How did we get from point A (Yahshua) to point C (Jesus)? The standard reference books will tell you that there are several forms of the word translated “Jesus” in the New Testament, and they’re all singular, masculine nouns. (There’s an important glitch in the textual evidence that throws the Greek words into question, but let’s ignore it for just a moment.) In Greek, as in most languages, nouns (including names) must agree in case, number, and gender with the adjectives that modify them. The word we know as “Jesus” is found in five different cases in the New Testament, three of which share the same form; the remaining two have different endings.
Ίησου̃ (pronounced E-aý-sū) is in the genitive case, which denotes description, possession, or relationship.
Ίησου̃ (E-aý-sū). The second case (which looks like the genitive) is dative, used when its nouns or pronouns have the function of an indirect object. The vocative case (the case of address) also takes this same Greek form.
Ίησου̃ν (E-aý-soon). The accusative case sounds a little different. There are six distinct types, but basically, they function as the direct object of the verb.
The last form is Ίησου̃ς (E-aý-soos), the nominative case (used where the subject is producing the action). There are five separate nominative types.
As complicated as all this may look, the reality is far worse. Greek is extremely complicated, and is therefore capable of transmitting quite subtle nuances of meaning. Unlike English, however, Greek nouns, pronouns, and adjectives—including names—don’t stay put. As we have seen, they change to fit the case, gender, and number of the sentence. But the lexical form of a noun or adjective—i.e., the form found in a lexicon or Greek dictionary—is always the nominative singular form, in this instance Ίησου̃ς (E-aý-soos). Hence the alternate forms Ίησου̃ (E-aý-sū) and Ίησου̃ν (E-aý-soon), as well as other possible forms, would never show up in standard reference works like Strong’s or Thayer’s.
Note therefore: (1) The genitive, dative, and vocative case of the Greek word rendered “Jesus” in our English texts, Ίησου̃ (Iesou, prounounced E-aý-sū), is about as good a transliteration of the short form of Yahshua, “Yahsu,” as you can get in Greek, and makes for a passable transliteration in Latin as well: “Iesu.” In Greek, the final “ah” syllable of “Yahshua” would never appear because the case designation would be lost. Note also that there is no “Y” sound in Koine Greek, nor is there a “sh” sound. (2) The nominative form Ίησου̃ς (Iesous, pronounced E-aý-soos) is the obvious origin of the transliteration that eventually emerged in English, “Jesus.” The Latin “I” transformed over time into a “hard I” and only later into the new letter “J”. As a matter of fact, the Authorized version of the English Bible (a.k.a. the King James Version) used the name “Iesus” from 1611 through 1628; “Jesus” did not appear until the 1629 edition, and we’re not positive how that was pronounced. Considering the drift of pronunciation modes of European languages, especially the ambivalent use of “J” versus “Y” sounds in Germanic and Scandinavian tongues, it could have been pronounced Yesus as easily as Jesus. The transformation therefore seems natural and logical: Yahshua…to Ίησου̃ς (E-aý-soos)…to Iesu/Jesu (Latin)…to Iesus… to Jesus.
But as I warned you, there’s a rub, a textual convention that was employed to render the Savior’s name and other key words in all of the earliest Greek parchments. As arcane as what follows may seem, you should be aware of it, for it affects the very heart of our standard Christian vocabulary.
We now possess some seventy manuscripts of portions of the Greek New Testament that date before the time of Constantine—pre-fourth century. And not a single one of them spells out Yahshua’s name—the Ίησου̃, Ίησου̃ν or Ίησου̃ς we find in later texts. Instead, the Name is always represented by a placeholder: two Greek capital letters with a line scribed over the top (indicating that these are not regular words), and apparently keyed to the case. So what would eventually be written Ίησου̃ς was indicated as ΙΣ (Iota-Sigma), Ίησου̃ν was penned as ΙΝ (Iota-Nu) and Ίησου̃ was written ΙΥ (Iota-Upsilon), each with a horizontal line above it, and each (in its own case) meaning Yahshua—Jesus.
Actually, there are seven key words in the New Covenant scriptures that were consistently handled the same way in all the pre-Constantine Greek manuscripts—translated Jesus, Christ, Spirit, Holy, God, Lord, Father, and Son. All of them seem to be a code or abbreviation for the Greek word they replace, words that would be spelled out in post-Constantine manuscripts (for example, ΚΣ for Kurios was translated “Lord”). I’m not absolutely sure why this was done. “Yahshua” couldn’t be correctly pronounced in Greek, and if spoken in certain circles it could get you stoned because it contained the divine name Yah. But others suffered no such handicaps to communication. The verbal ideas they represent, however, are invariably critical to our understanding of Yahweh and His plan of redemption. Perhaps we would be safer using the Hebrew words for these fundamental concepts (e.g. Ruach in place of Pneuma for Spirit) than their rough Greek equivalents. At the very least, we should ponder why the original Greek Renewed-Covenant texts universally employed this place-holder code, and contemplate why the code was replaced by the pagan-compromised Church of Rome under Constantine and his successors.
Some sources perceive a conspiratorial pagan undercurrent in our use of the word “Jesus.” Lew White of
www.fossilizedcustoms.com, for example, says, “To try to make it mean something in Greek, the ending ‘sus’ definitely refers to Zeus, as it does in many other Greek names such as Tarsus, Pegasus, Dionysus, and Parnassus. So, in Greek, the Name ‘Jesus’ can mean ‘hail Zeus,’ or ‘son of Zeus.’” I’m having trouble swallowing this argument whole (although Mr. White is correct about many other things). In Greek, the name Zeus would be spelled using the diphthong epsilon-upsilon (Ζευς), not omicron-upsilon (ου). And as we’ve seen, the ending of names in Greek change form, depending on the case. Thus the similarity in sound is purely incidental, and the pagan connection is non-existent (I hope).
I’m not discounting the obvious fact that Satan would like to cloud our understanding of who Yahshua is and what His name means. Or failing that, slip in a ringer: some have noticed a phonetic similarity between “Jesus” and the name of the obscure and ancient Druid/Teutonic god “Gesus,” the “horned one.” To my mind, this merely shows that there’s nothing holy that Satan can’t attempt to corrupt or counterfeit. For all I know, our use of the name “Jesus” is part of a nefarious satanic plot designed to trick us into worshipping a false Norse god, though Yahweh knows where our hearts are. It seems more likely to me that it is the inevitable—and innocent—result of transliterating the name of our Messiah from Aramaic into Greek, and transliterating that into English (via Latin). Unlike words like “Easter” with clearly pagan roots (Astarte…Ishtar…Easter), or perfectly good English words like “gay” that have been pressed into service in Satan’s cause, changing their meaning completely, “Jesus” is a word I do not intend to strike from my vocabulary. However, I still prefer the more direct and meaningful “Yahshua,” and intend to use it in conversation whenever my audience might be expected to understand Who I mean—and more to the point, I will be using it throughout this book: the One we’re used to calling Jesus is “Yahshua.”
