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A devil's-advocate critique of John Strugnell's 1974 argument
I think there's a serious philological case to be made against Strugnell, particularly if we distinguish the etymological origin of the word Amen from the origin of its distinctive declarative function in the Gospels.
The strongest argument is not necessarily that the Greeks invented the word ἀμήν. It is that Greek religious and rhetorical conventions may have produced the specific introductory formula that Christianity subsequently attributed to Jesus.
And Strugnell's own paper provides much of the ammunition.
The introductory ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν of the Greek Gospels may be a Hellenistic religious formula developed through the interaction of Semitic Amen with pre-existing Greek affirmative and oath particles, particularly ἦ μήν and ναὶ μήν.
Strugnell fails to eliminate this possibility because his strongest evidence establishes, at most, the existence of an analogous Hebrew construction—not the historical origin of the Gospel formula.
Consider Berger's three expressions:
Greek
Transliteration
Function
ναί
nai
Yes, certainly
ναὶ μήν
nai mēn
Yes indeed
ἦ μήν
ē mēn
Solemn affirmation, especially in oaths
ἀμήν
amēn
Affirmation adopted from Semitic usage
Of these, ἦ μήν is especially intriguing.
It is a native Greek construction employing the affirmative particle ἦ and the emphatic particle μήν.
Its function in Greek oath language is independently intelligible without reference to Hebrew.
Berger's hypothesis is that Greek-speaking Jews recognized a functional equivalence between these expressions and Semitic Amen. This allowed Amen to move into a syntactic position already occupied by Greek affirmative particles.
Why posit an obscure, poorly attested Hebrew idiom as the source of introductory Amen when Greek already possessed a familiar rhetorical mechanism serving precisely that function?
This is not proof of Greek derivation, but it gives us a plausible mechanism for the development of the Gospel construction.
The phonetic resemblance between ē mēn and amēn might even have encouraged that association, although phonetic resemblance alone is not evidence of borrowing.
This is arguably the greatest vulnerability in his paper.
Strugnell relies heavily on the Meṣad Hashavyahu ostracon, dated to approximately the seventh century BCE.
His preferred interpretation is:
"Truly ('mn), I am innocent of guilt."
Under this reading, the word introduces an affirmative declaration.
But his own footnote acknowledges that other scholars interpreted the inscription differently.
There are at least two separate uncertainties:
Strugnell insists Cross's interpretation is the only acceptable translation.
But insistence does not resolve an epigraphic dispute.
Even if the ostracon contains Amen, that alone does not establish that its function matches the Gospel formula.
And even if it does function as an introductory affirmation, one ancient Hebrew occurrence does not establish an uninterrupted linguistic tradition extending to first-century Palestine.
His case requires us to accept an interpretation of a disputed inscription, infer a wider Hebrew usage from it, and then connect that usage to Jesus' speech centuries later.
The Greek-origin hypothesis, by contrast, can appeal to an independently established Greek grammatical convention and the Greek literary environment in which the Gospels were transmitted.
That is a potentially more economical explanation of the literary formula, although not necessarily of Jesus' historical speech.
This is where the case becomes especially interesting.
Consider Numbers 5:22.
HEBREW
Amen, Amen
SEPTUAGINT
May it be so, may it be so
The Septuagint translators were capable of translating the semantic content of Hebrew Amen into native Greek expressions.
But in other contexts, the Septuagint preserves ἀμήν as a transliteration.
This means Greek-speaking Jewish communities inherited a word that could operate both as a foreign sacred expression and as something intelligible through Greek linguistic equivalents.
Berger's hypothesis becomes plausible within precisely this bilingual environment.
The argument would be:
The distinctive introductory function could therefore be Greek in origin even if the word itself is Semitic.
One qualification: the Septuagint evidence demonstrates translation and transliteration, not by itself the precise historical moment when the introductory usage developed.
Strugnell invokes Talmon's proposed Hebrew reading underlying Jeremiah 15:11.
The argument depends upon reconstructing an earlier Hebrew Vorlage differing from the later Hebrew textual tradition.
This is legitimate textual criticism, but a reconstructed reading is not the same thing as a surviving manuscript.
The problem becomes especially pronounced if the reconstruction is then used to establish the antiquity of the very grammatical construction under debate.
A skeptical philologist could argue that Strugnell is assembling possible Hebrew parallels and treating their cumulative plausibility as evidence of a continuous historical tradition.
Yet each example needs to be evaluated independently.
Furthermore, even if an ancient Hebrew text contained introductory Amen, that would not tell us whether the Gospel formula developed directly from that usage or through Hellenistic Greek conventions.
This is where the historical argument becomes more than a question of particles.
Hasler proposed that introductory Amen developed in the Easter worship of Hellenistic Christian communities.
These were not pagan Easter cults. He meant early Christian communities worshipping the resurrected Jesus.
Within that setting, charismatic speakers could deliver prophetic utterances understood as the speech of the exalted Christ.
The introductory Amen would function as a marker of extraordinary authority.
Consider the difference:
Ordinary assertion:
λέγω ὑμῖν — "I tell you."
Authoritative religious declaration:
ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν — "Amen, I tell you."
The addition potentially transforms an ordinary assertion into a solemn pronouncement.
A defender of Hasler could argue that this is exactly the sort of linguistic development one would expect in a community where prophetic utterances were understood to carry divine authority.
This would also explain why the expression became especially associated with Jesus rather than appearing indiscriminately in every character's speech.
Strugnell himself acknowledges that the formula spread to sayings that originally lacked it.
That concession matters.
If early Christian editors could attach Amen to previously existing sayings, then the Gospel distribution of the formula cannot automatically establish that Jesus used it in every instance.
Here is how I would frame the central methodological objection.
Strugnell successfully challenges this proposition:
Introductory Amen was impossible in Hebrew.
But he does not thereby establish this stronger proposition:
The introductory Amen formula in the Greek Gospels originated in Hebrew rather than Greek-speaking communities.
Those are fundamentally different claims.
Demonstrating that an expression could have existed in Hebrew does not prove that it was the immediate source of a particular Greek literary construction.
Strugnell's argument is therefore strongest as a rebuttal to linguistic impossibility, not as a positive reconstruction of the Gospel formula's development.
Pre-Christian Greek rhetorical tradition
ἦ μήν and ναὶ μήν used in solemn affirmations and oath language
Hellenistic Jewish bilingual environment
Semitic אָמֵן enters Greek literature as ἀμήν, alongside native Greek equivalents
Possible linguistic convergence
Greek introductory affirmation conventions influence the placement and interpretation of ἀμήν
Early Christian prophetic and literary traditions
ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν becomes an authoritative introductory formula attributed to Jesus
There are three serious objections that a responsible defender of Berger must confront.
First, the resemblance between ἦ μήν and ἀμήν does not demonstrate an etymological relationship. Greek μήν and Semitic אמן have different linguistic histories.
Second, Strugnell may be correct that Hebrew possessed a prepositive affirmative Amen. If so, a Greek innovation is not necessary to explain the basic syntax.
Third, the Greek-origin argument requires more than evidence that Greek speakers used ἦ μήν in oaths. It needs early examples showing ἀμήν itself being used interchangeably with those particles, preferably in texts predating the Gospels.
That final step is the crucial missing link.
If I were defending Berger against Strugnell in an academic paper, I would frame it this way:
The prepositive use of ἀμήν in early Christian Greek literature need not represent the uninterrupted survival of an ancient Hebrew idiom. Its emergence may instead reflect the interaction of a Semitic religious loanword with established Greek affirmative and oath formulas, particularly ἦ μήν and ναὶ μήν. The disputed Hebrew epigraphic and reconstructed textual evidence adduced by Strugnell demonstrates at most the possibility of an analogous Hebrew usage, not the historical derivation of the Christian formula. The literary development of ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν must therefore be investigated within the bilingual environment of Hellenistic Judaism and the prophetic discourse of early Christianity.
The research that could make or break this thesis is a chronological corpus of pre-Christian Greek occurrences of ἦ μήν and ναὶ μήν, followed by the earliest securely dated instances of introductory ἀμήν. In particular, we would want to distinguish ordinary Greek oath language from Jewish Greek apocalyptic language and then from Christian prophetic declarations.
That would test the historical mechanism instead of simply choosing between Strugnell's and Berger's reconstructions.