παράπτωμα

Hi folks,

παράπτωμα is usually translated to mean trespass, but the etymology seems odd. Trespass in modern Greek is παραβαίνω.

The usual translation of παρά is beside or from, but πτωμα is a corpse and not at first sight closely related to pipto ‘to fall’ at all. Am I missing something or is this closer in terms of etymology to being beside a corpse than falling down?

Thanks

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Sam Shelton

Good morning, Ian,

While it appears that πτωμα is only used to mean corpse in the New Testament, in the Septuagint and elsewhere, it is used for fall, destruction, collapse, as well as for corpse. Παράπτωμα was seen then to denote the idea of falling aside, and was generally used to denote moral failings — in other words, sin.

This is just my understanding though and I'm sure there are others out there that have a much better understanding of Greek.

DMB

I doubt you're going to get too far with etymology, due to religious usage bouncing around in the middle Second Temple period. In theory, you'd need Jewish usage around Alexandria in the early years of the LXX.

I recognize many a sermon on this word and reaching for etymology.

Christian Alexander

https://community.logos.com/discussion/comment/1255906#Comment_1255906

Ian etymology in Biblical Greek is a hard pill to swallow. The frequency in New Testament is 19. The gloss of the term is trespass, transgression, sin against, to sin as a moral failure to keep a command, fig., stepping out of the bounds of God's law. From the Lexham Research Lexicon of NT:

παράπτωμα

-ατος, τό;

(

paraptōma

sin; trespass

Hebrew equivalent:

מַ֫עַל 1

(3),

עָ֫וֶל

(3),

פֶּ֫שַׁע

(3).

LTW

παράπτωμα

(Sin)

Noun Usage

transgression

— the action of going beyond or overstepping some moral boundary or

limit. Related Topics:

Trespass

;

Sin

Mt 6:14

ἐὰν

γὰρ

ἀφῆτε

τοῖς

ἀνθρώποις

τὰ

παραπτώματα

αὐτῶν,

for

you forgive

[-]

people

[-]

sins

their

Ro 5:15		οὐχ		ὡς		τὸ		παράπτωμα,
		not		like		the		trespass

Ro 11:11		τῷ		αὐτῶν		παραπτώματι
		by		their		trespass

Eph 2:1

ὑμᾶς

ὄντας

νεκροὺς

τοῖς

παραπτώμασιν

καὶ

ταῖς

[although] you

were

dead

trespasses

and

[-]

ἁμαρτίαις		ὑμῶν,		ἐν
sins		your		in

Col 2:13

ὑμᾶς

νεκροὺς

ὄντας

ἐν

τοῖς

παραπτώμασιν

καὶ

τῇ

[although] you

dead

were

the

trespasses

and

the

ἀκροβυστίᾳ		τῆς
uncircumcision		of

sin

(guilt)

^†

—

estrangement

from

god.

Topics:

Perverseness

;

Wicked

;

Doom

;

Crimes

;

Guilt

;

Evil

;

Evil

Thing

;

Mischief

;

Behavior

;

Sin

;

Virtue/

Vice

Lists

;

Original

Sin

Eph 1:7		τὴν		ἄφεσιν		τῶν		παραπτωμάτων,
		the		forgiveness		of		sins

Col 2:13

χαρισάμενος

ἡμῖν

πάντα

τὰ

παραπτώματα,

having forgiven

all

our

trespasses

Septuagint References

•

Ps 18:13

;

Job 35:15

;

Wis 3:13

;

Wis 10:1

;

Eze 3:20

;

Eze 14:11

;

Eze 14:13

;

Eze 15:8

;

Eze

18:22

;

Eze 18:24

;

Eze 18:26

Alternate Corpus References

•

Apostolic Fathers:

1Cl 2.6

;

1Cl 51.3

;

1Cl 56.1

;

1Cl 60.1

;

Did 4.3

;

Did 4.14

;

Did 14.1

;

Barn 19.4

;

Herm, M IV, iv, 4

;

Herm, M IX, 7

•

Polybius:

Plb., Hist. 9.10.6

παραπίπτω G4178 (parapiptō), to fall beside, fig. go astray, err, commit apostasy; παράπτωμα G4183 (paraptōma), false step, transgression, sin

CONCISE NEW INTERNATIONAL DICTIONARY OF NEW TESTAMENT THEOLOGY AND EXEGESIS, s.v. “Παραπίπτω.”

Ian Goldsmith

https://community.logos.com/discussion/comment/1255899#Comment_1255899

Hi Sam,

I just found the obvious link between death and sin curious. Thayer says ‘1. properly, a fall beside or near something; but nowhere found in this sense’ so the examples of usage of the word for trespass in terms of sin are pretty slim. It’s odd too that it’s often translated as etymologically coming from Parapipto, as the association with death seems just as natural as falling down. Both seem acceptable in terms of meaning.

It feels a bit like grasping at straws, but corpse seems just as, if not better, a translation of the second half of the word as fall

David Thomas

My editorial of the material below: be cautious when parsing part of a word to find meaning of the whole word at one point in historical usage.

D.A Carson warns of various fallacies when trying to establish meaning in https://www.logos.com/product/6874/exegetical-fallacies-2nd-ed

His first fallacy to beware is:

1. The root fallacy

One of the most enduring of errors, the root fallacy presupposes that every word actually has a meaning bound up with its shape or its components. In this view, meaning is determined by etymology; that is, by the root or roots of a word. How many times have we been told that because the verbal cognate of ἀποστολος (apovstolos, apostle) is ἀποστέλλω (apostellō, I send), the root meaning of “apostle” is “one who is sent”? In the preface of the New King James Bible, we are told that the “literal” meaning of μονογενής (monogenēis) is “only begotten.”3 Is that true? How often do preachers refer to the verb ἀγαπάω (agapaō, to love), contrast it with φιλέω (phileō, to love), and deduce that the text is saying something about a special kind of loving, for no other reason than that ἀγαπάω (agapaō) is used?
All of this is linguistic nonsense. We might have guessed as much if we were more acquainted with the etymology of English words. Anthony C. Thiselton offers by way of example our word nice, which comes from the Latin nescius, meaning “ignorant.”4 Our “good–bye” is a contraction for Anglo–Saxon “God be with you.” Now it may be possible to trace out diachronically just how nescius generated “nice”; it is certainly easy to imagine how “God be with you” came to be contracted to “good–bye.” But I know of no one today who in saying such and such a person is “nice” believes that he or she has in some measure labeled that person ignorant because the “root meaning” or “hidden meaning” or “literal meaning” of “nice” is “ignorant.”
J. P. Louw provides a fascinating example.5 In 1 Corinthians 4:1 Paul writes of himself, Cephas, Apollos, and other leaders in these terms: “So then, men ought to regard us as servants (ὑπηρέτας, hypēretas) of Christ and as those entrusted with the secret things of God” (NIV). More than a century ago, R. C. Trench popularized the view that ὑπηρέτης (hypēretēs) derives from the verb ἐρέσσω (eressō) “to row.”6 The basic meaning of ὑπηρέτης (hypēretēs), then, is “rower.” Trench quite explicitly says a ὑπηρέτης (hypēretēs) “was originally the rower (from ἐρέσσὤ [eressō]).” A. T. Robertson and J. B Hofmann went further and said ὑπηρέτης (hypēretēs) derives morphologically from ὑπό (hypo) and ἐρέτης (eretēs).7 Now ἐρέσσω (eressō) means “rower” in Homer (eighth century B.C.!); and Hofmann draws the explicit connection with the morphology, concluding a ὑπηρέτης (hypēretēs) was basically an “under rower” or “assistant rower” or “subordinate rower.” Trench had not gone so far: he did not detect in ὑπό (hypo) any notion of subordination. Nevertheless Leon Morris concluded that a ὑπηρέτης (hypēretēs) was “a servant of a lowly kind”;8 and William Barclay plunged further and designated ὑπηρέτης (hypēretēs) as “a rower on the lower bank of a trireme.”9 Yet the fact remains that with only one possible exception—and it is merely possible, not certain10—ὑπηρέτης (hypēretēs) is never used for “rower” in classical literature, and it is certainly not used that way in the New Testament. The ὑπηρέτης (hypēretēs) in the New Testament is a servant, and often there is little if anything to distinguish him from a διάκονος (diakonos). As Louw remarks, to derive the meaning of ὑπηρέτης (hypēretēs) from ὑπό (hypo) and ἐρέτης (eretēs) is no more intrinsically realistic than deriving the meaning of “butterfly” from “butter” and “fly,” or the meaning of “pineapple” from “pine” and “apple.”11 Even those of us who have never been to Hawaii recognize that pineapples are not a special kind of apple that grows on pines.
The search for hidden meanings bound up with etymologies becomes even more ludicrous when two words with entirely different meanings share the same etymology. James Barr draws attention to the pair לֶחֶס (leḥem) and מִלְחָמָה (milḥammâ), which mean “bread” and “war” respectively:

It must be regarded as doubtful whether the influence of their common root is of any importance semantically in classical Hebrew in the normal usage of the words. And it would be utterly fanciful to connect the two as mutually suggestive or evocative, as if battles were normally for the sake of bread or bread a necessary provision for battles. Words containing similar sound sequences may of course be deliberately juxtaposed for assonance, but this is a special case and separately recognizable.12

Perhaps I should return for a moment to my first three examples. It is arguable that although ἀπόστολος (apostolos, apostle) is cognate with ἀποστέλλω (apostellō, I send), New Testament use of the noun does not center on the meaning the one sent but on “messenger.” Now a messenger is usually sent; but the word messenger also calls to mind the message the person carries, and suggests he represents the one who sent him. In other words, actual usage in the New Testament suggests that ἀπόστολος (apostolos) commonly bears the meaning a special representative or a special messenger rather than “someone sent out.”
The word μονογενής (monogenēs) is often thought to spring from μόνος (monos, only) plus γεννάω (gennaō, to beget); and hence its meaning is “only begotten.” Even at the etymological level, the γεν (gen)–root is tricky: μονογενής (monogenēs) could as easily spring from μόνος (monos, only) plus γένος (genos, kind or race) to mean “only one of its kind,” “unique,” or the like. If we press on to consider usage, we discover that the Septuagint renders יָחִיד (yamhîd) as “alone” or “only” (e.g., Ps. 22:20 [21:21, LXX, “my precious life” (NIV) or “my only soul”]; Ps. 25:16 [24:16, LXX, “for I am lonely and poor”]), without even a hint of “begetting.” True, in the New Testament the word often refers to the relationship of child to parent; but even here, care must be taken. In Hebrews 11:17 Isaac is said to be Abraham’s μονογενής (monogenēs)—which clearly cannot mean “only–begotten son,” since Abraham also sired Ishmael and a fresh packet of progeny by Keturah (Gen. 25:1–2). Issac is, however, Abraham’s unique son, his special and well–beloved son.13 The long and short of the matter is that renderings such as “for God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son” (John 3:16, NIV) are prompted by neither an inordinate love of paraphrasis, nor a perverse desire to deny some cardinal truth, but by linguistics.
In a similar vein, although it is doubtless true that the entire range of ἀγαπάω (agapaō, to love) and the entire range of φιλέω (phileō, to love) are not exactly the same, nevertheless they enjoy substantial overlap; and where they overlap, appeal to a “root meaning” in order to discern a difference is fallacious. In 2 Samuel 13 (LXX), both ἀγαπάω (agapaō, to love) and the cognate ἀγάπη (agapē, love) can refer to Amnon’s incestuous rape of his half sister Tamar (2 Sam. 13:15, LXX). When we read that Demas forsook Paul because he loved this present, evil world, there is no linguistic reason to be surprised that the verb is ἀγαπάω (agapaō, 2 Tim. 4:10). John 3:35 records that the Father loves the Son and uses the verb ἀγαπάω (agapaō); John 5:20 repeats the thought, but uses φιλέω (phileō)—without any discernible shift in meaning. The false assumptions surrounding this pair of words are ubiquitous; and so I shall return to them again. My only point here is that there is nothing intrinsic to the verb ἀγαπάω (agapaō) or the noun ἀγάπη (agapē) to prove its real meaning or hidden meaning refers to some special kind of love.
I hasten to add three caveats to this discussion. First, I am not saying that any word can mean anything. Normally we observe that any individual word has a certain limited semantic range, and the context may therefore modify or shape the meaning of a word only within certain boundaries. The total semantic range is not permanently fixed, of course; with time and novel usage, it may shift considerably. Even so, I am not suggesting that words are infinitely plastic. I am simply saying that the meaning of a word cannot be reliably determined by etymology, or that a root, once discovered, always projects a certain semantic load onto any word that incorporates that root. Linguistically, meaning is not an intrinsic possession of a word; rather, “it is a set of relations for which a verbal symbol is a sign.”14 In one sense, of course, it is legitimate to say “this word means such and such,” where we are either providing the lexical range inductively observed or specifying the meaning of a word in a particular context; but we must not freight such talk with too much etymological baggage.
The second caveat is that the meaning of a word may reflect the meanings of its component parts. For example, the verb ἐκβάλλω (ekballō), from ἐκ (ek) and βάλλω (ballō), does in fact mean “I cast out,” “I throw out,” or “I put out.” The meaning of a word may reflect its etymology; and it must be admitted that this is more common in synthetic languages like Greek or German, with their relatively high percentages of transparent words (words that have some kind of natural relation to their meaning) than in a language like English, where words are opaque (i.e., without any natural relation to their meaning).15 Even so, my point is that we cannot responsibly assume that etymology is related to meaning. We can only test the point by discovering the meaning of a word inductively.
Finally, I am far from suggesting that etymological study is useless. It is important, for instance, in the diachronic study of words (the study of words as they occur across long periods of time), in the attempt to specify the earliest attested meaning, in the study of cognate languages, and especially in attempts to understand the meanings of hapax legomena (words that appear only once). In the last case, although etymology is a clumsy tool for discerning meaning, the lack of comparative material means we sometimes have no other choice. That is why, as Moisés Silva points out in his excellent discussion of these matters, etymology plays a much more important role in the determination of meaning in the Hebrew Old Testament than in the Greek New Testament: the Hebrew contains proportionately far more hapax legomena.16 “The relative value of this use of etymology varies inversely with the quantity of material available for the language.”17 And in any case, specification of the meaning of a word on the sole basis of etymology can never be more than an educated guess.

Carson, D. A. 1996. Exegetical Fallacies. 2nd ed. Carlisle, U.K.; Grand Rapids, MI: Paternoster; Baker Books.

MJ. Smith

but the etymology seems odd.

Etymology gives the history of the word i.e. the changes in sound and meaning over time. We may not see why corpse is related to fly/fall but etymology focuses on the what not the why. Phonological changes tend to be more systematic than meaning and therefore more subject to a why answer.

[quote]

πῑ́πτω [v.] ‘to fall (off), drop down, fall out’ (Il.). «IE *petH- ‘fly, fall’»

•VAR Fut. πεσέομαι (epic Ion.), -οῦμαι (Att.), aor. πετεῖν, ἔπετον (Dor. Aeol.), πεσεῖν, ἔπεσον (IA), perf. ptc. acc. πεπτ-εῶτʼ, -εῶτας (epic), nom. -ηώς (Ion.), which may also be from πτήσσω, πεπτ-ώς (trag.); ind. πέπτωκα, ptc. -ωκώς (Att.).

•COMP Very often with prefix, e.g. εἰσ-, ἐκ-, ἐμ-, ἐπι-, κατα-, μετα-, περι-, προ-, συμ-, ὑπο-.

•DER 1. πότ-μος [m.] ‘fate, destiny, (fate of) death’ (Il., epic poet.). 2. πτῶ-μα [n.], often prefixed (σύμ-, etc.) in different senses, ‘fall, which has fallen, corpse’ (Att. A., Hell.), whence diminutive -μάτιον (inscr. Asia Minor), -ματίς [f.] ‘tumbling cup’ (Mosch. apud Ath.), -ματικός ‘inclined towards falling, etc.’ (Hell.), -ματίζω ‘to bring down’ (Hell.) with -ματισμός [m.] ‘falling sickness’ (Ptol.). 3. πτῶ-σις (σύμ-, etc.) [f.] ‘fall’ (Hp., Att.), i.a. ‘throw of the die’, whence as a grammatical term ‘(in)flectional form, case form’ (Arist.), with -σιμος ‘brought down’ (A.), perhaps after ἁλώσιμος; -τικός (μετα-, etc.) ‘inflectable’ (gramm.). 4. πέσ-ος [n.] ‘corpse’ (E. [lyr.]), -ημα [n.] ‘fall, which has fallen down, corpse’ (trag.), see Chantraine 1933: 184; -ωμα [n.] ‘plunge’ (vase inscr.), after πτῶμα. 5. -πετής i.a. in περι-πετής ‘falling down, blundering into something’, προ-πετής ‘ready, rash’, with περι-, προ-πέτ-εια [f.] (IA); also in compounds like εὐ-πετής ‘turning out well, convenient, fortunate’, with -εια [f.] (IA); ►διι-πετής s.v. 6. -πτώς in ἀ-πτώς, -ῶτος ‘not falling’ (Pi., Pl.); also -πτης in ἀπτης (inscr. Olympia)? On ►ποταμός, see s.v.

•ETYM The derivational history of the different formations poses many problems. The formation πῑ́πτω represents PIE *pi-pt-e/o- or *pi-pth1-e/o- (latter form in LIV2 s.v. *peth1), but the origin of the vowel length (noted by Hdn. Gr. 2, 377) is unclear. Influence from ῥῑ́πτω is usually assumed. The Schwebeablaut of πετ- with the roots πτω-, πτη- in πέ-πτω-κα, πτῶ-μα, -σις, πε-πτη-ώς (*peth1-: *pte/oh1-?) is problematic, but does not have to be old; it may be a secondary innovation within Greek. The same is probably true for the n-present πίτ-νω (also -νῶ), which has an anaptyctic ι, like other n-presents (e.g. ►πίτνημι). The -σ- in the IA aorist and future is unexpected, and its origin is unclear.

The whole system seems to be a specific Greek development of the old IE verb also found in πέτομαι ‘to fly’, Skt. pátati ‘to fly, fall’. Further details s.v. ►πέτομαι; cf. also ►πτήσσω and ►πίτυλος (the latter hardly belongs here).

Robert Beekes, Etymological Dictionary of Greek, ed. Alexander Lubotsky, Leiden Indo-European Etymological Dictionary Series (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2010), 1195–1196.

Sam Shelton

https://community.logos.com/discussion/comment/1255933#Comment_1255933

Ian,

I too considered the possibility that the use of παράπτωμα could be in some way connected to πτωμα being used to mean corpse, perhaps connecting the act of sin with the result of sin. The thought is intriguing. As others have stated though, lacking clear evidence, there is no way to say.

Ian Goldsmith

https://community.logos.com/discussion/comment/1255930#Comment_1255930

Thanks David, I try very hard not to attach tenuous meanings to words based on etymology alone, but when a word is still in use and retains the same or similar meaning it does peak my interest. After all etymology can shed so much light on a word’s origins, when the etymological route still retains the same general meaning. Thanks so much for such a comprehensive and informative reply

Ian Goldsmith

https://community.logos.com/discussion/comment/1255937#Comment_1255937

Intriguing though

Ian Goldsmith

https://community.logos.com/discussion/comment/1255943#Comment_1255943