Our English word glass comes from old English glæs, of a pan-Germanic root probably related to glow (OED)^, gold, and glisten, etc. (Watkins) from the IE root *ghel-2 (Watkins). It has, as well as that of the substance, meanings such as "3. A mirror; a looking-glass... 8. A perspective glass; as an optic..." (Webster) and the OED records its first use as a translation of speculum "mirror" (whence Spiegel) in 1484 and as a magic crystal in 1566. Touching me personally, it took by at least 1545 the meaning of spectacles.

The Greek word is to esoptron, meaning, as the translation, "looking-glass, mirror" (Liddell) and comes ultimately from osse, meaning "[two] eyes" (a cognate of oculus and of our own word eye, and of the Gothic ahjan "think"—Wharton). The Gothic cognate is interesting, because it is from the senses that we do all our reasoning—we reckon according to what we have seen . Paul says here that we are doing this reckoning as though a glass, a mere reflection of what things are like. Ancient esoptra, consisting usually of nothing but polished metal, were not nearly as good as the practically perfect ones we have today; they might stretch one part or shrink another, and gave a distorted and darkened view of reality. It is through the imperfect that we now see, through the perfect that we will see. The idea of looking through a distorted mirror reminds one of Plato’s image of the Forms: We now see the mere shadow of objects (or rather, shadows of copies of real objects), but will one day see the objects themselves and in their true light.

Dark comes from Old English deorc and has no corresponding adjectives in other languages, but is cognate to the Old High German verb for "cover" (OED). Buck points out that words for dark often come originally from specific colors, such as black (Greek kelainoV and Brythonic du), or even white (=devoid of color: Old English wann and Latin pallus); "dusty" (Latin fuscus, Sanskrit dhusara-); or ideas of being covered, closed, or deep (Latin obscurus, Rumanian închis, French foncé); though the most common, as with English, is the idea "lacking light".

In both the spiritual and the physical then, the only remedy for darkness is light, which shineth in darkness and the darkness comprehendeth (=understandeth, or, if you prefer, captureth, overpowereth) it not. And if we take dark to mean covered or closed, we must go even further and seek our light and knowledge by revelation (apokaluptw in Greek means to uncover; Latin revelare means to draw back a curtain or veil).

Though this all fits our discussion very well, darkly is just a translation (good enough as it is) for the phrase en ainigmati, meaning in a riddle or puzzle, by an enigma. A riddle is a short and particularly difficult metaphor or sketchy description, and it is often very difficult to understand the symbolism; so it is with life. And if we fail to know the symbolism or significance of things (Plato would say, if we see the shadows without the forms), we become modern literary critics and life becomes a riddle with no answer. "Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,/ That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,/ And then is heard no more; it is a tale/ Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing" (Mac .5.5.24-28). But though we understand in part, what’s left still to pick apart is overwhelming.

Faith is, along with charity, one of the two words on our list not native to our tongue. The actual substance comes from hearing the word of God, but the term comes from Old French feid or feit, from Latin fides. This is a cognate to the word it’s a translation of, namely pistiV. The common root *bheidh- had a basic meaning of "trust, confide, persuade" (Watkins). Through Latin, this gives us words such as confide and defiance; through our own Germanic, the words (a)bide ("to wait trustingly, expect, trust" Watkins) and bind (Wharton; the Sanskrit is the same: bandh; in both cases it’s a small leap from "persuade" to "bind"). The Greek verb is peiqw, meaning to persuade, though the sense of binding is present, as in the Latin foedus "treaty" (>federation), in peisma "cable" and penqeroV "father-in-law." In Old Irish, it shows itself as band "law" (Wharton).

But the importance of the word is how it was actually used. The noun was (and is still) used not only to denote "trust...trustworthiness, honesty...[commercial] credit", but also "II. that which gives confidence: hence, 1. assurance, pledge of good faith, guarantee... pisti te labein (or katalabein) kai orkioisi tina bind by assurances and oaths, Hdt.... 2. means of persuasian, argument, proof...in Arist., opp. a demonstrative proof (apodeixiV)..." (Liddell). I believe the most important of these to the present discussion is that of an assurance or guarantee: We do not see clearly and cannot know truth, or how things really are, by ourselves. Thus, we cannot be expected to be true, or to act as God would have us do, unless he provides us some kind of assurance.

The Greek word is elpiV, with the verb elpizw from earlier elpomai, related to the old verb eldomai "to wish" and Homeric eeldwr "a wish", and, like the Lithuanian word for "hope", a cognate to the Latin velle and English will (Buck). Buck also points out that "‘Hope’ is a ‘wishful expectation’, and in the majority of words ‘hope’ comes from, or at least through the medium of, either ‘expectation ’ or ‘wish’." The root brings that sense of expectation into Greek as well: Liddell and Scott define the verb as "hope for, or rather (in earlier writers) look for, expect...of evils, look for, fear...deem, suppose that [such is actually the case]."

Thus, hope is a wish for something realistic: as Webster puts it, "A desire of some good, accompanied with at least a slight expectation of obtaining it, or a belief that it is obtainable." The Greeks themselves, when pressed to give a definition of the word, do the same: "elpida (h) ous. prosdokia, anamonh kapoiou kalou·· o,ti elpizei kaneiV h ekeino sto opoio sthrizei thn elpida tou·· jr. par elpida, anelpista^" (Mandala). Anyone can desire any good thing, but without an assurance that it is a true thing—in this case, that it is obtainable—one cannot hope for it.

The Greek word is agaph and means "love"; there’s no distinction between "love" and "charity", but there are different kinds of love—physical, social, and this, ideally the highest form (as we would say, the pure love of Christ). The Greeks themselves describe it (it’s hard to define, or limit, it) this way: "baqia yucikh sumpaJeia, storgh·· yucikoV desmoV, jilia·· zwhro endiajeron..." (Mandala). Liddell and Scott find examples of its use as "the love of husband and wife... love of God for man and of man for God... alms, charity." The first and third go with the second: One cannot love God without loving one’s wife or husband, nor without imparting unto the poor .

The word has no known cognates in other languages, but is related to the word aganoV "gentle", from a common root that manifests itself in such forms as agan "much" (and so agaph is related to megaV), agallw "glorify", and agamai "be surprised, amazed" (Wharton). It is tempting to speak here of "the glory of love", and perhaps that’s not entirely inappropriate ; but I think the more general idea is that of surprise or wonder, whence come both the feeling to glorify and the feeling to love.

And will that not cause us to wonder? If we let it, yes—Brigham Young said he could hardly contain himself when he thought of it. And what comes of this wonder? Along with a will to glorify the Maker, there comes this gentleness and this will to love—charity, agaph. And as we follow this inclination, our love waxes, and we get that rare and wonderful feeling (which in a previous paper I said one gets studying Greek in Greece) of being, at once, both motivated and content.

Buck, Carl Darling. A Dictionary of Selected Synonyms in the Principle Indo- European Languages. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1949.

Johnson, Samuel. A Dictionary of the English Language. 1755. New York: AMS Press, Inc., 1967.

Liddell, Henry George and Robert Scott. A Greek-English Lexicon. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989.

Luther, Martin. Biblia: Das ist: Die gantze Heilige Schrifft / Deudsch / Auffs new zugericht. 1545. Nachwort Wilhelm Hoffmann. Stuttgart:

Würtembergische Bibelanstalt, 1967.

Mandala, Maria, suntaktria. TegopouloV-FutrakhV Mikro Ellhniko Lexiko. AJhna: EkdwseiV Armonia A.E., 1995.