The problem of the relationship between Scripture and Tradition is in the first place a problem of the theological relationship between the apostolic period and the period of the Church. All the other questions depend on the solution that we give to this problem. The alternatives—co-ordination or subordination of Tradition to Scripture—derive from the question of knowing how we must understand the fact that the period of the Church is the continuation and unfolding of the apostolic period. For we must note right away that this fact is capable of divergent interpretations. That is why agreement on the mere fact that the Church continues the work of Christ on earth does not necessarily imply agreement on the relationship between Scripture and Tradition. Thus in my thesis developed in Christ and Time as well as in my studies on the sacraments in the New Testament I came considerably nearer to the ‘Catholic’ point of view. In fact I would affirm very strongly that through the Church the history of salvation is continued on earth. I believe that we find this idea throughout the New Testament, and I should even consider it the key for the understanding of the Johannine Gospel. I would maintain, moreover, that the sacraments, Baptism and Eucharist, take the place in the Church of the miracles performed by Jesus Christ in the period of the Incarnation. And yet I am going to show in the following pages that I subordinate Tradition to Scripture.

In the terminology of classical Christian theology the word eschatology means ‘the doctrine of the last things’. A discussion of NT eschatology would, under such a definition, treat of the hope of life after physical death, personal immortality, the general resurrection, the last judgment, heaven and hell. This use of the word remains of course in current usage; but in modern biblical discussion ‘eschatology’ is commonly employed in a somewhat different way, which may be defined by the statement that in characteristically eschatological thinking the significance of a series of events in time is defined in terms of the last of their number. The last event is not merely one member of the series; it is the determinative member, which reveals the meaning of the whole. Such thinking inevitably assumes the reality of historical processes, and that they are meaningful; in this, of course, it is fully consistent with Biblical thought as a whole; indeed, it might be said that the Biblical view of history derives its characteristic pattern from the fact that the Bible is a predominantly eschatological book. This is not to say either that the whole of the Bible is written from an eschatological standpoint, or that eschatological writing is not to be found outside the Bible; but the Bible is undoubtedly the classical field of eschatology, dominated as it is by the belief that the Judge of all the earth will do right, but that the right which He does will not necessarily be seen to be right until it is brought to a full end.

Two main views of the relation of the Church to Time are being propagated at the present time. The first I shall designate the Ontological, the second the Eschatological; the first is characteristic of Catholic thought, the second of Reformed: the first dwells upon the ideas of timelessness and eternity, the second upon the ideas of time's arrow and the End. There is, as we shall see later, the possibility of recognising that each view has a certain validity and of attempting to work out a fruitful relationship between them. But for the moment we shall concentrate our attention upon each in turn.

Barth, in his Dogmatik (III/2), enters upon a close and detailed scrutiny of certain passages in the Old Testament generally considered to have some sort of reference to a future life. After quoting from Ps. 118 (p. 752), he goes on to say that we come here upon a definite borderline, beyond which the Old Testament does not venture. God is and remains the Israelite's hope in death and in deliverance from death. Of any renewal or continuance of life beyond the grave, however, the Old Testament has nothing precise to say. Even the few passages cited as proof to the contrary do not, in fact, speak of any such future existence. Barth examines these passages: Pss. 16.10, 17.15, 27.13, 49.15, 73.23 f; Job 19.25 f; Isa. 26.19; Ezek. 37; Dan. 12.2. He comes to the conclusion that, even in the last-quoted passage, the most explicit of all, we can only perceive the exception which, as such, confirms the general rule. Thereafter he reviews the ends of the lives of Enoch, Moses and Elijah, and describes them also as exceptional. In every case the text speaks of an extraordinary interposition of God which nevertheless leaves its precise nature wholly obscured. So, too, in every other instance where a man is recorded as having died gladly or full of days, we are to understand this as the direct result of divine intervention.

At the beginning of the twentieth century two theological influences could be traced in the provision made within the Protestant churches for the Christian nurture of youth.1 The first was the Calvinist emphasis on saving knowledge. For the Reformers themselves such saving knowledge was the fruit of faith. But the perils of controversy led later Protestant theologians to regard faith as orthodox doctrine about God rather than personal response to Him. This Calvinist emphasis on knowledge was reinforced by contemporary educational theory. The influence of Herbert was strong and intellectual instruction was regarded as the main concern of the day school. It was natural, therefore, that a sound factual knowledge of the Bible and of Christian doctrine should be accepted as the prime objective of Christian education.

Dr R. E. McIntyre in his recent Warrack lectures tells of a minister, who made the boast, ‘I am an evangelist, thank God, and not a theologian’. The writer of this article can make a similar claim without the thanksgiving, ‘I am a preacher, and not a Biblical critic’. The learned men of Biblical Criticism have, however, set for us preachers a problem in Christian ethics. The findings of Biblical Criticism being what they are, can we go on preaching in the way that we have been doing? Most of us in our preaching imply, if we do not explicitly state, that the words attributed to our Lord in the New Testament are translations of words that Jesus actually uttered during His life on earth. Indeed, we try to bring out every possible meaning of these words in the light both of the circumstances in which they are said to have been uttered and in the light of the whole religious heritage of the Jews which Jesus shared. There is a similar problem in preaching from any part of Scripture, but, in this article, I shall confine myself for the most part to sayings attributed to our Lord Himself. One reason for doing so is the very practical one that I have found a rich mine of examples in Dr T. W. Manson's recently reprinted work, The Sayings of Jesus; another reason is that whatever we discover to be right method in the case of the sayings attributed to our Lord is likely, with necessary changes, to be right method in the case of the rest of the Scripture records.

The difficulty of this chapter is notorious. ‘No one will deny’, writes Dr V. Taylor, ‘that Mark 13 presents one of the unsolved problems of New Testament exegesis.’ Professor A. M. Hunter goes further and says: ‘Mark 13 is the biggest problem in the Gospel.’ In Part I of this study we shall attempt to expound the chapter as it stands, as far as possible reserving the discussion of the main critical questions for Part II. This procedure is, of course, not altogether satisfactory; for it means that our exposition will be provisional and may need subsequent correction from the insights gained from the critical approach. Nevertheless it has certain advantages. For one thing, it may serve to remind us that a saying of Jesus, the authenticity of which has been questioned by critical research, has not thereby ceased to be part of Scripture but may still be the vehicle of the exalted Christ's conversation with His Church.