The Linguistic Landscape of 1st-Century Israel: The Primacy of Greek

In the 1st century A.D., the official language of Israel—at least in its written, administrative, and intellectual spheres—was Greek. This may surprise those who assume Aramaic, Hebrew, or even Latin held that role, but the evidence points decisively to Greek as the dominant medium of law, commerce, and literature. Local laws were drafted in Greek under Roman administration, following the Hellenistic legacy of the region. Trade, facilitated by the interconnected Mediterranean world, relied heavily on Greek as the lingua franca. Jewish authors, including Philo of Alexandria and Flavius Josephus, penned their works in Greek, not Aramaic or Hebrew. Contrary to popular belief, the notion that Aramaic was the primary written language of Israel lacks historical grounding.

This is not to deny the multilingual reality of the region. Aramaic was widely spoken, a common dialect among the Jewish populace, and Hebrew retained a sacred status in religious contexts, particularly in the reading of scripture. Jesus himself likely reflected this diversity. Most scholars now agree he was trilingual, conversant in Aramaic, Hebrew, and Greek, as evidenced by his interactions in the Gospels—such as his use of Aramaic phrases like "Talitha koum" (Mark 5:41) alongside contexts implying Greek fluency, like his exchanges with Roman officials and urban crowds (e.g., John 18:28-38). Yet spoken dialects and official written languages are distinct categories. Aramaic may have been the vernacular of the Galilean countryside, but it was not the language of record or intellectual discourse. Stanley E. Porter, a leading scholar of Koine Greek, emphasizes this distinction, arguing that while Aramaic was prevalent orally, Greek dominated as the "functional language" of administration, education, and public life in 1st-century Israel, a view supported by its widespread use in inscriptions and documents.

A modern analogy clarifies this divide. Consider the Assyrian diaspora in the United States today. At home, many speak Neo-Aramaic dialects, preserving their heritage. Yet their written communication—legal documents, business dealings, education—occurs predominantly in English, with Arabic sometimes used by older generations. Younger Assyrians often lack literacy in their ancestral tongue, despite speaking it fluently. English, after just a few decades, emerges as their primary language of expression. Now imagine the Jewish communities of Israel, immersed in Greek culture for over three centuries since Alexander the Great’s conquests in 332 B.C. Even before his arrival, Greek influence had seeped into the Levant through trade and colonization, as the geographer Strabo (ca. 64 B.C.–24 A.D.) attests in his Geographica, noting the prevalence of Greek cities and customs in the region (e.g., Geographica 16.2).

This linguistic Hellenization was no superficial overlay. The Seleucid and Ptolemaic empires, followed by Roman rule, entrenched Greek as the administrative and cultural standard. The Dead Sea Scrolls, often cited for their Aramaic and Hebrew texts, are an exception tied to a specific religious sect, not reflective of broader society. Meanwhile, inscriptions from the period—such as those on coinage, public decrees, and the Pontius Pilate stone—consistently appear in Greek alongside Latin. Literary output further underscores this: the Septuagint, a Greek translation of the Hebrew scriptures completed by the 2nd century B.C., was widely used by Jewish communities, signaling Greek’s penetration even into religious life. D. A. Carson, a noted New Testament scholar, highlights the Septuagint’s role, suggesting that its widespread acceptance among Jews implies a significant level of Greek literacy, even in Israel, challenging assumptions of Aramaic exclusivity.

Why does this matter? Because the New Testament, the foundational text of Christianity, was composed entirely in Greek. This was not a translation from Aramaic or Hebrew but a direct product of its time and place, reflecting eyewitness accounts (direct or relayed) in the region’s official language. The Gospel of Matthew, for instance, shows no credible evidence of an Aramaic original; early church fathers like Papias (ca. 60–130 A.D.) may have speculated about a Hebrew or Aramaic "sayings" collection, but modern scholarship—backed by textual analysis—rejects this as the basis for the canonical Greek text. Porter, in his work on the Greek of the New Testament, contends that the linguistic evidence points to Greek as the original medium, not a secondary rendering, a position that aligns with the text’s Koine style matching contemporary documents. Carson similarly notes that the New Testament’s Greek reflects a natural composition, not a translation, reinforcing its immediacy to the 1st-century context. Moisés Silva, another key voice in biblical scholarship, adds weight to this view, arguing that the Hellenistic influence on Jewish culture was so pervasive that Greek became the natural vehicle for the New Testament writings, reflecting both accessibility and authority in its original form.

Recognizing Greek’s primacy reshapes how we approach the New Testament. It was not a text filtered through layers of translation but one rooted in the linguistic world of 1st-century Israel. Readers must respect its Greek origin—not English, Arabic, or Aramaic—to fully grasp its historical and theological weight. This is not to diminish the role of Aramaic or Hebrew in spoken life but to affirm that Greek, after centuries of dominance, was the bridge that carried Jesus’s teachings to the written page.

© 2025 Daniel Amari, All Rights Reserved.