Speculation about the “change” in the name of the apostle Peter will undoubtedly always be in order. In this respect the recent article of Cecil Roth of Oxford raises an interesting point. He suggests that the apostle's name Peter prevailed in time over Simon because of a current tendency of contemporary Judaism to avoid the use of the name Σίμων or װעמש. The latter name was “commonly or even methodically modified or eliminated, for some reason or the other, among the Jews at the beginning of the Christian era. One finds it difficult to avoid the conclusion that the modification of the name of the Apostle by the elimination of ‘Simon’ was connected with this and due to the same cause, whatever that may have been.” Roth offers parallels of persons whose name was Simon, but who were known more usually by a patronymic or a nickname (ben Sira, ben Zoma, ben Azzai, ben Nanos, bar Kochba), and suggests that it was a peculiarly “patriotic” name, borne by great national and revolutionary leaders such as Simon Maccabee, Simon the High Priest (Sir 50.1–21), Simeon ben Šeṭaḥ (politician-Rabbi of the second century B. C), Simon the rebel (Josephus, JW 2.4,2 #57; Ant. 17.10,6 #273), Simon the son of the founder of the Zealots, Judah the Galilean (Josephus, Ant. 20.5,2 #102), Simon bar Giora (leader in the First Revolt), Simon bar Kochba (leader of the Second Revolt).

Agmina of the Furiae are twice mentioned in the Aeneid, viz., IV 469 Eumenidum veluti demens videt agmina Pentheus and VI 571–572: torvosque sinistra / intentans (sc, Tisiphone) anguis vocat agmina saeva sororum. The use of agmen in this context is surprising, because Virgil, and the Augustan poets in general, retain the classical conception of three Furiae; Virgil mentions Tisiphone, Allecto and Megaera, and Ovid speaks about poenarum … deae triplices (Metam. VIII 481). It is only in the Silver Age — the first instances are to be found in Seneca's tragedies and in Valerius Flaccus — that a greater number of Furiae comes to be mentioned; originally this is an evident imitation of the two passages under discussion (cf. e.g. Sen. Med. 960–961: cui cruentas agmen injernum jaces / intentat with Aen. VI 572) but gradually it becomes clear that a greater number of goddesses of punishment and revenge is meant.

A few years ago Arnold Ehrhardt wrote an erudite and stimulating article as a criticism and development of Eduard Lohse's Die Ordination. A few observations in regard both to the laying on of hands in the Jewish background and to the seating of a candidate in the chair of office will serve to carry the discussion a step further.

Apart from the Gospels themselves, there is perhaps no Christian writing which has enjoyed an influence and an authority at the same time so far flung and so profound as the so-called Gospel of Nicodemus. Yet, outside the studies made by Maury in 1850 and Lipsius in 1871, hardly anything has been done toward a proper assay of this most important of the multitudinous New Testament apocrypha. For that reason, most of the recent articles concerning it, in the standard works of reference, still repeat the erroneous concepts of a century and more ago.

During the last couple of years two articles have appeared in these pages, both concerned primarily with what one of them calls “the theology of nominalism.” This in itself is significant because it reflects a growing interest among theologians and ecclesiastical historians in the theological positions characteristic of those late medieval thinkers who belonged to the “nominalist” or “terminist” school. But more significant is the fact that the authors of the two articles should adopt diametrically opposed approaches to these positions, for it illustrates in a very concrete fashion the pioneer state in which the study of later medieval scholasticism still lingers. Much of the land on this particular frontier is not merely untenanted but even uncharted, and those brave or foolhardy enough to work in the area enjoy a freedom of movement bewildering to others whose business confines them to the more settled regions of earlier or later centuries. It is not so much that the wilderness is trackless as that one is still free to choose from among several possible routes each of which has its own potent inducements to offer to those who are anxious to grasp the lay of the land. There is still a great deal of debate about the respective worth of these various routes and nothing that can be said at present is likely to put an end to it.

During the 1520's Luther's Latin writings were well known to scholars in England. But the realm was officially as loyal to the Catholic cause as any the popes of that decade might have named. The few clerics and theologians who dedicated themselves to the rediscovered gospel were hunted out and severely punished. Only by escape to the continent might they save their lives, in relative safety study evangelical teachings, and find literary expression for their convictions. Moreover, it was clear by 1525 that only through translating the scriptures and evangelical thought into English might the realm be reformed. Among the small circle of English Protestant writers, William Tyndale led the field by turning the New Testament into his mother tongue (1525–1526). He was guided by Luther's German New Testament not only in framing that translation but also in drafting the prefaces to it and to its individual books. Perhaps Tyndale had translated Bugenhagen's Epistola … ad Anglos into English, and perhaps MS. copies of this translation were circulated, but extant published copies date back only to 1536. Certainly Tyndale was the first translator of a Luther tract to have his work preserved to us.