Ascents and Descents

I am learning Koine Greek. This is not easy, as I do not seem to be particularly gifted when it comes to languages. This is work, but it must be remembered that work is not a bad thing. In my case, this is a timely discipline, and I am thankful for the opportunity to follow it.

In reading the following, please keep in mind that I am an utter beginner in Greek, albeit a beginner who is willing to take risks. I fully expect any response to this to be of the form, “of course, we've known that all along.” Or, “What cluelessness!” I don't mind, either way, so long as the case is argued well enough that I learn something from it.

Greek has a number of words that convey the sense of personal movement. I've learned ἔρχομαι, πορεύομαι, ἀναβαίνω, and καταβαίνω, to name four. I always wonder in such cases why a language has multiple words. In English, this sometimes means little more than that borrowings happened from different languages, but even in then, a particular choice can shed light on the speaker, and their level of education and/or pretension. But in a language like Greek, it is more likely that the difference is semantic rather than contextual, and therefore a higher likelihood that the choice has significance.

I want to focus now on two of the four words of motion above: ἀναβαίνω—to go up; and καταβαίνω—to go down. I was working through John 2, when I came across these words used in rapid succession: Jesus goes down from Cana to Capernaum, and then he goes up from Capernaum to Jerusalem. Why down? Why up? So I check out the map. OK, I get it. From Cana to Capernaum is a 700 feet drop in elevation, and from Capernaum to Jerusalem is almost 2400 feet of increase. So the up and down can refer to elevation, and the necessarily greater awareness that elevation changes will have among those who walk from one place to another. But is that the complete story?

The worlds ἀναβαίνω and καταβαίνω occasionally co-occur, when there is a desire to create a particular contrast. Here are some examples:

Mark 1:10 And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. (NRSV)

Here we have the attractive vision that the significance of Jesus moving up while the Spirit moves down is that they are moving towards one another. Matthew 3:16 is a parallel passage, which contains the same imagery. Somewhat surprisingly, Luke 3:22 contains only the image of the descending dove.

John 1:51 And he said to him, “Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.” (NRSV)

This recalls the story of Jacob's ladder, where the same juxtaposition occurs in the Septuagint:

Genesis 28:12 And he dreamed that there was a ladder set up on the earth, the top of it reaching to heaven; and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. (NRSV)

In translations, ἀναβαίνω is often rendered as “come up” to express ordinary human motion involving a change of elevation, whereas it is “ascend” when there is a spiritual objective, or a supernatural agent involved. Jerusalem, because of its physical situation, is a location that you ἀναβαίνω to, or καταβαίνω from. You don't ἔρχομαι to Jerusalem. I want to argue that there is a theological pun here, which is more visible in Greek than in English translations.

We know that the Bible often understands that there exist two Jerusalems: the Jerusalem of everyday experience, an imperfect earthly Jerusalem which is often the target of prophetic wrath; and the heavenly Jerusalem, where God reigns, and love and justice are perfected. Yet these two Jerusalems coexist, and might even be viewed as coincident in space. Thus, perhaps it is better to say that Jesus ascends to Jerusalem, prefiguring his ultimate ascent into heavan.

Peace