#agod

Was the Word “God” or “a god” in John 1.1?

By Bible Researcher Eli Kittim 🎓

John 1.1 (SBLGNT):

Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ λόγος, καὶ ὁ λόγος ἦν πρὸς

τὸν θεόν, καὶ θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος.

John 1.1, which is a throwback to Genesis 1.1, aims to define the primordial relationship of “the Word” (i.e. Christ) to God. But certain skeptics have challenged the idea that the fullness of the godhead was in Christ (Col. 2.9), who is said to be “the Word” (i.e. ὁ λόγος). Specifically, Jehovah's Witnesses have raised the argument of “a god” in John 1.1, implying that Christ is a lesser and inferior god that was created. Let’s explore that assertion. John 1.1 is traditionally broken up into three phrases that are separated by commas:

1st phrase: Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ λόγος,

2nd phrase: καὶ ὁ λόγος ἦν πρὸς

τὸν θεόν,

3rd phrase: καὶ θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος.

First, to suppose that John is talking about many gods, or more than one god, is a theological speculation and a grammatical imposition that is going beyond what is written in the text or what we know about the theology of the Gospel of John.

Second, John *did* mention the definite article τόν in the second phrase, and so he is not obligated to repeat it in the third phrase, as that would be redundant and tautological.

Third, another reason why the third phrase of John 1.1 doesn’t require the definite article (before the term θεός) is because it was already *used* in the second phrase, and therefore it necessarily *carries over.* For example, if I were to write, “I have a pretty good temper, and a very amiable disposition,” I would not be required to repeat the first part of the phrase. In other words, I wouldn’t be required grammatically to write “I have a pretty good temper, and [I have] a very amiable disposition.” The “I have” is *carried over* and doesn’t need to be repeated. It would be considered redundant. Similarly, in addressing τόν Θεόν with a definite article in the second phrase, John doesn’t have to repeat τόν Θεόν in the third phrase, since it is *carried over.* Here’s another example. I could write “God is one being, not two beings.” But that’s redundant. Now, if I were to rewrite the same sentence correctly and say “God is one being, not two,” would anyone argue that the term “two” may not necessarily refer to the concept of being because the word “being” is not mentioned? That’s the same kind of argument that skeptics are raising here in John 1.1.

Since John has already established (as a monotheist) that he’s talking about one (and-only-one) particular God (namely, τόν Θεόν) in the second phrase, then this syntactical construction must necessarily *carry over* into the third phrase. In other words, the term Θεός in the third phrase grammatically refers back to “the God” (τόν Θεόν) mentioned in the second phrase. Therefore, when John writes “τὸν θεόν” (in the second phrase), “καὶ θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος” (in the third phrase), the “God” of the third phrase is a direct reference to “the God” of the second phrase. It’s obviously the same “God” in both phrases, not a different one. And given that God is one being, not two, which other god could John be possibly referring to?

In Greek, the third phrase in John 1.1 is actually read in two different ways, not only as “the Word was God,” but also as “God was the Word.” In the third phrase, there’s no ontological distinction between God and the Word——after all, they share one being: “I and the Father are one” (Jn 10.30)——because John already made the distinction (of persons) in the second phrase.

The night is peaceful. Effie slept through it without any problems. Sometimes you could hear birds singing their magical tunes in between the soft whistles of the wind against the trees. She buries herself a little deeper in the warmth next to her, not opening her eyes at all. It smells nice here. Like a mixture of coal and something else. Exactly like Haymitch does.

Exactly like Haymitch does.

Effie rips her eyes open. It is still a little dark but not enough that she can’t make out what is going on right now. She wouldn’t even have to look, since she can feel her own body snuggled up to her partner. Her head is tugged under his chin and her leg hooked over his legs. Effie pushes herself back in hope that he didn’t notice and is still asleep. She must have rolled over in the middle of the night and snuggled up to him.

Oh my god.

By the time the Soner Rast reached the stroke of midnight, Rhy Maresh, king of Arnes, was very, very drunk.

He had escorted the Maktahn knight, Ojka, to her rooms following dinner then hunkered down in the tea room with a bottle of wine. Two bottles really. He slouched in one of the high backed chairs, too sloshed to be genuinely uncomfortable. Jackets tossed to the floor, boots similarly discarded, and bundled in a blanket, Rhy stares up at the mantelpiece and the photographs collected there.

Talking to them.

Like an utter lunatic.

When he told Kell earlier he thought he was going mad, Kell had not taken him seriously enough. Or even simply as seriously as Rhy would have liked him to. And Kell was always serious, so serious. Rhy had wondered for years if Kell had any other traits or personality besides dead serious .

“Tha’s why you brought ‘im home with you, isn’t it?” Rhy slurs, eyes trained on his father’s portrait. His glass sloshes dangerously in his hand as he tries and fails to sit up. “You knew he would be stoic an’ serious an’ brave, jus’ like you. Like I never was… He shoulda been crown prince but no . Ihad to, have to.”

Rhy huffs, filling his mouth with more wine. His father’s eyes look beyond him, above him, never exactly at him the way Rhy wishes they did. The way they had in life. Rhy wonders for a moment if his father had ever really looked at him.

He rolls his eyes and pinches himself. “That’s unfair, you whining toddler. Kell’s the one they never looked at… You never did, either of you. Ever. You brought him here, made him call you parents, and then what? Forgot him. That isn’t unfair, even if you are dead… I should have said it t’you sooner. Kell was always better than me and you both jus’ ignored him.”

Rhy considers the silence around him, the thin glass cradled in his palm. He breathes out heavily, squeezing it until it starts to squeak in his grasp. He quickly downs the rest of the glass, swallowing tightly, and drops the glass to the floor.

Just to hear it shatter, thin clear pieces skittering across the gold-veined marble.

Rhy smiles at the sound, giggling drunkenly as he reaches down for the bottle. The second one of the night, open and half-full. He rests the bottle against his chest, pulling his legs up to keep it in place. What was the use of a glass anyway? Fancy glasses were for dignified people, people who still had or were holding fast to a shred of decency.

Rhy wasn’t dignified.

Rhy didn’t have any decency.

It is here. AGOD is now four years old. Granted, it’s old enough to go to primary school, but not enough to make wise decisions about its future. Quite a predicament, I know.

 But this is where I come in. 

Many of you know that I’ve co-owned this blog for a short amount of time, and I know a few of you remember my debut: “Locked-Room Mystery.” That being said, I realize that I’ve only been a part of this account for almost a year and a half, but it hasn’t been entirely unpleasant and most of you, I should say, are not a bad lot to have as a following. I'll even push myself to say that it’s almost been enjoyable. Almost.  

Now it’s rather late here, but before I bid you all goodnight I want you all to keep in mind that I have every intention of making good use of the many years to come. 

Before they reach the changing room everyone gets their sports clothes. For the woman that means a simple top and some tight leggings.

It turns out, the locker room is not divided into man and woman. They will all be changing in the same room and Effie can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable at the very thought of undressing in front of Haymitch and his friend Chaff as well as many other men. To her luck, Portia seems to feel a little uncomfortable too, because her friend has left Cinna’s side and is now standing right with Effie.

With all the people inside, the locker room is quite cramped. They look around and end up picking two lockers at the very left of the room. They push their way through the room, squeezing between the other men and women. Portia takes the one next to the wall.

Portia makes a great job at keeping a conversation. She giggles and talks about all the stuff Cinna told her. For example, that he used to be in a fashion school. That seems logical, given the great taste in clothes. Portia keeps giggling and Effie can’t help but join in every once in a while. At least her friend seems happy about her partner.

“How is it going with Mister Rude.” Portia asks, playfully hitting Effie with her elbow. “He does not look that bad.” She winks and Effie gasps.

“Absolutely not.” Effie hisses. That is now way of thinking about Haymitch. “He is infuriating, rude and ill-mannered. Not even mentioning the fact that he straight up ignored me the whole walk down here.”

“He might be all those things, but he is handsome.” Her friend says and she shakes her head. “Turn around and take a good look at him before you deny it.”

Effie doesn’t want to, but she knows Portia won’t back off. She turns her head around rather slowly. It’s hard to spot him but in a matter of seconds her eyes find him. His back is facing her. His shirtless back. That man certainly has a very good body. His back is trained. Broad shoulders and strong arms you could die for. Maybe Portia wasn’t so wrong after all.