More books have been posted February 27, so take a look!
In my chapter from the DGGNT on connectives, I talk about how each conjunction brings to bear a specific constraint to the context in which it appears. Conjunctions do not so much have a meaning as they do a function (Rick Brannan found a great quote from Funk to this effect, posted here). They signal to the reader to relate the two elements to one another in a particular way, be they words, phrases, clauses, or paragraphs, etc. The picture of the fences illustrates what I am talking about. Between each of the corrals, there is a lane within which to move the horses from one place to another. It constrains their movement. The space is not so narrow as a path, nor is it boundless like a field or meadow. There are boundaries limiting the range of movement.
The same idea of boundaries and limits applies to the “meaning” of conjunctions, and how they constrain it. There are specific boundaries in the meaning of one connective over against another, constraining the reader in the range of ways they might relate the connected elements. Blakemore states, “English but encodes a single constraint linked to the cognitive effect of contradiction and elimination, and the way in which a hearer will interpret an utterance in accordance with this constraint depends on the linguistic environment in which but occurs.”1 In other words, but has one basic function, yet can have what we traditionally refer to as different “senses” based on the specific context.
Going back to the fence analogy, all of the senses should fall within the “lane of meaning” for the connective. If not, you have left the reservation and are out of bounds. IMO, the key to understanding connectives is understanding the core constraint that they bring to bear, and not to settle for less. To be sure, there are some classical connectives that are beyond mysterious to me when it comes to their meaning, which may explain why so many have dropped out by the Koine period (It would be great to have someone comment on this that has more background in the Classical literature). Determination of a more specific meaning of the general constraint is determined by contextual factors, e.g.
- Does but fall between positive and negative propositions?
- If so, what order are they in, neg-pos or pos-neg?
I take the time in the grammar to demonstrate that the traditional “senses” assigned to the connectives can indeed be reconciled by a single cognitive constraint that they signal to the reader (see chapter 2 here). The problem is that senses often have more to do with how something is translated into English than they do with describing the core meaning or function of the Greek word. It is not just Greek that has unique constraints for each connective, English does as well. When you try to map the constraint unique to the Greek word to the unique one of an English counterpart, you will often find mismatches. I demonstrate this several times in chapter 2. This is exemplified in the cross-listing of καί and δέ with and and but as glosses. Καί does not have an “and” sense and a “but” sense, it simply relates two comparable elements without making any comment about semantic continuity or discontinuity. This constraint is not present in Greek, but we expect it to be since this is how it works in English. English is different, having two connectives to accomplish this, one to signal semantic continuity “and” and one to signal semantic discontinuity “but”. This is why we have the mismatch: Greek is not English.
Senses can provide a useful framework of discussion for exegesis, but the can also cloud the underlying issue: determining the core meaning or function of the Greek word, regardless of how we might translate it into English or German.
- Diane Blakemore, Relevance and Linguistic Meaning (Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 113. [↩]
I have been trying to read my way into the Synoptic debate, learning that there is a lot to learn. One of the things I have been surprised by is how woodenly various principles are implemented concerning things like which saying or story is the older, more original version.
I remember well when first learning about textual criticism that there are a series of mutually conflicting principles which are brought to bear in deciding which reading is preferred. These include:
- the shorter reading
- the harder reading
- the earlier reading
- the most geographically distributed reading
- the reading attested by the greatest number of text types
- the less harmonious reading with parallel texts
If all of these factors are all in agreement, there is probably no question about what is original. The more contested textual variants will have evidence both in favor and against the reading. The text critic needs to weigh the evidence of each one both individually and then collectively before making a judgment. They do not hold these as rules, but as principles to be weighed.
In the synoptic discussions the principles regarding what is most primitive seem to be much more rigidly employed. I am surprised that claims by authorities are accepted uncritically, without much evaluation of the arguments for or against. Perhaps this is just due to my awareness of discourse factors that might have contributed evidence toward a different conclusion. I find myself questioning many such claims because I would have argued the opposite.
I am writing a paper following up from a previous topic I studied where principles are also employed more as rules, without much sensitivity to mitigating factors. It ain’t good. It is critical to remember the important distinction between principles and rules, no matter how often the former holds true. Losing sight of this can get you off the straight and narrow quite quickly in a number of different fields.
Remember the caution from Howard Hendricks: “Rules are many, principles are few, rules will change, principles never do.” Now that is a principle worth living by, especially in grammar!
The following is from a post I made earlier this week to the Synoptic list on Yahoo. It was in response to a post that cited several examples of what are called aphorisms or pithy sayings, claiming that the versions in Matthew are more primitive than found in Mark, meaning that Mark adapted from Matthew rather than vice-versa. The focus here is on which is the more “primitive” and this earlier version.
Presuppositions affect everyone in this debate, and most theories seem to be a collection of interdependent assumptions. I can’t help but wonder if claims of primitivity in passages like Mk 9:50//Mt 5:13 were partly a means of accounting for data that could not be reconciled with the scholar’s model. To begin with, Mark has the saying as part of the temptation about sinning, casting off the thing that causes one to sin. In the present context, losing one’s saltiness seems to be associated with the effects of sin, not in the sense of losing one’s testimony as in Mt following the Beatitudes.
Mark 9:49 Πᾶς γὰρ πυρὶ ἁλισθήσεται.
Mark 9:50 καλὸν τὸ ἅλας· ἐὰν δὲ τὸ ἅλας ἄναλον γένηται, ἐν τίνι αὐτὸ ἀρτύσετε; ἔχετε ἐν ἑαυτοῖς ἅλα καὶ εἰρηνεύετε ἐν ἀλλήλοις.
What I find more striking is that Mark leaves the reading without an answer to the rhetorical question, to puzzle it out on their own. I cannot imagine him removing the answer found in Mt and Lk; thus I would (subjectively, yes I grant you) construe Mk’s version as the more primitive.
Both Matthew and Luke provide answers to the rhetorical question, but each places the saying in a different context.
Matthew 5:12 χαίρετε καὶ ἀγαλλιᾶσθε, ὅτι ὁ μισθὸς ὑμῶν πολὺς ἐν τοῖς οὐρανοῖς· οὕτως γὰρ ἐδίωξαν τοὺς προφήτας τοὺς πρὸ ὑμῶν.
Matthew 5:13 Ὑμεῖς ἐστε τὸ ἅλας τῆς γῆς· ἐὰν δὲ τὸ ἅλας μωρανθῇ, ἐν τίνι ἁλισθήσεται; εἰς οὐδὲν ἰσχύει ἔτι εἰ μὴ βληθὲν ἔξω καταπατεῖσθαι ὑπὸ τῶν ἀνθρώπων.
With Matthew placing the saying (whatever its origin) after the Beatitudes, it has the effect of commenting on the possible effects of not following through on the challenges laid out in the preceding context, i.e.:
- What happens if you DON’T persevere when persecuted for righteousness?
- What happens if you GET EVEN instead of rejoicing when you are insulted and persecuted?
The implication seems to be that if they are salt and do not react as challenged above, they have lost their saltiness. Mt’s version rhetorically overstates the uselessness of the salt (“good for nothing”). It really is good for something, and introducing that “something” in the εἰ μὴ clause has the effect of drawing more attention to what it is good for than simply coming out and saying it (see Luke’s version). This is a pretty typical rhetorical device that adds prominence to the excepted element/proposition. In this case, it emphasizes the same point about worthlessness rather than introducing a positive alternative.
Knowing that there is nothing that can be done to renew the saltiness would be a chilling encouragement to think before reacting in an unbecoming manner. It seems reasonable to (subjectively) conjecture that Mt added the answer, if nothing else for better balance with the “light of the world” saying.
In Lk’s version the saying is final point about counting the cost of discipleship. In the context, the analogy to salt would seem connected to the closing statement of v. 33 about renouncing one’s possessions, perhaps the consequence of not renouncing them and nonetheless trying to be a disciple.
Luke 14:34 Καλὸν οὖν τὸ ἅλας· ἐὰν δὲ καὶ τὸ ἅλας μωρανθῇ, ἐν τίνι ἀρτυθήσεται;
Luke 14:35 οὔτε εἰς γῆν οὔτε εἰς κοπρίαν εὔθετόν ἐστιν, ἔξω βάλλουσιν αὐτό. ὁ ἔχων ὦτα ἀκούειν ἀκουέτω.
Instead of using the rhetorical “It is good for nothing except…”, Luke simply cites specific negative examples: “It is good for neither X nor Y.” There is no αλλα to introduce ἔξω βάλλουσιν αὐτό, but simple asyndeton. Lk’s version flattens out most of the rhetorical punch found in Mt, not unlike is done in other contexts to Mk’s reading. As with Mt, it seems more reasonable to see Luke adding/adapting the answer to the rhetorical question than to see Mk deleting it.
Presuppositions seems to drive much of the discussion about such matters. Taking a step back and reanalyzing discrepancies from scratch in the traditions could prove to be a useful way forward. I think determining primitivity is a lot more complicated than it sounds. I remain dubious about making such claims at this point, notwithstanding my respect for Davies and Allison.
For those of you interested in learning more about the approach and exegetical methodology I have been using here on the blog, you may be interested to know that I will be offering a one week discourse workshop this summer in mid June in Bellingham, WA. Attendees would attend the workshop in the morning, then apply what was learned to a corpus of their choosing (about 200 verses), then meet back in the late afternoon for Q&A and debriefing about what was gleaned. I have participated in and facilitated such a workshop and found it very effective. If you are considering adopting the Discourse Grammar of the Greek New Testament as a textbook, this would be a great chance to get up to speed for the Fall. The Logos version should be released in the next few weeks, and a print version is underway, likely in time for the Fall. Details on all of this later, but thought you might want to know for planning purposes.
My last post on deictics and verbs of motion stemmed from running into a synoptic difference regarding the call of the first disciples. Typically ἐρχομαι refers to movement toward some deitic reference, in contract to πορευομαι being used for reference away from the center. Carl Conrad posted an important comment about the impact compounding verbs can have on their overall meaning. One such compound that I have wondered about is ἀπερχομαι. In perusing the lexica, BDAG and LSJ both list “go away, depart (from)” as the top glosses, making me wonder if the prefixing of the preposition in this case has essentially changed the deictics for this verb of motion. The translation information for the GNT (based on the ESV reverse-interlinear data) supports the change to motion away, as does the LXX-BHS alignment. The verbs used to render it in the vast majority of cases indicates motion away rather than toward the deictic center, opposite of the core semantic meaning of ἐρχομαι. I am hesitant to say that the deictics have changed based only on the glosses, as that may simply highlight the mismatch in usage between the languages. Looking at the usage in Matthew versus Luke, there is a measure of consistency. Mark uses ἐξερχομαι in similar contexts (e.g. Mk 2:12), but it is often rendered differently in the parallel versions (Mt 9:7 and Luke 5:25 use ἀπερχομαι).
I feel fairly sure about the change of deictics with ἀπερχομαι compared to simple ἐρχομαι. I am hesitant to claim a similar change regarding ἐξερχομαι, especially based on the frequent change of Mark’s usage in the gospel parallels. For instance, Matthew 8:32 uses these verbs in opposition in some contrast to the synoptic parallels.
Matthew 8:32 καὶ εἶπεν αὐτοῖς· ὑπάγετε. οἱ δὲ ἐξελθόντες ἀπῆλθον εἰς τοὺς χοίρους· καὶ ἰδοὺ ὥρμησεν πᾶσα ἡ ἀγέλη κατὰ τοῦ κρημνοῦ εἰς τὴν θάλασσαν καὶ ἀπέθανον ἐν τοῖς ὕδασιν.
Mark 5:13 καὶ ἐπέτρεψεν αὐτοῖς. καὶ ἐξελθόντα τὰ πνεύματα τὰ ἀκάθαρτα εἰσῆλθον εἰς τοὺς χοίρους, καὶ ὥρμησεν ἡ ἀγέλη κατὰ τοῦ κρημνοῦ εἰς τὴν θάλασσαν, ὡς δισχίλιοι, καὶ ἐπνίγοντο ἐν τῇ θαλάσσῃ.
Luke 8:33 ἐξελθόντα δὲ τὰ δαιμόνια ἀπὸ τοῦ ἀνθρώπου εἰσῆλθον εἰς τοὺς χοίρους, καὶ ὥρμησεν ἡ ἀγέλη κατὰ τοῦ κρημνοῦ εἰς τὴν λίμνην καὶ ἀπεπνίγη.
I would rather understand Matthew maintaining the deictic center with Jesus and having the pigs “go/depart” to the pigs than to posit a different sense. Based on the salience of the pigs, it is understandable to have the deictic center shift in Mark and Luke to where the demons are headed. Levinsohn notes that Luke regularly shifts the center to the next place where salient action occurs. In any case, ἐξερχομαι seems to be used for motion toward rather than motion from, notwithstanding Mark’s use to the contrary. I would appreciate hearing your thoughts on the matter.
My main interest in digging into the deictics was the practical payoff for exegesis, not just the translation issue. If the writer chooses to describe the motion as moving away versus coming toward, what difference does it make? Consider that calling of the first disciples. After Jesus calls Simon and Andrew, they ditch their stuff and their dad and follow Jesus. Matthew and Mark differ in the verbs of motion used. Instead of claiming a different “sense” of the verb, it seems prudent to examine the effect of using a different deictic center. Take a look.
Matthew 4:22 οἱ δὲ εὐθέως ἀφέντες τὸ πλοῖον καὶ τὸν πατέρα αὐτῶν ἠκολούθησαν αὐτῷ.
Mark 1:20 καὶ εὐθὺς ἐκάλεσεν αὐτούς. καὶ ἀφέντες τὸν πατέρα αὐτῶν Ζεβεδαῖον ἐν τῷ πλοίῳ μετὰ τῶν μισθωτῶν ἀπῆλθον ὀπίσω αὐτοῦ.
Matthew’s use of “follow” places the deictic center with Jesus, the person or thing that is being followed. From a cinematic standpoint, this scene would be shot as though the camera were leaving with Jesus and the disciples, perhaps looking back on Zebedee standing on the shore.
Mark’s protrayal provides a different scene. Based on the deictics of ἀπέρχομαι, the deictic center is most likely Zebedee and the place they depart from. Cinematically, this infers shooting the scene from Zebedee’s standpoint, watching Jesus and his boys walk off in the distance.
This latter strategy is employed in the Hebrew of Gen 22:6, 8, each time “the two of them went on together.” The deictics portray things such that the camera is watching Abraham and Isaac walk away (הלכ). This stands in contrast to them “arriving” at the place that God told them in 22:9 using בוא. There really is a rhyme and reason to this usage, it just takes a frame of reference for making sense of it.
Next time you hit a verb of motion in your Greek reading (which will probably not be too long, based on their frequency), slow down and think about the deictics. Where/who is the center, how would it be shot with a camera, from what vantage point?
Every once in a while I get a chuckle over the search strings that end up finding my blog. It has been a while since I posted any of these, and being Friday and all, I thought it would be appropriate. They are ranked in order, though I have only included the fun ones. Here you are:
- discourse grammar of the greek new testa: Yes, I know interest is growing in this. I am happy to report that the final version went into the production process yesterday, though I have no clue when it shall come forth.
- foregrounding in hallidayan theory: I recall saying a thing or two about Halliday here, but I am surprised at how much traffic it has generated for not being a Hallidayan.
- criticism of systemic functional linguis: See above.
- bad grammar examples: I would refer you to the gospel of Mark, isn’t that how the saying goes?
- what doesw a force mean: A “force” is something that can take over your country or ruin your day if you hit one coming in the opposite direction. It has to do either with physics or Dan Wallace.
- nt discourse runge: This is a new pseudonym I have been toying with, N.T “Discourse” Runge, or N.T. Runge for short. I want to ride on the band wagon of the good bishop.
- nt near second: I think this is in reference to my pseudonym above and the good bishop, but maybe not.
- exercise+markedness: Yes, of course. If you have markedness, it is important to exercise it. Otherwise your default will develop a marked slump. Not what you want heading into the summer.
- what is different to be semantic verses: Good question! Semantic verses are ones that mean something coherent, unlike this string. Weird stuff.
- main ideas for taking things for granted: Oh, I’d start with apathy, then move on to disregard for the well-being of those around me…
- forest quotative: Like Forest Gump, but different. How in the world…?
- heretical trinitarian analogies: Something to look for when things are slow on a Friday night.
- what does forced mean in writing: It means that some unfeeling professor has included some outrageous assignment, minimum 20 pages in length, without allowing the use of Wikipedia for a source. The audacity!
- comparing mark matthew luke john john th: Clearly the searcher believes in Markan priority, and views 2 John to be some kind of narrative.
- environment force-mean: Well, things like earthquakes, hurricanes, and tornadoes come to mind. However, I do acknowledge that such forces are impersonal, notwithstanding the predilection writers have to personify them.
Good morning, boys and girls! Last night’s reading came from the books of Matthew and Mark, pericope 34, the calling of the disciples. Verbs of motion can be troublesome to translate, as it can seem as though the primary verbs of motion translated as “come” and “go” are used interchangably. The Greeks seem like they lacked the common decency to make sense like we do in English, right? Hmm.
If you look at the glosses for ἔρχομαι in BDAG, you will find two main headings: come and go. How can ἔρχομαι mean both? Well, it doesn’t, it just seems like it does. What has been missing is a theoretical framework to understand and describe the directionality expressed by these verbs. It is just a matter of deictics (sorry Carl, that’s what they call it).
Deictics describes the directional aspects of language like verbs of motion, demonstratives (this and that) or other kinds of modifiers. If we look at the demonstratives, this is used for things that are typically near(er) and thematically central, whereas that is used for the further of two things, or what is athematic. I did some posts on this issue which begin here. There are a bunch of others also. Let’s not forget temporal deixis, that which Rod Decker wrote a thing or two about.
One important concept to understand is the “deictic center”, ie determining the central point on which the deictic reference is based. In most cases, it is the speaker by default. So if my wife is holding up two sweaters and asks, “Which do you like better honey, this one or that one?” she would be the center.1
Now2 it’s time to apply deictics to verbs of motion. In English (as in Greek) there is quite a bit of flexibility as to where the deictic center may be placed, linguistically. It may be the speaker, the addressee, or some other point of reference where neither speaker or addressee are involved (i.e. third-person narrative). Here is an example lifted from an article by Stephen Levinsohn:
Thus, an English speaker can take the location of the addressee as the point of reference and say, ‘I’m just coming [to where you are]’. Spanish speakers, in contrast, take their own location as the point of reference, so say, ‘I’m just going [from where I am]’. Greek is like English, rather than Spanish, in that the location of either the reported speaker or the addressee can be taken as the point of reference (sec. 2.1).
The key point here is to recognize that the orientation of the deictics is RELATIVE to the deictic center. The reference of this and that could change if the center is moved. Ready for an example out of the gospels? A great example of the deictic distinction between the primary verbs of motion is found in the centurion’s speech in Luke 7:8:
Luke 7:8 καὶ γὰρ ἐγὼ ἄνθρωπός εἰμι ὑπὸ ἐξουσίαν τασσόμενος ἔχων ὑπʼ ἐμαυτὸν στρατιώτας, καὶ λέγω τούτῳ· πορεύθητι, καὶ πορεύεται, καὶ ἄλλῳ· ἔρχου, καὶ ἔρχεται, καὶ τῷ δούλῳ μου· ποίησον τοῦτο, καὶ ποιεῖ.
He uses these verbs ostensibly based on their contrast in meaning. I will continue this in another post later. In the mean time, I would encourage you to read Levinsohn’s paper. His work has saved me decades of boxing the air, you would do well to read it closely.
Isn’t language groovey?
- If she actually used an opposition instead of saying “this one or this one,” you can apply your linguistic prowess to infer that “this one” is the right answer. If there is no this/that opposition, I would suggest responding “Tell me what you think about them”. [↩]
- + development, for those of you in Glasgow [↩]
I took my Aland synopsis to bed with me last night and boyhowdy, was it ever hard to put it down! Just time for one gem from the original for today. I have been reading through introductions to the Synoptic problem, and been surprised at how quickly the appeal to Q or some other source quickly derails consideration to why the particular wording was chosen over against Mark. My initial impression is that much of what is attributed to Q could just as easily be understood as adaptation by the gospel writer. Take a look at this instance for example.
Mark 1:7 Καὶ ἐκήρυσσεν λέγων· * ἔρχεται ὁ ἰσχυρότερός μου ὀπίσω μου, οὗ οὐκ εἰμὶ ἱκανὸς κύψας λῦσαι τὸν ἱμάντα τῶν ὑποδημάτων αὐτοῦ.
Mark’s version focuses on “the one more powerful than me” as the one who is coming, whom he is not worthy to untie the thongs of his sandals. Here the “more powerful than” is an attribute of the subject, with the action being his arrival.
Luke’s version portrays this figure in the same way as in Mark, only changing the placement of the contrast between the “stronger one” coming and John’s ministry of baptizing with water. He also uses the relative clause to add the comment about not being worthy to untie the thongs of his sandals.
Luke 3:16 ἀπεκρίνατο λέγων πᾶσιν ὁ Ἰωάννης· * ἐγὼ μὲν ὕδατι βαπτίζω ὑμᾶς· ἔρχεται δὲ ὁ ἰσχυρότερός μου, οὗ οὐκ εἰμὶ ἱκανὸς λῦσαι τὸν ἱμάντα τῶν ὑποδημάτων αὐτοῦ· αὐτὸς ὑμᾶς βαπτίσει ἐν πνεύματι ἁγίῳ καὶ πυρί·
Matthew changes the proposition around slightly, but with dramatic effect. Like Luke he includes John’s statement about his own ministry of baptism with water, introduced with a prospective μέν. This particle signals the proverbial first shoe dropping, expecting a counterpart in the following context.
Matthew 3:11 Ἐγὼ μὲν ὑμᾶς βαπτίζω ἐν ὕδατι εἰς μετάνοιαν, ὁ δὲ ὀπίσω μου ἐρχόμενος ἰσχυρότερός μού ἐστιν, οὗ οὐκ εἰμὶ ἱκανὸς τὰ ὑποδήματα βαστάσαι· αὐτὸς ὑμᾶς βαπτίσει ἐν πνεύματι ἁγίῳ καὶ πυρί·
Note that whereas Mark and Luke identify the one coming as “one who is more powerful” than John, Matthew takes a different tack. This same entity is identified as “the one coming after me” instead of as the one who is stronger. Instead of using the strength as the identifying characteristic and ascribing the action of “coming” to them, Matthew inverts these. “The one coming” is now the identifying characteristic, and the comment about this person is that he is stronger than John.
So while we have essentially the same content being communicated: coming, being stronger, etc., there is a distinct difference in how this information is prioritized. Mark and Luke assign more prominence to the action of coming, where Matthew assigns it to what is the identifying characteristic in the other Synoptics. I had never noticed this before reading in synopsis. There are a whole gaggle of other such minor shifts in Luke 3, probably enough to devote my SBL proposal to it. But alas, I will venture forth further afield, questing for more great stuff.
Ain’t grammar awesome?
I have begun reading my way into the Synoptic debate, based on the great fun I had last year in comparing the meaningful differences between the gospels where there were double or triple traditions. But much like Rod Decker’s disappointment about the lack of grammatical discussion within Greek-based commentaries, I reached much the same conclusion about many Synoptic discussions. Interest focuses on whether a saying is present or not, and the rough percentage of overlap between the versions, ostensibly based on word count. What was especially surprising was the apparent disinterest in the narrative introduction of the saying. I plan on focusing my paper proposals in this area for the Fall conferences.
One of the passages that caught my eye was the transition from the Isa 40 quotation that John the Baptist is understood to have fulfilled to the narrative of his actual ministry. Following the quote in Mark’s version, there is a simple description of John’s activity:
ἐγένετο Ἰωάννης ὁ βαπτίζων ἐν τῇ ἐρήμῳ καὶ κηρύσσων βάπτισμα μετανοίας εἰς ἄφεσιν ἁμαρτιῶν
In Matthew’s gospel, the quote only includes Isa 40:3 as in Mark, but includes a description of his preaching about repentance. Matthew departs from Mark’s content at 3:7, where he uses the connective δέ to signal the next development in the narrative: the arrival of the Pharisees and Sadducees from Jerusalem. They are introduced in a circumstantial participial clause that establishes the state-of-affairs for the speech that follows:
Ἰδὼν δὲ πολλοὺς τῶν Φαρισαίων καὶ Σαδδουκαίων ἐρχομένους ἐπὶ τὸ βάπτισμα αὐτοῦ εἶπεν αὐτοῖς.
Most English translations render this transition as contrastive using “but”, as though the Isa 40 quote and description of John and his ministry did not include calling his followers “broods of vipers.” It was the arrival of the religious elite that drew such a comment out of the Baptist. This raises the question of what the Isaiahnic figure was expected to be like. Was he a warm fuzzy shepherd or harsh bringer of change? The circumstantial clause in v 7a casts John’s words as though they are in direct response to seeing these leaders come out from Jerusalem, not as though this was his standard message to all.
Luke’s account has three notable changes which are not heavily emphasized. In my view, they render the portrait of the Baptist into quite a different figure than in Matthew or Mark. First, the Isaiah quote is longer, including vv 4-5. Second, the connective used to join v 7ff to the quote is οὖν, not δέ. Though both connectives signal a new development, οὖν implies a stronger connection to the preceding material, typically signaling either an inference or resumption of some kind. Levinsohn views it as resumptive, signaling the return to the mainline following the long quote. In either case, the particle calls the reader to see what follows as building closely on what precedes.
The third and I think greatest difference is the audience. In Luke’s account, there is no mention of Pharisees or Sadducees. John’s message of repentance is addressed to crowds, yet he still calls them “broods of vipers”. There is no circumstantial clause that implies that something set John off, his message is cast as though it were the normal fodder one would hear if you came to hear him. If you track Luke’s portrayal of John and the sayings he includes, you see a rather consistent picture painted. He was the original “maverick.”
Although these differences only involve a handful of words, the resulting differences are quite dramatic, in my opinion. I have found a number of similar examples but have not had the time to write them up. Hopefully I can focus such ideas into a coherent paper proposal to contribute to the Synoptic discussion.
