I recently wrote about hidden codes in Tom Wright‘s latest tome and similar patterns in the New Testament. In the former, this took the form of a acrostic code, using the letters of the text, and in the latter took the form of numerical features of the text.
In the comments, there developed an interesting discussion about how one might detect elements of numerical composition, and whether some people are attributing significance to numbers which are just coincidental. I highlighted there an interesting feature of Peter’s speech in Acts 2:
Here’s another remarkable feature pointed out by Menken (though not discovered by him):
There are also several instances of isopsephia in Acts, where the number of syllables of an episode or speech is equal to the numerical value of an important name or word occurring in or related to the passage in question (such as we found concerning John 1.1-18, where both the number of syllables and the numerical value of monogenes are 496). Peter’s speech in Acts 2.14-b-36 is made up of two equal halves: 444 syllables in 2.14b-24, and again 444 syllables in 2.25-36. Their sum, 888, is the numerical value of the name Iesous, a number which was famous in this quality in the second century, witness Irenaeus’ Aversus Haereses 1.15.2.
Richard Fellows raised a methodological objection to this:
The NT is about 300 times longer than this passage, so it is not so surprising that one passage would have 888 syllables, is it?
To which I offered a rough-and-ready response:
There are 24 speeches in Acts (that in itself is interesting!). I haven’t counted their length, but suppose they are between 500 and 1000 words or syllables. I guess there might be five numbers that could be seen as ‘significant’ such as 888, 1260, 1000, 153 and so on–but not many more. At a rough calculation, that would suggest that there is only 1% chance of a speech have a special length ‘by accident’. So there is a prima facia case for taking note of this.
But is there a better case for taking numerical composition seriously? I came across another fascinating example of Menken’s (Novum Testamentum XXX, 2 (1988) pp 107–114.) by means of Joel Green’s excellent commentary, when preaching on Luke 7.11–17, the story of Jesus raising the son of the widow of Nain. A careful reading of this story, alert to its narrative features, would highlight the importance of v 13 as the turning point of the story. Jesus comes to the town, approaches the gate, sees the funeral procession, then sees the widow, and ‘his heart went out to her’—which then leads to the miracle. The verb is splagchnizomai, meaning ‘literally’ ‘his bowels were moved.’ It is Jesus’ compassion for the grieving woman which motivates him to perform the miracle.
But Menken goes one step further. Noting that the compassion of Jesus is an important theme in Luke, but also that this word occurs only three times, he analyses these occurrences, and finds something striking. The occurrences are:
- Luke 7.13 The raising of the widow’s son
- Luke 10.33 The parable of the man who fell among thieves
- Luke 15.20 The parable of the two sons and the forgiving father
In each case, the verb is the turning point of the narrative unit from a literary point of view. But Luke has also written in such a way as to place the verb (or verb phrase) at the numerical centre as well.
In the first, the narrative unit has 208 syllables; the phrase ‘he had compassion on her’ is 7 syllables; the unit has 106 syllables preceding it and 105 following it (106 + 7 + 105 = 208). But considering the words, he argues that the composition is even more carefully structured:
In Luke 10, the verb splagchnizomai is preceded by 68 words and followed by 67 in the story told by Jesus. It is the central (17th) of the 33 verbal forms in Jesus’ words.
In Luke 15, the same verb acting as the turning point of the narrative is also numerically central to the indicative verbs in the story (16th of 31) and of the aorist (simple past) indicatives (12th of 23).
I think two things follow from this, one relating to study of NT texts, the other relating to our reading of and preaching from these texts.
The first is that, if any of this evidence stands up to scrutiny, then it makes a strong case for seeing it elsewhere too. In this example, Menken has started with an important word, and found numerical structure build around it. Because of the direction of the argument, this is much less susceptible to the kind of ‘it is just a coincidence’ critique of the 888 syllables in the Acts 2 speech. But finding numerical composition in one part of a writer’s work strengthens the probability that this is happening elsewhere too; it is a cumulative case.
The second is that, in reading these texts and preaching on them, it might well be that the actual shape and structure of the text is communicating something of importance. In my sermon, it offered a powerful, pastoral point. The centre feature of God’s response to tragedy is one of compassion, and Luke communicates this by placing this term at the numerical centre of the respective narrative units. Rather than seeing time spent with the text as a distraction from our pastoral application of the text, we perhaps should see the two as more closely related, and the second deriving from the first.