Previous American Society of Church History (ASCH) presidents have used their presidential addresses for a variety of purposes, from contributing to the cutting edge of their own specialties to scanning the previous highlights of personalities or developments in their field.

In recent years, the writings of Ambrose of Milan have enjoyed a revival of interest in historical and theological circles. The work of scholars like Christoph Markschies, Neil McLynn, Daniel Williams, and Marcia Colish has paved the way for a consideration of Ambrose's exegetical corpus, including his Expositio evangelii secundum Lucam, as well. Readers both ancient and modern have generally remarked upon two of the commentary's features: Its derivative nature, particularly Ambrose's generous borrowings from other third- and fourth-century writers; and its pronounced anti-Jewish tenor. This article explores the latter aspect of Exp. ev. Luc. in light of the consistent rhetorical association of Jews and heretics, particularly so-called Arians, in Ambrose's commentary. Both groups are said to share a number of characteristics that Ambrose contrasts unfavorably with pro-Nicene Christianity. These include Jews' and heretics' “literary luxury” as opposed to pro-Nicene simplicity; their barrenness vis-á-vis pro-Nicene fruitfulness; and finally Jewish and heretical faithlessness in opposition to the Nicene faith that Ambrose constructs as the mark of true Christianity. Through a sustained examination of Ambrose's rhetoric in Exp. ev. Luc., this article seeks to uncover the framework Ambrose sought to create for his fourth-century audience by establishing and exploiting associations between Jews and heretics.

Historians of science have often looked to the authentication of miracles at canonization trials as a way to investigate the ways in which religious and scientific understandings of the natural and the miraculous came together and, sometimes, into conflict. Most historians of science who have forayed into the world of miracles have, understandably, stopped at the moment of a saint's canonization. Examining the treatment of a saint's miracles both before and after the canonization process, however, yields a different picture. Drawing upon materials from the 1455 canonization and subsequent cult of the Dominican Vincent Ferrer (1350–1419), this essay reveals, first, that papal approval marked only one of several ways in which miracles received publicly-accepted “authentication,” and second, that, after the moment of canonization, the idea of carefully authenticated miracles became irrelevant not simply for the great masses of the faithful, but also for the ecclesiastical hierarchy, who adopted an ever shifting rhetoric of authenticity as authors used tales of the saint's “authentic” miracles to drive home their own various polemical points.

Late in 1888, a swift and public rift occurred between Mary Baker Eddy and her student Ursula N. Gestefeld. Historians agree it was a significant break, generally glossing its cause as a personal quarrel later codified in separate organizations: Eddy's Church of Christ, Scientist, reorganized in 1892, and Gestefeld's Church of the New Thought. This article finds, however, that the rift between Eddy and Gestefeld is best explained in terms of theology and religious practice. The two expressed incompatible views of Christianity and its relationship to Theosophy, eclecticism, truth, ethics, ambiguity, and special revelation. They ultimately codified these profound religious differences, not merely personal quarrels, in their distinct churches. The article's findings cause us to rethink the scope and shape of Eddy's self-professed Christianity; the common characterization of her as excluding powerful women from her church for authoritarian reasons; and the terrain occupied by the traditions and churches Eddy and Gestefeld subsequently developed. I show that in their case, contact resulted not in combination but in conversation and contestation, and ultimately perhaps in co-existence. This builds on and sharpens the theoretics describing the religious milieu in which they operated.

In 1934 the third centennial celebration of Oberammergau's famous passion play coincided with Adolph Hitler's rise to power. For American Jews, the Oberammergau Passion Play had long symbolized the Christian roots of Anti-Semitism. Ironically, American Jews' liberal Protestant allies viewed Oberammergau as a symbol of Christian ecumenism, capable of uniting Protestants, Catholics, and even Jews. “Claiming the Passion” traces Oberammergau in the rhetoric of American liberals from the American tour of Anton Lang, who portrayed the Christus in 1923, to his successor's trial for Nazi sympathies in 1947. It places the conflicting Jewish, Catholic, and Protestant views of Oberammergau in the context of the early goodwill or interfaith movement. It argues that liberal Protestants' enthusiasm for Oberammergau arose from their effort to articulate a more inclusive national identity, in opposition to the Ku Klux Klan and other nativists. But the conflicts over Oberammergau also suggest that liberal Protestants had not yet come to terms with Jewish critiques of Christian Anti-Judaism.