En notre temps où l'apologétique ne fait pas recette, il m'avait semblé intéressant de mettre en valeur cette déclaration de la le de Pierre. Quand j'ai proposé le sujet à votre Comité, je n'avais pas encore pris connaissance du remarquable article du Professeur J. Piper sur L'Espérance comme motivation de l'amour en cette lettre, mais j'étais préoccupé par les problèmes d'interprétation soulevés lors du Congrès des Biblistes français, à Orsay près de Paris, en septembre 1979. Située comme un héritage dans les cieux, l'espérance de Pierre nous apparaît bien désincarnée; a la limite elle semble faire bon ménage avec un conservatisme social qui laisse proliférer l'injustice. Pareille espérance est-elle credible pour notre monde actuel, justement sensibilisé aux aspects sociaux de la foi?

The topic of peace has received critical historical scrutiny from the standpoint of the Ancient Orient and the Old Testament and sketchy treatment with reference to the Greek world. There is, however, no comprehensive study which portrays the differentiated nuances of the topic in the various schools of thought in the ancient world preceding the first century. More studies do exist on the topic of war and it is clear that a balanced picture must include the strenuous attempts made by people of many persuasions to define peace and to find a way in which humans can live at peace with each other.

Maimonides' Guide of the Perplexed is a book of puzzles. Worried lest his radically intellectualist teachings harm the unschooled reader incapable of replacing naive faith with reasoned conviction, Maimonides took extraordinary precautions to conceal them from him. He cut up his arguments as with a jig saw, placed the pieces in careful disarray, and tossed in a goodly number of extra pieces which seemingly fit but do not. His presupposition, of course, was that any reader keen enough to piece together his puzzles would be intellectually prepared to cope with his teachings. No one will gainsay that Maimonides did a superb job of concealment. After almost eight centuries, students of the Guide are still trying to figure out how to solve its puzzles.

Karl Barth's concept of the divinity of Jesus Christ is subject to two opposing interpretations. According to one, Barth maintains that Jesus Christ is a complete, human person who is distinct from God but who can be said to be divine because of God's unique presence in and with him. In this view, divinity in the strictest sense belongs only to God, but it can be attributed to Jesus because of his relation to God and his role as the special medium of God's revelation. If this interpretation were correct, Barth would stand in the Antiochian theological tradition.

I have given this paper the title, ‘Colossians i. 12–20’, but I must say immediately that I am not concerned with the structural problems of Colossians ch. i, namely, whether part of it is a pre-Pauline or pre-Christian hymn, and, if it is, where the quotation of the hymn starts and finishes, and, if it is, whether the author of Colossians has quoted it verbatim, or adapted it by adding phrases to make it bring out the point he wants to make. (There have been many suggestions concerning the form and content of the original hymn and which phrases have been added, but as far as I am aware, no one has entertained the idea that the author omitted words or phrases from the original hymn. Certainly the latter would be impossible to prove, but it is just as possible as the idea of additions.) My concern is with the passage, wherever it begins and ends, within its context in Cobssians. That is the exegete's primary concern, however fascinating speculation concerning original form, content and meaning may be.

One of the most important questions to ask when one is beginning to reformulate the views of a historic author on the human body is the question of what role his discussion of the body plays in his theology. Does his theology require and depend on his evaluation of the meaning and value of the body? Do pressing polemical or cultural discussions demand the author's interest in describing the role of the body in human life? These questions are consistently useful in illuminating the author's intent in writing about the body. Placing ideas of the body in the theological and anthropological context in which they appear is essential if we are to avoid the inevitable distortion of an author's ideas, which is the result of “proof-texting” the author's statements about the body.

Daniel's vision of the Son of man (Dan. 7. 2 ff.) is undoubtedly a most important passage for the interpretation of the Gospels and of the ‘Son of man’ sayings of Jesus in particular. In this article however, I will try to answer a number of preliminary questions concerning the identity of the four beasts in this vision that should perhaps be answered before we attempt to solve the problem concerning the enigmatic figure ‘like a son of man’. Why, for instance, does the fourth beast remain anonymous although the other three, weird as they are in appearance, show at least a likeness to known animals: like a lion (v. 4), like a bear (v. 5), like a leopard (v. 6)?

Die Interpretation von Mk. 14. 55–64 ‘Jesus vor dem Synhedrium’ ist dadurch erschwert, daß sich historische, überlieferungsgeschichtliche, traditionsgeschichtliche und redaktionsgeschichtliche Probleme überlagern, vor allem aber immer historische Probleme ins Spiel kommen, die die Diskussion zwischen Juden und Christen bis heute belasten. Es scheint unvermeidlich, daß die exegetische Argumentation von einer Fragestellung zur anderen springt. Ich nehme mir deshalb vor, den Text zunächst strikt und einseitig nur im Zusammenhang des Markusevangeliums zu interpretieren, und stelle mich an den Ort eines Lesers, der das Evangelium von seinem ersten Verse an aufmerksam gelesen hat, also dem Text nicht als isolierter Perikope begegnet; ich stelle mich damit an den Ort eines Lesers, der als christlicher Leser nicht neutral ist, sondern positiv eingestellt gegenüber dem, was ihm hier von Jesus erzühlt wird, und der beim Lesen Partei ergreift für diesen Jesus gegen dessen Gegner; und ich nehme an, daß ein solcher Leser aus einer gewissen Kenntnis des Alten Testaments heraus Sprachwendungen vielleicht nicht direkt als Anspielungen auf alttestamentliche Texte identifizieren kann, wohl aber durch solche Sprache eine bestimmte Stimmung im Text vermittelt bekommt. Ein solches Lesen ist zunächst unabhängig von literarkritischen und historischen Fragen; gleich wie man diese beurteilt, bleibt doch beim Leser der Eindruck dieses Textes, der so und nicht anders formuliert, wovon er erzählt, auf welchen Vorlagen er auch basieren mag.

Synoptic studies, in spite of two centuries of intensive research, have reached something of an impasse. Our own SNTS Synoptic Problem Seminar after eight years of discussion seems no nearer agreement. This is a strange phenomenon, because the synoptic problem is an inescapably real one. It is not like a discussion of the contents or order of Q, where no one knows for certain whether a Q document ever existed. The three gospels exist, there is some relation between them; if this relation could be correctly stated all the data would be satisfactorily explained without remainder. Have we missed a vital key? A hypothesis is here offered which, if tenable, would put the whole problem in a new light. Few passages are more difficult to explain than the travel narrative of Luke ix. 51–xviii. 14. The crux of the problem lies in the ‘Q material’, concerning which there are two main views: (1) that it comes from a lost source or sources also used by Matthew; (2) that Luke extracted the material direct from Matthew's gospel.

The question of ‘traces’ of history in the Fourth Gospel is not new. In 1968 Louis Martyn published his History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel. His thesis, reduced to utter simplicity, was that the Gospel is a drama presented at two levels, one concerning Jesus and the other concerning the community of the evangelist in which the Jesus tradition had been shaped. Thus the Fourth Gospel is seen as a Jewish Christian composition shaped in the dialogue/conflict with the synagogue. More recently Raymond Brown has given us his own penetrating reconstruction of the history of the Johannine community. This is presented in four phases: from its beginning until the exclusion from the synagogue; the situation at the time the Gospel was written; internal division (Epistles); and the final disappearance of both groups in the second century, absorbed, either by the emerging great church or by Docetism, Gnosticism and Montanism.

To speak of the symbolic in exegesis means running into a veritable mine field. Everywhere, you are in danger of finding ‘booby traps’ liable to explode the most solid systematic constructions instantly. However, I would like to venture with you into the field of John's symbolism, since I think that it has been insufficiently explored and appreciated in the classical commentaries. If this seems a bit grandiose, I would like to attenuate my apparent pretension. I would first like to present you with a global approach to the subject and then I would like to investigate with you a few concrete examples: the sign of the temple, a saying addressed to Nicodemus and the ‘bread of life’. We shall try to see what a so-called ‘symbolic reading’ of these passages can contribute to their understanding.

It has been and still is debated whether the speeches attributed to characters in the Acts of the Apostles should be taken as their own, more or less accurately recorded; or as based on an early pattern of preaching; or as reflecting the beliefs of churches contemporary with the writing of the book (AD 65–95, or later still); or as the product of the imagination and conviction of the author. I wish to suggest that there is enough evidence for yet another possible explanation to demand consideration: Luke is portraying the teaching of the Christians as a creditable variant of the kind of ethical providential monotheism that educated pagans might be expected to attend to respectfully. The phrases used may well come from contemporary Christian stock (if not necessarily). The criteria for selection and for emphasis are drawn from the range of beliefs and attitudes already likely to be found among a high-minded pagan readership. I draw my evidence mainly from Flavius Josephus and from Dionysius of Halicarnassus.

A fourth-century inscription from Thessalonica includes an enigmatic symbol for which no explanation has been offered. The symbol appears on a stone marking the graves of a certain Σαμβάτιϛ and, presumably, his wife, Mαξήμα, and represents three intersecting staffs.

E. H. Carr's injunction that “when we take up a work of history, our first concern should be not with the facts which it contains but with the historian who wrote it” is well justified by the current state of research in the field of Iberian cryptojudaism and its subsequent development outside the peninsula. As in the study of Iberian history itself, vested interests, strong personal biases, and allegiances to national or partisan schools of historiography have frequently stood in the way of dispassionate inquiry into the subject and led to polarizaton and obfuscation. Over and above this, fruitful study has been impeded by the “blind-men-and-the-elephant” fallacy.

It is not always remembered that the important and influential work of Albert Schweitzer on the historical Jesus – both as historian of ‘the quest’ and as proponent of an apocalyptic Jesus who was messiah yet who proved amenable to Schweitzer's own emphasis on ethics – rests within the matrix of another, perhaps even broader topic, that of the origin and development of the Lord's Supper. For Schweitzer's first published work in biblical studies, his dissertation for the licentiate in theology degree in 1900, was a ‘Critical Presentation of Various Recent Historical Concepts of the Lord's Supper’, and his initial ‘Sketch of the Life of Jesus’, published 1901 and destined to be reiterated and expanded in his books on Jesus of 1906 and 1913, was Part II of a wider study on ‘The Lord's Supper in connection with the Life of Jesus and the History of Primitive Christianity’.