The Greek word δέησις (Strong’s Greek #1162, deēsis) originally carried the meaning of “want,” “need,” or “lack,” particularly in philosophical and rhetorical contexts. Aristotle (Rhetoric 1385a21) explicitly connects δεήσεις with ὀρέξεις (desires), reinforcing its fundamental meaning as an expression of deficiency or longing.
Plato (Eryxias 405e) uses it alongside ἐπιθυμίαι (desires), further highlighting its association with necessity and lack.
In religious contexts, as is the case with a great many Greek words, it was ritualized and elevated into “supplication” or “prayer.” This is a classic example of inverting definitions where a word with a bad sense is craftily flipped to garner a good sense. Begging and pleading out of lack or need is a bad, miserable condition. Unless it’s religious, then it’s good, even glorious. And in order to convey how glorious it is, a lofty word like “supplication” is concocted, one that sounds lofty, and indeed, just a little out of reach of the masses. How and where did this happen?
Latin. The word “supplication” comes from the the Latin supplicans “to pray earnestly.” The rise of Latin in the 4th-6th centuries and the commissioning of the Latin Vulgate gave rise to the Latin Liturgical Language (i.e. Holier than Thou Speak). It was a sort of “superiority complex” where it was felt that there should be a “holy” language set apart from common language, just for the Church. This multiplied until Holy Latin Speak was universally entrenched in all aspects of Church life, including Mass, prayers, and theological treatises.
Non obsecrans sum, supplicans sum!
“I’m not begging, I’m supplicating!”
The exclusive use of Latin also created a powerful clerical barrier. Since the liturgy was in Latin, only the ordained clergy, who were educated in the language, could fully understand and administer the Mass and other sacraments. This kept religious knowledge largely in the hands of the high and mighty holier than thou’s, while the common people (a.k.a. the “laymen”) often did not (and still do not) understand a lick of what was being said during the liturgy. If you want keep control of people, keep the people down, and dumb!
The Craft of Craftiness
Politicians have known this tactic for ages. Using technocratic language, obfuscation, or doublespeak to “speak over your head” in order to convey a sense of authority. It’s how you control the narrative or avoid accountability. It also creates an illusion of expertise.
Holy Latin Speak was so exclusive and entrenched as the sole language of the Catholic Church for centuries that, by the time of the Second Vatican Council (1962–1965), the idea of translating liturgy and scripture into the common languages of “fallen man” (the common languages of the people) was seen as a revolutionary and required a Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy. Previously, it was not allowed.
This exemplifies how religious traditions tend to reshape everyday language, imbuing ordinary words with sacred or liturgical connotations, obscuring their original, more practical meanings. This is why “Biblical Greek” is a thing. Where outside of the Bible did “biblical Greek” exist? Nowhere. This is why (most?) who attempt to learn it often end up wanting to shoot themselves. Greek is already a difficult language, and the veneer of “Biblical Greek” only added a whole new dimension of (indecipherable) complexity to it. As the old Latin saying goes,
Graecum est, non legitur
It’s Greek, therefore it cannot be read.
Graecum biblicum est, ne angeli quidem legere possunt.
It’s Biblical Greek— not even the angels can read it.