Koinônia

The Greek word koinônia roughly translates to “fellowship”, “communion”, or “sharing.” It is a word found frequently in the New Testament, especially in the Apostle Paul’s letters, referring to the believer’s fellowship in the sufferings of Christ, or fellowship one with another. But this post is not a theological or lexical study of a Greek word. Rather, it’s a tribute to the man that inspired me to want to learn New Testament (koinê) Greek and study Theology in the first place: Father Geoffrey Marsh.

Regulars to my blog will know that I spent my teenage years (well, ages 11-18) at a Cathedral School in England. As you might expect, the school was Church of England by denomination, and had close ties to the city’s Cathedral. Father Marsh joined the Cathedral School in my third year as Assistant to the Chaplain, and took over as Chaplain a few years later. In his capacity as Assistant, and then Chaplain, not only did he take chapel services, but he also taught Religious Studies (which was compulsory for all students up to O’ Level or GCSE–that’s O.W.L. for Harry Potter fans). He was a tall man with a firm eye but a gentle smile, and spoke in a slow, measured voice. Around the school he wore his ecclesiastical robe and collar, which marked him out from the rest of the staff. He commanded respect, but never fear: he was the kind of person you wanted to do well for (at least I did), because you wanted to hear his praise, not because you feared his wrath. In fact, in my time at the school, I don’t ever recall hearing him shout or get really angry.

When I entered my sixth year at the school, I decided to take “Religious Studies” at A’ Level (N.E.W.T.-level–Rowling based her wizarding tests on the British exam system, at least as it was when she was at secondary school). The course had two components. One was “Modern Religious Thought and Ethics” in which we studied people like Hume, Kant, Kierkegaard, and topics such as abortion, euthanasia, and war. The other was “New Testament” in which we studied books from the New Testament as assigned by the board of examiners for that year. In our year, we studied The Acts of the Apostles, Ephesians, Philippians, and Philemon. Father Marsh was our teacher for the New Testament component.

There were only six of us taking the course that year, so for the New Testament portion, we met in Father Marsh’s study in his home, which, since he was the school Chaplain, was within the school grounds. It wasn’t a large study, but it was cozy and smelled of coffee and books. He had chairs set out around the room, and we would all take our place in them, in a circle with Father Marsh in his desk chair at the head. It was a nice and relaxed way to learn–almost like a Bible study atmosphere. And Father Marsh always treated us with respect, never talking down to us. Sometimes he would offer us tea, and frequently his cat would join us, often sitting on Father Marsh’s lap while he taught.

One of the lasting images I have of that time is of Father Marsh sitting with an English Bible translation open on his lap from which he read, and his Greek New Testament open nearby to which he would often refer. I don’t recall him ever teaching from notes. It was just the text, and the years of study he brought to his exposition of it. I was especially impressed with the way he would casually inform us that “the original Greek here reads…” and would quote the Greek text. I was in awe of the fact that he could read and translate the New Testament from the original Greek, and that ignited my determination to learn New Testament Greek. I can still to this day hear him saying “koinônia“–with his deep soothing voice, putting the emphasis on the long “o” sound: “koinohhhhnia” (even though the accent is on the final syllable: koinônIA–I’m sure he was aware of this). Hence, the title of this article.

I heard some years ago that Father Marsh had passed away while on vacation. I was genuinely saddened that I would never get to tell him (this side of eternity, anyway) how grateful I am for his example and inspiration. Hopefully, this brief tribute goes some small way toward honoring his memory.