The formidable storm of literature concerning the narratives of the Last Supper shows no sign of abating any of its force, and the following reflections are submitted in the none too confident hope that perhaps even at this stage in the discussion the problem can be looked at from an unconventional angle. The Lucan account with its notorious difficulties of text and interpretation, the one being inextricably bound up with the other, has been the Waterloo of many investigators. Both the shorter and the longer texts present the student with their individual mass of problems. Since Hort the arguments against the originality of the longer text have had so wide an influence, especially perhaps on Englishspeaking writers, that if these thorny questions could be settled by taking a vote, it is possible that even now the shorter text would have it. Unfortunately the weight of argument is rather more evenly divided. Only so can we understand how it is possible for a scholar like Joachim Jeremias entirely to change his mind on the fundamental issue. It may very well be, of course, that the position adopted in the first edition of Die Abendmahlsworte Jesu can still be regarded as unrefuted even by its author. (Who knows if the next edition may not revert to it?) But it cannot be denied that Jeremias' statement of the case in favor of the longer text in the second edition is powerfully argued.

More than once the doctrine of the Spirit (Pneumatology) has been called the Cinderella of Theology. If this was so in the past, and is perhaps still, it now requires our full attention. At the risk of viewing the situation through ‘continental’ eyes, but hoping you will recognize this, I would say that the nineteenth century, impressed by the advance of science, confronted theology in the first place with problems raised by natural science. Its first question concerned the nature of God, especially in connection with creation. Scientific historical inquiry paid attention to the Bible, and in the New Testament focussed its interest upon the question of the historical Jesus. This work culminated and came to a temporary halt in Albert Schweitzer's, The Quest of the Historical Jesus. A revival of Systematic Theology and Dogmatics followed, and in the opinion of the dogmatists the connecting lines between theology viewed from a cosmic standpoint and the Gospel were too long. The same thing was seen happening in the historical study of religions which came to cover an ever-widening field. On flle other hand, however, they could not be satisfied with a ‘life of Jesus,’ so that Christology began to occupy a central place which it has held during the last few decades. And, if Pneumatology received any attention at all, its allotted place was small.

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.”

During recent years, scholars have been producing a great deal of important work to clarify and interpret Milton's metaphysical position, but at least one important question appears still unsettled. Does his materialistic monism embrace the whole range of being, uncreated as well as created? It certainly comprehends the whole hierarchy of creatures; does it comprehend God too?

Sooner or later every study of the New Testament must deal with the problem of its eschatology. There are several reasons for this. In the first place, the center of the New Testament is the messiah whom the earliest preachers identified as Jesus. While the term itself simply means, “the Anointed One,” by the time of the New Testament it had come to be inseparably associated with eschatological hopes. That these hopes were expressed in varied and often contradictory forms only adds to the problem. In any case, it is clear that the proclamation that the messiah is Jesus is inevitably an eschatological proclamation.

Not long ago, an English New Testament teacher was pressed by a Russian theologian for a straight answer to the question, “Do you teach your students to interpret the New Testament according to the Fathers?” The answer could hardly be Yes. In most Western Universities it would be rare to find references to patristic exegesis in lectures on the Old or New Testaments. So a chasm was disclosed between academic theology as it is understood in the Eastern Orthodox world and its counterpart in the West. It is as big a chasm as any that gapes, doctrinally or ecclesiastically, between the Western Christian denominations and the various branches of the Eastern Church. For the Orthodox, patristic exegesis affords a sure safeguard of right Christian belief, so that the task of the academic theologian is to teach that exegesis. He is not so readily concerned about the primary meaning of the text of Scripture; that is to say, about the meaning it had in the minds of the writers, and that they looked for it to have for their immediate readers. Dr. Zankov, speaking for the Greek Orthodox Church, says, “The Holy Scriptures serve us as a source. The liturgical books, and writings of the Church Fathers, are, so to speak, the rule and line of ecclesiastical consciousness. In both of these the heart and spirit of Orthodoxy are reflected.” This Orthodox concept of Scripture has roots that run back to the first days of Greek Christianity.

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.

In part, perhaps, because of the lack of a modern edition — the most recent, Wilhelm Dindorf's text of 1832, has become extremely scarce — Themistius' orations, and their significance in the religious and intellectual history of the fourth century, have not been as well known as they should be. It is hoped that a new edition may be forthcoming before long. In the meantime the present study will offer some observations on Themistius' writings which will suggest some of his significance in the general picture of the fourth century. Incidentally the writer will venture to point out various passages which suggest that Themistius had some knowledge of the Christian scriptures, especially the New Testament.

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.”

St. Paul, the “great vessel of the Holy Spirit” as Dante calls him (Par. XXI, 127–8), expanding the famous epithet of Acts, IX, 15, had the most famous if not the earliest Christian mystical experience. This is the experience he describes in the Second Epistle to the Corinthians and it was to be the point of departure and reference for much of later mystical and theological speculation. St. Paul describes his rapture as follows: “I knew a man in Christ above fourteen years ago (whether in the body, I cannot tell; or whether out of the body, I cannot tell: God knoweth;), such an one caught up to the third heaven. And I knew such a man (whether in the body, or out of the body, I cannot tell: God knoweth;) How that he was caught up into paradise, and heard unspeakable words which it is not lawful for a man to utter.”

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.

All historical studies suffer from the unconscious transformation of generally accepted hypotheses into ‘universally known facts.’ This transformation is particularly frequent in NT criticism, where the small amount of directly relevant material necessitates constant resort to hypotheses. Therefore particular credit is due to Munck for writing a book which challanges many of the accepted hypotheses about Paul.

We are in possession of a Number of documents (inscriptions and papyri) relating to the lease of priesthoods in Greece and Egypt, dating from the fifth century B.C. to late Roman times. That curious practice, similar in some respect to the holding of Church benefices in the Middle Ages, has been studied by different scholars, but without agreement on many substantial points. Before the second World War K. Wilhelmson and M. Segre dedicated very important studies to the problem, advancing considerably the interpretation of the sources. In my Lois Sacrées of Asia Minor I collected many specimens of these documents and tried my best to promote their understanding. But nobody has sought to link the sale of cults in Greece with the same practice, as it is well attested through the papyri, in Ptolemaic and Roman Egypt. Meanwhile the inscriptions and the papyri, put together, not only fill the lacunas existing in both fields of documentation, but contribute to elucidate the legal side of the practice itself. With the recent publication of the study of M. Talamanca on auction in the classical world, the task has now become easier. Unfortunately the author does not utilize the abundant epigraphical material on our subject. I should like to endeavor to supply in part this need.

When I set out to survey the history of these epithets I did not expect to find anything of particular interest. But soon the following points which required an explanation emerged.

A small scrap of papyrus from Antinoopolis has been edited and commented on by C. H. Roberts and treated in a very learned paper by A. Delatte. I print the text with a few remarks due to these scholars.

The Harvard Theological Review has recently carried an article by D. S. Wallace-Hadrill entitled “Eusebius and the Gospel Text of Caesarea.” Students of the Eusebian text have known for some time that Mr. Wallace-Hadrill was working on this problem with what appeared to be unusual thoroughness. His published conclusions in the Harvard Theological Review come as something of a surprise and require some attention.

In the April, 1956 issue of the Harvard Theological Review appeared an article by Jack Finegan on “The Original Form of the Pauline Collection,” which purports to be a refutation of some suggestions of my own about the order of the letters in the primitive collection. Without intending to do so, he seriously misrepresents my position. I should like to correct this error in understanding as well as to make a few additional comments.

There are several well known commentators who hold that Plato “identifies” God with good, or goodness, or the good, or the Idea of the good. And there are several others who come very close to saying this. I should like to show not only that this interpretation is wrong, but also the weaker or perhaps more plausible one that Plato holds that the ground of value or obligation is what God approves or commands.

By the time the Fathers of the Church began to offer negation as a solution of the problem of divine attributes, the theory of negative attributes had already been dealt with by Philo, Albinus, and Plotinus. All three of them, starting with the assumption that God is ineffable, found that one way of describing God was by means of negative attributes. In their treatment of this type of attributes, however, there is a difference between Philo on the one hand and Albinus and Plotinus on the other.