In a previous article Luther's doctrine of Justification as ex-pounded in his Lectures on Romans has been subjected to analysis. We now proceed to examine his teaching on Sanctification. But here a caveat must be entered. Luther is often seriously misinterpreted on this point. He is unjustly accused of severing Justification from Sanctification. He failed, it is said, to link faith with love. This alleged dissociation is classed as one of the two radical errors of Protestantism in the recent Anglican report entitled “Catholicity” (p. 25). Such a misconception arises, no doubt, from an unduly subjective approach to Luther's doctrine of Sanctification and a corresponding neglect of the objective emphasis necessarily implied in his major theocentric concern.

In a recent excellent review of Barth's Dogmatik III/2 (Scottish Journal of Theology, March 1949) the Rev. W. A. Whitehouse found himself unable through the exigencies of space to deal, save in the briefest way, with that great section of the book which treats of man in his time. Very rightly he appealed for a speedy translation, for only thus could the scope and richness of the treatment of this theme become apparent to those who do not read German. It is indeed the case that any summary of this section which extends to over two hundred and fifty large pages, and in which the thought moves forward with the most careful precision while continually opening out new perspectives, must appear somewhat jejune and lifeless. In responding therefore to the request of the editors to provide such a summary I find myself confronted with a most difficult task. I can only request readers to read what I have written in conjunction with Mr Whitehouse's article and with that of Professor Souček which follows it. In that way a summary, unsatisfactory as it must be, may not be entirely useless.

In one of the “Ghost Stories of an Antiquary” by Montagu James, there is a pathetic tale of the sacristan of a certain cathedral near the Pyrenees, whose life was made miserable through the unwelcome presence of a ghostly figure which was liable to appear while the sacristan was engaged in his lawful duties, and to fill his mind with apprehension. Almost the only time the poor sacristan was free from the menace was when he was ringing the great cathedral bell, but especially in the evening, when he rang the Angelus. “He heaved a sigh of relief”, writes the author, “for it was time to ring the Angelus. A few pulls at the reluctant rope, and the great bell, Bertrande, high in the tower, began to speak and swung her voice up among the pines and down to the valleys loud with mountain streams, calling the dwellers on those lonely hills to remember and repeat the salutation of the angel to her whom he called Blessed among women. With that a profound quiet seemed to fall for the first time that day upon the little town, and the sacristan went out of the church.”

The following is offered as a contribution towards the clarification of a matter of first-class theological importance which is undergoing vigorous and widespread debate at the present day. A certain answer to the problem involved is finally given; but the author is not so naïve as to suppose that no other answers have been and are being given, or to believe that the answer here proposed has been rendered entirely secure against all criticism. All that matters in a theme of such importance is that, by free and frank discussion of the issues involved, the Christian Church may ultimately come to a common mind. It certainly cannot to-day afford the luxury of widely divergent views at so fundamental a point.

The work of the form-critics on the Gospel has directed our A attention more than ever before to the historical development of the material of the tradition, which took place before the fixing of our Gospels in writing. Collections of single or several words of Jesus, and narratives about Jesus, were establishing themselves already in the early Church, and were passed on by it. How far this tradition was already in part written down, or, as with the oldest Jewish traditions, was only orally transmitted, is not a question of importance for us here, but in any case it could never be solved with certainty. That is also true, as M. Dibelius has rightly stressed, of the much quoted “Q source”. It is indeed very probable that already before the composition of our Gospels, there were smaller writings, above all collections of words of Jesus, but it is in no way possible to define or demarcate them more exactly. On principle, this whole stream of tradition, whether it is transmitted in written or oral fashion, in so far as it is not yet channelled in our Gospels, can and must be handled as a unit. When in the title we speak of an “oral” tradition concerning Jesus, we mean simply the tradition concerning Jesus which existed before the Gospels. Similarly, in the Jewish tradition of the Old Testament law, the interpretations of the law were at first orally handed down from Rabbi to pupil, and then later written, but neither the fact of this taking place, nor the time when it took place, are of any fundamental importance for this Jewish tradition.

Correction in last issue:

p. 96, line 10: for “futility” read “ability.”