Καὶ περιτεμεῖσθε τὴν σκληροκαρδίαν ὑμῶν καὶ τὸν τράχηλον ὑμῶν οὐ σκληρυνεῖτε ἔτι (Δευτερονόμιον 10:16 LXX)
And you shall circumcise the hardness of your heart, and your neck you shall not harden any longer.
Grammatical Insight
The verse of Deuteronomy 10:16 in the Septuagint compresses profound theology into the tight syntax of command. The verb περιτεμεῖσθε (future middle indicative, second person plural of περιτέμνω) conveys an imperative nuance, functioning as a “prophetic future.” It invites the hearers not merely to perform a ritual but to participate in an inward transformation. The accusative object τὴν σκληροκαρδίαν (“the hardness of your heart”) personifies resistance to divine will, making grammar a vessel of moral anatomy. The possessive pronoun ὑμῶν links the command directly to the audience’s own spiritual state, anchoring responsibility within syntax. The second clause, καὶ τὸν τράχηλον ὑμῶν οὐ σκληρυνεῖτε ἔτι, employs σκληρυνεῖτε (future active indicative, second person plural of σκληρύνω) as another future-imperative form, reinforcing continuity of appeal: stop resisting; soften yourselves. The adverb ἔτι (“any longer”) functions temporally but also theologically—it closes the door on prolonged rebellion. The parallelism of heart and neck, softness and stiffness, produces a balanced syntax that mirrors the covenant’s rhythm of command and compassion. Thus, the grammar itself becomes a mirror of repentance: inward, reflexive, irreversible.
Exploring the Verse as a Living Lesson
Imagine a teacher of the Law unfolding this line before a circle of disciples. “You shall circumcise your heart,” he recites slowly, then pauses. A student asks, “How can a heart be circumcised?” The teacher points to the verb περιτεμεῖσθε: its middle voice implies personal involvement—one must act upon oneself. The command is not ceremonial but reflexive, turning inward. The grammar invites introspection: obedience is an inward incision. Then comes the second half: “and your neck you shall not harden any longer.” Here, the teacher traces the metaphor—τράχηλος symbolizes willful resistance, the refusal to bow before divine authority. The future tense in both verbs reflects hope as much as obligation: it portrays not just what Israel must do, but what Israel will one day become. Thus, grammatical form transforms into prophetic promise—the syntax of repentance shaping the soul’s renewal.
Where Syntax Meets Revelation
This verse stands at the crossroads of grammar and grace. The morphology of περιτεμεῖσθε calls for self-action under divine expectation, portraying spiritual surgery as covenant obedience. The dual command—circumcise and do not harden—frames the rhythm of redemption: remove resistance and cease rebellion. The adverb ἔτι (no longer) seals the transformation in time, marking the threshold between old obstinacy and new submission. Theologically, the middle voice implies participation with the divine initiative; syntax becomes sacrament. By joining an internal verb with an external image, the Septuagint bridges the physical ritual of circumcision with the moral reformation of the heart. The text’s linguistic structure becomes a liturgy of renewal—every grammatical choice contributes to the theology of repentance, covenant, and compassion.
Form and Function Table
| Greek Word | Root | Form | Lexical Meaning | Grammatical Role | Notes / Usage |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| περιτεμεῖσθε | περιτέμνω | Future Middle Indicative 2nd Plural | you shall circumcise | Main verb (imperatival future) | Reflexive action implying inward transformation. |
| σκληρυνεῖτε | σκληρύνω | Future Active Indicative 2nd Plural | you shall harden | Negated verb of prohibition | Expresses command through future tense; denotes moral obstinacy. |
| ἔτι | ἔτι | Adverb | any longer / still | Temporal modifier | Marks the end of rebellious persistence. |
A Sacred Inflection
In this single verse, grammar becomes grace in motion. The middle voice invites transformation from within, and the negative future ends defiance from without. The dual image of the heart and the neck turns linguistic contrast into theological poetry—softness triumphs over stiffness. Each morphological choice reveals a moral one: to act, to yield, to change. The Septuagint’s Greek reminds readers that divine commands are not external impositions but inner renewals expressed through language. Thus, Δευτερονόμιον 10:16 becomes not only instruction but invitation—the call to let grammar perform its sacred work within the human heart, cutting away resistance and revealing covenant tenderness.
