
This is a brief re-examination of Thomas’ famous declaration “My Lord and my God” in John 20:28. I looked at this some years ago, noting the common argument that the wording of the confession reflects the “custom,” recorded in Suetonius and Dio Cassius, of addressing the emperor Domitian (AD 81-96) as “our master and our god”:
With no less arrogance [Domitian] began as follows in issuing a circular letter in the name of his procurators, “Our Master and our God (Dominus et deus noster) bids that this be done.” And so the custom arose of henceforth addressing him in no other way even in writing or in conversation. (Suet. Dom. 13.2)
For [Domitian] even insisted upon being regarded as a god and took vast pride in being called “master” (despotēs) and “god.” These titles were used not merely in speech but also in written documents. (Dio Cassius, Hist. 67.4.7)
When [a conspirator] was on the point of being condemned, he begged that he might speak to the emperor in private, and thereupon did obeisance (proskynēsas) before him and after repeatedly calling him “master” (despotēn) and “god” (terms that were already being applied to him by others), he said…. (Dio Cassius, Hist. 67.13.4)
We could imagine that this custom was a matter of common knowledge and at least loosely attached to the fitful persecution of Jews and Christians under Domitian. If the majority view is correct that the Gospel was composed in Ephesus towards the end of the first century, it seems plausible that Thomas’ confession functions as a figure for a transfer of allegiance from the emperor to the risen Christ. The Christian in Ephesus does not do obeisance to the emperor but to the risen Christ, even though he or she has not seen him.
This rhetorical purpose seems to make good sense of the context of the confession in the Gospel. There is something very odd about a direct identification of Jesus as “God” at this juncture.
1. A little earlier, when Mary moves to touch or clasp (haptou) Jesus, she is told that he is “ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God” (Jn. 20:17). She then goes to the disciples and tells them that she has “seen the Lord.” This differentiates quite emphatically between Jesus as “teacher” (Jn. 20:16) and “Lord” and the God who will exalt him, precisely when the physical body of Jesus is at issue.
2. Thomas’ acclamation functions as an expression of his belief that Jesus who was recently crucified is actually alive. That is why so much is made of seeing the marks of the nails and placing his hand in the wound in his side (Jn. 20:25, 27). That accounts for “my Lord,” but why would belief in the bodily resurrection of Jesus elicit the further “and my God,” especially when Jesus has himself just uttered the words “my God”?
3. We are then told, in what may originally have been the closing paragraph of the book, that the signs which Jesus performed have been recorded so that John’s readers may “believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God” (Jn. 20:31). In the Gospel, the “Son of God” is not God but one who receives the Spirit of God (Jn. 1:33-34), who can be addressed as “Rabbi,” the “King of Israel” (Jn. 1:49), who is sent into the world by God (Jn. 3:17-18), and who is executed as a false messiah (Jn. 11:27; 19:6; 20:31). So the definitive and climactic confession, at the close of the Gospel, ought to have been that Jesus is the “Son of God.”
It seems likely that the assumed readership here—the Johannine community in Ephesus, in the first place—is already Christian: John’s Gospel is not an evangelistic tract but an encouragement to those who already believe that they might persevere and have life in the name of the one who was raised from the dead (cf. 1 Jn. 5:13).
If that’s the case, the immediately preceding account of Thomas’ encounter with the risen Jesus has in view those who are “blessed” because they have believed without seeing and touching. It is just one of many “other” signs that have been written down for the benefit of a later generation of believers, who perhaps are having a hard time maintaining their commitment to an intangible Lord under the intense and very tangible social and political-religious pressures that prevailed in late first century Roman Ephesus—whether or not direct imperial persecution was involved.
It would make sense, then, to look for an explanation of Thomas’ anomalous confession in the circumstances of the reading community.
For these reasons, I think it may be better to regard Thomas’ confession as a rhetorical statement, an affirmation of political-religious loyalty on the part of the Johannine community, than as anything like an ontological or direct identification of Jesus as “God.” To do obeisance to the risen Jesus was somewhat like doing obeisance to Domitian as “master” and “god.” It begins as a response to the human person, not as a revelation of divine nature.
Still, it also appears that this acute practical dilemma was just one of several channels along which Christian thought flowed on its way towards the sea of trinitarian orthodoxy.
Hi Andrew,
Have you ever noticed that John 20:28 is an incomplete sentence?
Most claim that a nominative for vocative is at work here, but what if both Κύριός and Θεός are functioning as nominatives? Bill Mounce has pointed out two interesting things (see the link below):
1. If Jesus is called Κύριός, then this would be the only verse in the New Testament in which that’s the case, as he is otherwise referred to or addressed as κυριε.
2. He also notes that if Κύριός and Θεός are functioning as nominatives, then this would mean that part of the sentence is missing, requiring us to infer what is not stated.
Mounce suggests that the complete sentence could be, “My Lord and my God has risen,” but I wonder if this isn’t his theology talking? I say, why not, “My Lord and my God has truly raised you!”?
Is κυριος Nominative or Vocative? (John 20:28) | billmounce.com
~Sean
You would have to explain the truncation, the “aposiopesis”: “My Lord and my God….” Why does he not finish the sentence? Is that really in keeping with John’s style?
I also wonder if the repeated mou (“my”) makes sense if this is really the singular subject of a statement about the resurrection. The Domitian quotations indicate that the two terms “master” and “god” were applied separately, so the point may be that the two part vocative, with “my” repeated, reflects that distinction. Perhaps the nominatives are used because this is effectively a quotation, an allusion to the Roman practice.
@Andrew Perriman:
Good question about John’s style, and I’m not in a position to answer whether or how that question informs the one about what Thomas actually meant.
I read somewhere that Theodore of Mopsuestia felt that the QEOS at least applied to the Father, so that would be in harmony with the possibility that you suggested. I don’t remember if he thought that KURIOS applied to Jesus and QEOS to the Father, or that both terms applied to the Father.
I just can’t help but think that the observation Mounce made must have some significance: If Jesus is called Κύριός at John 20:28, then that would apparently be the only time that happened in the entire New Testament! He is otherwise referred to as κυριε. Why did the Evangelist decide to stray from common practice? Was the Domitian quote in Greek, and do we find nominatives there functioning as vocatives?
We have the repeated “my” in Ps. 34:23 LXX: “Wake up! And pay attention to my trial, my God and my Lord (ho theos mou kai ho kyrios mou), to my case!” So perhaps it’s not so strange, merely emphatic.
The Dio Cassius quotes above are in Greek, but despotēs is used for “master” rather than kyrios, and they do not record the actual form of the address.
The Latin “Dominus et deus noster” is the subject of the verb, not vocative.
@Andrew Perriman:
I think you’ve misunderstood me, Andrew. I didn’t say that it was strange for a nominative to function as a vocative. What I said was that everywhere else in the New Testament Jesus is called κυριε, and so why would we assume that when the Evangelist uses Κύριός, which is never applied to Jesus in the New Testament, that he is applying it to Jesus here? I think that’s strange by definition.
Also, if the majority view is correct, then John 20:28 is quite different from Psalm 34:23 in that the former is addressed to a man, while the later is addressed to God. That would also be a bit strange, by definition.
The majority view also seems quite unnatural, in context. Thomas was overwhelmed with grief and doubt, not about whether Jesus was God, but about whether he truly had been resurrected. That was the point of agony that consumed his soul, and in a moment that was surely attended by a release of all-consuming joy, he finally came to believe! But *what* did he come to believe? That Jesus was his God or that Jesus really had been resurrected? Isn’t it rather obviously the later, and, if so, isn’t that what we would expect Thomas to exclaim?
So, if we assume that the terms are functioning as nominatives here, then we have an incomplete sentence, which provides us with an opportunity to infer missing words that form an exclamation that actually comports with context, e.g.: “My Lord and My God really HAS raised you!”
Is my suggestion correct? We have no way of knowing, but I think it fits the context much more naturally than the majority view, which seems to place an exclamation on Thomas’ lips that comes out of left field. Indeed, the majority view seems to place a non sequitur on Thomas’ lips.
Sorry, my comments weren’t very well framed. The “not so strange” comment was directed at what I said earlier about the repeated mou. I was talking to myself. I mentioned Psalm 34:23 LXX only because it shows that one “person,” divine or human, can be addressed in this way, though there may be a contextual reason for the emphasis.
On further reflection, the argument about the nominative may fail on account of the article + possessive construction.
None of the instances of kyrie in John has the possessive. The only place in the New Testament where we have kyrie mou, I think, is Revelation 7:13, which is addressed to one of the elders: ‘I said to him, “Sir (kyrie mou), you know.”’ So it may be that with the possessive the nominative case is retained even the function is vocative.
It needs more work, but notice the difference here:
And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God (θεέ μου θεέ μου), why have you forsaken me?” (Matt. 27:46)
And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God (ὁ θεός μου ὁ θεός μου), why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34)
Matthew has the vocative thee, Mark has the definite article with the nominative form + mou, which is exactly what John has: ὁ κύριός μου καὶ ὁ θεός μου.
So the kyrios form doesn’t really seem to be an obstacle to reading it as vocative.
@Andrew Perriman:
“So the kyrios form doesn’t really seem to be an obstacle to reading it as vocative.”
Sure, agreed, but I didn’t argue that it was. I assume that the part I quoted is just you thinking things through, and not meant to be a counter to anything I’ve said?
@Andrew Perriman:
Hi Andrew,
I don’t mean to resurrect this old discussion, but I noticed that I was a bit sloppy in my comments and want to offer a point of clarification/correction for the record:
Where I said that Jesus is never referred to or called Κύριός, I should have said that it is only at John 20:28 that he is directly addressed as Κύριός. That was the observation that Mounce discussed at the link I provided.
With that said, I don’t really have a dog in the fight one way or the other. I just prefer to think that Thomas wouldn’t have responded with a non sequitur in that glorious moment that he came to believe that Jesus had been raised. The fact that Jesus had died suggests that Thomas wouldn’t have thought that he was God Almighty, because that God can’t die. He didn’t have a developed incarnation Christology to lean on to help him make sense of the bizarre notion that Jesus was God, that he died, but that God didn’t die, so whatever interpretation we ultimately adopt, I think it should avoid such anachronistic ideas.
Interestingly, at 11QMelch, Melchizedek is referred to as “your God” in a context in which the antecedent of “your” is the Jewish community. This text was found in the library of Qumran, which probably belonged to a sect of hyper-strict Essenes. If they could think of an eschatological agent as their God in either a lessor or a representational sense, then I see no reason why Thomas couldn’t have done so as well.
The claim that John 20:28 represents an incomplete sentence, and that Thomas’s declaration “My Lord and my God” requires speculative reconstruction—such as “My Lord and my God has raised you”—reflects a serious misunderstanding of both the grammatical structure and the theological context of the passage. The Greek phrase εἶπεν αὐτῷ (“he said to him”) grammatically anchors the entire declaration as being directed specifically to Jesus, not to another figure, not to the Father, nor as a diffuse expression of surprise. The reflexive pronoun αὐτῷ (dative singular masculine) has one referent in the immediate discourse: the risen Jesus, who just invited Thomas to examine his wounds. This verb-object pairing (“said to him”) appears consistently in the New Testament to indicate direct address and carries no precedent for a disjointed or distributed referent.
Grammatically, the suggestion that ὁ κύριός and ὁ θεός are not vocatives but nominatives requiring inferred syntax is unfounded. While Koine Greek does possess formal vocative forms (e.g., κύριε), it also commonly uses the nominative with article in place of the vocative—especially in Hellenistic and Semitic-influenced Greek. The phenomenon of the articular nominative functioning as a vocative is well documented in standard grammars, including BDF (§147) and Wallace’s Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics, which cite John 20:28 explicitly. This construction is particularly common in Semitic renderings, which are evident throughout the Johannine corpus. Thus, the grammatical form of ὁ κύριός and ὁ θεός here follows expected idiomatic usage and does not imply that a clause is missing or that Thomas is speaking of another party.
The argument that κύριος is never elsewhere used in the nominative form of direct address to Jesus does not hold theological or linguistic weight. That a specific construction appears only once in the New Testament does not constitute evidence against its authenticity or interpretive clarity. John’s Gospel, in particular, is renowned for its unique theological expressions—such as the Logos prologue and the seven “I Am” sayings—which do not require frequency to be definitive. Moreover, the singularity of this confession enhances rather than diminishes its weight, serving as the climactic verbal response to Jesus’s resurrection and the entire Johannine narrative.
Furthermore, the notion that Thomas may have meant something like “My Lord and my God has raised you” is grammatically and contextually untenable. Such a phrase would require a completely different syntactic structure, including an explicit subject (i.e., “the Father”) and a verb, none of which are present. More significantly, it would dislocate the object of Thomas’s declaration from Jesus to a third party, despite the clear direction of the statement to Jesus alone. This is not merely conjectural but would require positing a deeply implausible conversational disjunction—Thomas ostensibly responding to Jesus while verbally addressing the Father, an interpretive move for which there is no syntactic, literary, or theological support in the text.
The cultural context of Second Temple Judaism further undercuts any notion that Thomas’s exclamation was a flippant or generic expression of praise. The phrase “My God” (ὁ θεός μου) was used by Jews exclusively in reference to Yahweh, the covenant God of Israel. For Thomas—a devout Jew—to apply such language to any being other than the one true God would have been regarded as blasphemous unless he was indeed confessing the divine identity of Jesus. That Jesus not only accepts this acclamation without correction but follows it with commendation—“Have you believed because you have seen me?”—confirms that the Evangelist intends the reader to understand Thomas’s confession as true and valid recognition of Jesus’s identity.
Those who appeal to Theodore of Mopsuestia or similar marginal historical voices to assert that Θεός refers to the Father here overlook the overwhelming consensus of patristic, historical, and grammatical interpretation, which affirms that the statement is directed solely to Jesus. No Church Father of doctrinal authority ever suggested that Thomas was addressing two beings or that the confession should be split between Father and Son. On the contrary, the declaration of Jesus as “Lord and God” in John 20:28 was taken by the Church as one of the definitive New Testament affirmations of Christ’s deity. The echo of this confession is found in Revelation 4:11, where the 24 elders say to God, “Worthy are you, our Lord and God,” using identical terms to those of Thomas, affirming worship of the one seated on the throne—language now paralleled and placed in the mouth of Thomas addressing Jesus.
Lastly, theological considerations support the grammatical and contextual evidence. The purpose of John’s Gospel, stated just after this passage in John 20:31, is “that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God.” Thomas’s confession climaxes this theme, not as a digression, but as a culmination. To interpret it as a confused or redirected emotional utterance would not only contradict the flow of the narrative but reduce the Gospel’s grand Christological arc to a semantic accident. On the contrary, Thomas’s recognition—“My Lord and my God”—perfectly mirrors the Gospel’s opening: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Thus, John 20:28 is not a disruption but the theological seal of the Gospel’s core proclamation. Thomas sees and confesses what John has been revealing all along: that Jesus is truly God.
@József X:
You’ve offered fairly standard argumentation contra the possibility I expressed, but I think you were largely talking past me rather than to me.
I’m pressed for time today, but for now I’ll just point out that Johannine style overwhelmingly favors “the Word was a god” or “a divine being” over against “the Word was God.” EVERY noun that is comparable to QEOS at John 1:1c is rendered into English by translators with the indefinite article, with the sole, theologically-motivated exception of QEOS at John 1:1c.
For a noun to be comparable to Θεος at John 1:1c, it must:
1. be singular
2. be preverbal
3. be anarthrous
4. be a predicate nominative
5. be count (not abstract/mass)
6. not be definite (in consideration of Harner’s hypothesis)
@Sean Kasabuske:
Your argument presupposes a strictly mechanical application of grammar, divorced from context, theology, and the author’s intent. But Greek syntax, especially in elevated theological prose like John’s prologue, cannot be reduced to a checklist of grammatical boxes. Your six criteria for what constitutes a noun “comparable” to theos at John 1:1c seem arbitrary — on what philological basis do you declare that these six conditions “must” (?!?!) be met in order to interpret the phrase correctly? Why specifically these and not others? Is this methodology your own invention, or is it widely supported in contemporary peer-reviewed linguistic scholarship?
It is crucial to note that the key interpretive question at John 1:1c is not merely grammatical but theological. When John says kai theos ēn ho logos, he does not simply assign a class membership (“a god”), as you seem to suggest. Rather, as Philip Harner, C.H. Dodd, F.F. Bruce, and many others have rightly pointed out, the anarthrous predicate noun theos placed before the verb emphasizes the nature or essence of the subject — it is qualitative, not indefinite. It does not mean “the Word was a god” (one of many), but “the Word had the nature of God.” And as Murray Harris (in Jesus as God, pp. 63ff) emphasizes, this use is typical of Johannine style: placing an anarthrous predicate before the verb often conveys qualities, not class distinctions. Hence, the NEB’s “what God was, the Word was” is entirely in line with this nuance — and importantly, it does not support the indefinite rendering of “a god.” If you “fail to see the difference,” might I ask — on what theological basis do you then distinguish between unique divine essence and participation in divine attributes?
Furthermore, your claim that the traditional rendering “confuses the Logos with the Father” reveals a misunderstanding of Trinitarian theology. Trinitarian doctrine distinguishes between person (hypostasis) and essence (ousia). John 1:1b (“the Word was with God”) establishes personal distinction. John 1:1c (“the Word was God”) affirms ontological unity. The two clauses do not contradict; rather, they reflect precisely the mystery the Fathers sought to articulate at Nicaea. Denying the legitimacy of this theological distinction simply because the English expression appears ambiguous is not a fault of the Greek nor of the theological interpretation, but perhaps of the English reader’s unfamiliarity with this distinction.
Now let us return to your broader claim that “EVERY noun comparable to theos at John 1:1c is rendered with an indefinite article.” This is simply inaccurate. Greek does not function like English, which demands an article to express definiteness or indefiniteness. Koine Greek lacks an indefinite article altogether. Translation into English therefore requires interpretation — which must be guided by context, not by a mechanical rule. For example, in John 4:24 (pneuma ho theos), “God is spirit,” not “God is a spirit,” is preferred because the idea is qualitative: God’s essence is spiritual. This is the same construction — anarthrous predicate noun before the verb. So your own example contradicts your claim. Similarly, in Matthew 14:33 (alēthōs theou huios ei), “Truly you are the Son of God,” translators do not render “a son of God,” despite the absence of the article. Why? Because the context demands it.
The same is true in John 1:1. The Logos is eternal (v. 2), involved in creation (v. 3), life-giving (v. 4), and uniquely revealing the Father (v. 18). None of these attributes are ever ascribed to any created “god.” They belong to the one God. John 1:1c does not introduce a second deity — it affirms the same divine essence as that of ho theos in 1:1b, without identifying the Logos as the Father. The qualitative use of theos here allows for this nuance.
You also suggest that John 1:1c could support henotheism — that Jesus was “a god” in a subordinate, non-worshipped sense, akin to angels or exalted beings in the Hebrew Bible. But if this were John’s intent, why does he elsewhere (John 20:28) put the confession ho theos mou kai ho kurios mou (“my Lord and my God”) on the lips of Thomas, with no correction from Jesus? Why is the Logos worshipped (John 5:23; Revelation 5:13)? Why does John 1:3 declare that “all things were made through him,” ruling out his own creaturehood? Why does John 1:18 call him the only-begotten God (monogenēs theos)? Your model of “non-worshipped divine beings” is historically alien to second-temple Judaism at the time of Christ, which — as Larry Hurtado and Richard Bauckham have demonstrated — had already absorbed the earlier henotheistic language (e.g., Psalm 82) into metaphorical and judicial categories, no longer applied to ontologically divine beings. If such lesser “gods” existed and were recognized in Jesus’ time as real divine beings alongside God, can you point to a single clear first-century Jewish source that affirms this — not in metaphor, but as actual theology?
Moreover, why do you isolate John 1:1c from the entire flow of John’s Gospel? You seem to operate with a “sandbox” hermeneutic, limiting theological conclusions to isolated phrases while ignoring their cumulative force. John 1:14 (“the Word became flesh”), John 5:18 (calling God his own Father, making himself equal with God), John 10:30 (“I and the Father are one”), and John 17:5 (sharing glory before the world was) all converge in affirming Christ’s unique, divine identity — not merely functional, but ontological.
So let me press the question back to you: on what grammatical or contextual basis do you believe that “the Word was a god” — i.e., one of a class of deities — makes better sense of the Gospel’s entire narrative? What evidence do you have that first-century Jewish monotheists like John would feel comfortable inserting another divine being “alongside” YHWH in creation, worship, and glory — yet not intend that being to be equal in essence? How many “divine beings” are there? Why do you accept that theos can be qualitative when it suits your view, but reject the full implications of that qualitative force when it points to ontological unity with the Father?
Your model does not escape theological confusion — it introduces more of it. The traditional reading “the Word was God” (qualitatively understood) remains the best synthesis of the Greek, the theology of the Gospel, and the witness of the early Church. Not because it’s easy — but because it’s faithful.
@József X:
Hey Nincs,
As I said, you’re talking past me.
About John 4:24, to offer this text as an example that is apparently supposed to contradict what I’ve argued is to commit a category error, because if “God is spirit” is the correct translation, then Πνεῦμα is functioning as a mass noun there, not as a count noun, and so this example fails criterion #5.
If, on the other hand, Πνεῦμα is functioning as a descriptive (a/k/a “qualitative”) count noun, which is how yesteryear’s translators clearly understood it, then those translators demonstrated how it should be rendered into English:
God is a spirit ~ KJV
God is a spirit ~ Douay-Rheims
God is a Spirit ~ Websters
God is a Spirit ~ Youngs
God is a Spirit ~ ASV
God [is] a spirit ~ Darby
God is a Spirite ~ Geneva Bible of 1587
God is a spirite ~ Coverdale Bible of 1535
God is a sprete ~ Tyndale Bible of 1526
It just so happens that Πνεῦμα could be used in one context as a mass noun and in another as a count noun, so either “God is spirit” or “God is a spirit” are valid possibilities. However, the same can’t be said for θεός, which was not a mass noun in an ancient Jewish or Apostolic Judeo-Christian context. Moreover, even if we could find a potential example in which a Bible writer may have used θεός as though it were a mass noun, such a use, if it exists at all, would be extremely rare. Trinitarians who argue for such a sense at John 1:1c have therefore placed before themselves a daunting statistical hurdle.
Your objection begins by asserting that John 4:24 (“God is spirit”) fails as a parallel because “spirit” is either a mass noun (and thus not comparable to theos, a count noun), or it should be translated “a spirit,” as in older English Bibles. However, this rests on multiple erroneous assumptions: first, that mass nouns and count nouns can never exhibit qualitative force; second, that theos is irreducibly a count noun in Greek; and third, that the presence or absence of an article must always indicate definiteness or indefiniteness rather than quality. Each of these must be refuted in turn.
To begin with, the argument that pneuma in John 4:24 is either a mass noun or a count noun with indefinite sense ignores the well-established category of qualitative predication, as articulated by Philip Harner and widely accepted by grammarians such as Wallace, Hartley, and Dixon. Qualitative predication refers to the attribution of essence or nature to the subject of a sentence without implying either numerical count or category membership. The classic formulation of John 4:24—“God is spirit”—is not intended to suggest that God is one spirit among others, nor that “spirit” is being treated as a substance in a mass-noun sense (like “water” or “iron”). Rather, as recognized by scholars such as D.A. Carson and Rudolf Bultmann, the expression predicates the spiritual nature of God. That is precisely what a qualitative anarthrous predicate does.
More importantly, the claim that theos cannot be used qualitatively because it is a “count noun” is linguistically naïve and misrepresents how Greek—and language in general—functions. As the accompanying material you provided amply demonstrates, the distinction between mass and count nouns is far more complex than the Witness argument allows. Linguists such as Bunt, Pelletier, and Allan have shown that many nouns resist fixed classification and must be analyzed within their particular syntactic and semantic environments. The claim that theos is always a count noun, and that count nouns cannot be used qualitatively without becoming metaphors, is demonstrably false. As the example from 2 Maccabees 7:37 (αὐτὸς θεός ἐστιν) shows, theos can be used in a purely qualitative way without implying a class-member “a god” or requiring the definite article.
Your appeal to older English translations that render John 4:24 as “God is a spirit” actually undermines your argument. These translations come from a period when English grammar was less analytically precise and when “a spirit” could function qualitatively. Furthermore, most modern translations, informed by better understanding of Koine syntax, now prefer “God is spirit”—recognizing the qualitative import. The same is true of John 1:1c, where theos precedes the verb and lacks the article, forming the classic construction for a qualitative predicate in Greek grammar.
This brings us to the most significant point: John 1:1c must be interpreted contextually and syntactically as qualitative, not indefinite. The Gospel writer has just asserted that the Logos was “with God” (πρὸς τὸν θεόν), affirming personal distinction. He then adds “and the Word was God” (θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος), to affirm that the same Logos shares in the divine essence. This construction fits exactly Harner’s observation: the anarthrous predicate θεός before the verb serves not to classify the Logos as “a god,” but to attribute to him the qualities and essence of theos. Wallace concurs, stating: “The idea of a qualitative θεός here is so strongly supported by the grammatical structure and the context that to interpret it as either definite or indefinite is simply erroneous” (Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics, p. 269).
Your rhetorical tactic of referring to theos as “not a mass noun” is moot because qualitativeness does not require mass-noun status. As the linguistic literature demonstrates, qualitativeness is not a sub-category of either mass or count nounhood, but a distinct semantic force derived from syntax, context, and discourse function. Harner himself showed that anarthrous predicate nouns preceding the verb were overwhelmingly qualitative in Johannine literature. Many of these—including theos in John 1:1c—are not mass nouns in the traditional sense, yet they still exhibit qualitative force.
Finally, the attempt to deny the qualitative reading of John 1:1c by isolating it grammatically also fails to reckon with the wider literary and theological context of the Johannine prologue. The Logos is the eternal creator (1:3), the source of life and light (1:4), and the one who reveals the invisible God (1:18). These are not the roles of “a god” in any secondary or subordinate sense. They are the works of the true God. John 1:1c does not assert identity between the Logos and the Father, but it does assert that the Logos is what God is. To predicate theos of the Logos is to say that the Logos shares fully in the divine nature—not that he is one divine being among others.
Therefore, the argument that theos must be indefinite because it is a count noun is both linguistically unsound and theologically incoherent. It assumes a rigid, simplistic classification of nouns that cannot bear the interpretive weight placed upon it, and it fails to address the deep syntactical and contextual cues that point to a qualitative understanding. The traditional rendering “and the Word was God,” when rightly understood as qualitative, remains the most faithful translation—not because of theological bias, but because of grammatical precision and contextual fidelity.
@József X:
You make so many invalid assumptions that interaction with you is pointless. If I don’t assert something, then you shouldn’t pretend as though I have.
Engage respectfully or don’t engage.
The suggestion that Thomas’s confession in John 20:28—“My Lord and my God!”—should be understood not as a sincere theological declaration of Christ’s deity but as a piece of rhetorical subversion aimed at the imperial cult, while imaginative, fails to cohere with the immediate literary, linguistic, and theological context of the Gospel of John. This interpretation also underestimates the profound Christological intent of the Evangelist and misrepresents first-century Jewish monotheism and linguistic practice.
The narrative context is unambiguous: Thomas addresses Jesus directly. The Greek text states εἶπεν αὐτῷ (“he said to him”), identifying Jesus as the recipient of the confession. There is no textual or grammatical warrant for dividing Thomas’s statement between Jesus and the Father or for interpreting it as a rhetorical flourish intended for the benefit of an audience under imperial duress. The nominative forms ὁ κύριός μου and ὁ θεός μου, while formally nominatives, function vocatively in Koine Greek, particularly when translated from Semitic speech, where the vocative is expressed with the definite article. This construction is common in the Septuagint and New Testament (e.g., Psalm 22:1 [LXX] compared with Matthew 27:46 and Mark 15:34), and it shows that the nominative here is used in address, not narration.
Further, the suggestion that Thomas was merely echoing the language used of Domitian—“our master and our god”—misses the distinct and sacred context of the Johannine narrative. The comparison is superficial at best and historically unconvincing. Suetonius and Dio Cassius indeed document Domitian’s adoption of divine titles, but these imperial titles were imposed under duress and propaganda. Thomas, by contrast, responds in awe, reverence, and belief after encountering the resurrected Jesus. There is no indication in the text that he is making a politically motivated contrast or protest. Moreover, to conflate titles used in an imperial cult with the spontaneous confession of a devout Jew in an intimate post-resurrection encounter is historically tenuous and exegetically forced.
The argument that Thomas’s confession is “odd” because Jesus had earlier referred to “my God and your God” (John 20:17) misunderstands the theological nuance of John’s Gospel. John consistently presents Jesus as both distinct from the Father and yet fully divine (John 1:1, 1:18, 5:18, 10:30). Jesus refers to the Father as “my God” in his incarnate state, which reflects his human experience, not a denial of his divine nature. The same Gospel that has Jesus declare dependence on the Father (e.g., John 14:28) also depicts him as possessing the authority to raise the dead, receive worship, and identify himself as the “I AM” (John 8:58)—a title that evokes the divine name of Yahweh in Exodus 3:14.
Furthermore, the claim that John 20:31 (“that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God”) somehow nullifies the force of Thomas’s confession is flawed. In Johannine theology, the title “Son of God” does not imply inferiority to God; rather, it is a title laden with divine status. The Prologue already equates the Word with God (John 1:1), and Jesus is repeatedly shown as one who shares in divine prerogatives. That Jesus is the “Son of God” is not in contradiction to his being God but is rather a means by which his divine identity is disclosed.
It is also implausible to imagine a first-century Jewish disciple using the phrase “my God” toward anyone but the one true God. In Second Temple Judaism, such a confession carried the weight of covenantal allegiance and worship. For Thomas to say “my God” to a mere man—even a resurrected man—would have constituted blasphemy under Jewish law. Yet Jesus does not rebuke Thomas. Instead, he blesses him for believing, affirming the truth of Thomas’s declaration.
The proposed reading of Thomas’s words as rhetorical or socio-political in nature also fails to grapple with the Gospel’s own theological structure. John 20:28 serves as the literary and theological climax of the entire Gospel, a book that opens by affirming the full deity of the Logos and closes with a disciple worshiping the risen Christ as Lord and God. This confession is not a detour or deviation from the Evangelist’s Christology but its apex. To suggest otherwise is to misread the entire arc of the Gospel narrative.
Moreover, the parallel between Thomas’s confession and Psalm 35:23 (“My God and my Lord”)—a traditional Jewish invocation of Yahweh—further underscores the gravity of the moment. The Aramaic and Hebrew equivalents of this phrase were used exclusively in reference to the God of Israel. The idea that a Jew like Thomas would casually appropriate this phrase for a man, even a glorified one, without theological intent is contrary to both the text and the religious context.
Finally, the dismissal of Thomas’s statement as merely an emotional exclamation disregards both its literary form and Jesus’s reception of it. The Johannine Gospel is intentionally crafted to reveal the identity of Jesus. Every sign and dialogue culminates in this confession: Jesus is not only Lord but God. It is a moment of worship and theological clarity, not theatrical rhetoric.
In sum, the rhetorical reading proposed fails to do justice to the linguistic, literary, historical, and theological contours of John 20:28. The weight of grammatical evidence, the internal logic of the Gospel of John, and the nature of Jewish monotheism all support the traditional understanding: Thomas’s confession is an explicit, unambiguous declaration of Jesus’s deity.
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