Ἀποστείλας δὲ Φαραω ἐκάλεσεν Μωυσῆν καὶ Ααρων καὶ εἶπεν αὐτοῖς ἡμάρτηκα τὸ νῦν ὁ Κύριος δίκαιος ἐγὼ δὲ καὶ ὁ λαός μου ἀσεβεῖς (Exodus 9:27 LXX)
Then Pharaoh sent and called Moses and Aaron and said to them, “I have sinned this time. The LORD is righteous, but I and my people are impious.”
Grammatical Insight
This single verse from Exodus 9:27 LXX captures one of the most dramatic moments in the plague narrative—the moment when Pharaoh appears to break. The Greek constructs this confession with syntactic conciseness and a burst of aorist finality. The verse begins with an aorist active participle ἀποστείλας (“having sent”), marking the action as complete and preceding the main verb ἐκάλεσεν (“he summoned”). This participle sets the temporal tone of the verse and shows initiative, as Pharaoh is the subject who reaches out in submission.
The verb ἐκάλεσεν is aorist indicative, showing the formal act of calling Moshe and Aharon. There is no delay or hesitation in the narrative—his summoning is decisive. Then comes the climactic confession: εἶπεν αὐτοῖς ἡμάρτηκα (“he said to them: ‘I have sinned’”). The perfect form used in Hebrew is rendered by the Greek aorist ἡμάρτηκα, functioning here with a present-perfect semantic force—conveying not only the fact but the completed reality of sin. It is a rhetorical intensifier, mimicking a sincere acknowledgment of guilt.
Next, we encounter a dramatic juxtaposition: ὁ Κύριος δίκαιος versus ἐγὼ δὲ καὶ ὁ λαός μου ἀσεβεῖς. The omission of any copula here (e.g., ἐστιν) is not accidental. The asyndetic construction enhances solemnity and drama. It is a syntactic confession: three clauses side-by-side without conjunctions or verbs—each functioning as declarative truth. The juxtaposition is theological, grammatical, and moral. The Greek makes Pharaoh’s repentance formally powerful, even if contextually suspect. The syntax exposes a sharp self-contrast: YHWH is righteous; we are godless. This is confession rendered in syntax.
Exploring the Verse as a Living Lesson
A student might wonder, “Is Pharaoh actually sincere here?” and we must let the grammar speak before the theology answers. The use of the aorist ἡμάρτηκα is key. Greek has multiple ways to express guilt or sin: imperfective (ongoing), perfect (present consequence), and aorist (punctiliar). Here, the aorist doesn’t just say “I sinned”—it says “I admit it, here and now, without delay.” The aorist form functions as a grammatical mirror: Pharaoh reveals himself in his own verbal construction.
Then comes the phrase τὸ νῦν, “now,” which serves not only as a temporal adverb but as a grammatical intensifier. It marks this moment as unique—a break in Pharaoh’s obstinacy. His confession is time-stamped. The syntax tells the story before we even interpret the words. When ὁ Κύριος δίκαιος is spoken, we feel the Hebrew background of YHWH’s justice entering Greek lips. The title ὁ Κύριος is used without article before “God” many times, but here it has the article, giving it emphatic weight: “The Lord is righteous.”
Now contrast that with ἐγὼ δὲ καὶ ὁ λαός μου ἀσεβεῖς. The particle δὲ marks contrast, but the lack of any verb makes the phrase feel like a pronouncement. It is the syntax of surrender. This construction—subject + particle + noun + adjective—reminds us that grammar can carry repentance. Pharaoh doesn’t just say “I am wrong”; he builds a grammatical altar to that truth. Whether sincere or not, the language structure itself becomes his confession.
Where Syntax Meets Revelation
This verse is a window into divine confrontation and human collapse. Pharaoh, the sovereign of Mitsrayim, uses grammar to surrender. The aorist ἡμάρτηκα is not mere vocabulary—it is a theological cry. The very form captures the idea of decisiveness. It is the Greek tense of finality, of judgments rendered. And here it delivers a confession. Not in poetry. Not in psalm. But in the mouth of Egypt’s king.
The phrase ὁ κύριος δίκαιος stands alone as a declarative judgment. In just three words, Pharaoh affirms divine justice. The absence of connecting verbs heightens the authority of the clause. Then, in contrast, ἐγὼ δὲ καὶ ὁ λαός μου ἀσεβεῖς: another verbless clause, another syntactic judgment, this time on himself. The Greek grammar reflects a courtroom scene—divine righteousness declared, human guilt confessed. There are no mitigating verbs, no passive voice, no obfuscation. Syntax has become moral transparency.
Theologically, this moment is profound: Pharaoh, instrument of oppression, utters the truth of YHWH’s justice. The syntax speaks before the man. The structure of the sentence testifies even if the heart may not. In the tension between grammar and narrative lies a deeper mystery: sometimes, the Spirit speaks through structures the speaker does not yet understand.
Form and Function Table
| Greek Word | Root | Form | Lexical Meaning | Grammatical Role | Notes |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| ἀποστείλας | ἀποστέλλω | Aorist active participle, nominative masculine singular | having sent | Temporal participle introducing the verse | Marks Pharaoh’s initiative in summoning |
| ἐκάλεσεν | καλέω | Aorist active indicative, 3rd singular | he called | Main verb of the initial clause | Shows urgency and authority |
| ἡμάρτηκα | ἁμαρτάνω | Aorist active indicative, 1st singular | I have sinned | Main confessional verb | Aorist used with perfective nuance |
| δίκαιος | δίκαιος | Adjective, nominative masculine singular | righteous | Predicate adjective of “ὁ κύριος” | Declared without copula for emphasis |
| ἀσεβεῖς | ἀσεβής | Adjective, nominative masculine plural | ungodly, irreverent | Predicate of subject “I and my people” | Verbless clause; dramatic self-condemnation |
The Spirit in the Syntax
Language can lie. But sometimes, grammar tells the truth even when the speaker falters. In Exodus 9:27, the syntax itself becomes the prophet. Pharaoh’s aorist ἡμάρτηκα is grammatically unambiguous—he confesses. The absence of modifiers or excuses reinforces this. Yet the larger narrative invites skepticism. Is this true repentance or momentary weakness? Regardless, the grammar stands.
Each phrase is short, declarative, and structured like judgment: ὁ Κύριος δίκαιος. ἐγὼ…ἀσεβεῖς. These are not elaborate confessions but courtroom pronouncements. Pharaoh renders a verdict against himself. Whether he meant it is irrelevant to the syntax. The Greek carries the weight of the scene.
The Spirit meets us in this structure—not just in what was said, but in how it was said. The participle walks us in. The aorist convicts. The verbless clauses render judgment. This is Scripture’s silent grammar: bold, brief, and beautiful. And for those who have ears to hear, even Pharaoh’s Greek may preach.
