In his commentary on John 1.1 Calvin distinguishes between the words sermo (word) and verbum (word). The Greek text runs: ɛv αρχη ηνoγos, and for the translation of “Latin theology wavered between verbum, sermo and ratio before accepting verbum, the least satisfactory, perhaps, of the three.” Verbum was used in the Vulgate. Erasmus, however, went back to sermo in his translation, and Calvin followed him. “In the beginning was the Word” (sermo). In a brief note he justifies the word: “I wonder what induced the Latins to render ⋯ λ⋯γο ς by verbum; for that would have been the translation of τo ρημα. But granting that they had some plausible reason, yet it cannot be denied that sermo would have been far more appropriate.” It would seem as if we have here the basis for a distinction universal in his writings and upon which a consistent doctrine could be constructed. In fact, we have nothing of the sort, for Calvin uses the two words indiscriminately, even to the extent of using verbum when he quotes John 1.1! The most that can be said is that he always seems to couple “eternal” (aeternus) and sermo together, and never “eternal” (aeternum) and verbum, and that, on the whole, he uses sermo rather than verbum as the synonym for the “wisdom of God” (sapientia Dei), though there are exceptions.

In the first two numbers of the Scottish Journal of Theology the Rev. J. K. S. Reid contributed an interesting and enlightening treatment of The Office of Christ in Predestination. Taking as his main theme the classic doctrine of Predestination, he showed the “deplorable consequences”, particularly in the Calvinist tradition, that have followed a failure to realise the part played by Christ in Predestination. The limitation of Christ's function to the carrying out of “something already fixed and definitive”, or the idea of His giving effect to “a decree in whose formation He has apparently had no hand”, are shown to do dangerous injustice to His true office, in the suggestion that the divine decrees are somehow prior to the divine grace.

“Vocation” is a word of varied significance, both secular and religious. Religiously, it can mean God's calling of men into His kingdom through the proclamation of the Gospel, or His calling of particular persons to particular spheres of service such as the Ministry. Secularly, it can mean any trade, profession, or employment that a man may follow, including such occupations as the Ministry. The Latin original of the word, vocatio, and its German equivalent, Beruf, are used in all these senses by Luther, but with important differences. In the first place, the distinction between religious and secular is entirely foreign to his thinking. When he speaks of weltlicher Beruf, or “worldly vocation”, he never thinks of it as either irreligious or non-religious, but as a Divine appointment for our life in this world. In the second place, his conception of vocation includes a great deal more than ours normally does. In one of his sermons he raises the question, what it means to have a vocation. He answers it by saying: You are in a Stand, “station”, you are a married man or woman, a son or daughter, a man-servant or maid-servant; and he goes on to point out what duties such “stations” impose upon us, so that we had four heads and ten hands we should still have quite enough to do. Other lists bf “stations”—or “offices”, as he also calls them—include: the prince, the magistrate, the teacher, the scholar, the father, mother, children, master, servant, and many more.

Comparison between the Simple Order of Service of the Reformed Church and that of the Lutheran with its richer content has led to the opinion that Luther merely purged the Mass of some objectionable elements; the Reformers on the contrary totally reconstructed the divine service according to the principle of their knowledge of God. Research into the history of the liturgy has proved that such is not the case. The Strasbourg order of public worship which was brought by Calvin to Geneva and thence passed on to a wider circle of Churches shows clearly its derivation from the medieval Mass, as with the majority of Lutheran orders. The sermon is inserted between two parts of the service which have their origin in the Mass, and the concluding portion of the service is so shaped that Communion may at any time be included in it.

The new and sustained interest in the doctrine of the Church, which is one of the outstanding characteristics of theological study in our day, has lately taken a turn which seems to hold the promise of fresh and fruitful developments. There has been any amount of discussion in the past about the Church's faith as worked out in controversy and expressed in creeds and confessions; about the Church's organisation and the functions and status of her ministers; about the Church's code of conduct or ethical ideals. In these discussions it has not always been remembered that the Church is a worshipping community. True, there was a branch of study called liturgiology; but few students were attracted to it. To most people it seemed to be at best a harmless kind of antiquarianism remote from the main business of theology and the real life of the Church. Its exponents tended to be looked upon—often, it must be confessed, not without justification—as diligent pickers-up of unconsidered trifles. All that is changing. It is realised that the corporate worship of the Christian community in all its aspects is an essential and distinctive part of its life; and that it is one of the main tasks of Christian theology to know and interpret Christian worship.

The last issue of the Scottish Journal of Theology opens with a series of four articles on Amsterdam which provide much matter for thought and discussion. Professor Haire's summary of the implications is an excellent one, though all too short, for space does not permit him to develop some of the interesting points raised, which one feels he could do most competently. Bishop Warner's article has a special attraction in that it expresses the Anglican view from the inside; moreover, he makes interesting references to the attitude of laymen towards the Ecumenical Movement, and the following pages are an attempt to deal with some aspects of reunion where the lay and clerical outlooks may tend to diverge.

Prophetic speech and action have been regarded with suspicion both in the old Israel and in the new. The doctors and lawyers of the church have sought to apply the brake (“Prophesy not any more in Bethel…”). In the past, theological dealing with prophetic movements has often been haphazard, unsympathetic, or scholastic. We stand now at some watershed of history. It is of urgent importance that sound theology and right action should have a church wedding. In this article I hope to do no more than draw attention to the danger that theological thinking to-day may do less than justice to prophetic action. The theologian may misinterpret the nature and scope of his task. My concern that this should not happen is sharpened by my membership of a movement which I count prophetic, the Iona Community (though in this article I speak personally, in no sense as the Community's representative). Where any such movement exists the theologian has inevitably his contribution to make. There is the obvious need to sift affirmations and scrutinise methods. It is the manner of that contribution which requires careful thought.