When we speak of sexual love, we imply an entire host of meanings, moods and activities. It is not my intention to analyse the distinct concepts of affection (στoργ⋯), friendship (φιλ⋯α), love (⋯γ⋯πη) and eros. When one speaks of these, one usually finds a prepared audience — that is to say, one that is in some way prejudiced. Rather, what I would like to look at briefly is that vital force of love within human nature.

Jon Sobrino has suggested that those who stand in the intellectual tradition of the Enlightenment tend to interpret suffering and disaster as ‘crises of meaning’, by which we seek to explain and accommodate alienating experiences within preconceived models of reality. Our question is how evil may be understood. But that search for meaning is a luxury denied those who can barely hold to existence itself. Theirs is a ‘crisis of reality’; and their question is less how to understand evil than how to withstand it, to overcome suffering or at least survive it. ‘The interpretative models become relevant [only] to the extent that they arise out of the experienced reality and aim at eliminating the wretched state of the real world’.

In an earlier article in the Scottish Journal of Theology I have argued that Athanasius did not deny Christ's fear. A question which then naturally arises is, did Athanasius recognise Christ's courage? This question is made all the more pointed given G. C. Stead's view that Athanasius ‘is noticeably reticent about ascribing to [Christ] any positive constancy: the Lord “undergoes” (ὑπoμ⋯νει) the brutalities of the passion, but is not credited with ὑπoμoν⋯, still less with ⋯νδρε⋯α'. These conclusions drawn from the two inaugurals and the controversial works of Athanasius do, however, seem to require some qualification.

Christianity, as everyone knows, is a historical religion — historical because belief in Christianity involves belief in various claims about what happened in the past. This seems simple enough, but it really is not. For the more that one thinks about it, the more complex this ‘historical’ aspect of Christianity becomes. One's faith in Christianity involves beliefs about the man Jesus, to be sure; yet how can one's beliefs about the past save anyone? Does God judge people on the basis of the opinions that they hold, and only choose for his kingdom those who hold correct opinions about the historical Jesus? If that were the case, one would expect tremendous interest in historical research on the life of Jesus; people would be desperate to find out all that they could know.

I say, that a power, possessed of infallibility in religious teaching, is happily adapted to be a working instrument, in the course of human affairs, for smiting hard and throwing back the immense energy of the aggressive, capricious, untrustworthy intellect …

The theology of women's ministry is a comparatively new item on the Church's agenda. It is less than two decades since the Church of Scotland took the historic decision to open its ordained ministry to women. At the time it seemed a controversial step, and many must have wondered where it would lead the Kirk. I think that we can truthfully say that it has not led to any dire disasters, but rather to the enrichment of the ministry. That has also been the experience of many other Churches which in recent years have opened their ordained ministry to women. But controversies remain. The 1985 General Synod elections in the Church of England were dominated by the issue of women's ordination, with feelings running high in pressure-groups on both sides. In some Churches the introduction of women's ordination has exacerbated divisions already existing among members. Some of the major Christian denominations, including both the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches, do not permit any form of ordination for women. Even within denominations like the Church of Scotland, where the introduction of women ministers has occurred without disruption, there are still members who have doubts about whether it is really right. In many small Christian groups women are debarred from all but the most informal ministry, because it is considered unbiblical for them to preach, address assembled Christians publicly, or presume to teach men about spiritual matters.

Christian theology is an important perspective for theorizing about education. This article develops a possible theological perspective on religious education. RE these days is seldom Christian education. It is dominated by secular assumptions: it is to be open, multi-faith and descriptive. What might a Christian theology of education say of these developments? In section 1 the question is raised why RE should be taught in schools at all. In section 2 a theological analysis of what may be called ‘the climate of unbelief’ is attempted, and it will be shown how several of the assumptions of the new RE arise directly out of this. In section 3 some fresh criticisms of the phenomenological approach to religion are made, which if they are sound, will indicate that this approach need not be preferred to more traditional approaches to teaching religion. In section 4 it is suggested that both the alleged fact of modern secularity and the fear of religious absolutism provide no grounds for embracing a purely descriptive approach to religion. There is a simple, practical conclusion – there should be more Christian Studies and less Religious Education in schools.