This twelfth chapter of the Dogmatik is an exposition of the ethical teaching which follows upon an understanding of the doctrine of creation. Further chapters on ethics will come at the end of the volumes on reconciliation and redemption and Barth notes that the whole complex of state, community and law must wait for more thorough treatment until the next volume is completed. Here we have a generous and moving exposition of man's freedom in relation to God; his freedom in the community of male and female, parent and child, near and distant neighbours; his freedom for life with due evaluation of reverence for life, its protection and its industriousness; and his freedom within appointed limits where opportunities do not recur, where each person has his ‘station’ and must live with the honour appropriate to his limitations. The exposition follows the formal lines worked out in the volume on man. It is studded with careful reviews of the more important recent books dealing with the themes under discussion. In this field Barth shows the greatest respect for Schleiermacher who of course worked out his theology with a profound sense of the richness and complexity of human life, though here, as well as in his grasp on the Gospel, Barth's understanding seems to be both richer and more sensitive. The distinctive feature of the work is its firm adherence to the conviction that ethics, as the doctrine of God's command, exhibits the law as a form of the Gospel, grounded everywhere in the knowledge of Jesus Christ and of God's gracious election of man to covenant fellowship with Himself in Christ.

The purpose of this study is to elucidate the significance underlying the concept of miracle in the world of Old Testament thought and theology, in the hope that the results attained may shed fresh light upon something which touches the very centre of religious life and is a frequent cause of genuine doubt and perplexity for modern man. Perhaps the word miracle itself is ambiguous in this connexion, for it has gathered around itself a penumbra of associations derived from its use in our modern scientifically determined modes of thought and speech. Broadly speaking the background which it implies is that of nature conceived as an independent system presupposing fixed laws or if, with the more modern scientific outlook we reject the notion of materialistic determinism and mechanism, then, at any rate, we must substitute for ‘laws’ the tendency for uniform patterns and processes to emerge. Against such large uniformities, miracle, in the modern sense, stands out somewhat sharply as an exception, mysterious and apparently inexplicable, repugnant in its arbitrariness to the spirit of pure science. Such presuppositions do not exist in the Old Testament World of ideas where we are confronted by a type of thought which is through and through theological rather than philosophical and scientific. The corner-stone of the Old Testament system of ideas is the primacy of God as self-existent Creator whose creative activity is unceasing, upholding and interpenetrating by His watchful redeeming care all that is.

What is to be thought of St. Anselm? That question is likely to recur with the approaching completion of the new and definitive edition of Anselm's works by the Scottish firm of Nelson. This paper attempts to give a limited answer by a fresh consideration of Anselm's character, with special reference to his Meditations and Prayers.

Anselm is generally acknowledged to be one of the great thinkers of medieval Christendom. His powers as a meta-physician are amply displayed in his Monologion and Proslogion, while his Cur Deus Homo marks one of the milestones in the Church's progressive apprehension of the mystery of the Atonement. So powerful indeed is the impact of these treatises that Anselm has been compared with St. Augustine. Augustinus redivivus is a proud title; but Anselm has been thought worthy to bear it.

Such generous and sympathetic recognition of the ecumenical importance of Anglicanism as that expressed by Professor Manson in his paper on Church and Intercommunion1 is always both inspiring and humbling to Anglicans who feel the pain of separation from their Christian brethren. They believe that God is calling the Anglican Church to play a difficult but important role in the healing of Christian divisions, and cannot but be encouraged when they find, among members of other Churches, an appreciation of what Professor Manson calls the ‘immense ecumenical potentiality’ of Anglicanism. But if Anglicanism is to be in any real sense an ‘instrument of ecumenical rapprochement’, both Anglicans and non-Anglicans must understand clearly what it is and what it is not; much confusion exists because it has been misrepresented both from within and from without, by those who would have it, or suppose it to be, something other than it really is. To define Anglicanism, how-ever, is far from easy, for it has an elusive and, indeed, a unique quality, but I hope to suggest in this paper certain lines at least along which better understanding may be sought, and to remove one or two of the more obvious misconceptions which tend to confuse discussion and to exacerbate controversy.

In 1899 Burkitt posed a question to which no answer has yet been given. It was as follows: ‘It is still more surprising and instructive to find that “salvation” is identified by the Syriac usage with “life”. Σωτ⋯ρ is Mahyânâ, “Life-giver”, and “to be saved” is “to live”. This is the more remarkable, as Syriac has several words meaning “to deliver”, “to protect” and “to be safe and sound”. May we not therefore believe that this identification of “salvation” and “life” is the genuine Aramaic usage, and that the Greek Gospels have in this instance introduced a distinction which was not made by Christ and his Aramaic-speaking disciples?' If Burkitt is right, it is evident that quite a new light is thrown on a number of instances in the NT where the word σᾡζω occurs. This can be seen at once as one thinks of the somewhat negative ‘Saviour’ becoming the more positive ‘Life-giver’. Theologically also, however, there is a difference in meaning, which Burkitt remarked on a few years later. ‘The use of ḥajē,ē life, to render σωηρἱα and σωτ⋯ριoν, instead of some word meaning “deliverance“, together with the corresponding equivalent verb ḥj' and σᾡζɛσθαι belongs rather to theology and philosophy than to linguistics.'

The first question that must be considered is the historical one: Was the tomb empty? In a very useful chapter entitled ‘History and Criticism’ Professor A. M. Ramsey discusses ‘some of the types of conclusion reached by those who have applied the methods of critical science to the narratives of the Resurrection’. He mentions first the subjective-vision theory, according to which ‘the appearances of Jesus recorded in the Gospels were simply visions generated by the imaginations of the disciples out of an intense state of emotion or expectancy’. Some who have held this view have combined with it a belief in the survival of Jesus' soul. As Professor Ramsey points out, there are obvious difficulties in the way of accepting this theory—particularly the fact that the disciples' slowness to believe is a marked feature of the narratives. He then mentions the ‘telegram from heaven’ or what we might call the objective-vision theory (Theodor Keim, B. H. Streeter), according to which ‘the residuum of fact behind the narratives consists not in visions generated by the disciples but in visions imparted by God Himself, so as to assure the disciples that Jesus was alive…’