Demystifying the Septuagint: What Orthodox Christians Actually Mean When We Say "We Read the Greek Old Testament"

The Greek Old Testament was important to early Orthodox worship and theology—yet the same fathers who loved it also compared, corrected, and occasionally preferred other versions

The Septuagint—the Greek Old Testament that shaped the Apostles, the Fathers, and basically every Orthodox hymn we chant—is one of the greatest treasures of Orthodox Christianity. It is nothing to be sneezed at.

Yet popular claims like “Orthodox only use the Septuagint” can turn that treasure into something rigid and almost magical, far from the living, prayerful reality the Church has always known.

In his contribution to The Oxford Handbook of the Bible in Orthodox Christianity, Eugen Pentiuc (also editor) gently dismantles the oversimplifications while showing why the LXX remains irreplaceable. Here’s what he actually says, explained plainly for those of us juggling work, family, and trying to keep up a semblance of a prayer life.

So let’s walk through what he’s saying in plain language, with an eye toward two things:

1. What it actually means for Orthodox Christians to “read the Septuagint.”

2. Why it’s not quite right to say, “Orthodox only use the Septuagint,” as if that settles everything.

What Is the Septuagint, and Why Did It Matter So Much?

Most Orthodox folks have at least heard the term “Septuagint” (often shortened to “LXX”), but it can feel like a magical code word: “Ah yes, the real Old Testament.” That’s not quite what Pentiuc is saying.

Plain definition: The Septuagint is an ancient Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures, begun a couple of centuries before Christ, and used widely in the Jewish world of the Eastern Mediterranean. It’s not the work of one translator on a deadline, but a collection of translations and later revisions.

For the early Church, especially in the Greek‑speaking East, the Septuagint quickly became:

• The Bible of the liturgists: Byzantine hymnographers mined it for language, images, and key phrases. Their artistry shows in how they weave biblical words—often straight from the LXX—into the hymns and services. When you’re at Orthros and hear a canon that suddenly sounds like a psalm, that may just be direct Septuagint phrasing. The Theotokos’s “More honorable than the Cherubim…” hymn has the same spiritual and poetic DNA as her Magnificat—which itself leans on the Old Greek Scriptures.

• A missionary Bible: According to the Fathers, the Septuagint helped prepare the nations to receive Christ. It let the Jewish Scriptures “speak Greek” in a world where Greek was the common language. For the early Christians, this was not just a convenient translation; it was a providential bridge between Israel and the Gentiles.

So when you hear, “Orthodoxy reads the Septuagint,” think: The Greek Old Testament that shaped our hymnography, preaching, and theological imagination from the beginning.

A Translation, Not a Magic Text

From there it’s tempting to talk about the Septuagint as if it dropped from heaven in leather‑bound form, with ribbon markers and gilded edges. Pentiuc rightly resists that.

Plain definition: The Septuagint is a translation of the Hebrew Scriptures—just as every English Bible you own is a translation.

Because it’s a translation, a few things follow.

• It has a history. Over time, the Septuagint text went through copying, revising, and even competing editions. Its transmission history is “quite complex and convoluted,” especially compared with later, more standardized texts. We have major uncial manuscripts from the fourth and fifth centuries, lots of later small manuscripts, and signs of differing local traditions.

• It doesn’t always line up neatly with the Hebrew we have today. Origen, the great third‑century scholar, created his massive Hexapla to compare the Hebrew text with several translated versions, including the Septuagint. The very existence of that work shows the Church was aware of different textual traditions and willing to study them side by side.

• Sometimes, the Church preferred another Greek version: A striking example is the book of Daniel. Over time, the Greek Daniel in most Septuagint manuscripts was displaced in the East by another Greek translation, associated with Theodotion (second century A.D.). By the fourth and fifth centuries, manuscripts show Daniel largely in this Theodotion form. The older “OG Daniel” survived, but on the margins.

In other words: the Church did not treat the Septuagint as untouchable in every detail. It is revered. But it is human. It can be compared, corrected, and supplemented, not treated as “another Testament.”

The pastoral takeaway here is important: loving the Septuagint does not mean pretending it’s perfect in a way no other textual witness can be. It means recognizing it as the Church’s ancient, prayer‑soaked Old Testament, yet still a translation subject to study.

So if the Septuagint isn’t a flawless, heaven‑dropped text, how central was it really? To answer that, we have to look at what the Fathers actually did.

The Septuagint Is Central—but Not Alone

Here Pentiuc tackles a common Orthodox myth: that the Septuagint is the Bible of the Fathers, full stop, and everything else might as well be kindling.

He explicitly says this isn’t quite true.

Plain definition: The Fathers use the Septuagint heavily, but they also consult and cite other biblical texts—Hebrew, Syriac, Samaritan, and other Greek versions.

In their commentaries, Pentius says they sometimes refer to:

• “Later versions”

• “Hexaplaric versions” (those affected by Origen’s comparative work)

• “The Three” (Aquila, Symmachus, Theodotion—alternative Greek translators)

• “The Hebrew”

• “The Samaritan”

That list tells us something: when a Father is wrestling with a difficult passage, he doesn’t say, “Well, the LXX says this, case closed.” He says, in effect, “What do the other witnesses show?” He is aware of:

• Jewish Greek translators, some more literal, some more elegant.

• The Hebrew text, which he may not handle with modern philological precision but still respects.

• Other textual families, like the Samaritan Pentateuch and, in Syriac circles, the Peshitta.

Yes, the LXX is their home base, but it’s not their only address.

For us today, that means:

• We absolutely should know and love the Septuagint.

• We don’t have to panic if a modern Orthodox translation consults the Masoretic Hebrew, the Dead Sea Scrolls, or the Syriac Peshitta alongside it. Pentiuc stresses that the LXX is a key witness among others, not a solitary king on the mountain.

This alone punctures the overstatement that “Orthodox only use the Septuagint.” Historically, we haven’t.

How the Septuagint Functioned in Orthodox Life

Textual theory is one thing. How did this play out on the ground? Pentiuc describes several layers.

1. Liturgical Scripture: Through the first millennium, the Eastern Church relied on the Septuagint as its Old Testament in worship, without formally rejecting the Hebrew text. Psalmody, readings, hymnography—all of it sings in the cadences of the LXX. When you hear a troparion that suddenly turns into a mini‑psalm, that’s frequently going to be Septuagint language.

2. Pastoral and practical reasons: Greek was the language of most Eastern Christians. So using the Greek Old Testament simply made sense for preaching and catechesis. Pentiuc notes that the reasons for preferring the Septuagint were “not theological, but rather practical.” The LXX was the Scripture people could actually understand, and it had already shaped Christian theology.

3. A late start on textual debates: In the West, fierce arguments over the biblical text and canon flare up around the Reformation and the Council of Trent. In the East, intense debate over particular textual forms comes later—around the seventeenth century—often in conversation (and sometimes conflict) with Roman Catholic and Protestant scholarship.

4. The Rudder and the Septuagint: As late as the codification of canon law in The Rudder (the Pedalion of St. Nicodemus the Hagiorite, eighteenth century), the Septuagint is still explicitly identified as “the Bible of the Eastern Orthodox Church.” That doesn’t mean no other text exists; it means that, functionally, the LXX is the normative Old Testament for liturgical and canonical life.

Up to the nineteenth century, Orthodox Bible translations into various languages were generally based on the Septuagint, with only minor exceptions. If you picked up an Old Church Slavonic Bible or an early modern Greek version, you were essentially looking at the LXX in another dress.

Do We Still “Only Use the Septuagint”?

Here’s where it lands for those of us sitting in the pews—or scrolling through Bible apps.

Pentiuc notes that modern Orthodox Bible translations tend to be more balanced and dispassionate in how they use textual witnesses. That’s academic‑speak for this: we’ve learned a lot about manuscripts, and we’re not afraid to use that knowledge.

In practice, this means:

• A modern Orthodox Old Testament may be primarily based on the Septuagint, especially for books where the LXX is clearly the Church’s traditional text. This is frequently the norm.

• Translators will also consult the Hebrew, the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Peshitta (Syriac), and other versions, especially where the Septuagint seems obscure, obviously secondary, or questions of transmission are at play.

And remember, the Peshitta is itself an ancient Christian translation—Syriac instead of Greek—based largely on the Hebrew text. It, too, is part of the Church’s scriptural inheritance, especially for the Syriac traditions.

So, do the Orthodox “only use the Septuagint”?

• Historically: No. We privileged it, but we were aware of and sometimes preferred other texts for specific books or problems.

• Liturgically: The Septuagint is still the backbone in the Byzantine tradition, especially in Greek and Slavonic practice.

• Pastorally: In English and other modern languages, we increasingly see translations that respect the Septuagint and draw on broader textual research.

A more accurate way to say it might be:

The Orthodox Church lives out of the Septuagint, but she reads it alongside other witnesses, not in isolation.

Why This Matters for an Orthodox Christian Today

Let’s end where we actually live. If you’re an Orthodox Christian trying to deepen your understanding of Scripture, here are a few practical takeaways from Pentiuc’s discussion:

1. Don’t be scared of the word “Septuagint”: Think of it as the Church’s foundational, ancestral Old Testament—the version that shaped how the Apostles and saints heard the Scriptures. If you can get an edition that clearly marks where it differs from standard English Bibles, even better. It will explain a lot of the differences you notice in services.

2. Avoid magical thinking: The Septuagint is holy and venerable, but it’s not a talisman. The Fathers scrutinized it, compared it, and even replaced parts of it (like Daniel) when they judged that best. You’re not being less Orthodox if you notice that your priest quotes an Old Testament passage that sounds more like a modern translation than a direct LXX rendering.

3. Welcome a “many‑voiced” Bible: Orthodoxy is comfortable living with multiple textual witnesses—Greek, Hebrew, Syriac, and more—without panic. This reflects trust that God’s word is not fragile, and that our Tradition is solid. When we compare texts carefully and prayerfully, we are not undermining Scripture; we are paying attention to how God actually gave it to us in history. And we always do so from the vantage point of the rooted Tradition.

4. Let the liturgy be your guide: Whatever Bible you read at home, listen closely in Church. The psalms, prophecies, and hymnography will gradually tune your ear to the Septuagint’s rhythms. You’ll begin to hear connections that a strictly Masoretic‑based English translation might obscure.

Conclusion

In the end, Eugen Pentiuc does not call us to love the Septuagint any less. He calls us to love it more truly—more deeply rooted in the Church’s own history, more open to the Spirit’s guidance across centuries, more attuned to how God has actually preserved and spoken His word.

The Septuagint is no frozen relic or exclusive talisman. It is our living inheritance: the Greek voice through which the prophets first echoed in the ears of the Apostles, the poetic wellspring of our hymns, the providential gift that carried Israel’s story into the Gentile world so that all might hear the Gospel in a shared tongue. The LXX isn’t a sealed artifact or a magic text; it’s memory—our memory—of how God spoke Greek to the world so the world could hear the Gospel in its own tongue. It’s the living voice that still echoes through every troparion, kontakion, and psalm we chant in Church.

Yet the Church has never locked it away in splendid isolation. She has held it alongside other ancient witnesses—the Hebrew original, the Syriac streams, the patient comparisons of Origen’s Hexapla—always discerning, always prayerfully receiving, never afraid that truth might fracture under honest scrutiny.

For us today, this means freedom rather than fear. Reading the Old Testament Scriptures with reverence, letting the LXX shape our souls as they shaped the saints. Comparing it humbly with other texts when questions arise, trusting that the same Tradition that cherished the LXX also embraced textual diversity without losing hold of Christ. Above all, we return again and again to the services: let the psalms at Vespers, the prophecies at Matins, the Theotokos’s canticles in every feast tune our hearts to its rhythms.

There, in the choir of the Church, the Septuagint still breathes—alive, echoing, pointing ever forward.