There have been innumerable attempts to classify and set 1 forth in order the multitudinous drives or motives which lead men to act as they do in society. Among Christians it is natural and proper to divide all human motives into those which are selfish and those which are unselfish; and further to say that all motives of the ‘natural man’ are fundamentally selfish, and only those of man under grace can really be unselfish. One thinks here of such analyses as that of Eros and Agape made by Anders Nygren in his work of that title; or of Augustine's famous distinction between earthly society (the civitas terrena) animated by love of self to the point of contempt for God, and divine society (the civitas caelestis) animated by love for God to the point of contempt for self. The danger, of course, of such vast generalisations is that they will be misunderstood by the disciples of the great men who originally made use of them—and even that they may mislead those great men themselves. It is obvious, for example, that Augustine is not here making the kind of distinction which is visible to direct empirical inspection. The two principles of which he speaks are principles of order which, he says, can be described mystically as two cities.1 Without attempting to go into the details of the interpretation of this great doctrine, it may be possible to make one point by way of introduction to our theme, a point which applies both to the distinction between Eros and Agape and to that between the two cities.

The article by Dr Farrer on ‘Revelation’ in the Faith and Logic collection is of special importance, for here we have a theologian attempting to steer between the Scylla of irrationalism and the Charybdis of apriorism. That is, by trying to point out the criteria for determining the truth of revelation he is able to avoid the extreme irrationalism that has characterised much Protestant theology in recent decades; while on the other hand, in concentrating attention upon these checks on religious truth he escapes that metaphysical assimilation of religious to deductive arguments which mars Thomism and (the more immediate cause of the irrationalist revolt) Hegelianism. Whereas the word ‘reason’ is a chameleon, which changes its colour in accordance with its environment, so that mathematical reasoning has a different style and rigour from reasoning in morals, and this in turn differs from scientific reasoning, etc., philosophers and theologians have tended to overlook such matters. A crude version of a common attitude can be expressed something as follows: ‘In religion there either is or is not a proper place for reasoning (and this will be deductive reasoning); if there is, we can divide theological assertions into two kinds, those which are provable by reason and those which are not; and if there is not, we must take religious assertions on faith.’ This attitude has two main evil effects.

For over a generation now (in Protestant circles) natural theology has fallen on evil days. Barth has stamped ruthlessly on every attempt to ground the Christian faith in any form of general knowledge. ‘Back to the biblical faith’ became his watchword. Bultmann likewise scorned Weltanschauung as the importation of Stoicism into the non-philosophical Christian faith. Between Barth's biblical theology and Bultmann's existentialism there was such a strong bond of common hostility to general revelation that natural theology was rejected outright—for natural theology is most properly defined as any knowledge of God, His will and His ways, based on man's general experience, knowledge, and reason.

Lately, however, for good or ill, there are some signs of return. The thrust of Kierkegaard's anti-rational and antiempirical polemic is being broken both as its newness wears off and as its negativity stands naked before us. The anti-theological as well as the an ti-metaphysical drive of linguistic philosophy is slowing down, and there is even evident most recently a somewhat more constructive mood and method within this philosophical position. The power of Tillich's position, in sharp contrast, has been partly due to a bold system holding that, while recognising the truths inherent in both Barth's anti-liberal stand and Bultmann's existential interpretation of the Christian faith, nevertheless dares to base itself on the fulness of the facts of experience and of human history. Tillich's positive and inclusive approach is commending itself to a fast expanding circle of thinkers.

The proposals contained in the Report entitled ‘Relations Between Anglican and Presbyterian Churches’ are sufficiently far-reaching to command wide attention. And this is what, in some quarters, they have attracted—though one suspects that the attention given them has not always been born of knowledge, or of an interest quite devoid of mercenary considerations. In essence, the proposals call for a modification of Church polities to provide for ‘Bishops’ in Presbyterian Churches and for ‘Elders’ in Anglican Churches; and it is the effect of such a modification, as it relates to Presbyterian Churches, and to the Presbyterian Church of Australia in particular, that is the subject of these comments.

Biblical theology is difficult, if not impossible, to define. In broadest terms, however, we may say that it is the conviction that the central concern of the Church is with the Word of God in the Bible.

‘Election is the love of God enacted and inserted into history in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, so that in the strictest sense Jesus Christ is the election of God. ’1 In these words of Professor T. F. Torrance, as I hope to show in this essay, lies the heart of the New Testament conception of election. It is ‘in Christ’ that the primitive Church under-stands the meaning and purpose of Election rather than in the Old Testament ‘teaching’ regarding election; although, of course, she does look back to the Old Testament as ground for claiming the existence of an election as such. That is to say, the Church does not invent the idea of the Election, but rather takes up that idea and finds in her own existence and nature the meaning and purpose of election. It is the New Testament that illumines the shadowy Old Testament figure of Election with the light of the glory of Christ. Because of this, we must expect not only to see Election more clearly, as it were, in the New than in the Old Testament, but also we must expect to find in it new truth and new implications.

At precisely what point in the biblical witness did the act of election begin? Who are the elect or chosen in the sight of the biblical writers? Writers tend to vary among themselves as to the answer to these questions.