The diversity among introductions to Paul is a tribute to the apostle's genius. There are two basic reasons for the diversity of opinion that exists today: First, internal incoherency—the difficulty of sorting Paul's thought into center and periphery (or event and context); and second, external incoherency—the gaps in our information about one of the most famous and interesting lives of all time. No consensus has emerged on the question of Paul's place in the world. We make this point not because this study will address the problem directly, but because we shall make inferences from one of the views in current circulation, namely that there is a basis to Paul's claim to Pharisaism (Phil 3:5). Attacking this view, some scholars have thought of him as a “would-be Pharisee” at best. We, nevertheless, think that the preponderance of evidence situates Paul in a universalist Jewish, probably Pharisaic, context. Paul believed that many of the law's prescriptions were still valid. As an illustration of Paul's belief in the continuing validity of the law, this essay attempts to show that 1 Cor 7:5–7 is best understood in the context of ritual purity concerns. These concerns include both the injunction for spouses to abstain from sexual activity for a time of prayer and Paul's defense of a celibate lifestyle within his own charismatic self-understanding.

What does it mean “to be a man”? Whereas in most societies at most times the determination of “maleness” is straightforward (does he have male genitalia? what is his chromosomal make-up?), locating the cultural constructions of “manhood” is far more difficult. Many anthropologists have noted that in contrast to models that postulate a common psychology for all men, everywhere, all the time, constructions of manhood are varied and culturally dependent. For example, the highly aggressive behavior necessary for retention of manhood for a male resident of Andalusian Spain can be contrasted to the sanctioned behavior of males of Tahiti. Unifying these diverse constructions of masculinity, however, is the common idea that manhood is an acquired state that males must fight both to attain and maintain. Because manhood is an achieved state, it can never be taken for granted: a male must be constantly proving that he is a man. “[T]he state of being a ‘real man’ or ‘true man’ [is] uncertain or precarious, a prize to be won or wrested through struggle.” Similar constructions of manhood are evident today throughout the circum-Mediterranean.

How do human beings receive answers to the most urgent questions they have of the powers of heaven? How do celestial beings provide guidance for perplexed humans? People living around the Mediterranean in the first few centuries CE devised many ways of seeking heavenly guidance; one of them was adjuration, in which they commanded gods, angels, or daemons to appear on earth and both reveal the mysteries of the universe to them and answer their questions about the problems of daily life. Similar techniques of adjuration occur in the Greco-Egyptian ritual texts usually referred to as the Greek magical papyri, the early Jewish mystical works known as the hekhalot literature, and Sefer ha-Razim, a collection of adjurations in Hebrew, heavily influenced by both Greco-Egyptian ritual texts and the hekhalot tradition of hymnology. These adjurations assume that human beings, through their knowledge of the correct invocations and divine names, possess the power to persuade or force the gods or angels to fulfill their desires.

Muslim medieval authors were fascinated with religious issues, as the corpus of Arabic literature clearly shows. They were extremely curious about other religions and made intense efforts to describe and understand them. A special brand of Arabic literature—the Milal wa-Niḥal (“Religions and Sects”) heresiographies—dealt extensively with different sects and theological groups within Islam as well as with other religions and denominations: pagan, Zoroastrian, Jewish, Christian, Hindu, and others. Of course, most of the heresiographies were written in a polemical tone (sometimes a harsh one, like that of the eleventh-century Spaniard Ibn Ḥazm's: Al-Faṣl fi-l-Milal wa-l-Ahwā wa-l-Niḥal [“Discerning between Religions, Ideologies, and Sects”]), but some come close to being objective, scholarly descriptions of other religions (for example, Al-Shahrastānī's Milal wa-Niḥal book from the twelfth century).

In an earlier essay I proposed the paradoxical theses that the main religio-philosophical alternative in the West to Judaism and Christianity has always been the perennial philosophy in its various forms, and that Christianity (and less so Judaism) has always been an amalgam or synthesis of the ideal types, biblical religion and the perennial philosophy. An example of the former is the concept delineated by the biblical theology movement of the 1940s and 1950s. By the latter I mean the religio-philosophical world view exemplified by Neoplatonism and Vedanta, and by the philosophical foundation of Gnosticism, Rosicrucianism, and Theosophy, and propounded by such authors as René Guénon, Frithjof Schuon, S. H. Nasr, and Huston Smith.