Introduction[i]
In a recent video interview, Dr. Jason Staples presented the outlines of his argument that lexically, Jesus referred to Himself as YHWH in both Luke and Matthew. Now, if you’re comfortable with the whole “son of God” characterization, this may be a bit jarring. But Staples presents a convincing and well-researched argument. I will refer to his paper[ii] of 2018 in which he presents his arguments as attested by reams of cited reference material.
References to YHWH in the Septuagint and Early Christian Writings
Jewish Aversion to Speaking/Writing the Tetragrammaton
You’re probably familiar with the Jewish aversion to naming the name of their God – YHWH (יהוה). This behavior is quite ancient, yet it has been preserved to this day. You may be familiar with encountering English speakers referring to the Name as “G-d” (not that “God” is a name, but no matter), or as “Hashem” (“the name”). Of course, these techniques are expressions of utter reverence for the Creator and trying to not treat Him as common by speaking/writing His name. It’s a deeply rooted tradition among Jews, but also non-Jew devotees of Judaism (e.g. Hebrew Roots adherents and Messianic Jews).
This tradition resulted in what is characterized as the “written” transmission of a text vs its “read” transmission, meaning that even if the Name appeared written in a Greek text, reciters of that text would either not pronounce it, or perhaps (especially later into the Christian era) speak a surrogate word (the most common of which became Kurios – “Lord”, or possibly its contraction “ks” or a contraction of God/theos, “ts”).
Treatments of the Name in the Septuagint and Early Christian Texts
Ancient texts, particularly the early (i.e. BC) scrolls of the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible created in the mid-third century BC, sometimes demonstrated this tradition by, when the Tetragrammaton was encountered in the Hebrew text being translated, simply leaving a blank space where it, or some representation of it, would normally appear in their Greek text. Sometimes four dots were recorded in the position where the Name characters (YHWH) would have fallen. Additionally, several examples of Septuagint manuscripts (as well as a few early first-millennium texts) exist in which the Name was represented in Paleo-Hebrew characters amid an otherwise Greek document. It is believed that this was the standard practice of Jewish scribes creating Greek translations of their scriptures[iii]. George Howard made the case that Jewish translations of the Hebrew Bible to Greek exclusively preserved some representation of the Tetragrammaton[iv].
In the absence of conclusive evidence for how authors of a specific type (e.g. Jewish scribes of the LXX vs later Jewish-Christian scribes) handled the Name at different points in late second-Temple and early first-century Greek writings, there has raged a constant scholarly debate over how the Tetragrammaton was dealt with in Greek documents around the turn of the millennium, without resolution. There are almost as many theories as there are scholars.
But over time, a technique began to be employed of using different Greek surrogates for the Name — κύριος (Kyrios – “Lord”), Ιαω (How this is a “phonetic” approximation of the Hebrew Name as is alleged, I don’t know. But its alpha and omega characters are tantalizing), and, importantly, New Testament quotations of the various Hebrew Bible verses that employ dual addresses – what our modern translations render most commonly as “LORD God” (Elohim YHWH), “Almighty God” (El Shaddai), or “LORD God” (Adonai YHWH – the primary Hebrew Bible address) “(יהוה אדני”).
Dual Name Representations
Staples points out that the most common literal translation of יהוה אדנ (Adonai YHWH) for the LXX became κύριος, κύριος – “Lord, lord”. However, apparently, the scribes didn’t like this duplication, and perhaps really didn’t like its repetitive vocalizations. For one thing, it equated one of the κύριος with the Name, יהוה, and so provided no special handling of it – the most holy word in the entire Hebrew Bible. So over time, they began to render this Hebrew phrase as simply one κύριος. It’s speculated that the scribe may have actually left room for the second κύριος in his scroll as blank space, so honoring the Name by its absence and preventing a corrupted vocalization.
These scribes by the first century were Jewish-Christian scribes who continued the process of copying earlier Septuagint editions through at least the first three centuries of the millennium. As time passed, Jewish scribes were increasingly less involved in this copying and so their emphasis on whatever device (Paleo-Hebrew insertions; Greek surrogates like Ιαω, blank space, dots, etc.) was used to preserve the sacredness of the Name in the Greek texts began to wane.
Gradually, the double Kurios tradition began to take over, as Staples points out:
“…this double formulation specifically arose to designate the distinctive Hebrew יהוה אדני” and was employed despite a scribal tendency to eschew repetition.”
In scanning Rahlfs’ edition of the LXX, 84 occurrences of this double Kurios appear (most of which are in Ezekiel). And, as Staples goes on to say:
“The double κύριος thus distinctively marks the presence of the Name to the Greek reader, making it clear that the formula in question is directly referring to the God of Israel by the special name.”
He’s claiming that by the late 1st and 2nd centuries, readers of the Septuagint would know unmistakably that this double construction was a reference to YHWH, whether in the Old Testament or the recent scrolls of the New, and not to any other ‘Sir’ or ‘Lord’.
Κύριε, Κύριε in the Gospels
Because of this background in the evolution of the double Kurios/Kyrie, Staples makes his bold assertion:
“There can therefore be little doubt that a Greek audience accustomed to the frequent occurrence of the double κύριος in Ezekiel and the vocative Κύριε, Κύριε” (Kyrie — Lord) “elsewhere in the Greek Bible would hear a jarring echo when reading the Gospels of Matthew and Luke.” (Emphasis mine.)
He then spends a bit of time dismissing the competing arguments of other scholars who variously equate such repetition to evoking a pathos or emotion (reverence or affection) on the part of the speaker, or that it was simply a construction held over from the original Semitic idiom of repetition, and other complaints.
Next, he looks at Matthew 7:21 and 22.
21 “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’” (Kyrie, Kyrie) “will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. 22 On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’
It’s fascinating to me that, in supporting his case for the common interpretation of Kyrie, Kyrie by Greek speakers, Staples moves away from his textual/linguistic argument and delves into the context of what Jesus is saying here.
Here Jesus is rhetorically portraying His petitioners as asking for entrance into the Kingdom of God. And it is crystal clear that He is portraying them as petitioning Him, not some other unnamed lord.
Staples says:
“Remarkably, Matt 7.21-22 presumes a context in which some believe that calling upon Jesus as Κύριε, Κύριε grants entry to the kingdom of heaven, an idea almost certainly tied to the application of Joel 2.32 (MT/LXX: Joel 3.5) to Jesus, ‘whoever (LXX: πᾶς ὃς ) calls on the name יהוה (LXX: Κυρίου) will be saved’, in precisely the way Paul does in Rom 10.9.”
Well, Who is it that is in the position to judge who is justified to live with God in His Kingdom? Of course, we have the tension of Jesus immediately following referring to “my Father who is in heaven.” But the semantic argument seems to me quite powerful. Who is it that is the judge of who can live with God? It seems that would be God.
Staples also cleverly (IMHO) turns his argument around by claiming that those who would petition using the invocation Κύριε, Κύριε were implicitly assuming, based on their prior experience with the term, that such an invocation would be effective for the resolution of their petition. In other words, to them, they were petitioning God, and God would be effective in granting their plea.
Luke 6:46
46 “Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and not do what I tell you? 47 Everyone who comes to me and hears my words and does them, I will show you what he is like: 48 he is like a man building a house, who dug deep and laid the foundation on the rock. And when a flood arose, the stream broke against that house and could not shake it, because it had been well built.
The issue here is similar to the Matthew 7 situation, but in a different context. Here the rhetorical claimant isn’t asking for life with God. He’s petitioning, without justification (in Jesus’ opinion) due to his disobedience, to be received by Jesus.
The construction here is identical to Matthew 7 with, Staples argues, exactly the same conclusion. He makes this observation:
“Luke 6.46 does not critique the address of Jesus as Κύριε, Κύριε but rather the incongruity between this address (which is implied to be proper) and not doing what Jesus says.” (Emphasis mine.)
The thought is: Why on earth would our rhetorical petitioner address Jesus as YHWH and not have done what He willed to be done?
Takeaways
Jason Staples is a brilliant expositor of the Bible and all of its earliest texts[v]. We’ve only touched here on the depth of his research and insight into the forms and histories of these texts, including the Qumran texts.
While his scholarly discussion of some of his points is a bit above my pay grade, I nevertheless choose to assume that his encyclopedic knowledge and understanding of these texts and their cultural contexts represent as close to the objective truth as one is going to get from my position. (If you are a Hebrew Bible scholar you may choose to differ.)
What Staples has presented in his paper and video interview is nothing less than a compelling case for Jesus referring to Himself unapologetically as YHWH, at least according to the authors of Matthew and Luke. In the conclusions of his paper, he wonders how the early Church’s discussions and wranglings over the Trinity may have been different if they had simply applied the same degree of analysis that he has to these LXX and early Christian texts – particularly of Matthew and Luke.
[i] With apologies to “The Chosen” fans.
[ii] Staples, Jason A., “‘Lord, LORD’: Jesus as YHWH in Matthew and Luke”, Cambridge Press, 2018
[iii] “Names and Titles of God in the New Testament”, Wikipedia
[iv] Howard, George, “The Name of God in the New Testament”, Biblical Archaeology Review, 1978
[v] I first encountered Staples through his book “The Idea of Israel in Second Temple Judaism: A New Theory of People, Exile, and Israelite Identity”, Cambridge University Press, 2021, about which I wrote in “What Paul Meant by ‘All Israel’”
