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Fall 2004 · Vol. 33 No. 2 · pp. 158–170 

Significant Translation: Exchange as Literary-Theological Pattern in John

V. George Shillington

What concern should one have for the translation of terms found within the Gospel of John? Judging from the virtual absence of scholarly discussion of the phenomenon in the Fourth Gospel, the translation of Aramaic and Hebrew words into Greek is a nonissue. I suggest it is time to take another look.

Translation is part of the literary fabric that helps set forth a theology of change, or exchange, throughout the Fourth Gospel.


John has so many large and tantalizing topics to explore that the mere translation of terms seems inconsequential. And modern English versions of John, by sequestering the Johannine translations into parentheses, aid and abet in curbing inquiry into the function of translation in the literary design of the Gospel of John. 1 Yet, the translations (ten altogether) are part of the narrative commentary within this Gospel, and as such merit full integration into the English text of John.

Here is a sampling of modern interpretation that imputes a minimalist significance to the translation of terms in John. “The respectful title ‘Rabbi’ (literally ‘my great one’) is translated by the Evangelist for the benefit of his Greek readers.” 2 “It is the author’s habit to translate foreign words for his readers’ benefit.” 3 Translation is “John’s explanatory aside—for the sake of his Greek readers.” 4 “John is usually careful to translate his Jewish terms for the benefit of his Greek readers.” 5 “John commonly translates Hebrew and Aramaic words—and does so correctly.” 6 As far as I can find, this is the consensual view and reflects the {159} extent to which interpreters are prepared to go in ascribing significance to translation in the Gospel of John.

Comments like these beg the question, however: Why should the Evangelist bother to translate terms at all? Why not simply give the Greek equivalents unobtrusively (as the other Evangelists do), weaving the Greek forms artfully into his Greek text? I submit that the “habit to translate” is more deliberate than it is habitual, and more literary and theological than it is practical, i.e., “for the benefit of his Greek readers.” Translation, I will argue in this essay, is part of the literary fabric that helps set forth a theology of change, or exchange, throughout the Fourth Gospel. 7 The translations internal to John are not those of “foreign words” into the more universal Greek words. They are specifically the translation of Aramaic or Hebrew terms from Palestinian Judaism into the Greek language of the larger world. The challenge before us is to discover how this particular translation mode ties in with a larger agenda present in this Gospel.

Translation has to do with change of language form for purposes of cultural understanding and living. Such change, in the case of the Johannine translations, implies a cultural-religious change from a restricted Palestinian Jewish setting to a more worldwide and inclusive Greek setting. The narrator carries out the translation, exemplified below, with the expectation that the implied reader will see the literary subtlety involved. 8 Johannine translation is nothing more or less than a miniature “sign” that the Gospel of Jesus has burst its original bounds of Aramaic-speaking Judaism centered in Palestine to become a large-scale symbol system of faith for the world that God loves (3:16).


Mention of “sign” calls for comment on the term. It is well recognized by now that this word “sign” (Gk. semeion) in John tags the inner sense of the word-and-act of Jesus in bringing the good news to bear to the human situation in which Jesus lived. The “signs” in John are not simply pointing to Reality beyond themselves, but are themselves part of that Reality to which they point. Usually the miracles (= extraordinary word-acts) are viewed as “the signs” in the Fourth Gospel. But, while that is so, it is also evident that the Gospel is a masterful tapestry of smaller and larger signs of the coming into the world of the kingdom of God in Jesus.

The narrative details in John should not be treated as ancillary items of little consequence. They “signify,” in subtle literary texture, something of the substance of the good news that comes from knowing Jesus {160} through believing. 9 It matters theologically that the woman of Samaria had five husbands, and not four: Samaritans have their five scrolls of Moses. Similarly, it matters that the pool in Jerusalem where the paralytic man lay had five porticoes: the Judeans have their five scrolls of Moses. What difference if the wedding at Cana happened “on the third day” or the second? Quite a difference! “On the third day” is part of an early Christian confession of faith that the reader of John would recognize (see 1 Cor. 15:3-5).

Narrative commentary in John, however small or large, contributes to the overarching patterns of thought that give the Fourth Gospel its distinctive literary and theological character. Readers, familiar with the symbolic world of John, could hardly miss the integral place of narrative detail to the literary-theological design of this Gospel: from the water of life in the tears in Jesus’ eyes (11:35; cf. 19:34) to the missionary movement of the gospel of Jesus into the Gentile world in the translation of Aramaic and Hebrew words.


There are ten translated terms in all in the Fourth Gospel, a cluster of three in the testimony of chapter one, and the rest scattered throughout the Gospel. Here I will simply cite all of the narrated translations, with brief comment, and return to the cluster in the testimony of chapter one for fuller discussion. 10

1:38: When Jesus turned and saw [the two disciples of John the Baptist] following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?”

“Rabbi” was a title of honor bestowed on an important Jewish leader in the community, especially after the destruction of the temple of Jerusalem during the formation of Rabbinic Judaism. The narrator interprets the term to mean Greek didaskalos, a Teacher of Wisdom.

1:41: [Andrew] first found his brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated Anointed).

Only in John do we find the Aramaic title “Messiah.” 11 The word denotes smearing a person with oil to affirm their right to perform a special religious/political function within the community of {161} Israel/Judaism. The Greek term that corresponds with this idea is christos, which is usually transliterated in English as “Christ.” Here the NRSV translators decided rather to render the Greek term with the English “Anointed.”

1:42: [Andrew] brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas” (which is translated Peter).

“Cephas” derives from an Aramaic word meaning “rock.” The Greek equivalent is petros, which is generally transliterated into English as “Peter.”

4:25: The woman [of Samaria] said to [Jesus], “I know that Messiah is coming” (who is called Christ).

Here we find the second citation of the Aramaic title “Messiah,” which the narrator again translates as before with christos. Oddly enough, this time the NRSV renders it “Christ” rather than “Anointed.”

9:7: [Jesus] spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent).

The Greek term used to translate the name of the pool is apostellō, from which we have the title “Apostle,” one who is sent, or commissioned, as the disciples of Jesus were. The “sending” theme is prominent in this Gospel (e.g., 13:20; 14:26; 15:26; 16:7; 17:8; 20:21).

11:16 (cf. 20:24; 21:2): Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

One might think “the Twin” is a nickname, but it is a translation. The Hebrew term tē’ôm (rendered “Thomas”) means “twin,” as does the Greek didymos. Of the seven times this Hebrew name “Thomas” occurs in John, three times it is translated into the Greek equivalent (see refs. above). The translation can hardly be for the pragmatic benefit of Greek readers who do not understand the meaning of “Thomas.” Thomas is a proper name, which, as noted above, is not translated four of the seven times it appears in this Gospel. The three translations have {162} the effect of “signaling” the transposition of the original Palestinian disciples, such as Thomas, with their Hebrew names and context, into a Greek context. In the same way, the gospel of the Aramaic-speaking Jesus has moved out of its original Palestinian setting into the larger context of the Greek-speaking world. Perhaps it bears mentioning here that the disciple Thomas is mentioned only once in each of the other three Gospels, and that without translation (Matt. 10:3; Mark 3:18; Luke 6:15).

20:16. Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher).

“Rabbouni” is another Aramaic form of “Rabbi,” translated here as in 1:38, didaskalos, Teacher.


The question before us now is this: How does the concentration of translations in what is generally called “the testimony” (1:19-51) relate to what is happening overall in the texture of that particular text? We shall examine each of the three translations in turn.

The first one (1:38) appears in the context of two spheres of discipleship, each one having a recognized leader-teacher from whom the followers learn wisdom for living in the world in relation to God. The first recognized leader is John the Baptist. He is first in the sense of predating the leadership of the second, Jesus. But it is clear from the texture of the text, which includes his own confession, that the Baptist does not rank first. His interrogators are from the heartland of Palestinian Judaism: priests and Levites from Jerusalem, sent by the Pharisees (1:19, 24). The Baptist makes a three-fold negative confession, each one diminished from the former thus: “I am not the Christ”; “I am not”; “No.” However well-appointed the Baptist’s leadership might be within Palestinian Judaism, his is merely forerunner to a better one coming after him, namely that of Jesus. So it is—in the texture of the text—that the Baptist is standing with two of his disciples when Jesus walks by. He points to Jesus as “the Lamb of God” (1:36). Thereupon the disciples of John the Baptist begin to follow Jesus and address him as “Rabbi.” At that point the narrator inserts a translation of the Aramaic honorific title (1:38): “which translated means Teacher” (didaskalos).

It is time now to ponder the sense of the word “translated” in this text, which appears also in the other two texts. At 1:38 and 1:42 the verb used is hermeneuō, from which we derive our English word {163} “hermeneutics,” the study of the theory and practice of interpretation. It has to do with making sense out of that with is otherwise opaque or foreign. Hermeneuō applies particularly to making one language form meaningful by changing it into another form. The notion of change is stressed particularly in the second instance, at 1:41, where hermeneuō becomes methermeneuō, a composite of the preposition meta and the verb hermeneuō. Meta in composition signals change, or exchange, in this case the change from an Aramaic language form to the Greek form.

Now, how does this change of language form tie in with what is happening in the sphere of discipleship? It seems to me the translation corresponds to the change of discipleship from the Baptist to Jesus, from the lesser to the greater. Jesus must increase but the Baptist must decrease (3:30). So also the language of restricted Aramaic must give way to the unrestricted world-language of Greek. Jesus has become the unrestricted world Teacher (Gk. didaskalos), not merely Rabbi of Palestinian, Rabbinic Judaism.

But that does not mean that the Baptist, and the Jewish Palestinian setting he represents, are condemned thereby. On the contrary, they are acknowledged as belonging to the unfolding drama of salvation in the divine plan. But as the drama unfolds, the former gives way to the latter, the lesser to the greater, the Aramaic to the Greek.

The second translated term in the testimony, the middle one of the triad, comes at 1:41, the context of which is still that of discipleship. One of the two disciples who transfer their allegiance from John the Baptist to Jesus is “Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother” (1:40). Andrew brings his brother to Jesus. Curiously, the narrator calls Andrew’s brother “Simon Peter,” even though Jesus has not yet given Simon his new name “Peter” (1:42). The reader within the Johannine community, however, like the reader of this essay, knows ahead of literary schedule the new identity of this Simon, brother of Andrew.

In any case, Andrew “found his brother Simon and said to him, ‘We have found the Messiah’ ” (1:41). 12 The “Messiah” figure in Judaism has its roots particularly in the Davidic monarchy. Samuel “anointed” David God’s king of Israel (1 Sam. 10:1; cf. 2:10, 35; 12:3, 5). David would be God’s vice-regent on earth, one empowered to deliver Israel from its enemies, and one endowed with the resources to provide a good life for the people of God. Such a messianic king was not in place in Judaism at the time of Jesus, and even less so at the time of writing this Gospel. Nor is Jesus in the Gospel of John that kind of Messiah. Yet Andrew calls him “Messiah” in his testimony to his brother, Simon.

Immediately the narrator slips in the translation of “Messiah,” not {164} merely to inform his readers of the meaning of the term in Greek (christos). He has used the Greek term already in chapter one, assuming his readers to be familiar with the Jewish background and current sense of the term in Greek (1:17; 1:20; 1:25). Yet the narrator makes a point of translating this loaded Aramaic title from its home language into the world language of his readers. And with that translation comes also the implication that the meaning of the title has changed. No longer is “Messiah” a Davidic deliverer and political provider for Israel. 13 The Johannine “Messiah” is translated out of the original messianic context of Palestinian Judaism into the “Christ” for the world he came to deliver from sin. John the Baptist’s testimony to the people, upon seeing Jesus coming to him, is a messianic one: “Here is the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” (1:29). 14

Similarly, the woman of Samaria knows from her particular Israelite tradition that “Messiah” is coming. Again, the title in that Samaritan context is translated into Greek (4:25), and later the woman uses the Greek term in her testimony to her fellow Samaritans (4:29). In the end, when the Samaritans come out to see Jesus for themselves, they make their own magnanimous confession: “this is truly the Savior of the world” (4:42). Moreover, “Messiah,” whether of Judaism or Samaritanism, has changed from its original restricted sense to the larger “world” scale. And the translated title from Aramaic to Greek gives a linguistic nod to the change. Once again, the change from the former to the latter is not a judgment on the earlier idea of “Messiah,” but a recognition of the emergence of a new understanding of the way God delivers all his people in the world, whether in Judaism or in the other nations of the world. (More on the exchange of messianic titles shortly, in an examination of Nathanael’s testimony below).


The third translated term in the testimony is “Cephas,” translated petros (“Peter,” 1:42). Jesus gives the Aramaic name to “Simon son {165} of John,” Andrew’s brother. The Apostle Paul, aware of the Aramaic origin of Simon’s given name, uses the Aramaic name eight times in two of his letters, 1 Corinthians and Galatians, but without translation. However, in Galatians he uses the Aramaic Cephas and the Greek Petros interchangeably, not to signal change so much as vacillation of this original disciple between Palestinian Jewish requirements (Aramaic Cephas) for inclusion of Gentiles and the more open Pauline practice (Greek Petros; Gal. 1:18; 2:9, 11, 14).

Back to the setting in John 1:42, Jesus looked at this “Simon son of John,” and thereupon called him “Cephas,” an Aramaic word meaning “rock.” It is not clear what Jesus in John might have seen in Simon to prompt the new name. Nor is it clear in John whether “rock” is a positive or negative designation. On the positive side, it could mean solid, dependable, always there. But in John this Simon does not measure up to that description. Unlike the Beloved Disciple in the Fourth Gospel, Simon Cephas denies Jesus at a time when Jesus needed support from his followers. On the negative side, “rock” could mean hard, cold, heartless, uncaring. In John it is simply not explicit what the name “Cephas” (rock) implies about the character of the man thus named.

This much is explicit, however: Cephas is translated Petros (“Peter”). The two terms mean precisely the same thing. But the narrator is quick to translate the Aramaic name into Greek. The point, surely, is not to help his readers understand. He could simply have used Petros (rock) and his readers would be on track immediately. But he translates. I suggest the point is in the translation itself. Here again, this original Aramaic-speaking disciple, with such an established reputation in the church at the time of the writing of this Gospel, 15 is pictured as one whose given name has become part of the larger world community of faith represented by the Greek language.

Before leaving the translations in the “testimony” of chapter 1, brief attention should be given to the testimony of Nathanael. A disciple called Philip (a Greek name) from the city of Andrew and Peter, found Nathanael (an Hebraic name = “gift of God”). Philip’s announcement to Nathanael has strong messianic overtones: “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth” (1:45). Nathanael finds it hard to believe that Nazareth of Galilee could produce such a messianic figure. Then he meets Jesus who has the power to peer into his guileless Israelite life when he was sitting under the fig tree (1:48, 50). Nathanael believes and confesses. His confession is particularly poignant with respect to the subject of change: “ ‘Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!’ ” (1:49).

What is unusual in this confession is not the Aramaic honorific title “Rabbi.” One might expect that in the mouth of a true Israelite. It is unusual rather to find this two-fold confession of messiahship. “King of Israel” represents the Israelite, Palestinian Jewish notion distinctly, whereas “Son of God” is the more inclusive title, fitting well into the larger Greek world of thought together with the Israelite (cf. Isa. 9:6; Pss. 45:6; 89:26-27; 2 Sam. 7:4). The two stand together, not in tension {166} with each other, but in agreement: “King of Israel” is also “Son of God” for the world, including Israel.


Signaled in the texture of the translated terms is a more pervasive phenomenon within the literary-theological fabric of John. A full exploration of this element of change or exchange would take more space than this essay allows. Citation of some examples must suffice.

The first appears at the end of the Prologue in 1:16-17. At verse 16 we find the puzzling phrase, “grace upon grace” (charis anti charitos). The sense in the preposition anti (“upon”) is that one “grace” is replaced by another “grace” (not that believers receive more and more grace in life). Verse 17 explains, “The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.” The Fourth Gospel does not juxtapose “law” and “grace,” nor is this juxtaposition, but an explanation. The law was a gracious gift of God, but that grace has been exchanged for the greater grace having come in Jesus Christ.

When Jesus changed water to wine, it was not merely water from any source (2:6-11). It was water from six water pots used for Jewish purification rituals. That water in particular becomes new wine, better wine, the kind used in the community of the Beloved Disciple to celebrate the Lord’s Supper. 16 The water rituals of Palestinian Jewish religion have been exchanged for the wine that Jesus makes possible for his people at their wedding banquet.

Nicodemus of Israel must be born anew, of water and Spirit (3:3-10). This teacher of Israel must come to understand that the kingdom of God requires a “birth” beyond the natural birth (“flesh,” 3:6) into the “kingdom of Israel.” To enter the kingdom of God calls for an exchange of vision and life: an exchange of the lesser for the greater by the Spirit of God. 17

The Samaritan woman, drawing water from Jacob’s Well, finds new “living water” in Jesus Messiah (4:7-15). She has to leave her Samaritan water jars in exchange for a relationship with the greater water of life that Jesus gives.

The paralytic man beside the Hebrew healing pool, Bethzatha, finds a more powerful healing water in Jesus (5:2-9). Jesus does not put the man into the Hebrew pool with its five porticoes, but gives him new life in exchange for putting him into the water “when the water is stirred up.”

The pattern continues throughout the Book of Signs (chapters 2-12), traceable also in the Book of the Passion (13-20). But the climax {167} comes, I think, when Jesus speaks from the cross. His earthly life is “finished,” as is his work of salvation. The time has come for a transfer of relationship:

When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home. (19:26-27)

The significance of this exchange is far-reaching. The anonymous disciple whom Jesus loved is ideal in John, representing all that true discipleship and church should be in the name of Jesus the Christ.

In this final transfer from the cross Jesus passes his responsibility over to the Beloved Disciple. He and his kind will carry on the life-relationship in the world that Jesus had while he was in the world. From now on Jesus’ mother has a new home with her new son, a community of the Beloved Disciple of Jesus Messiah. If anyone wants to find the eternal life which Jesus offers, they will henceforth find it in that new community.


What does the foregoing exploration of change and exchange, evident in the Gospel of John, say to us in our time and place? Much in every way, I suggest.

Briefly put, the gospel of Jesus Messiah/Christ is translatable. I first heard the phrase “the translatability of the gospel” in 1988 in a series of lectures Professor Lamen Sanneh delivered at Mennonite Brethren Bible College. Material from those lectures was later published under the title, Translating the Message: The Missionary Impact on Culture. 18

The Christian gospel is translatable, not merely from one language form to another, but from one culture to another. To be translatable thus means that the way the gospel fits the new setting will be congruent with that setting, beginning with the language, of course, but including also the patterns of life governing that cultural matrix. The issue is “translatability . . . over uniformity.” 19

One might ask, for example, if the Bible is still the Word of God when it is translated out of its original languages into the many languages of the world today. The Christian answer is “yes.” Whereas Greek was the “world-language” at the time of the Fourth Gospel, it is not so today. Our world consists of many languages and cultures, and {168} the Word of God fits into all of them without partiality or privilege. Just as the Gospel moved out of its original Palestinian language and culture into the Greek world of the day, so the same gospel continues its course in translation. Nor is the Word diminished with every new translation. On the contrary, the work of the Word is extended by translation.

The same is not true of Islam, for example. If a person wants to be incorporated fully into Islam they will need to learn Arabic, the original language of Islam. The Word of Allah is communicated first and fully in that language. Any translation out of that language is secondary to the unadulterated Word of Allah. 20

The task before the church of Jesus Christ is always one of translation, of bringing the good news of Jesus to bear meaningfully in the cultural context where different peoples of the world live. Past missionary efforts, especially those of the colonial period, often failed to translate effectively. Such failure springs from two factors, I believe. The first is that faith is culturally coded and culturally embedded. To move faith out of one culture into another feels like betrayal: Western cultural faith feels “right,” and should be the norm for all people. The second is the inability to understand the cultural fabric of the target audience. Without a critical, self-appropriating understanding of the target culture, the work of translating the gospel effectively is hampered.

Mennonites know, as well as any cultural group, the cultural embeddedness of faith. The German language (whether Low or High) was once thought to be the language of Mennonite faith. 21 Mennonite food and Mennonite names were once thought to be part of the heritage of Mennonite faith. But translation happened—as indeed it must if faith in Christ Jesus is real—and Mennonites are the richer for willingness to translate.

Like the Aramaic Cephas of Palestinian Judaism, all of us in the world community of Jesus the Christ need to experience and practice the translatability of the gospel, “from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit” (2 Cor. 3:18).


  1. While translation of Aramaic exists in the other canonical Gospels, its occurrence is less frequent and its function quite different. See Matt. 1:23; 27:33; Mark 5:41; 15:34. Luke does not have any translations.
  2. F. F. Bruce, The Gospel of John: Introduction, Exposition and Notes (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1983), 56. {169}
  3. Raymond Bystrom, God Among Us: Studies in the Gospel of John (Winnipeg, MB and Hillsboro, KS: Kindred, 2003), 39.
  4. D. A. Carson, The Gospel According to John (Leicester: Inter-Varsity, 1991), 155.
  5. Barnabas Linders, The Gospel of John, New Century Bible Commentary (London: Marshall, Morgan and Scott, 1972), 113.
  6. C. K. Barrett, The Gospel According to St. John: An Introduction with Commentary and Notes on the Greek Text (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1978), 181.
  7. Commentators have noted the theme of “change” or “transformation” occurring at various points in John, such as the changing of water to wine, or the call of Nicodemus to be “born anew.” Examples include C. H. Dodd, The Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1953), 383-89, and David Rensberger, Johannine Faith and Liberating Community (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster, 1988), 37-41. Yet “change” as a major motif, textured variously in John, has not received the attention it deserves. This essay merely points the way.
  8. By “reader(s)” of the Gospel of John I mean the reader implied in the texture of the Fourth Gospel, not a historically reconstructed reader.
  9. V. George Shillington, Reading the Sacred Text: An Introduction to Biblical Studies (London: T & T Clark/Continuum, 2002), 277-80; see also Vernon K. Robbins, Exploring the Texture of Texts: A Guide to Socio-Rhetorical Interpretation (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International, 1996), 2-3.
  10. The New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) will be used throughout the essay. I have highlighted the narrative phrase of translation in the relevant texts.
  11. Sometimes an English translation, such as the NRSV, will use “Messiah” to translate the Greek christos, as in John 1:20; Rom. 9:5.
  12. Interestingly, in the Fourth Gospel (unlike Matthew, Mark and Luke) the first disciple to confess Jesus as Messiah is Andrew, not Simon. In fact, nowhere in John does Simon Peter confess Jesus as Messiah of God.
  13. In the context of John 6, where Jesus gives the crowd free bread, the people wanted to make Jesus king by force. But he is not that kind of king, implied thus in his withdrawal from them (John 6:15).
  14. So Dodd: “The horned lamb or ram is an apocalyptic figure for the divinely appointed leader of the people of God,” Interpretation, 293. {170}
  15. Probably the last decade of the first century.
  16. On the Johannine community, see Raymond E. Brown, The Community of the Beloved Disciple (New York: Paulist, 1979), 74-75; 78-79.
  17. David Rensberger, Johannine Faith and Liberating Community (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster, 1988), 37-41.
  18. Lamen Sanneh, Translating the Message: The Missionary Impact on Culture. Orbis, 1989). “Translatability became the characteristic mode of Christian expansion through history,” 214.
  19. Ibid., 215.
  20. Ibid., 212
  21. Exemplified in the monograph by Gerald C. Ediger, Crossing the Divide: Language Transition Among Canadian Mennonite Brethren, 1940-1970 (Winnipeg, MB: Centre for Mennonite Brethren Studies, 2001).
V. George Shillington is Professor Emeritus of Biblical and Theological Studies, Canadian Mennonite University, Winnipeg, Manitoba.

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