Gospels scholars, particularly those of the Markan priority type. But no matter. A little disagreement is good every now and then. As long as it’s constructive.

For the past two weeks I’ve been (re-)exploring the world of Gospels scholarship, specifically the discussions on the so-called “Synoptic Problem” and the priority of Mark. In the majority of cases, the view of Markan priority (i.e. Mark’s Gospel was the first to be written and then used by Matthew and Luke) is integral to “solving” the Synoptic Problem. The two big questions that have bugged me for a while, and they are the ones fueling my (re-)exploration, are: 1) are the arguments for Markan priority really that good/persuasive, and 2) on the basis/assumption that Matthew and Luke used Mark, did Mark use any sources or is he exempt from relying on such things?

To stir the pot a little (with an industrial blender), I am finding myself not being persuaded by most of the arguments for Markan priority–i.e. I don’t think they’re all that good. I’ll have to come back to that discussion later, for it will take a little more time to develop. Based on what I’ve seen thus far, I can say the same thing for the case for Mark’s use of source. For this post, I am going to consider one argument (=piece of “evidence”) related to that case. The argument comes from B.H. Branscomb (The Gospel of Mark [1937], xxiii) and runs as follows–with running commentary by yours truly:

The series of conflicts between Jesus and the Jewish religious leaders narrated in ii.1–iii.6 evidently came to the editor [of the Gospel] in written form. . . .

How this is evident is not clearly defined, but I’ll let it slide for now–unless it’s evident in a petitio principii sort of way.

This is generally accepted. . . .

That’s news to me, but then again I’ve spent the majority of my academic research in Pauline studies. Admittedly, this “generally accepted” remark was made in 1937 and things may have changed since then. Or maybe they haven’t. Anyone?

But the source from which this came also contributed some further material. . . .

So, based on everything said so far, we’re dealing with a (supposed) written source from which the editor of the Gospel of Mark gleaned information. Okie dokie.

For in xii.13 there appears another conflict episode introduced by a reference to the combination of Pharisees and Herodians against Jesus with which iii.6 closes.  The Herodians as a party are not mentioned elsewhere in ancient literature. . . .

Hang on a minute. You can’t say “The Herodians as a party are not mentioned elsewhere in ancient literature” after contending that the conflict story which mentions the Herodians is derived from a written source which came to the editor’s attention. Had you said, “The Herodians as a party are not mentioned elsewhere in ancient extant literature” that would be fine, because you already admitted that the other “sources” used are no longer extant. But you didn’t, and that’s not fine–especially if we’re using the details of your argument. In other words: if we accept that the editor used a written source, and that written source mentions the Herodians, then they arementioned elsewhere in ancient literature”, despite the fact we longer possess that source as independent testimony.

Nowhere else does Mark mention this combination of opponents, nor do the contents of either section suggest their names. . . .

Yeah, so? Nowhere else, outside of 7.26, does Mark mention the Syrophoenician race. Are we to assume that Mark (or the editor of) could only obtain knowledge about such people from written sources? I just don’t see the necessity for that assumption, or the one in the previous claim (of Branscomb, that is).

It seems plain that there is a connection between the two passages, and the influence of a written source would seem to be the natural explanation. . . .

“Big deal” to the first half, and “No it doesn’t” to the second. It does only if you’re already assuming the use of a written source, but that’s starting to slide into petitio principii.

But how much more this document supplied, whether the one additional episode only, or the section from xii.13 to xii.34, cannot be said with assurance.

That’s it?! Hardly a convincing case. No real arguments outside of suppositions.

Branscomb’s got seven more pieces of “evidence” that presumably prove the existence of (written) sources behind Mark’s Gospel. If the remaining seven are anything like this one, in the words of Prince Humperdinck: “I’ll shall be very put out.”

a modicum of solace

Yesterday The Guardian provided the results of an American-based survey on various conspiracy theories. Interestingly, the headline focused only on one of the 26 questions: Obama as the Antichrist. Two things–one about the headline, and one about the survey–and then a third, which is less troubling.

With regard to the headline, it’s a bit misleading. According to the numbers in the results (the full break-down is here), only 13% believe Obama is the Antichrist. That’s hardly “one in four Americans.” The only way you can get close to a “one in four” charge (i.e. 25%) is if you lump the 13% from the “not sure” category, which is what Paul Harris does in the article. He does this on the basis that “not sure” = “possibly so” or “I could be convinced”. A bit shady on the method, but understandable. “One in four” sounds better and (slightly) more widespread than “one in seven(ish)”.

With regard to the survey, it too is a bit misleading. If we went on the title alone, we get the impression that 25% of (all) Americans believe Obama is the Antichrist. Given the population of the US (315,610,625, as of 8.30 this morning), that would mean something around 78,902,656.25. (Who is the .25 of a person!?). But that can’t be right. Outside of Garnier, who would survey that many people? Harris does explain that the survey involved only “a sample of American voters”. Okie dokie. According to this site, last year there were 146,311,000 registered voters in the US (a number that seems too clean for my taste, but no matter). So if we use that number, then, according to Harris’ “one in four” charge, that would mean 36,577,750 people surveyed believe Obama to be the Antichrist. (Thankfully, no fractions of people this time). But that can’t be right either.

Conveniently (or smartly), Harris leaves out the exact size of the sample, and he suspiciously leaves out any links to survey itself. Again, it sounds so much better and more–dare I say–condemning to say “one in four Americans” and let people assume that the number is huge. But what about facts? If you were to take the 12 seconds to do your own search and locate the survey in question (or just use the link I supplied–you’re welcome), you would see that the sample-size is . . . get ready for this . . . 1247. I didn’t leave out any numbers. 1,2,4,7. That’s all. Seriously, Harris: Asda’s got more stuff on sale.

Accordingly, if we use Harris’ bold figure of 25%, that would mean only 311.75 people believe Obama is the Antichrist. That’s not “one in four”. That’s like one in a million (I think; my maths are a little rusty this morning). But no one is going to care if Harris says that figure, so it’s no wonder that his misleadingly says, “one in four”. Things get uglier if we use the solid number of 13%, which would bring the total to a whopping 162.11 people. That’s just under one in every two million (again, I think). Seriously, Harris: you’re going to paint 1/4 of Americans with a brush admittedly used by only 162.11 people? Tsk! Tsk!

The third thing, and this is the modicum of solace: only 162.11 people admit to believing Obama to be the Antichrist. I don’t mean to sound crass, but it’s comforting to know that only 162.11 people have a faulty understanding of the Antichrist. If we follow what the Johannine Epistles say, the “antichrist” (ἀντιχριστος) is anyone who “denies the Father and the Son” (1Jn 2.22) and/or denies “Jesus Christ as coming in the flesh” (2Jn 1.7). While the Johannine Epistle seem to suggest a solitary figure–i.e. the Antichrist–appearing in the last days (cf. 1Jn 2.18; 4.3), nothing definite is said about him (or her–sorry, I have to be PC these days). However, since the language of the Epistles on this matter is apocalyptic, we can safely assume that this solitary figure is understood in apocalyptic terms–i.e. he (or she) ain’t human. And if he (or she) ain’t human, then Obama can’t be the Antichrist. Same goes for the new Pope–contra this guy–or any other person.

parroting bad theories

Per my usual morning routine, and because I am not able to take classes anymore, I was listening to a lecture by a professor at Westminster Theological Seminary, who will remain anonymous (to protect the guilty). The course, for the past 7 seven lectures has been rather good, and I anticipate its continued goodness for the remaining 17. We’ll see how it goes.

This morning’s lecture dealt with the twin topics of revelation (not the book of) and eschatology–two topics that often grab my attention. To begin the lecture, the professor (we’ll call him, “Bob”) recapped some of the previous discussions in order to show their relevance for the current one. In the midst recapping, “Bob” raised the point about names having “significant, historical, redemptive connotations”, and that sometimes names are purposefully changed by God to reflect this reality. Moreover, the name-change signals something about the person, namely: that person is now going to be used by God in the unfolding of God’s redemptive plan.

In an effort to illustrate (or even prove) his point, “Bob” listed off some key biblical figures where he sees this purposeful name-changing thing taking place–e.g. Abram –> Abraham.¹ And then it happened. I feared it would the moment he started this line of argument, and he proved my fears correct. He mentioned the apostle Paul as an example! I nearly came out of my skin, which would be a bit gross. And messy to clean up. I have heard and read this (bad) theory many times,² and each time it provokes the same response–i.e. the coming of the skin thing. I say it’s a bad theory because it is simply not true, let alone consistent with the biblical text. And “Bob”, being a systematic theologian, should know this–i.e. he should know better.

The only passage in the NT that refers to Paul as having another name is Acts 13.9. It is true that up to this point, he has been called, “Saul” and after this point he is referred to as “Paul” (excepting Acts 22.7 and 26.14). I’ll grant that, but only that. Nothing in the text suggests either 1) that the name was changed from Saul to Paul as a result of a direct encounter with God or with some divine, redemptive-historical assignment,³ or 2) that “Paul” was not already a name by which he was known. In fact, the text simply reads: “But Saul–who [is] also Paul–being filled with the Holy Spirit…” (Σαυλος δε ὁ και Παυλος πλησθεις πνευματος ἁγιου). Nothing about a name-change. Only that he had another name.

If such a name-change took place, as “Bob” and other parrot, and if such a changing is ordinarily linked with some divine encounter and/or redemptive-historical commissioning, then we would expect to see the Saul-Paul shift taking place after Acts 9.19 and not nearly 4 chapters later. But we don’t. And we don’t see it because it ain’t there, and it ain’t there because “Paul” was always one of his names, given to him at birth. Some 30 years prior.

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¹ This theory begins to fall apart when we consider the names of Moses, Jeremiah, Isaiah, and even James (the brother of Jesus). All of these men retained their (original) names despite encountering God and/or being given specific divine commissions.
² Augustine seems to one of the earliest to suggest it (see Sermons, 225). After that, it can be found in the works of scholars, pastors, church-goers, and even skeptics–e.g. J. Stow, Reflections on the Epistles of St Paul (1847), 318; C.J. den Heyer, Paul (2000), 27; M. Dimont, Jews, God, and History (2004), 141; B. Organ, Is the Bible Fact or Fiction? (2004), 48; A. Scheil, The Footsteps of Israel (2004), 224; J. Carter, Faith (2008), 300; D. Ridges, Your Study of the New Testament (2008), 26.
³ Adolf Jülicher already made this point–see Introduction (1904), 34.