_mhd [Title]
New Testament Greek Sentence Diagramming
by Randy Leedy
Biblical Viewpoint 39, no. 1 (April 2005): 17-39.
Making a Case for Sentence Diagramming
For many people the expression sentence diagramming evokes painful memories of Junior High English class. At the time, at least, it seemed like a perfectly mysterious thing: doing it correctly, or at least to the teacher’s satisfaction, seemed utterly impossible, and equally impossible was envisioning any useful purpose it could possibly serve. But all of that was before we discovered the value of carefully exegeting the Greek New Testament. Many of us learned the mechanics of Greek grammar without drawing any sentence diagrams. It did not occur to most of us that what we were learning was equipping us to draw diagrams quite skillfully if we had wanted to do so. We were learning, for example, how to pick out the subject and predicate of the sentence, how to determine that a certain adjective modifies a certain noun, whether a participle functions as an adjective, a noun, or an adverb, and whether an infinitive functions as subject, complement, or adverbially. We learned to tell the difference between prepositions and conjunctions, and we learned how to find each preposition’s object, whether that object be a noun, pronoun, or infinitive. We learned to tease apart a complex sentence’s various clauses, distinguishing between the main and subordinate clauses. We learned how relative clauses work: that the whole clause has an adjectival function modifying some other part of the sentence and that the relative pronoun has a noun function within the clause it introduces. We learned that some conjunctions signal grammatical parallelism and that others indicate subordinate relationships.
Perhaps most importantly we learned the value of this sort of information. We learned that, by carefully sorting out the mechanics of the sentence according to the language’s grammatical rules we could eventually discover the meaning of sentences that initially mystified us.[1] We learned that, apart from our understanding of grammatical mechanics, we would be left with no option but to make wild guesses at meaning according to some impressionistic sense of what those words seemed to say. We realized that this is exactly how we interpreted our native language: according to impressionistic sense rather than strict grammar. However, we realized that we have such an instinctive feel for our native language’s grammar that our impressions of meaning are for the most part quite accurate. So learning to diagram sentences in our own language seemed pointless: our diagram told us nothing more about meaning than what we knew perfectly well before we began. We also learned, however, that the situation is considerably different in the study of the Biblical texts. The original languages are not our native language. The translations we read in our native language are not always able to reproduce precisely the grammatical structures of the original. The meaning we derive from even a skilled reading of a skillful translation is not always exactly the same meaning we derive from careful exegesis of the Greek text. We learned the significance of that little expression careful exegesis. We learned that we could give a cursory glance to the Greek text without finding anything beyond what we saw in our English version, but that more careful attention to the Greek often uncovered details of meaning that otherwise we would have missed. By hearing our teachers point out and explain details that in fact we had missed, we learned that the ideal exegetical mindset is intent upon examining every detail of wording in search of meaning.[2]
Once we come to understand the value of ransacking a text for potentially significant details, one of the mysteries of sentence diagramming evaporates: we now see clearly a valuable purpose. One kind of exegetical detail that we want to be sure to explore thoroughly is the matter of the basic connections between words, phrases, and clauses within a sentence. Dragging our eyes across the sentence is not a sufficiently disciplined approach to this particular exegetical task. Forcing ourselves to account for these details on paper is an approach that holds much greater promise of keeping us from missing things. Many of us learned this sort of discipline by producing detailed parsing sheets in our exegesis classes. We thought about every word in the passage at least long enough to decide whether or not it presented us with questions or difficulties regarding its form or its usage category that we wanted to record on paper for future reference.
Sentence diagramming is another such exegetical tool that forces us to deal with every word in the sentence, this time with the goal of mapping out the sentence schematically in order to develop confidence that our understanding of the sentence’s basic skeleton is correct. That word confidence is an important one. As preachers and teachers of the Word, we need confidence that we understand it accurately. Where does that confidence come from? There is a subjective dimension to that confidence, in which the Spirit of God operates within us to assure us that we are speaking the truth. God has also provided an objective basis for confidence, however, in the very nature of language and history. The grammatical-historical approach to interpretation provides means of testing the validity of our interpretation. Is our interpretation consistent with the meanings that the words and grammatical structures can be demonstrated regularly to have? Is our interpretation consistent with relevant historical facts as best we understand them? Sentence diagramming is a very powerful tool within the grammatical prong of that hermeneutical approach to Scripture in that it enables us to demonstrate to ourselves that we are taking the individual words of the sentence consistently with the language’s regular grammatical principles. Apart from a relatively complete understanding of a sentence’s grammatical mechanics, we have no objective basis for confidence that our understanding of the sentence’s meaning is correct.
Sometimes we are overconfident in our interpretation. I like to illustrate this fact with a line from a beloved hymn, “Be Thou My Vision.” The hymn begins, “Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart; Naught be all else to me save that Thou art.” I often ask students to paraphrase that second part. Some are pretty much at a loss: they have an impression that they can’t quite put into words. Others do get something into words, and they typically do well with the meanings of the words naught and save, invariably suggesting something like “May I value nothing but You.” They are always quite confident that their interpretation is correct. But they have trouble, when pressed, to explain why the poet wrote “that Thou art” rather than simply “Thou.” The best they can do is to suggest that more syllables were needed to fill out the poetic meter. But a good poet doesn’t waste syllables, and this is good poetry. Is there a difference in meaning between “that Thou art” (i.e., “what you are”) and “Thou”? Obviously, yes. Recasting the poetic line in modern prose would yield something like this: “May everything except what You are be nothing to me.” The subject is “all else” (expanded by “save that Thou art”), the verb is “be,” and the complement is “naught.” The phrase “to me” means “in my estimation”; it is probably adverbial. So the topic (subject) of the clause is “all else save that Thou art” or “everything except what You are,” and the predicate is “may [it, the subject] be in my estimation nothing.” This yields a different meaning than “May nothing but You be anything to me.” What is Christ? Well, for example, He is “wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption” (I Cor. 1:30). So those are things the poet does want to value, because the pursuit of those things will lead him to the Christ who is those things. This line of exegesis proves very fruitful. The extra detail of meaning was not such as to completely overturn our initial understanding, but it certainly sharpens it up and expands it. Suppose we were content with the thought “May nothing but Christ be anything to me,” in the sense that I want to pursue nothing in life but Christ. OK, I’ll start pursuing Christ. But what direction will I turn? Where do I think He is? How will I know when I have found Him? Am I expecting to find him in a building or under a rock or on a mountain or beside a tree? Will I recognize Him by face? It is hard to know how to pursue Christ, but it is not so hard to know how to pursue the things God reveals that Christ is. God’s Word tells me how to pursue wisdom, righteousness, etc., and now I can put specific shape and direction to my pursuit of Christ.
After attending carefully to the grammatical structure of the English sentence they are interpreting, my students find that their initial confidence was somewhat unwarranted. Were they content with their initial impression, they would be on basically the right track, but they would miss the clarity of understanding that exegetical care produces. After a few experiences of this sort with a variety of literature, one begins to get the idea that there must be many places in Scripture where exegetical care can produce new confidence about meaning previously understood or reveal new details about meaning never before noticed. Such a one can be sure that his exegetical labors, if well founded grammatically and historically, will not go unrewarded. And a sentence’s basic mapping, as displayed in a sentence diagram, is one dimension of that exegetical labor that deserves all the detailed attention one is able to devote to it.
Skilled Greek exegetes may find that the actual diagramming exercise does not bring much benefit, because their minds are trained to attend to those details without the extra labor of drawing them out on paper. Would-be exegetes seriously lacking grammatical acumen may likewise find little benefit in diagramming, as they sense that they are simply drawing out a map regarding which they have neither any confidence nor any basis for evaluation and correction. I would like to suggest, though, that in addition to being a valuable exercise for the developing exegete with a good degree of grammatical mastery, diagramming may perhaps serve as a basis for bringing together pedagogically the polar extremes. The skilled exegetes, in the classroom or in their writing, could help the unskilled develop greater skills by showing their understanding diagrammatically in addition to explaining it in technical prose. Couple this potential value with the fact that there appears to be an increasing interest in sentence diagramming among Greek exegetes, teachers, and students, and there is adequate reason to pursue mastery of some relatively standard method of diagramming grammatical relationships within sentences. Several handbooks on diagramming are available,[3] several advanced Bible software packages include diagramming tools,[4] (the diagrams in this article were drawn with BibleWorks version 6.0) and at least one complete set of NT sentence diagrams is available.[5]
The purpose of this article is to set out some basic diagramming conventions, make some suggestions about the degree of detail most productively codified in those conventions, and encourage wider use of sentence diagramming in the exegesis and teaching of NT Greek. I hope it may prove possible in this way to remove the other mystery of our Junior High days, which was how to draw the diagrams satisfactorily. Though the article will explain a few basic points of grammar, for the most part I assume that the reader has a solid understanding of such matters as parts of speech and major sentence elements such as clauses (dependent and independent, made up of subject, verb, and various kinds of complements) prepositional phrases, modifiers, and conjunctions. A reader who fears his understanding of these points is weak is encouraged to give the article a try. He may well find that he is better equipped for it than he thought.
Some cautions are in order, though. First, one should not think that a sentence diagram represents an exhaustive account of every relevant grammatical detail. Diagramming shows basic grammatical connections, but not every relevant detail. For example, a genitive-case noun will be diagrammed as modifying its head word, but there remains a wide range of possibilities regarding the exact thought connection between the two. So, for example, the expression “righteousness of God” will be diagrammed to show that “of God” modifies “righteousness,” but the diagram will not show whether the exact meaning is “a believer’s righteousness that comes from God” or “God’s own righteousness.” Nor will it show anything about word meaning: a diagram cannot show whether righteousness signifies actual righteous character and/or conduct or a righteous standing before God’s Law. Furthermore, sentence diagramming deals only with grammatical relationships among words, phrases, and clauses within individual sentences. It is powerless to show the logical development of thought across larger units of text. Other methods of diagramming are needed for that purpose. But since individual words are the most useful basic building blocks of sentences,[6] sentence diagramming is foundational to any other sort of diagramming with the larger units of thought.
Conventions for Sentence Diagramming
Like machines or human bodies, complex sentences do not consist of a single amorphous mass. They break down into grammatical parts, each of which breaks down further into smaller parts. The largest unit within a sentence is the clause, which consists of a subject (the topic under discussion) and a predicate (the statement made about the topic, or in the case of an interrogative sentence, the question asked about the topic). The words making up a clause may be divided into kernel elements, modifiers, and introductory words. We will take up these categories in order.
Diagramming Kernel Elements
The kernel elements are those expressing the core of the subject and predicate: the subject is the noun or pronoun naming the clause’s topic, and the predicate consists minimally of the verb, though many if not most verbs also demand a complement (such as a direct object or a predicate nominative). The kernel elements then, are subject, verb, and, if required, complement. The most reliable way to locate the kernel is to find the verb and express it in its proper voice, then ask “who or what?” before the verb to find its subject, then ask “who(m) or what?” after the verb to find any complement. A verb that does not require a complement will not lend itself to the complement question.
We will use a single sentence from the Greek New Testament as an example for a substantial portion of our discussion. John 12:16 reads as follows: tau/ta ouvk e;gnwsan auvtou/ oi` maqhtai. to. prw/ton( avllV o[te evdoxa,sqh VIhsou/j to,te evmnh,sqhsan o[ti tau/ta h=n evpV auvtw|/ gegramme,na kai. tau/ta evpoi,hsan auvtw|/ (“These things his disciples did not know at the first, but when Jesus was glorified, then they remembered that these things had been written about him and these things they did to him.”) The main clause of this sentence is tau/ta ouvk e;gnwsan auvtou/ oi` maqhtai. to. prw/ton — “the disciples did not know these things at first.”[7] The verb is e;gnwsan, which signifies knowing and is active voice. We may find the subject by asking, “Who or what knows?” (Notice that the phrasing of the verb is very simple. It is important to reflect the active voice, but at this point there is no need to be concerned with details such as tense or the fact that the verb is negated by ouvk.) The whole subject phrase is auvtou/ oi` maqhtai, (“his disciples”). But only one of those words can stand alone as the answer to our question: maqhtai, — “disciples know.” Now we may see whether we have a complement by asking, “Disciples know who(m) or what?” The question is sensible, and the answer is tau/ta (“these things”). The kernel, then, put into Subject-Verb-Complement order, is maqhtai. e;gnwsan tau/ta — “disciples know these things.”
In sentence diagramming, a clause’s kernel elements are mapped out on what we will call a baseline, a horizontal line punctuated with vertical dividers, as illustrated below.
The subject/predicate divider extends below the baseline to symbolize the fact that it represents the major division within the clause. Within the predicate, the verb/complement divider comes down to, but not below the baseline, indicating a secondary division.
So the kernel of our sentence would be diagrammed like this:
The topic of the clause, the subject, is the disciples; what is said about them, the predicate, is that they knew (actually, did not know) these things. The predicate in turn divides into verb and complement, which in this case is a direct object. Notice also that the definite article is written right along with the noun. A highly rigorous diagramming method would treat the article as a modifier to the noun, but in my opinion this is a detail not worthy of the space required to account for it. Some of the longer sentences in the New Testament are difficult to fit onto a single page of diagramming, so space efficiency is a key consideration to me.
The same verse also provides an example of a clause whose verb does not require a complement: o[te evdoxa,sqh VIhsou/j — “when Jesus was glorified.” The subject and verb are “Jesus was glorified” (notice that we are again retaining the voice, which this time is passive). But the question “Jesus was glorified who(m) or what?” is nonsense. There are any number of sensible questions that might be asked, such as “when?” or “why?” or “how?” or “by whom?” But material answering those questions would be adverbial in nature. The complement answers the question “who(m) or what?” after the verb. Since the question doesn’t even make sense, we know that this verb does not take a complement, and our kernel consists in this case of only two elements: subject and verb. So the predicate in this case consists of the verb only; it does not subdivide into verb and complement. The baseline, then, would look like this:
Before proceeding with another portion of John 12:16, it will be good to talk about another kind of complement. The complement in our example diagram above is a direct object: it receives the verb’s action. But some complements rename or modify the subject rather than being acted upon as an object. This happens most commonly with the linking verbs, and these complements are called predicate nouns or predicate adjectives.[8] An example is John 12:13, euvloghme,noj o` evrco,menoj evn ovno,mati kuri,ou — “Blessed (is) the one coming in the name of the Lord.” In order to symbolize the fact that this kind of complement renames or modifies the subject, the “vertical” line within the predicate is slanted back toward the subject, so that the diagram looks like this:[9]
Notice that the elliptical verb is represented by (X). An alternative is to supply the verb, in Greek or in English, putting it in parentheses or brackets. I like to supply elliptical elements explicitly where it is possible to be certain exactly what the word should be. In this case it is not easy to decide whether the verb should be indicative mood, declaring a fact, or optative mood, declaring a wish, and I simply supply the (X) when in doubt.
Some grammarians prefer to include indirect objects as well as direct objects on the baseline. The convention for doing this is to place the indirect object after the direct object, using a divider that slants toward the indirect object, symbolizing the fact that the verb’s action moves toward the indirect object. The end of John 12:16 provides an example:
The alternative is to diagram the indirect object as a modifier, as will be shown later.
Diagramming Modifiers
Most of the non-kernel words in a clause are modifiers, modifying either kernel elements or other modifiers. The basic format for diagramming a modifier is to put it beneath the word it modifies (the head word), linked to the head word’s slot with a vertical or angled connector. Most diagramming methods specify that various kinds of modifiers should be shown with connecting links having a particular angle. One popular scheme specifies that modifiers containing no verb are indicated with a connector that angles downward to the left, those with a participle or infinitive have a vertical connector, and those with a finite verb have a connector that angles downward to the right. In my opinion, there is some value to this approach; the reader of the diagram gains information about the kind of modifier without having to read and think about the actual words. But I am not certain that the value is enough to offset the space inefficiencies that often result from these constraints. I would not at all discourage an approach that tosses this scheme to the wind and draws connectors in whatever shape and at whatever angle will give access to blank space on the page. In this article, though, I will adhere to the conventions just outlined. John 12:16 contains two kinds of modifiers: a clausal modifier with a finite verb, introduced by a subordinating conjunction (o[te evdoxa,sqh VIhsou/j), and several simple modifiers, of which the main clause has two: auvtou/ modifies maqhtai, and to. prw/ton modifies the verb. These modifiers are diagrammed as follows:
Notice that the subordinating conjunction introducing the clausal modifier is written on the angled connector link. This is standard practice for writing conjunctions: write them on top of the connecting link.
Modifiers that use verbs may of course have additional kernel elements such as subjects, objects, or predicate nouns or adjectives. In such cases, as in the second example just above, the horizontal line of the modifier is simply treated as a baseline and divided appropriately. Genitive absolute participles (which have their own “subject” apart from the governing clause) and infinitives (which may have a “subject” separate from the governing clause) deserve special mention in this regard. In the case of the absolute participle construction, some grammarians suggest using a dotted line for the vertical connector, as shown in the more complicated diagram below. The text is John 12:37: tosau/ta de. auvtou/ shmei/a pepoihko,toj e;mprosqen auvtw/n ouvk evpi,steuon eivj auvto,n (translated rather literally, “but, he having done so many signs before them, they were not believing in him”)
As mentioned above, some grammarians prefer to diagram indirect objects as adverbial modifiers rather than as kernel elements. Some use a special symbol for this function, in which the horizontal line protrudes slightly to the left of the angled connector, as indicated below, using the original example from John 12.
Special Case: Prepositional Phrases. Because prepositions take objects, an additional element is used in this kind of modifier: a vertical divider separating the preposition from the object. John 12:16 has one prepositional phrase, which is diagrammed as follows:
In some contexts it is clear that the prepositional phrase modifies the verb, in others (such as where the phrase intervenes between article and noun) it clearly modifies the noun, and in many contexts what it modifies is unclear. I recommend the adverbial connection (modifying the verb) as the default, making other connections only where the context clearly requires.
Special Case: Appositives. An appositive is a kind of modifier supplying an alternative designation for something. Probably the most frequent NT expression using an appositive is “the Lord Jesus Christ.” The diagramming convention for an appositive is to put it next to the word it renames, and make the connection with an equals sign as shown.
Since “Jesus Christ” occurs so frequently, I do not generally take the space to indicate the appositional relationship between these two words, as shown in the second example above. If there is a “verbal equals sign” such as the phrase “that is” (toutV e;stin), diagram those words in place of the equals sign.
Diagramming Introductory Words
Sentences often begin with various kinds of words that serve an introductory function. The most common kinds of introductory words are conjunctions indicating a logical connection to the preceding sentence (such as ga,r and ou=n), interjections (such as ivdou/ and avmh,n), and vocative-case words signifying direct address. I would include in this group the negatives ouv and mh, when, in introducing a question, they indicate the expectation of a positive or negative answer. The basic idea behind the diagramming of these words is to place them above the main clause’s baseline, at the left end of the baseline, with a dotted vertical line connecting them to the end point of the baseline. John 12:15 provides an example of an interjection (two alternatives diagrammed), and 12:17 provides an example of an introductory conjunction.
Sometimes a sentence will begin with more than one introductory word, in which case the words may be “stacked” as shown (the example is from John 7:26).
Diagramming Additional Kernel Elements
In addition to the basic kernel elements already covered are a few items encountered only occasionally. Remember that some verbs take a double accusative construction (one a person and one a thing) as their complement, such as John 14:26: evkei/noj u`ma/j dida,xei pa,nta (“that one will teach you all things”). I like to diagram this construction with a double vertical between the verb and the complement (to show that two accusatives are coming), and then a single vertical between the two accusatives, as in the first example below. Some, however, prefer to use the double vertical with the second, apparently to show that it is the second accusative.
Another kind of construction using two accusatives is that in which the second accusative renames the first. It is diagrammed like the double accusative, except that the divider between the two accusatives slants back toward the first so show the predicate relationship of the second to the first. An example of this construction is John 15:15: ouvke,ti le,gw u`ma/j dou,louj (“no longer do I call you slaves”).
The difference between these two constructions lies in whether the second accusative is an additional object of the verb (the person-thing variety of double accusative) or whether it renames the one object (the object-predicate variety). One reason I like to use the double vertical after the verb for the person-thing variety is that I can then consistently do the same thing with the object-predicate variety. In the object-predicate construction without the double vertical (see the second example immediately above), the predicate at the end of the baseline almost appears to be renaming the subject. The double vertical before the object helps me recognize the predicate element as an object complement rather than subject complement.
One other special construction involving kernel elements is the periphrastic participle. In this usage, the participle combines with a linking verb to form a phrasal verb unit. Since the participle and the linking verb combine to express the verb of the clause, it makes best sense to write both words in the verb slot of the baseline. The two best approaches regarding the order in which to write the words seem to me to be either always to put the linking verb first or to retain the order in which the words appear in the text. Our example from John 12:16 contains a periphrastic pluperfect, h=n gegramme,na, which has already been shown in previous diagrams.
Subordinate Clause Constructions Requiring Special Treatment
An example of an adverbial subordinate clause has already been given (“when Jesus was glorified”). Some subordinate clauses, though, are not adverbial, and they require different treatment. These include noun clauses, relative clauses (sometimes called adjective clauses), and quotations. Also, the conjunction w`j frequently introduces highly elliptical clauses that can be challenging to fill out.
Noun Clauses
A noun clause is a subordinate clause that functions as a noun within its governing clause. Noun clauses most often provide the subject or the object of their governing verbs. Most commonly they are introduced by o[ti,[10] occasionally by i[na[11] or another conjunction, and sometimes with no conjunction at all. Our example from John 12:16 contains a noun clause, o[ti tau/ta h=n evpV auvtw/| gegramme,na, which expresses the object of “they remembered.” The problem that noun clauses present is that they contain kernel elements and yet at the same time they function as a kernel element of another clause. They are “kernels within kernels,” and we must find a way to show clearly which words belong to which kernel. One of the fundamental considerations of sentence diagramming is that each kernel requires its own baseline. It follows, then, that a noun clause needs a separate baseline from that of its governing clause. The common diagramming convention for providing a separate baseline is to write the noun clause’s baseline above that of the governing clause, and connect the two with a special upright connector that we may call a stilt. The lower end of the stilt rests in whichever slot of the main clause the noun clause supplies (object clauses are more common than subject clauses). Since the main word of any clause is the verb, I like to bring the stilt up under the verb of the noun clause. As usual, the conjunction is written on top of the connector, as shown below. The special stilt symbol makes it easy to avoid trying to read the diagram as though the lower clause were modifying the upper one. It gives the appearance that the upper clause grows out of the lower one and is therefore subordinate to it, as is in fact the case.
Indirect discourse participles and infinitives are a common form of noun clause and should be diagrammed in this way, although they are not introduced by a conjunction. The same is true of subject infinitives with impersonal verbs such as dei/ and e;xestin.
Quotations
Quotations (assuming that they are long enough to constitute at least a clause) are a variety of noun clause and may be diagrammed as such. For example, in the sentence, “Jesus said, ‘I am the good shepherd,’” the quotation functions as the object of “said.” Remember the “who(m) or what?” question? Jesus said whom or what? The quotation answers that question. It is also possible for a quotation to be the subject. This is especially common with the expression, “It is written,” as in “It is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone,’” The verb is “is written” (passive voice). Who or what is written? The quotation expresses the subject, specifying what is written.
Of course, some quotations are very long. Try diagramming the whole Sermon on the Mount as the direct object of le,gwn in Matthew 5:2! Because of the length of some quotations, it is useful to follow a practice in which a quotation’s stilt moves downward rather than upward from its slot in the governing clause. Then the diagram can simply continue until the end of its sentence, and the next sentence will begin a new diagram in sequence. If a quotation consists of more than one sentence, the diagram will not be able to show that the remaining sentences belong to the quotation, but that is not really a problem. We have already accepted the fact that sentence diagrams cannot show thought flow across a sequence of sentences, and longer quotations simply come under this recognized limitation. John 12:19 provides a good example: oi` ou=n Farisai/oi ei=pan pro.j e`autou,j\ qewrei/te o[ti ouvk wvfelei/te ouvde,n (“Therefore the Pharisees said to themselves, ‘You see that you are not benefiting at all.’”)
Notice the placement of the prepositional phrase: the dotted horizontal line represents an extender enabling a piece of the diagram to be shifted to another part of the page. Dotted-line extenders should be placed in the middle of the link they are extending. In other words, the link should begin and end as usual, and the extender should comprise the center portion. There is no reason an extender could not have a fairly complex shape, if necessary, to reach a blank spot on the page. It is common practice, however, to use line segments rather than curves for this purpose.
Relative (Adjective) Clauses
Relative clauses are sometimes called adjective clauses because, just as noun clauses function as nouns, these function as adjectives. The problems we face with relative clauses are what to do with the relative pronoun and how to connect the clause to the word it modifies adjectivally.
Students commonly stumble over the function of relative pronouns, erroneously identifying them as modifying their antecedents. So, regarding the sentence, “The Savior who loves us reigns,” many students would want to say that “who” modifies “Savior.” The way the construction works, though, is that the whole clause “who loves us” is the modifier of “Savior”; within that relative clause, “who” is the subject of “loves.” That this way of viewing the construction is correct becomes apparent if we consider a similar sentence in which the relative pronoun is the object of its clause rather than the subject: “The Savior whom we love reigns.” If the first example were written out in Greek, both Savior and who would be in the nominative case, seeming to warrant the student’s conclusion that who modifies Savior. But if the second sentence were put into Greek, Savior will be nominative, but whom will be accusative. We no longer have the grammatical agreement we would need in order for the pronoun to function attributively to Savior. The accusative case of the pronoun, however, is perfectly consistent with basic pronoun grammar: a pronoun agrees with its antecedent (the word it refers to, or takes the place of) in gender and number, but its case will ordinarily reflect its usage within its own clause rather than agreeing with the antecedent. So whom will be accusative case because it is the direct object of love. When we diagram the relative clause, then, we must diagram whom as the object of love.
And yet we must somehow show that this clause modifies Savior. The normal convention for relative clauses is to diagram the clause completely disconnected from the remainder of the sentence, and then connect the relative pronoun’s slot to the antecedent’s slot with a dotted line or curve. It is best if the connector can be a simple shape and avoid passing directly over other sentence elements. John 12:9 provides a simple example: ...i[na to.n La,zaron i;dwsin o]n h;geiren evk nekrw/n (“that they may see Lazarus, whom he raised from the dead”).
Sometimes the relative pronoun’s antecedent is elliptical and must be supplied. A good example of this appears in John 11:46: kai. ei=pan auvtoi/j a] evpoi,hsen VIhsou/j (“and they told them [the things] which Jesus did”). The antecedent should be shown with the (X) that regularly stands for elliptical elements (or else, following many grammarians, supply an appropriate form of evkei/noj), and the relative clause should then be diagrammed as usual, as shown below. One of the most important things to remember is that the relative pronoun regularly if not always belongs to the clause it introduces, not the one it follows.
~Wj Clauses
Clauses introduced by w`j are often highly elliptical and are sometimes challenging to fill out. Often the w`j clause has only a single word actually expressed, as in John 15:6: ...evblh,qh e;xw w`j to. klh/ma (“...he is cast out as the branch”). One of two approaches will almost always produce an acceptable result. Probably most grammarians prefer whenever possible to repeat within the w`j clause the preceding verb and any essential modifiers: “He is cast out as the branch [is cast out].” Notice the elliptical elements supplied (indicated as elliptical by parentheses; square brackets would serve equally well) in the following diagram:
Sometimes, however, this approach will not work grammatically. In John 1:32, John the Baptist testifies, teqe,amai to. pneu/ma katabai/non w`j peristera,n (“I beheld the Spirit descending as a dove”). It may seem at first that we could follow the pattern stated above: “I beheld the Spirit descending as a dove [descends].” The grammar, though, simply won’t allow it, because “dove” is accusative case. For our elliptical clause to work, “dove” would have to be nominative case, since we have it expressing the subject of the elliptical verb. The accusative case shows that John did not think of “dove” as the subject of its clause. The second approach, which works nicely here, is to supply an elliptical participle from eivmi, with “dove” as its predicate. The participle’s referent is pneu/ma, accusative-case object of teqe,amai. So the participle would also be accusative (neuter singular), and the predicate would agree with the word it renames (pneu/ma) and therefore also be accusative. The sense of the sentence would be “I beheld the Spirit descending as [being] a dove,” or “as [though he were] a dove.”
One additional matter to note in this diagram is the indirect discourse participle, diagrammed (as mentioned above) on a stilt in the object slot after the main verb.
Diagramming Special Constructions with the Article
Several constructions with the definite article call for special attention. These include articular infinitives (especially those used as objects of prepositions), articular prepositional phrases, and some pronominal uses of the article. At the root of these constructions lies a question that must be settled about the article’s basic function. In the oldest known Greek, o`, h`, to, is actually a demonstrative pronoun and not an article at all. As such, it carried the full range of noun functions. Over time, the word began to take on new usages, and it eventually it comes, rather than functioning as a noun, to qualify nouns and other expressions in a way that signals a focus on individual identity. In NT Greek the article, with infrequent but not rare exceptions, qualifies other words rather than functioning as a noun that is qualified in turn by other words. Whenever possible, then, in my opinion, it is best to attach the article to the word it governs rather than diagram it in its own slot with a modifier attached. Clarifying examples will appear below.
Articular Infinitives
Infinitives are verb forms and therefore appear in verb slots on baselines. The infinitive often has the definite article, however, and the article looks rather strange in the verb slot of a baseline.[12] Since infinitives are verbal nouns, we are not far off the mark when we consider an infinitive to be the verb of a noun clause and build it on a stilt. An article can then appear in the noun slot where the infinitive stilt connects. John is not fond of the articular infinitive, except for a few uses in prepositional phrases (to which we will come in a moment), so I must go elsewhere for an example. Paul says in Romans 14:21, kalo.n to. mh. fagei/n kre,a (“It is good not to eat meats”).
Notice, by the way, that there is a fairly standard convention to identify infinitives by a double vertical that extends below the baseline. To my way of thinking this detail is entirely negotiable.
The articular infinitive is especially common in prepositional phrases. John does use a few of these. A good example is 1:48: pro. tou/ se Fi,lippon fwnh/sai...ei=do,n se (“Before Philip called you...I saw you”). Diagramming these constructions as shown below preserves all relevant grammatical features: the preposition is diagrammed with its object phrase, including the article (which in turn connects to the infinitive), and there is room for any possible elements expanding the infinitive clause: accusative of general reference, direct object, various modifiers, etc.
A few infinitive phrases (or clauses) with the genitive article will prove challenging. Most of these may be diagrammed as adverbial, and if the infinitive does not have a subject, simply including the article in the infinitive slot will not look too bad, as in Matthew 3:13: paragi,netai o` VIhsou/j)))tou/ baptisqh/nai (“Jesus arrives...to be baptized”).
Luke 1:57 (th/| de. VElisa,bet evplh,sqh o` cro,noj tou/ tekei/n auvth,n [“And for Elisabeth the time for her to give birth was fulfilled”]) is a more difficult example because the presence of an accusative of general reference makes the infinitive baseline look like a regular baseline, in which an article in the verb slot looks very odd. I understand the infinitive to modify the noun “time” (“the time of her giving birth,” rendering the infinitive with an English gerund), and I would diagram as follows:
An example of the fact that every language refuses at some point to submit itself to simple and consistent grammatical rules appears in Acts 10:25: w`j de. evge,neto tou/ eivselqei/n to.n Pe,tron... (“And when it came about that Peter entered...”). The infinitive phrase must provide the subject, otherwise the verb is left without a subject. Furthermore, it happens often that gi,nomai in this sense has an infinitive as its subject. But the genitive article is a monkey wrench in the grammatical works; the article with a subject infinitive, according to strict grammatical principle, should be nominative (as in the example above from Romans 14:21). I do not find an objection-free way to diagram this verse; until I come across something better I will hold my nose and write the genitive article in the subject slot, as follows:
Articular Prepositional Phrases
Prepositional phrases can also be articular, but the question arises where to place the article. Placing it in the preposition slot makes it appear that it qualifies only the preposition. When the articular phrase is substantival, the article could conceivably be diagrammed as carrying the noun function alone and the phrase could be diagrammed as its modifier. But this seems to me to be a poor reflection of the fact that the article actually qualifies the whole phrase, as explained earlier. Furthermore, sometimes the articular phrase is attributive; in such a case the whole phrase, including the article, must somehow appear as a modifier to the head word. The best way I know to handle all the various constructions consistently is to treat the prepositional phrase somewhat like a noun clause by building it on a stilt. A substantival example comes from John 5:28: pa,ntej oi` evn toi/j mnhmei,oij avkou,sousin th/j fwnh/j auvtou/ (“All the ones in the tombs will hear his voice”). An attributive example comes from John 12:21: ou-toi)))prosh/lqon Fili,ppw| tw/| avpo. Bhqsai?da, (“These came to Philip who was from Bethsaida”).
Substantival Genitive Phrases Governed by an Article
Every student who passes first-year Greek learns that a Greek adjective can function as a noun (the substantive use) and that this construction is usually articular. Also elementary is the fact that the genitive case most often functions in an adjectival way. It is not surprising, then, that we can find instances of a substantival construction with the genitive case instead of an adjective. This construction often consists of article + articlegenitive + noungenitive, where the first article is in the case appropriate to the function of the phrase.
I see two options for diagramming this construction. One approach would be to treat it like a substantival adjective: simply write the whole phrase, article(s) and all, in a single diagram slot. The second approach is to let the article stand alone and diagram the genitive phrase as its modifier. This approach runs contrary to the preference stated earlier to treat the article as a qualifier of its phrase rather than as a head word modified by something else. But that preference cannot be maintained absolutely, because there are places where the article’s function is so compellingly pronominal that there simply is no other option than to diagram it in a noun slot alone. The most frequent such construction is where, in narrative, the bare nominative article, followed by de,, serves to switch the narrative focus back to a previously known party who is the subject of the new sentence. Since the predisposition against the pronominal article cannot be maintained absolutely, I see no problem with treating the article as a pronoun in other constructions where no preferable alternative presents itself. Romans 14:19 provides a good example: ta. th/j eivrh,nhj diw,kwmen (“Let us pursue the things of peace.”)
Diagramming Coordinate Relationships
As one would expect, the conventions for diagramming coordinate relationships display the coordinate elements in a visually parallel arrangement. The items are stacked vertically, and any coordinating conjunctions connecting them are written on the vertical connecting link. Because the concepts are straightforward, easily transferred across languages, and because I want to give many examples, I will construct most of my examples from common English rather than Biblical texts. Take the statement, “I ate chicken and rice.” The object part of the sentence (which answers “I ate whom or what?”) is a series of two coordinate items rather than a single item. In “I ate quickly and drank slowly,” the coordinate items are the verbs. In “She and I ate gratefully,” the coordinate items are the subjects.
Coordinate series may often be broken down into subsets. Take, for example, “I ate chicken and rice and cake and ice cream.” Grammatically there is a single series of four, but some clarity of detail can be gained by breaking the series apart into two pairs, since the first two are obviously the main course and the second two are obviously the dessert. The diagram would look like this:
When a modifier describes all the elements in a coordinate series, it is best to diagram the modifier linked to a point on the diagram just to the left of where the coordination bracket splits. Take this more complex sentence: “At lunch I ate the steamed chicken and rice eagerly, but the cake and ice cream hesitantly, since I am dieting.” At lunch modifies the entire predicate with all four objects. Steamed modifies chicken and rice but not the verb, and certainly not cake and ice cream! Eagerly modifies ate the chicken and rice but not ate the cake and ice cream; vice-versa with hesitantly. Since I am dieting clearly modifies ate the cake and ice cream hesitantly, but on careful thought it also seems to make good sense as an explanation of ate the chicken and rice eagerly. I incline toward taking modifiers with all the words that they can reasonably modify, so I will diagram accordingly.
Notice some details. The verb slot of the baseline splits before the direct object divider. This allows me separate places on the verb slot from which to drop adverbial modifiers (eagerly and hesitantly) so that they modify the verb as construed with only one set of objects. The left-hand portion of the verb slot, prior to splitting, gives me a place where I can drop modifiers for the verb as construed with all the objects. The articles are located just to the left of the division of each object slot, so that the articles qualify both words in their respective object pairs. The modifier steamed connects to the left of the division point so that it modifies both chicken and rice. If the sentence had said “baked chicken and fried rice,” the diagramming provides a place for the two adjectives to be dropped below their respective nouns.
A special kind of coordination exists where there is a more intense pairing signaled by pairs of conjunctions or other words uniting the two elements. The most common such pairs are “both...and,” “on the one hand (me,n)...on the other (de,),” “either...or,” “not (only)...but (also),” and “neither...nor.”[13] These pairs are diagrammed with the two conjunctions stacked together in the regular conjunction slot. The idea is that the top conjunction goes with the top word and the bottom with the bottom. So “I ate not only my steak but her chicken” would be diagrammed:
Since our example passage John 12:16 contains an instance of simple coordination and also an instance of this more intense coordination, and since we are nearing the end of the article, I will now give a complete diagram of the whole sentence.
One special situation involving coordination requires attention. The word kai, contracts with certain other words in a phenomenon called crasis. It is perfectly legitimate, indeed necessary, to break these contractions into their separate words for diagramming purposes. John 12:32 is a good example: kavgw. eva.n u`ywqw/ evk th/j gh/j( pa,ntaj e`lku,sw pro.j evmauto,n (“And I, if I should be lifted up from the earth, will draw all to myself”). Notice how kavgw, has been broken down into its components, kai, and evgw,, in order to diagram the conjunction and the pronoun in their respective places.
Conclusion
Diagramming is obviously not easy, but for those with a reasonable mastery of Greek grammar, it is certainly doable. Of course, this article by no means covers every sort of situation that you will encounter, but it does give a reasonably complete picture of the kinds of things you will have to do. Improvisation will often be necessary, and you should not hesitate to do something you can’t quite find in any textbooks if you are convinced that it is the clearest way to show the grammar as you understand it. Obviously there is no body of diagramming legislation that you can go to prison for violating, nor must your diagrams be worthy of immortalizing in stone in order to be of any value at all, and you should realize of course that there is always room for growth in understanding and consequent revision. So why not give sentence diagramming a try? You can even do it in English if your Greek is not strong (though English grammar seems to me “fuzzier” than Greek grammar and sometimes harder to nail down). Though you won’t gain quite the accuracy you can get working in Greek, you can gain much that you would otherwise miss.
I believe sentence diagramming holds promise as a tool for elementary Greek teachers to help students visualize the grammatical mechanics they are attempting to learn. I hope to hear some success stories in this regard in coming years. Sentence diagramming also manifests exegetical value in various ways beyond the classroom. Sometimes the combinations of coordination and subordination of ideas within sentences will suggest possible bases for expository sermon outlines. Sometimes new understanding of a passage will dawn as you try to discern exactly how its words relate to one another, and the resulting diagram will actually record a valuable discovery. The better you get at Greek grammar, though, the less often the diagram will represent new discovery, because the details you previously had to labor to understand now come to you at first reading. You may come to view diagramming as unnecessary, but when you stop to think about it, you will realize that doing the diagramming is what eventually made it unnecessary. If you had never labored through passages in this way, you would not now be reading them so accurately so quickly. But, if your experience is like mine, you will still enjoy and profit from diagramming simply because it forces you to slow down and think about every word and phrase. And when the diagramming itself comes fairly easily, your mind (which is probably capable of more multi-tasking than you are aware) is at liberty to work on dimensions of the passage beyond the grammatical. You will be surprised at the wonderful truths you will find in Scripture that cannot be put into a sentence diagram but that you might never have found if the diagramming process had not slowed you down enough to notice them.
[1] Often, of course, we found ourselves facing more than one possibility of interpretation. Usually one interpretation would commend itself to us as best, but sometimes we were left uncertain. Nevertheless, uncertainty among several possible meanings is infinitely better than being left at a complete loss to give even one clear interpretation.
[2] Of course we also had to learn that not every detail can be pressed safely. We learned, for example, that many prepositions share the same meaning, that possible distinctions between synonyms cannot always be maintained, and that the presence or absence of the definite article cannot always be insisted upon as exegetically significant. In all this we learned that we face a lifetime of growth in our exegetical acumen as we develop increasing sensitivity not only to what significance grammatical details may have but what significance a given context will support that grammatical details actually do have in that case.
[3] I am aware of two works completely devoted to sentence diagramming: Lee Kantenwein, Diagrammatical Analysis (Winona Lake, Ind.: BMH Books, 1979), and Richard P. Belcher, Diagramming the Greek NT (Columbia, SC: Richbarry Press, 1985). As far as I know the Belcher title is out of print. Two other more general works on exegesis contain substantial sections dealing with sentence diagramming: John D. Grassmick, Principles and Practice of Greek Exegesis (Dallas: Dallas Theological Seminary, 1976) and Thomas R. Schreiner, Interpreting the Pauline Epistles, Guides to New Testament Exegesis (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1990).
[4] BibleWorks and Logos/Libronix (for Windows) and Accordance (for Macintosh) are the ones I am aware of.
[5] Gerhard Raske, The Grammatical Blueprint Bible. For information see http://www.kwic.com/~graske/. BibleWorks is also in the process of producing a complete set of NT diagrams. The epistles are currently slated for release in Fall of 2005.
[6] I say “most useful” in order to indicate practicality and the average person’s perception. Individual words are not the smallest building blocks; they consist of yet smaller elements, the roots and combining forms that have definable meanings. But the fact that we separate words on the page with spaces shows that we are especially conscious of them as the basic pieces of meaning with which we work to express ourselves.
[7] Sometimes it can be difficult to identify the main clause(s). A main clause, or independent clause, is one that is not subordinate to any others within the sentence. As a general pattern, verbs are shown as subordinate in one of two ways: they are written as participles or infinitives, or they are introduced by subordinating words such as subordinating conjunctions or relative pronouns. To find the main clause, locate all the verbs in the sentence (remember that in Greek the verb may be omitted at times, especially when it is a linking verb), and eliminate those that are subordinated in one of these ways. If you work accurately, any remaining verbs will be independent. If there is more than one independent verb, all of them will be coordinate with one another in a compound relationship.
[8] Many grammarians prefer to label the complement according to its case, such as predicate nominative or predicate accusative.
[9] Some diagramming methods would insist on displaying the participles differently in order to indicate that they are participles and not nouns. In my opinion such a distinction is not necessary.
[10] In this usage, o[ti has the sense “that,” not “because.”
[11] In this usage, i[na does not express purpose and is therefore translated “that” rather than “in order that.”
[12] Participles of course can also be articular, but at least an articular participle never has a separate referent occupying a subject slot to the left of the participle. So the article does not look so strange with a participle, and no special conventions are needed for articular participles.
[13] I think it is good not to consider as coordinate pairs the conditional construction “if...then” and the comparative construction “just as...so also.” In both of these constructions, the first clause is actually subordinate to the second and should be diagrammed accordingly. “If” and “just as” would be diagrammed as subordinating conjunctions. “Then” ordinarily does not even occur as a separate word in Greek; “so also” can be diagrammed adverbially.