In the middle of the twentieth century biblical scholars claimed the unity of the human person as the core of biblical anthropology.1 The Hebrew term , “life,” “person,” was no longer to be translated as “soul,” and the best English equivalent for the Greek ψυχή was “person.” In the seventies and eighties, on both sides of the Atlantic, the pendulum swung even further, to the point of favoring the body. In Paris, in the École Pratique des Hautes Études, Pierre Geoltrain offered a lecture course on the “body” in several texts of the New Testament, while in the United States Dale Martin worked on his book published under the title The Corinthian Body.2 In Geneva, where expression corporelle had become a form of instruction in dance and eurhythmic practice at the Institut Jaques-Dalcroze, some New Testament scholars incorporated bodily experience into their understanding of biblical passages.3 It was also this time that saw—in the secular realm—the creation of “body shops” and the continuous care of one's own body. With Merleau-Ponty we can say that this recent period witnesses a rediscovery of the body.4

In Constantine P. Cavafy's 1917 poem, “Simeon,” a young cultured aesthete (probably from Antioch), writes his friend Mebis about a recent chance encounter with the famous stylite that left him “shattered, unnerved, and aghast,” and entirely unfit to resume his sophistic career in belles lettres:

The story of the woman taken in adultery (John 7:53–8:11) has a long, complex history. Well-known in the Latin West, the story was neglected but not forgotten in the East. Incorporated within Late Antique and Early Medieval Gospel manuscripts, depicted in Christian art, East and West, and included within the developing liturgies of Rome and Constantinople, the passage has fascinated interpreters for centuries despite irregularities in its transmission.1 Throughout this long history, one narrative detail has been of particular interest: the content and significance of Jesus— writing. Discussed in sermons, elaborated in manuscripts, and depicted in magnificent illuminations, Jesus— writing has inspired interpreters at least since the fourth century, when Ambrose of Milan first mentioned it. Offering his opinion on the propriety of capital punishment, the bishop turned to the pericope in order to argue that Christians do well to advocate on behalf of the condemned since, by doing so, they imitate the mercy of Christ. Nevertheless, he averred, the imposition of capital punishment remains an option for Christian rulers and judges. After all, God also judges and condemns, as Christ showed when, responding to the men questioning him and accusing the adulteress, he wrote twice on the ground. Demonstrating that “the Jews were condemned by both testaments,” Christ bent over and wrote “with the finger with which he had written the law,” or so the bishop claimed.2 Ambrose offered a further conjecture in a subsequent letter: Jesus wrote “earth, earth, write that these men have been disowned,” a saying he attributes to Jeremiah (compare Jer 22:29),3. As Jeremiah also explains, “Those who have been disowned by their Father are written on the ground,” but the names of Christians are written in heaven.4

One sometimes has the experience of knowing two apparently unrelated bits of information—sometimes for years—until suddenly it occurs to one that they are in fact related and indeed illuminate each other in quite startling ways. I have had the good fortune to teach some of the Scots ballads for the last decade or so and have taught “Thomas Rhymer (A)” and ‘Tam Lin (A)” as exemplars of Scots Other World balladry. It is a truism (and the first piece of information) that the worldview of these ballads differs quite markedly from the medieval Catholic worldview that was current when these ballads may have originated and the Scots Presbyterian one that was the dominant ideology in the time and place when they were collected. Few ballad scholars would dispute this claim.

Currently two competing models exist side-by-side to explain the “antinomian” or “free grace” controversy, in which Anne Hutchinson and her theology are said to have played a key role. The differences in these narratives appear to require a return to the sources and a careful examination of Hutchinson's own statements—as far as they can be reconstructed—in the context of her first interrogation by a group of clergymen in the autumn of 1636. Since one of the narratives casts doubt on John Winthrop's assertions of her manifest unorthodoxy at that time, a central question will be whether the views she expressed then deviated significantly from the mainstream of theology espoused by godly contemporaries in Britain and if so, in what particulars. Hutchinson's remarks at the outset of the controversy could then serve as a baseline in an investigation of how the dispute escalated and evolved over the following months.

That the editorship of the Harvard Theological Review should take two individuals to succeed Prof. Bovon will come as no surprise to those who know him. A scholar's scholar, he has published a large number of learned and acclaimed studies. These studies include his four-volume commentary on the Gospel according to Luke, which has now appeared in four languages with a fifth to follow, and his groundbreaking studies on the apocryphal literature of early Christianity. He has written an important reconstruction of the last days of Jesus and how the early church interpreted them, as well as probing explorations of exegetical method. His works include three volumes, published for a more popular audience, and nearly two hundred articles and chapters that have appeared in scholarly books. Prof. Bovon does not limit his oeuvre to commenting with masterful erudition on published works. His work has taken him to the libraries of the monasteries on Mount Sinai and Mount Athos and to the Bodleian Library in Oxford in search of key documents from the early history of Christianity.

Material reminiscent of an Aegean-style culture, distinct from that of the indigenous population in southern Canaan, appeared some time near the beginning of the twelfth century B.C.E. Scholars have long associated this material with the arrival of a group of newcomers called the Philistines and known as the famous antagonists of the biblical Israelites. Limited excavation and publication of Philistine settlements have restricted previous studies to the available portable artifacts such as pottery. While such studies have advanced our understanding of Philistine culture, le mobilier is vulnerable to post-depositional disturbances and other issues that potentially remove them from the proper context of those people who created and used them. Unlike such portable elements of material culture, archaeological strata and built architectural features cannot be traded; thus they reflect the activity of people at the site. The current research has shifted the emphasis away from that of previous Philistine studies, from an examination of portable items, to the examination of fixed domestic structures, which thereby helps to augment our understanding of the composition and culture of the people living in the territories of Philistia.