The monumental work of Erwin R. Goodenough on Jewish Symbols opens new historical vistas. Our knowledge of Judaism and its religious attitudes in the Roman Empire was derived from written, mainly Talmudic, sources. For the first time Goodenough assembles, presents and interprets an imposing array of figured or otherwise decorated monuments which throw an unexpected light on the mentality of the period known as that of the Talmud. Who could imagine that at Beth She'arim, a famous seat of Talmudic learning, contemporaries of R. Jehudah, the compiler of the Mishna, were buried in a chamber decorated by a carved human figure surmounted by a menorah, or in a relief sarcophagus showing Leda and the swan, the mythological episode which was regarded as extremely indecent by a contemporary Christian writer?

One of the achievements of recent scholarship forever to be identified with Ludwig Traube's name is the combination of history, palaeography, and textual criticism as an indispensable guide to the understanding of early mediaeval culture. The investigator of the course of politics and of letters works at second hand if he knows not the characteristics of those manuscripts in which contemporary events are recorded, or of those in which the treasures of the past were handed down to the Middle Ages. The palaeographer must consider his books not only as specimens of script but as witnesses for the text of the works they contain and as monuments of the culture of the times. The textual critic ploughs an arid field if the codices of an author are to him but A and B and C, to be hung from a stemma according to the value of their readings and their interrelations. These separate studies, which indeed call for diverse methods and diverse trainings, are but parts of a single science—a harmonious and comprehensive view of the life of an epoch. Traube of course had precursors in this complicated art, but his brilliant pursuit of it entitles him to what he himself would disclaim—the rank of a founder.

One of the most arresting characters in medieval literature, appearing in the Old English Gospel of Nicodemus, is seo hell, an apparently female chthonic figure who engages in a memorable flyting with Satan and orders him out of “her” dwelling (ut of mýnre onwununge) Her vivid personification in a dramatically excellent scene suggests that her gender is more than grammatical, and invites comparison with the Old Norse underworld goddess Hel and the Frau Hölle of German folklore, to say nothing of underworld goddesses in other cultures.

In successive discussions of the title Son of God, which seems to have been Jesus' own self-designation, and Son of Man, which would seem to have been applied to him after his death by the primitive Aramaic-speaking community of believers in his second coming, we have sought to disentangle primitive from secondary tradition. We have particularly emphasized the fact that in its distinctive principles Jesus' own teaching attaches itself to the primitive form of the messianic ideal—Israel as Yahweh's son; not the later theocratic—the Davidic heir to the throne as Son of God; nor the still later apocalyptic—the supernatural deliverer coming on the clouds of heaven as the fulfilment of the promise. In agreement with this view of the teaching of Jesus, our earliest documents, the Pauline epistles, make sonship in the ethical and religious sense the essence of the glad tidings. Since the publication of our argument our conclusions have been confirmed by the important newly-discovered document, the Odes of Solomon. The confirmation is especially strong if the view of Harnack be taken, that the Odes in their original form are Jewish, rather than the view of their discoverer, J. Rendel Harris, who regards them as Christian. The Odes give irrefutable evidence of the existence in first-century Judaism, or at least in primitive Christian circles, of a doctrine of sonship in the ethical and religious sense closely in line with what we have urged as the distinctive element in the messianic consciousness of Jesus. The ideal of the odist for Israel is an ideal of spiritual sonship. By the knowledge and love of the Beloved, “the Most High and Merciful,” Israel is guaranteed not only sonship to God, but immortality, an eternal dwelling in God's presence.

Mt. 543, which reads, ‘Ye have heard that it was said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine enemy,’ has long puzzled historians of Judaism. Strack-Billerbeck (ad loc.) profess themselves unable to find a written source for the second half of the maxim quoted, and think it is to be explained as a popular saying based on II Sam. 19.7 (so the Hebrew; English, 6) where Joab rebukes David for loving those who hate him and hating those who love him. This is not quite satisfactory, however, for all the five other maxims quoted in the chapter (and introduced by the same or almost the same formula) are either verbal quotations or close verbal reminiscences of verses of the Mosaic Law. (Mt. 5. 33, parallel to Num. 30.3, is, of the five, the one most remote from its presumptive original.) Therefore it has been suggested, e.g., that the second half of the maxim in 43 was not intended to be a part of the quotation, but was a bit of exegesis, added by Jesus or by some Christian editor, to indicate the popular understanding of ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbor’ (Lev. 19.18).

Although it is widely agreed that the phylacteries mentioned in Matt 23:5 are tĕfîllîn, this equation has not gone entirely unquestioned. L. Blau stated that only the words těfîllâ (singular) and tĕfîllîn (plural) are used in Talmudic literature, and that conclusions based on the word phylacteries are without foundation, “since this name was not used in truly Jewish circles.” G. G. Fox argued that since Greek phylaktēria refers to charms or amulets, and since for the Pharisee the tĕfîllîn were truly spiritual symbols rather than magical amulets, Matthew's use of the term must be a misrepresentation, probably intentional, expressing his contempt for tĕfîllîn.

‘(3) Pourquoi donc, ô père, Dieu n'a-t-il pas donné l'intellect à tous? — C'est qu'il a voulu, mon enfant, que l'intellect fût placé entre les âmes comme un prix qu'elles eussent à gagner. — (4) Et où l'a-t-il donc placé?—Il en a rempli un grand cratère qu'il a envoyé sur terre, et il a appointé un héraut avec ordre de proclamer aux coeurs des hommes ces paroles: “Plonge-toi, toi qui le peux, dans ce cratère que voici, toi qui crois que tu remonteras vers Celui qui a envoyé sur terre le cratère, toi qui sais pour quelle fin tu es venue à l'être.” Tous ceux donc qui ont prêté attention à la proclamation et qui ont été baptisés (de ce baptême) de l'intellect, ceux-là ont eu part à la connaissance et ils sont devenus hommes parfaits, parce qu'ils ont reçu l'intellect. Ceux au contraire qui ont failli à écouter la proclamation, ceux-ci sont demeurés les logiques, parce qu'ils n'ont pas acquis en surplus l'intellect et qu'ils ignorent en vue de quoi ils sont venus à l'être et qui sont les auteurs de leur création.’

In his Vita sancti Patricii, written in the late seventh century, Muirch depicts St. Patrick, the national apostle of Ireland who lived in the fifth century, with a number of interesting characteristics. In this paper I shall demonstrate that the sources behind Muirch's account of Patrick included biographies of New Testament apostles. These biographies provide a background in religious literature for some of the events which, according to Muirch, befall Patrick on his missionary journey around the island of Ireland.

The study of the monuments of the early centuries of the Christian Era has hitherto received its inspiration from one or other of two sources. Christian scholars, like De Rossi and Wilpert and Kraus, have been interested in the subject because of its Christian content and significance, and classical scholars, like Wickhoff and Riegl, have studied the monuments of this period as the expiring forms of classic art. Both classes of scholars have, in great measure, confined their observations to the monuments of Italy, especially to those of Rome and to the distinctly Roman provinces. Against this point of view that “All roads lead to Rome,” a new battle-cry is raised, “Ex oriente lux.” It is not to Rome, but to Alexandria and Egypt, Ephesus and Asia Minor, Antioch and Syria, Jerusalem and Palestine, that we must look for the solution of early Christian and medieaval art. The new champion is Dr. Josef Strzygowski, and he is gathering adherents amongst the younger writers in various German universities.

The development and consistency of Luther's attitude to religious liberty is still the occasion of much diversity of opinion. By some it is contended that he broke radically with an earlier liberalism. By none is a measure of change denied, but certain writers would minimize the change by insisting that Luther was essentially intolerant from the beginning, others by representing him as fundamentally tolerant to the end. Still others find him incurably inconsistent.

The Arabic summary of Galen's Περὶ ἠθῶν, a work which appears to have been of some importance for moral philosophy in the early centuries of philosophical speculation in Islam, is the only remnant of this rather comprehensive work of the philosophizing doctor of the century of the Antonines. It is, as happens so often in the case of Galen, a work in which traditional doctrine and statements taken from some great predecessor make themselves more strongly felt than the author's own contribution and his particular intention. Posidonius' restoration of Plato's psychology, as far as ethical speculation is concerned, appears to be the basis of Galen's description of moral character. There is no need to refer to Posidonius if we want to explain why Galen thought it right to insert fables and sermon-like exhortations into his theoretical treatment of a subject of moral philosophy. But it may, nonetheless, be appropriate to remember that Posidonius insisted on the importance of exhortation as well as of description and analysis: moral philosophy is in equal need of both. Seneca Epist. 95, 65: “Posidonius non tantum praeceptionem.…sed etiam suasionem et consolationem et exhortationem necessariam iudicat. His adicit causarum inquisitionem.…Ait utilem futuram et descriptionem cuiusque virtutis: hanc Posidonius ethologiam vocat, quidam characterismon appellant, signa cuiusque virtutis ac vitii et notas reddentem quibus inter se similia discriminentur.”

Greek manuscript II A 7 in the Biblioteca Nazionale in Naples is an unpublished minuscule codex from around the eleventh century containing the Acts of the Apostles, the Catholic epistles, fourteen epistles of St. Paul (including the Pastorals and Hebrews) and the Apocalypse through chapter three, verse thirteen. The codex was described in detail by Salvator Cyrillus, royal librarian of what was then the Bourbon Library, now the public library in Naples, and more recently and briefly by Gregory and von Soden. The MS. is furnished with a form of the “Euthalian” apparatus including prologues; the Martyrium Pauli; tables of lections, Old Testament quotations, and chapter summaries. The codex also contains a colophon which states, among other things, that the MS. was written by Evagrius

The Greek Catenae to the Bible, of which a great number of manuscripts are preserved in numerous libraries of Europe and the East, are of great importance because they furnish the sole tradition for about one-half of all the extant remains of the exegetical writings of the Greek fathers. From them all editions of most of the Greek patristic writers who commented on the Scriptures must draw a large part of their contents. For the textual criticism of the Greek Bible, for the history of Christian thought, and sometimes for the understanding of the biblical writers, they have much to offer. In order, however, that these resources may be used securely, the complete investigation of the whole body of catena-manuscripts is indispensable, and the highly complicated relations of the witnesses to one another make this study peculiarly difficult. Commentaries of all ages are a growth, and in most instances not independent creations. The individual copies of the several catenae almost always differ somewhat, and often very largely, in contents, although they yield unmistakable evidence of relationship in origin; while in details of expression the ancient excerptors and copyists allowed themselves greater freedom than might have been permissible in continuous texts of authors.

To one who is familiar with the New Testament and the writings of the Apostolic Fathers, Tatian's Discourse to the Greeks comes as quite a surprise. Supposedly an apology for Christianity, there is within it not one mention of Christ or Christianity (at least, not in these terms). Other familiar words such as “Jesus,” “Lord,” “Church,” “Savior,” “salvation,” etc., are also absent. Except for a passing reference to “the God who suffered” (15, 5–6), and the unqualified statement that “God was born in the form of a man” (23, 6), one might overlook altogether the fact that Tatian was a Churchman.

Despite decades of research, it remains surprisingly difficult to identify the origins of the works preserved in the hoard of Coptic manuscripts discovered at Nag Hammadi in 1945. Even as unearthed “Gnostic” gospels continue to make headlines, many academics repent intoning these old, fiery heretics, and some have even called for an all-out dispensation of the term “Gnosticism.”2 Yet a felicitous piece of external evidence seems to offer a more stable foundation for identifying the date and sectarian provenance of several of the most difficult works discovered at Nag Hammadi, the so-called “Platonizing” treatises of the “Sethian school” of Gnosticism.3 Porphyry, the top pupil of the Neoplatonic philosopher Plotinus (third century C.E.), remarks that,

Attending to ongoing debates about the “meaning of life” in Ecclesiastes, this article determines how Qoheleth addressed meaningfulness by drawing on a threefold scheme of definitions for life’s meaning. These definitions are derived from psychological research and used to argue that all three conceptions appear within the book of Ecclesiastes. Qoheleth was primarily concerned with life’s “coherence,” which depends on predictable and reliable patterns in life that render it sensible, yet he also addressed life’s “purpose” and “significance.” While primarily determining how these three forms of meaning, along with their attendant ideas, are handled within Ecclesiastes itself, this article also demonstrates how resources from psychological research help to resolve debates among biblical interpreters, who agree far more than it at first appears once clearer definitions of “meaning” are employed.

One salient characteristic of our current situation is the emergence of a growing consensus among theologians and biblical scholars alike that the time has come to “dethrone” historical criticism as the reigning paradigm of scriptural exegesis for the sake of recovering a theological interpretation of the Bible on behalf of the church.1 To illustrate this new development, I have chosen to focus on the arguments of three prominent biblical scholars, each of whom has made a sustained case about the negative effects of historical criticism upon theological exegesis: They are Brevard S. Childs, Christopher R. Seitz, and Dale B. Martin. All three scholars have close ties to Yale and, not surprisingly, they bear a sort of family resemblance to one another inasmuch as their work partakes of theological themes and concerns that have been prominent at that school in recent decades. Notwithstanding their antagonistic posture toward historical criticism, all three are gifted practitioners of the very method whose dominance they seek to overturn. Since I am not a biblical scholar, I must enter into discussion with them as a theologian who is equally concerned about the relations between biblical studies and theology. At the outset, however, it is necessary to clarify that my own theological orientation prevents me from embracing their call to depose historical criticism. As a liberal Protestant for whom historical-critical interpretation of both the biblical and the post-biblical tradition is constitutive of theology's proper task, their initial premise that historical criticism is somehow inimical to a theological treatment of the Bible strikes me as false and misleading. Contrary to the impression given by their explicit formulations, it appears that the real target of their polemics is not historical scholarship per se but, rather, the normative uses to which it is put in theologies informed by it.

That there was, as has been suggested, an actual historical connection between John the Baptist and the Qumran Community is, and must at present remain, a hypothesis. The similarities to be found between them do not in any case depend upon this link being established. But I believe it to be one of those hypotheses which, once made, lead to further connections and open up new and significant possibilities. It is therefore important to test it. And where direct historical confirmation fails, the only way to test a hypothesis is to push it to its limits and see how much of the evidence it can in fact explain. And to push it beyond its limits is not necessarily a fault: on the contrary, it is likely to be the best way of discovering where those limits lie.

The cosmic imagery whereby Innocent III likened the Papacy to the sun and the Empire to the moon has been traced before. The purpose of the present inquiry is to examine Gregory VII's scarcely less striking comparison of the sacerdotium to gold and the regnum to lead in three letters, two to Bishop Hermann of Metz and one to William the Conqueror. The comparison is made in its simplest form in the first letter to Hermann in 1076, wherein Pope Gregory in reference to Henry IV and his counsellors writes as follows:

Perchance they imagine that the royal dignity is higher than that of bishops; but how great the difference between them is, they may learn from the difference in their origins. The former came from human lust of power; the latter was instituted by divine grace. The former constantly strives after vain glory; the latter aspires ever toward the heavenly life. Let them learn … how St. Ambrose in his pastoral letter distinguished between them. He said: “If you compare the episcopal dignity with the splendor of kings and the crowns of princes, these are far more inferior to it than the metal lead is to splendorous gold.”