After discussing the scholarly preference for dating Jesus' crucifixion to 7 April 30 CE, this article argues that the precise date can no longer be recovered. All we can claim with any degree of historical certainty is that Jesus died some time around Passover (perhaps a week or so before the feast) between 29 and 34 CE. The emergence of the Johannine tradition (in which Jesus died on the day of Preparation) and the Markan tradition (in which Jesus died on the Passover itself) are explored through the lens of social/collective memory.

Although Jesus' Last Supper probably took place on the night before Passover (as in John) rather than on the first night of Passover itself (as in the Synoptics), it contained elements strongly marked by the Jewish institution of the Passover seder (fixed order of service) and haggadah (ritual retelling of the exodus events). These elements were not, as some scholars of Judaism have recently argued, post-70 CE developments. Rather, evidence from Jubilees, Philo, and the NT itself indicates that seder and haggadah already existed in some form in the pre-70 period.

In both his Gospel and Acts, Luke places the ascension at the end of the day of Jesus' resurrection. There is no difference between Luke's dating of the ascension in his Gospel and that in Acts. The forty days mentioned in Acts 1.3 are viewed by Luke as subsequent to the ascension, not as previous to it. The forty days are not the term fixed for the ascension; they are not linked with the ascension at all. They are linked with the post-Easter, post-ascension appearances. The ascension ought to be regarded as preceding the forty days of Jesus' appearances rather than following them.

Relatively little scholarly work has attempted to change the perception that the Bible is a non-humorous book. Drawing upon contemporary humor theory, this article explores how Mark's third sea crossing (8.14–21) is intended to evoke a humorous response. Although laughter emerges from the comedic depiction of the Twelve, humor complements the evangelist's broader theological agenda. In Mark, humor is a natural byproduct of performance and is a powerful means of communicating a central theme of the Gospel.

When Paul asks for the incestuous man at Corinth to be handed over to Satan is he calling for mere physical expulsion from the community or is he calling for something more? We argue in this paper that the nature of the man's offense—i.e., an ostentatious display of sexual immorality that also receives theological justification from the perpetrator—demanded a harsher sentence beyond mere physical exclusion. Drawing on the book of Job, we show that the disciplinary practice Paul advocates in 1 Corinthians 5 is a spiritual practice that aims to remove the spiritual protection enjoyed by the incestuous man while he remained in the body of Christ, thereby exposing him to Satan's attacks. Paul's hope was that the affliction suffered by the man at the hands of Satan as a result of this exposure would lead to his repentance and ultimate salvation.

Since 1950, studies of Luke–Acts have been influenced by a downgrading of eschatology (at least of the expectation that the goal of history would be near). Conzelmann's slogan ‘Die Mitte der Zeit’ (the earthly mission of Jesus as the ‘centre of history’) suggested a long ‘time of the Church’ with the gift(s) of the Holy Spirit as a substitute (and not a foretaste) of the kingdom of God. The present study challenges this influential view of Luke's theology and its impact on definitions of the genre of Acts.

Although Romans has been heavily mined for scriptural allusions in recent years, the influence of Isaiah 49–50 on Rom 7.14-25 has gone largely unnoticed. Building on Philonenko's work on the allusion to Isa 50.1 in the phrase ‘sold under sin’ (Rom 7.14), this study seeks to identify additional echoes from LXX Isa 49.24–50.2 in Rom 7.14-25 and to interpret Paul's discourse in the light of the sin–exile–restoration paradigm implied by both the source's original context and Paul's own strategic use of Isaiah in his portrayal of the plight of ἐγώ. The identification of these echoes, it is suggested, aids in interpreting the story of ἐγώ by connecting the allusions to Israel's early history in Rom 7.7-13 to images of the nation's later history in 7.14-25, thus showing the speaker's plight under sin to be analogous to Israel's own experiences of deception, death, and exile.

Three questions have remained central to the Erastus debate (Ἔραστος ὁ οἰκονόμος τῆς πόλɛως, Rom 16.23): the date of IKorinthKent 232, the nature of the office of οἰκονόμος (τῆς πόλɛως), and the frequency of the name ‘Erastus’ in antiquity. The present article focuses on the third issue. Moving beyond Meggitt's earlier research (1996, 1999), the author here furnishes a comprehensive catalog of literary, papyrological, and epigraphical occurrences of the name (in Greek and in Latin) in antiquity. The chief payoff of the catalog is two-fold: (1) it provides, for the first time, comprehensive quantitative evidence that the name was in fact rare; and (2) it reveals a significant dearth of attestations from first-century Greece.

The scene with two angels that Mary Magdalene sees in John 20.12 could have been visualized as an icon of resurrection by the first readers of the Fourth Gospel, especially by those familiar with the iconography of the Isis cult which was spread over the Roman Empire. Using traditional exegetical, hermeneutical, historical, and iconographic methods, this article stresses the importance of the resurrection in John 20, as corroborated by the motif of Isis and Nephthys flanking Osiris while mourning his death and assisting him in his resurrection.

That the ‘Church’ constitutes the main theme of the Epistle to the Ephesians is the opinio communis in exegesis. Going beyond the undisputed letters by Paul ἐκκλησία would thus no longer designate the local congregation but the universal Church instead. Yet it is still open to question whether ecclesiology becomes the theological centre, out of which Christology, too, enfolds, and the Church acquires a soteriological function. The paper argues for a re-examination of the term ἐκκλησία and the metaphors used in the epistle. It then emerges that Ephesians does indeed have an ecclesiological theme, but not yet the concept of one ‘Church’ as a transcendent entity. Of major importance are the various body metaphors, as they imply the unity of the assembled. Nevertheless, even the body metaphors do not presuppose an already developed concept of the ‘Church’ as the ‘realm of salvation’ or any other spatial metaphor. Instead, they demonstrate that soteriology and ecclesiology remain strictly related to Christology. With a view to the epistle's intention this means that Ephesians develops a vision of the unity and community of believers, not, however, as the theological construct of the Church, but rather as a paraenetic goal to integrate Christians of differing persuasions.

In Acts 1–7, the Holy Spirit functions as the restored temple presence of the Lord that will restore the kingdom to Israel via the Ekklesia. The Holy Spirit acts through the Ekklesia as one would expect the Lord's temple presence to act. When Barnabas, Ananias, and Sapphira bring their offerings to the temple, they place them at the feet of the leadership of the new religio-fiscal center of restored Israel. As proof that the Lord's presence has indwelled this eschatological temple community, an improper act can, and does in this case, result in immediate death.

According to the prevailing interpretation of 1 Cor 3.15, the phrase διὰ πυρός must be taken in the local sense, and the fire of vv. 13 and 15 plays no soteriological function. This article contests this reading, arguing that Paul's probable allusion to Mal 3 and his reference to the testing function of fire may imply refining as well. More importantly, it demonstrates that whereas the phrase διὰ πυρός is indeterminate and may take either the local or the instrumental sense, nearly every other instance of the construction σῴζω + διά + genitive in the relevant Greek literature has an instrumental sense.

Paul's language in 1 Cor 11.19 suggests that the Corinthians elected rotating officers to serve as administrative leaders with control over food distribution at the Lord's Supper. Interpreters overlook this verse's technical terminology despite the fact that doing so results in unusual and confusing translations. In addition to making sense out of the otherwise obscure sentence of v. 19, the existence of a ‘flat hierarchy’ of temporary and rotating officers in the Corinthian group helps to explain several aspects involved in the Corinthians' banquet problems.

Many New Testament exegetes have taken the reference in Acts 9.43 to Peter's stay at Simon the Tanner's house as proof that purity laws are no longer relevant for the author of Acts, since tanning conveys ritual impurity. These interpreters have relied primarily on rabbinic passages to make their argument. This article shows that none of the solicited rabbinic passages refers to tanning as ritually defiling. Rather, the rabbinic sources reveal a disdain for tanners because of their stench and filth. At times, the rabbinic sages also criticize tanners for their supposed lack of moral scruples. Peter's visit to Simon the Tanner's house, therefore, cannot be taken as evidence that the author of Acts dismisses the relevance of the Jewish purity system, let alone kashrut. At best, the reference in Acts to Simon the Tanner informs us about the social-economic status of some of the members of the Jesus movement.

In his Church History, Eusebius quotes a passage from Hegesippus's lost Memories in which he relates the martyrdom of James the Just; according to this account, the latter was called ᾽Ωβλίας. This article proposes to examine this odd term whose precise meaning remains obscure. Beyond issues related to its signification, the analysis of this word is likely to shed new light on the milieu in which the tradition quoted by Hegesippus appeared. This study seeks to demonstrate through various examples that the figure of the ᾽Ωβλίας was particularly popular in Jewish literature following the destruction of the Second Temple.

It is regularly suggested that the great weakness of reformational orderings of ‘faith’ and ‘justification’ is that they fail to coordinate Christology and the doctrine of justification. Behind this assertion is a particular construal of the pistis Christou debate: the interpretative decision to read Christ as the object of faith contributes to an anthropocentric account of justification whereas a ‘subjective’ interpretative of the genitive phrase restores the (Pauline) relationship between Jesus and justification. This article will argue that this is a misreading of Protestant theology, at least as it comes to expression in Martin Luther's exegesis of Galatians 2.16, 19-20 which presents a radically Christocentric account of ‘faith in Christ’. For Luther, the sola fide, as an interpretation of a Pauline antithesis—‘not by works of the law, but through faith in Jesus Christ’—, is an anthropological negation and a christological confession: it excludes the human as the subject of salvation and confesses Christ, who is present in faith, as the one by, in, and on the basis of whom God justifies the ungodly.

This article discusses the Pauline anacoluthon in Romans 8.12. The usual interpretations consider it a communicative accident on the part of Paul or as a case of laudable laconicism. Against such an understanding the present author proposes to consider the anacoluthon as a figure of speech, deliberately chosen by the Apostle both to emphasize the total character of the filial relationship of Christians to God, as opposed to their past dependences, and to help them discover this particularity of their new status on their own.

This article explores the ways the story of the soul's present plight and its return to the divine realm is narrated in different Nag Hammadi treatises, and to what effect. The soul's condition is a central concern in two types of stories: there are (1) demiurgical myths, in which the soul's origin is ascribed to an inferior creator-god, and (2) plainer stories of the soul, which are solely focused on the soul, without a creation narrative. The main sources for the latter type are the Exegesis on the Soul (NHC II, 6) and Authoritative Teaching (Authentikos Logos, NHC VI, 3). In addition to these texts, three demiurgical myths from Nag Hammadi Codex II, are drawn into the discussion: The Secret Book of John, The Nature of the Rulers, and On the Origin of the World.

The soul pestered by emotions is one of the themes that connects these stories with the long-standing philosophical tradition, starting from Plato's dialogues. The portrayals of this theme become increasingly ‘demonic’, but even the soul's battle against demons is first and foremost a battle against emotions. A new element in these stories is the emphasis placed upon repentance as bringing about transformation in the soul. Although strong sexual imagery is used in these texts to describe both the mythic past and the soul's present plight, the analysis suggests that sexual lust is not the only moral concern in them. Some texts discussed in this article show far greater concern with wine, luxury, good looks, pride, and arrogance than with illicit sex.

According to a growing number of scholars, when Paul makes use of the phrase ‘peace and security’ in 1 Thess 5.3, he is alluding to a well-known slogan in Roman propaganda that summed up the benefits of the Pax Romana. While there can be no doubt that ‘peace’ played an important role in Rome's imperial ideology, it is less clear that this was the case for ‘security’, and a review of the evidence presented by the proponents of this view calls into question their conclusion that ‘peace and security’ had the character of a slogan.