In the Hellenica, Xenophon prefaces his account of the liberation of Thebes from Spartan occupation by making the following gnomic observation:

One could tell also of many other incidents, both Greek and barbarian, showing that the gods are not unmindful either of those who are impious or of those who commit unholy acts. Now, at any rate, I shall tell only of the events at hand.

The goal of this investigation may be stated simply. We present here some preliminary reflections on the dynamic between two setsI use the word “sets” here advisedly. Much of my own work has argued that the Hebrew Bible presents us with two purity systems: the “ritual” one, which is concerned with natural and unavoidable defilements, and the “moral” one, which is concerned with the defiling force of sexual transgression, idolatry, and murder. See Kawans, “The Impurity of Immorality in Ancient Judaism,” JJS 48 (1997) 1–16, and Impurity and Sin in Ancient Judaism (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000). The plural, “systems,” also may well apply to sacrifices: some sacrifices are performed inside the sanctuary (e.g., burnt offerings), and some sacrifices are performed outside (e.g., the Passover offering [Exod 12]). Moreover, some offerings are performed daily, and some are performed seasonally; some are obligatory and some are optional. It ought not to be assumed that any theory or explanation could account for all of these types of sacrifices and offerings, not all of which even involve blood or altars. Hence, we will speak here provisionally of sacrificial systems, while particular attention will be paid to certain types of animal sacrifice. of biblical ritual structures that are intricately interrelated: defilement and sacrifice.The bibliography on sacrifice in ancient Israel is too vast to be surveyed briefly, to say nothing of the literature concerned with sacrifice in other religious traditions. We note here some works with a particularly useful, important, or distinctive approach. On sacrifice in the Hebrew Bible in general, see Gary A. Anderson, “Sacrifice and Sacrificial Offerings (OT),” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary (ed. David Noel Freedman; 6 vols.; New York: Doubleday, 1992) 5:870–86, and H. H. Rowley, “The Meaning of Sacrifice in the Old Testament,” in From Moses to Qumran (New York: Association Press, 1963) 67–107. A more detailed survey of biblical sacrificial rituals can be found in Roland de Vaux, Ancient Israel (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1961) 415–56 and Studies in Old Testament Sacrifice (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1964). The classic theories of E. B. Tyler, J. G. Frazer, and W. Robertson Smith are discussed in the works by Anderson and de Vaux cited above. Perhaps the most enduring of the older works on sacrifice is Henri Hubert and Marcel Mauss, Sacrifice: Its Nature and Functions (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1964). For surveys of recent works on sacrifice in general, see Violent Origins: Walter Burkert, René Girard, and Jonathan Z. Smith on Ritual Killing and Cultural Formation (ed. Robert G. Hamerton-Kelly; Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1987); Richard D. Hecht, “Studies on Sacrifice, 1970–1980,” Religious Studies Review 8 (1982) 253–59; and Ivan Strenski, “Between Theory and Speciality: Sacrifice in the 90's,” Religious Studies Review 22 (1996) 10–20. A convenient discussion of many biblical sacrificial rituals within the context of their physical and social setting can be found in Menahem Haran, Temples and Temple-Service in Ancient Israel: An Inquiry into Biblical Cult Phenomena and the Historical Setting of the Priestly School (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1985). For a sensitive treatment of priestly rituals building largely on the work of Victor Turner, see Frank H. Gorman, Jr., The Ideology of Ritual: Space, Time and Status in the Priestly Theology (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1990). Important discussions of the terminology of sacrificial rituals and texts can be found in Gary A. Anderson, Sacrifices and Offerings in Ancient Israel: Studies in their Social and Political Importance (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1987) and Baruch A. Levine, In the Presence of the Lord: A Study of Cult and Some Cultic Terms in Ancient Israel (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1974). For an analysis of ancient Israelite sacrifice through the lens of gender studies, see Nancy Jay, Throughout Your Generations Forever: Sacrifice, Religion, and Paternity (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992). But compare the critique in Strenski, “Sacrifice in the 90's,” 13–14. Useful discussions of sacrifice can also be found in some recent commentaries on Leviticus, including, in particular, Jacob Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 3; New York: Doubleday, 1992) and Gordon J. Wanham, The Book of Leviticus (NICOT; Grand Rapids, Mich.: William B. Eerdmans, 1979). The bibliography that informs my understanding of purity in ancient Israel can be found in my articles devoted to that subject, including “The Impurity of Immorality,” and my book, Impurity and Sin.

Transmigration is often regarded as an integral part of Platonic teaching and it is, of course, an undisputed fact that the idea of rebirth occurs very often in the Platonic dialogues; it holds an especially prominent position in most of his expositions of future life. Yet on closer examination it may be doubted whether Plato really considered the question of rebirth capable of or worthy of a serious and formal treatment. Metempsychosis is most often mentioned in the so-called Platonic myths, and almost regularly these are preceded by a cautious warning that what will follow is a myth, or a tradition, which may be true, but, obviously, cannot be presented as capable of proof. Even when metempsychosis is mentioned outside the myths, it is frequently, if not always, referred to as a “tradition.”

For three-quarters of a century the hypothesis of an Alexandrian canon has been the commonly accepted solution to the problem of how the Jewish canon and the Old Testament of the early church came to differ. That hypothesis suggests that a larger canon of scriptures was initiated in Alexandria and circulated throughout Diaspora Judaism than what obtained in Palestine. The Christian church, becoming predominantly Gentile early in its history, adopted this enlarged canon, that included the books of the Apocrypha, from Diaspora Judaism. The hypothesis represents essentially a geographic distinction in canonical usage between Palestinian Judaism and Alexandrian and Dispersion Judaism. It is the opinion of the present writer that the Alexandrian canon hypothesis is not only unprovable, as Pfeiffer has recognized, but is erroneous. This opinion is based (1) on a study of the history of the Alexandrian canon hypothesis, (2) on an examination of the arguments favoring the hypothesis, and (3) on a re-evaluation of the status of canonical usage in Judaism at the time of the emergence of Christianity into the world.

Das Fehlen eines rechten Verhältnisses zwischen den Göttern und der Gerechtigkeit ist ein Hauptproblem in der Geschichte der griechischen Religion. Es trug in hohem Mass zu ihrer Auflösung bei. Die Griechen setzten sich mit wahrer Leidenschaft für die Gerechtigkeit ein, meistens in der Form der vergeltenden Gerechtigkeit, παθέῖν τὸν ἔρξαντα. Das kommt auch zum Ausdruck in dem zuerst von Solon ausgesprochenen und seitdem oft wiederholten Wunsch: “Möge ich meinen Freunden süss, meinen Feinden bitter sein.” Unsrer christlich beeinflussten Moral ist er befremdlich. Es hängt dies mit ihrer mehr oder weniger demokratischen Staats- und Gesellschaftsform zusammen. In anderen Religionen fehlt das Problem: zwar wird die Gerechtigkeit hoch geschätzt, ein jeder wünscht ein gerechtes Urteil, man beugt sich aber vor der Macht der Götter, der Herrscher, der Priester, ohne weiter zu fragen. In Griechenland gab es keine Priesterschaft, die Priester waren Bürger wie die anderen Glieder des Staates. Das Königtum war früh geschwunden oder machtlos geworden. Der Tyrann wurde als eine Ausgeburt der Ungerechtigkeit betrachtet, und auch ein legitimer König, der sich eine ausserordentliche Machtstellung erworben hatte wie Pheidon, wurde für einen Tyrannen gehalten. Die Autorität, die etwas anderes als die blosse Macht ist, verkörpert sich am ehesten in einem Einzelnen, weniger in einer Körperschaft, wie es der Adelsstaat war, noch weniger in einer launenhaften Volksversammlung. So geht das Verlangen nach Gerechtigkeit Hand in Hand mit der Demokratisierung, erstarkt mit dieser und endet mit ihr in der Nivellierung.

The suggestion that there was meaningful contact between Christian heretics and Jews during the middle ages is entirely plausible, quite significant, and generally unproved. That the existence of heresy had some impact upon the status of medieval Jews is, of course, beyond question. Inquisitorial proceedings aimed at heretics affected not only crypto-Jews (whether real or alleged) but members of the established Jewish community as well. Jews were accused of harboring heretics, encouraging them, and even of leading orthodox Christians into heresy. On several important occasions, procedures usually directed against heretical works were turned against the Talmud, the works of Maimonides, and certain sections of the Jewish liturgy. By the end of the middle ages, Jews were very well aware of the Church's lack of affection for heretics.

This essay addresses the problem of the relation between membership and moral responsibility in the interpretation of the doctrines of original sin and atonement by Jonathan Edwards. Focusing on his image of a tree and its branches to typify the solidarity of men as sinners (“in Adam”) and as saints (“in Christ”), I will argue that Edwards defines the “nature” of man in organic and historical terms which modify significantly both the biological images of infection and regeneration in the Augustinian-Calvinist tradition and the juridical terms of federal headship in Puritan covenant theology. Edwards defines “membership” in the race of Adam, as well as in the body of Christ, as a form of participation in a history which is decisively shaped by the disposition of its organizing figure. Yet, in formulating the doctrines of original sin and atonement, Edwards is careful to maintain the balance between disposition as a generic characteristic and action as an individual responsibility. Edwards' theory of solidarity, informed by a sense of history as the medium of ethical relationship, is an instructive attempt to clarify the relation between curse and disobedience, as well as that between grace and faithfulness.

This College cherishes the memory of its founder, whose benefactions were untrammelled by denominational conditions, but whose faith in the principles of his communion was lifelong and profound. It is therefore appropriate to set apart one day in the year when some aspect of these principles shall be presented to the College, not only as a tribute to the founder, but as a recognition of the religious comprehensiveness and ecclesiastical catholicity which it is the privilege of students here to enjoy.

Although traditionally regarded as an austere clergyman, rigidly circumscribed by narrow doctrinalism, Jonathan Edwards has the distinction of being America's pioneer esthetician. In a Dissertation concerning the Nature of True Virtue he brings together nearly all the theories prevalent in the early eighteenth century concerning the relation of beauty to virtue, and discusses the moral aspects of human passions and conduct. Francis Hutcheson is the philosopher whose influence is most pronounced. In the Dissertation he is mentioned by name three times; the general plan of his theory of moral sense is constantly suggested for comparison, contrast or illustration; fundamental doctrines and corollary principles from his system are specifically stated and attacked; and others of his notions are cited in support of Edwards' own views. It has long been known that Edwards read Hutcheson's work, but the close parallels in his own treatise, making it literally a commentary on Hutcheson, have not been generally recognized. Evidence of the extent of Hutcheson's influence may be found by comparing Edwards' dissertation with his earlier work on The Mind, a discussion of the essence of beauty or harmony in the realms of spirit and of sense. Written while its author was engaged in studying Locke, the discussion contains nearly all of Edwards' original ideas on natural and divine beauty. In the expanded and polished treatise some of the original ideas are modified as a direct result of Hutcheson's concepts, and a complete ethical and aesthetic system is developed to supplant the systems of Hutcheson and other moralists popular at the time.

Although not usually viewed as a manifestation of modern spirituality, hasidism strikingly resembles a product of the spiritual and ideological reorientation of Western religion in the post-Copernican world. Largely unaware of the philosophical and theological changes in European intellectual culture, many of the hasidic masters exhibited a sensitivity to the existential plight of humankind in the modern world.

Abraham, born in Chaldaea, had in youth already left a fatherland in his father's company. Now, in the plains of Mesopotamia, he tore himself free altogether from his family as well, in order to be a wholly self-subsistent, independent man, to be an overlord himself. … The same spirit which had carried Abraham away from his kin led him through his encounters with foreign peoples during the rest of his life; this was the spirit of self-maintenance in strict opposition to everything—the product of his thought raised to be the unity dominant over the nature which he regarded as infinite and hostile (for the only relationship possible between hostile entities is mastery of one by the other). With his herds Abraham wandered hither and thither over a boundless territory without bringing parts of it any nearer to him by cultivating and improving them. … The groves which often gave him coolness and shade he soon left again; in them he had theophanies, appearances of his perfect Object on High, but he did not tarry in them with the love which would have made them worthy of Divinity and participant in Him. He was a stranger on earth, a stranger to the soil and to men alike.

Many observant visitors to ancient Ostia must have noticed the remains of a small circular building in the middle of the Forum on the south side of the Decumanus Maximus, the continuation of the Via Ostiensis (Figs. 1-3). It came to light in the excavations of the Forum about forty years ago and was believed by the excavator Guido Calza to be a nymphaeum. Also in his posthumous detailed description of the oldest part of the city, the Castrum, the structure still appears as an ‘imperial nymphaeum.’ It was erected over the northeast corner of a very early rectangular building (Fig. 1 A) dated by Calza at the end of the fourth century B. C. Although the so-called nymphaeum obliterated the part of this building's eastern wall, which it straddles, this structure had been levelled before, when the authorities of Ostia decided to create at the crossing of the Decumanus Maximus and Cardo Maximus, in the center of the ancient Castrum, a monumental square.

Talmudic literature applies the term min to persons who espoused various forms of heresy, including denial of the world to come or resurrection, Gnostic views, or belief in “two powers in heaven.” In addition, the tannaim designated unacceptable halakhic and liturgical practices, which they believed revealed heretical beliefs, as derekh ha-minut, “sectarianism.” Finally, some allusions to mini/minim in the Babylonian Talmud can be shown to refer to Gentiles.

Among the innumerable fragments and scraps of manuscripts which have percolated through to Western Europe from the renowned Rümpelkammer at Cairo, there have been found not a few palimpsest leaves bearing the marks of other milieus and having traced upon them characters in tongues other than Hebrew. Chance brought the writer on the trail of one such vagrant parchment during a visit to Oxford in the summer of 1921; an investigation of the hand-list of Georgian MSS. at the Bodleian Library showed that this institution possessed a “fragment of Jeremiah in capitals.” As soon as I glanced at it, I realized that a perplexing puzzle had been solved. In 1902 Professor P. K. Kokovtsov of the University of St. Petersburg published a facsimile and collation of the Hebrew text on a Hebrew-Georgian parchment palimpsest leaf, a photograph of which had been sent anonymously to Professor N. Ya. Marr. The Hebrew text proved to be a portion of the Jerusalem Talmud; from the photograph it was difficult to tell which was the original writing. The late Sir A. E. Cowley kindly informed me that the fragment had been acquired in 1894 along with several others from Rabbi S. Wertheimer in Jerusalem, and that its provenance from the Genizah collection was almost certain. Professor F. C. Conybeare had already identified the Georgian text as a fragment of Jeremiah, and presumably had at the same time sent the photograph to Professor Marr, the covering letter probably having been lost.

In a recent article Professor Norman H. Baynes discussed the evidence for opposition to religious art prior to the outbreak of the Iconoclastic Controversy. In the course of his illuminating article, he called attention to an important fragment of patristic literature which was first published in recent years and which but for Professor Baynes might have remained unnoticed. It is an excerpt taken from the Miscellaneous Enquiries (Συμμικτὰ Zητήματα) by Hypatius of Ephesus, who was archbishop of this most important see from 531 to about 538 and in addition one of Justinian's most trusted theological advisers. Professor Baynes used the text to illustrate the fact that prior to the Iconoclastic Controversy “any general cult of the icons in such extreme forms as later appears in the apologies of the iconodules would seem dangerous and a wrongful use of a practice which was tolerated only in the interest of the weaker members of the church.” (p. 95). The text, however, is also important from other points of view. Since it is difficult Greek and since the trend of Hypatius' thought, though entirely logical, may not be clear at first sight, it is advisable to submit here a translation of the document, accompanied by explanatory notes. The writer gratefully acknowledges that he owes much to Diekamp and Baynes for an understanding of the document.

There is no more prominent atheist today than Jean-Paul Sartre. Yet serious students of Sartre's philosophy are struck by his unabashed use of theological idiom. This use is so extensive that Professor Hazel Barnes in her translator's introduction to Being and Nothingness comments:

Many people who consider themselves religious could quite comfortably accept Sartre's philosophy if he did not embarrass them by making his pronouncement, “There is no God,” quite so specific.

Can the sacred texts of non-Christian religious traditions be revelatory for Christians in a fashion that is more than vague and merely theoretical? This question is central within the larger project of understanding the significance of the various world religions for Christians, and the effort to answer it must proceed according to three specific tasks.

First, it is necessary to describe the ways in which the Christian tradition predisposes and constrains Christian believers on the issue of whether non-Christian texts can be revelatory words of God for non-Christians, for Christians, or for both. The formulation of this description requires reflection on the Christian tradition and its sources: Christian ideas of revelation, scripture, the Word of God, and possible words of God.

To say that Adam and Eve were created in the image of God ought to answer a host of questions, but the historian of exegesis finds that it raises more questions than it answers, since any given interpretation of the image of God reveals as much about the interpreter as it does about the image itself. It would be a bit melodramatic to describe Gen 1:26 as an exegetical Rorschach test, a literary “ink blot” which means only what the interpreter thinks it means. But Gen 1:26 does, in fact, serve usefully as a “weathervane.’ An interpreter's explanation of the imago dei often points to his or her larger theological agenda.

Ethical writers, like biologists, are no longer concerned with the mere fact of evolution. They are dealing with more specific questions of causes and methods. And, as with biology, two stages in the study may be expected. Biologists were at first interested in the historical question: What was the origin of species? They were temporarily satisfied with the answer: Natural selection, operating in conjunction with heredity and variation. Now, however, a clue to the specific method of heredity has been found in Mendelism, the causes operative in producing variation are being discovered by experimentation, and biology is entering upon a constructive stage which promises great results for agriculture, and perhaps also for human health and well-being. Ethics is as yet almost entirely in the descriptive stage. Perhaps we are staggered at the complexity of present problems, and timidly leave to the practical reformer or politician the responsible task of making positive suggestions. But, when the past evolution has been thoroughly analyzed, it may be hoped that social reform and moral education will be more intelligent. The interest of these problems for the student of religion is also obvious. For, to illustrate by one suggestion out of many, we ask: What causes the difference in the ideals of different ages and races? Is it religion, or philosophy, or economic needs and conditions solely? And shall the religious teacher who would hasten the Kingdom of God appeal to the conscience or to the legislature, or, in the conviction that neither of these avails, shall he stand still and wait for the inventor and the inevitable social revolution? It would be absurd to say that we are yet in a position to answer this old question conclusively, but it is not too much to say that no one can now afford to give dogmatic answers without first considering the complexity of the interaction which is increasingly coming into view between religious, political, economic, aesthetic, and ethical factors.