In the introduction to his helpful edition of selected writings from Ernst Bloch, Hans Heinz Holz recognises that Christian theologians feel themselves drawn towards Bloch's philosophy, and have in fact ‘appropriated it (and obviously also his person, as the Festschrift for his eightieth birthday shows)’. The theologians in question are principally Jürgen Moltmann, J. B. Metz, W.-D. Marsch and Gerhard Sauter. Of these Moltmann and Metz were among the contributors to the Festschrift, Ernst Bloch Zu ehren. These theologians, Holz complains, by their ‘inadequate reception’ and ‘incorrect interpretation’ of Bloch's Marxist thought have ‘falsified’ his intention. In this article I want to consider that verdict, putting three questions. What is the particular form of Marxism that Bloch sets before us? How have these theologians found his thought relevant and helpful? In their use of Bloch do they in fact incorrectly interpret and falsify his intention? I am not concerned here to ask whether the account of Christianity put before us by Moltmann and the others is acceptable or not.

A Mong those elements of Christian doctrine which surged anew to the forefront of Christian thinking during the early sixteenth century was that biblical idea which, in more modern times, we have come to call the ‘priesthood of all believers’. Luther used the doctrine almost as a battle-axe, to hew away at the pretensions of the Roman hierarchy and sacramental system. Almost invariably, it is Luther's name which we find linked to this doctrine in studies of the Reformation period. However, any serious study of the idea of the priesthood of God's people would do well to include an examination of the way in which John Calvin dealt with it, and indeed, the way in which the idea found certain expressions within his system of ecclesiastical organisation. It is our purpose here to see what Calvin taught in relationship to this biblical idea, and what elements of the life of the Genevan church may be considered to be, at least in part, an expression of the idea.

Paul Tillich's third volume of his Systematic Theology was never reviewed by Time magazine. Previously the publication of such a major volume was a front-cover event. The correspondent who interviewed me about the importance of the volume informed me that Time had asked five theologians in Chicago, New York and Boston respectively for an appraisal and found general agreement that Tillich's writings, except possibly for his occasional writings, especially his sermons, ‘would not last’. The astonished reporter confessed that some of these theologians had stressed that Tillich's theology was not Christian and that some had even suggested it was definitely a form of Hinduism. Having been one of the earliest of Tillich's critics I now threw whatever weight I could command into stressing the positive aspects of his thinking and the significance of his eventual contribution, but, as it turned out in this case, in vain.

One of the most stirring moments of the World Conference on Church and Society held in Geneva in 1966 was during the third plenary session on 14th July. For that evening the subject was ‘The Challenge and Relevance of Theology to the Social Revolutions of our Time’. It had been chosen with some hesitation by the preparatory Committee; for although the relevance of the subjects on the first and second evenings—the technological and social revolutions of our time—was clear to all the delegates, the importance of a ‘theological revolution’ seemed simply incommensurable in comparison with the others. However, this evening proved to be a real challenge to the Conference (and also in its repercussions on the social-theological thinking in the ecumenical movement) and its influence on the discussions afterwards was lasting and varied. The ‘theology of revolution’ presented itself as an extremely burning issue for ecumenism.

For more than sixty years theological thinking has been influenced by developments in modern psychology, as even a cursory examination of the theological literature of the past half century will indicate. The movement has been largely one way: a borrowing of methods and concepts from psychology by the theologian. Now this situation is changing. There are signs of the beginning of a two-way movement, with psychology learning something from theology as well as contributing to theology. We may be at the beginning of a significant period of creative dialogue between the two.

The twin themes of life and death are far more moving than the vast impersonalities of time and space. All four of these concepts represent primary categories in the sphere of philosophical thought. The former two, however, have an intensely personal quality about them. Funerals and births remind us that such realities cannot be ignored. For those who have the means to measure it, time can become a signpost pointing to the approach of death.