Ἔζησεν δὲ Νωε μετὰ τὸν κατακλυσμὸν τριακόσια πεντήκοντα ἔτη (Genesis 9:28 LXX)
And Noah lived after the flood three hundred fifty years.
Grammatical Insight
At first glance, Genesis 9:28 in the Septuagint appears deceptively simple. It consists of one main clause, a prepositional phrase, and a numerical time expression. But beneath this surface lies an elegant use of Greek syntax to record sacred time. The main verb ἔζησεν (“he lived”) is an aorist active indicative, third person singular. The aorist tense marks a completed action in the past, summarizing Noah’s post-flood lifespan as a single, closed event. This is typical for biblical narrative, where the aorist compresses life into a perfective snapshot, offering theological finality rather than durative unfolding.
The subject Νωε follows the verb, a classic word order in Koine Greek that places focus on the action before the actor, especially in narrative prose. The placement of δὲ (a mild adversative or connective particle) ties this statement to the preceding verses, marking a transition from Noah’s blessings and curses over his sons to a genealogical register. This tiny connective serves as the narrative hinge between theological drama and genealogical continuity.
The phrase μετὰ τὸν κατακλυσμὸν is syntactically precise. The preposition μετὰ (“after”) takes the accusative, and the articular accusative τὸν κατακλυσμὸν (“the flood”) makes the temporal reference definite. This is not any flood—it is the flood, the one from which the world emerged. Greek temporal prepositional phrases like this one often introduce profound theological markers in deceptively quiet grammar.
The phrase τριακόσια πεντήκοντα ἔτη uses cardinal numbers in the accusative plural, as expected when indicating extent of time. The accusative case is the standard for expressing duration—he lived for 350 years. While Hebrew sometimes expresses time with “and he lived… years,” Greek uses numerical duration with clarity and formality, reinforcing the concept that sacred time is measurable, precise, and part of the divine narrative structure.
Exploring the Verse as a Living Lesson
Imagine opening this verse in class and asking: “Why is such a simple verse even worth studying?” The answer comes through grammar. The verb ἔζησεν isn’t just a past-tense report—it’s a summary, a eulogy in a single word. The aorist tells us not just what happened, but that it has finished. Noah lived, yes, but also: his life after the flood was defined, measurable, and closed.
The preposition μετὰ carries more than grammar—it carries history. When we say Noah lived after the flood, we are invoking a covenantal boundary. Greek has multiple ways to refer to time, but μετὰ here anchors the action in sacred chronology. The phrase functions like a temporal seal: everything after this flood is postdiluvian history, the new world’s beginning.
Students often overlook Greek numerals as mere arithmetic, but τριακόσια πεντήκοντα deserves attention. Greek writers placed high value on number and symmetry. These 350 years are not just filler—they’re theologically deliberate. In Greek, numbers often receive case inflection and grammatical alignment, and here they govern ἔτη (years), also in accusative plural, functioning adverbially. This structure is elegant, exact, and evocative.
Even the particle δὲ deserves comment. It introduces this verse in soft contrast to the prior narrative intensity. Previously, Noah had spoken blessings and curses. Now, Noah’s time is measured. The biblical narrative pivots gently, and δὲ is the hinge.
Where Syntax Meets Revelation
What does it mean that Noah lived after the flood? Theologically, this grammar marks survival, continuation, and covenantal hope. The aorist ἔζησεν is a testimony to divine preservation. Noah is not merely a character in an epic—he is the anchor of humanity’s new beginning. The preposition μετὰ connects Noah not just to chronology but to eschatology: he is the man who saw the world reborn.
The flood was judgment. ἔζησεν…μετὰ τὸν κατακλυσμὸν is grace. The phrase could be translated: “And Noah lived on…” and the Greek syntax reinforces this endurance. In Hebrew, the narrative often leans on parataxis. But here, Greek builds a compact, clause-based structure with precise temporal grammar, and the result is both elegant and theological.
Even the numeric clause τριακόσια πεντήκοντα ἔτη isn’t neutral. The text doesn’t just record history—it measures faithfulness. In a post-cataclysmic world, time becomes testimony. Every year Noah lived was another year of YHWH’s restraint, another year of promise upheld. The grammar, once again, becomes the vessel of revelation.
Form and Function Table
| Greek Word | Root | Form | Lexical Meaning | Grammatical Role | Notes |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| ἔζησεν | ζάω | Aorist active indicative, 3rd singular | he lived | Main verb | Perfective aspect; summarizes Noah’s post-flood life |
| δὲ | — | Particle | but, and, then | Transitional connector | Marks narrative shift; soft contrast |
| μετὰ τὸν κατακλυσμὸν | μετά | Prepositional phrase (accusative) | after the flood | Temporal qualifier | Definitive article marks “the” flood, not any flood |
| τριακόσια πεντήκοντα | — | Cardinal number, accusative | three hundred fifty | Numerical modifier of time | Used with accusative to express duration |
| ἔτη | ἔτος | Accusative plural | years | Extent of time | Duration of Noah’s post-flood life |
A Sacred Inflection
Few verses teach us to slow down like Genesis 9:28. With just a single aorist verb and a numerical phrase, the Greek pauses time to mark holy duration. In the syntax of this sentence, survival becomes story. The grammar testifies to Noah’s legacy—not with flourish, but with form. The aorist is quiet, but it speaks: He lived. The prepositional phrase declares the moment: After the flood. And the numbers give gravity: Three hundred fifty years.
This is not filler between plagues and genealogies. This is Scripture’s way of measuring mercy. Every word of Greek grammar here functions as a memorial. The particle δὲ transitions the text, but it also transitions humanity—from deluge to continuity. ἔζησεν is not just biography—it is a covenantal echo. The years Noah lived post-flood are years the earth did not perish.
Grammar does not just record truth; it preserves it. And in this verse, Greek grammar quietly teaches us that survival is sacred, and that every year after judgment is a gift. Let us read with reverence, even when the sentence is small—because sometimes, the shortest Greek clause holds the longest breath of grace.
