One of the most debated points in Paul's labored effort to explain why women should not pray or prophesy with their heads unveiled (1 Cor. 11:2–16) is the reason given in the phrase of verse 10 διὰ τοὺς ἀγγέλους. It is therefore obvious that attention ought to be called to a similar passage in the two column fragment from Cave 1 at Qumran. Whether 1 QSA is or is not part of the Manual of Discipline (1 QS) it is also a fragment of rules for the Community. It was published in Qumran Cave I. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert, I, edited by Barthélemy (Oxford, 1955). I give below the relevant passage Col. 2 lines 3–9 from the translation by H. Neil Richardson.

Papyrus Bodmer II has come quietly into a world stunned a little with ever fresh discoveries of ancient monuments. New Testament students know, indeed, that they are enriched with a very precious accession to their store of manuscripts. We have never possessed before so large a portion of any Gospel, so well preserved, from so early a date, as we now have, thanks to Victor Martin's distinguished editing, in these fourteen chapters of the Gospel according to St. John, copied about the year 200.

The word κρατήρ, the great mixing vessel in which the wine was mixed with water and from which it was drawn, is not seldom used metaphorically in religious literature. To begin with, it may be useful to quote a few examples showing how the metaphor is used in secular literature. Pindar calls the messenger who brings his ode a sweet krater of loud-sounding songs and Aristophanes calls the sycophant a vessel of evils. Plutarch speaks of a krater, placed in the middle which contains myths and arguments mixed up. In Aeschylus Clytaemestra says of Agamemnon that, since he has filled a krater in the house with so many evils, having returned he has to drink it off himself. Philostratus speaks of krateres set up from which the thirsty ones drew. The metaphorical use of the word comes very near to the concrete facts: a storage vessel in which liquids are mixed and from which they are drawn.

The Shepherd Chapter of Ezekiel, like the Shepherd Psalm, is one of the most beautiful chapters of the Old Testament. The first ten verses upon first examination appear to be a post eventum judgment upon the former shepherds of the nation. The glowing promises of 34:11–16 are a counterpart to this indictment. The Lord pledges that he will inaugurate a new order for his sheep whereby he himself will assume the rôle of the good shepherd and perform the functions neglected by Israel's erstwhile earthly rulers. Verses 17–22 are a supplement promising a firm hand against all recalcitrant elements that may appear in the flock itself. In verses 23–24, we return once more to the shepherd theme, but the Lord is no more the Shepherd, but David. Verses 25–31 comprise the final section wherein the Lord binds himself with a covenant to provide for the general well-being (shalom) of his flock.

The theology of Tatian is difficult to classify. Should one regard its author as a philosopher, as Professor Wolfson does? or as a student of “the homilies of Philo”? or as a writer who made use, even indirectly, of the Parmenides of Plato? In order to answer this question we must inquire first what he knows of Greek philosophy and second what else he knows in regard to Graeco-Roman literary culture.

For three-quarters of a century the hypothesis of an Alexandrian canon has been the commonly accepted solution to the problem of how the Jewish canon and the Old Testament of the early church came to differ. That hypothesis suggests that a larger canon of scriptures was initiated in Alexandria and circulated throughout Diaspora Judaism than what obtained in Palestine. The Christian church, becoming predominantly Gentile early in its history, adopted this enlarged canon, that included the books of the Apocrypha, from Diaspora Judaism. The hypothesis represents essentially a geographic distinction in canonical usage between Palestinian Judaism and Alexandrian and Dispersion Judaism. It is the opinion of the present writer that the Alexandrian canon hypothesis is not only unprovable, as Pfeiffer has recognized, but is erroneous. This opinion is based (1) on a study of the history of the Alexandrian canon hypothesis, (2) on an examination of the arguments favoring the hypothesis, and (3) on a re-evaluation of the status of canonical usage in Judaism at the time of the emergence of Christianity into the world.

Herodotos (ii, 52) gives us the following theory, which I quote in the charming translation of Mr. J. E. Powell:

And formerly the Pelasgians in all their sacrifices prayed unto The Gods. … but they gave none of them any name or surname; for they had not yet heard thereof. … But when a long time afterwards they learned from Egypt the names of all the gods except Dionysus, whose name they learned much later, they consulted the oracle at Dodona concerning the names. … And when the Pelasgians consulted the oracle at Dodona, asking if they should receive the names which came from the barbarians, the oracle answered that they should use them. And so from that time forward, when they sacrificed, they used the names of the gods. And the Greeks received them afterwards from the Pelasgians.

Modern scholars commonly regard the “Letter of Aristeas” as a work typical of Jewish apologetics, aiming at self-defense and propaganda, and directed to the Greeks. Here are some instances illustrating this general view. In 1903 Friedländer wrote that the glorification of Judaism in the Letter was no more than self-defense, though “the book does not mention the antagonists of Judaism by name, nor does it admit that its intention is to refute direct attacks.” Stein sees in the Letter “a special kind of defense which practices diplomatic tactics,” and Tramontano also speaks of “an apologetic and propagandist tendency.” Vincent characterizes it as “a small apologetic novel written for the Egyptians” (i.e. the Greeks in Egypt). Pfeiffer says: “This fanciful story of the origin of the Septuagint is merely a pretext for defending Judaism against its heathen denigrators, for extolling its nobility and reasonableness, and for striving to convert Greek speaking Gentiles to it.” Schürer classes the Letter with a special kind of literature, “Jewish propaganda in Pagan disguise,” whose works are “directed to the pagan reader, in order to make propaganda for Judaism among the Gentiles.” Andrews, too, believes that the role of a Greek was assumed by Aristeas in order “to strengthen the force of the argument and commend it to non-Jewish readers.” And even Gutman, who rightly recognizes that the Letter sprang “from an inner need of the educated Jew,” sees in it “a strong means for making Jewish propaganda in the Greek world.”

Careful inspection of all external and internal evidence reveals that the Apology of Aristides, known since 1889 as the long-lost “earliest extant apology for the Christian Faith,” mentioned by Eusebius and Jerome, was written by a proselyte to Hellenist Judaism, probably in the time of Hadrian, not as an apology for Christians at all, but primarily as a counterattack upon polytheists and their religious notions and secondarily, as a defense of the monotheistic worship and the morals of the Jews. This definitely Jewish work of the second century was interpolated and “edited” by a Christian writer, probably of the late fourth century, and was thus converted into what passed as an apology for Christianity.

The text of the Ezra-Apocalypse as it has been received in virtually all versions is the work of Christian scribes who must be held responsible not only for the careless manner in which they have transmitted it but also for many readings introduced in it in order to make them conform to teachings expressive of fundamental Christian doctrines. This often involves the changing of the author's words and ideas so as to convey meanings other than those which he, as a loyal Jew, could possibly have given. Reprehensible as such a practice is, it was, nevertheless, indulged in, not infrequently, by pious hands engaged in the copying of sacred texts. The text of the Ezra-Apocalypse was often the victim of such treatment. It is for this reason that even its Syriac version, now existing in only one manuscript, the sole survivor of many that were in circulation, was badly transmitted. This version, perhaps more than any other of the older versions, approaches what the text was in the tongue in which it was originally written. It bears ample evidence of what seems to be faulty editing but which represents, not infrequently, actually also the result of faulty copying. This is true of virtually all other ancient versions of the Ezra-Apocalypse.

Since the Enlightenment ennui and despair have been among the most dominant themes in western literature. In the twentieth century there scarcely exists a single major work of fiction which views man's nature and destiny under the aspect of hope or fulfillment. Why this should be so is the subject of interminable discussion which, generally speaking, locates the deeper cause in the breakdown of virtually all genuine religiousness with an attendant rise of meaninglessness and emptiness. This development in turn is linked to the various revolutions, particularly the Industrial, that have combined to undermine traditional occidental modes of thought and living. While some critics hold that it is merely a question of modern society becoming gradually accustomed to the blessings so precipitously conferred upon it by technology, thus comparing its present growing pains to those of an adolescent, few seem to disagree on the prevailing exhaustion and anxiety. In addition to the note of doom struck by the best intellectuals of our day — and its fashionableness is no argument against its truth — it would appear that the unreflecting masses independently of being exposed to this literature do not know how to redeem their leisure time, have lost a great deal of capacity for spontaneous participation, and seek despairingly if not eagerly for something vital to which they can relate themselves and through which find renewed structure in their lives.

The fragment which is described and published in the present article was bought in Cairo in February, 1931, for Yale University. It is known as P. Yale Inv. 415, and in the late Professor Gregory's list of New Testament manuscripts it is designated P49. It seems safe to assume that the fragment was copied somewhere in Egypt, but it cannot be assigned to any particular locality. Furthermore, nothing is known as to the place where it was found.

Of the changes that have taken place in theology since the Renaissance, none is more striking than the re-interpretation of the Mosaic account of the creation and fall of man, which has passed from the realm of history to that of ‘myth.’ Equally impressive, however, are the changes that have taken place in eschatology. This disagreement with our ancestors is not revolutionary on every point, since at least one fundamental idea, affirmed by George Hakewill in the earlier seventeenth century, still holds true. “That the world shall haue an end,” wrote Hakewill, “is as cleere to Christianity, as that there is a Sun in the firmament: And therefore, whereas there can hardly be named any other article of our faith, which some Heretiques haue not presumed to impugne or call into question; yet to my remembrance I never met with any who questioned this; & though at this day many & eager be the differences among Christians in other points of Religion, yet in this they all agree & ever did, that the world shall haue an end.” If on this, however, all Christians are agreed, the exact time of the Day of the Lord has been the subject of speculation ever since the advent of Christianity, not to mention Jewish apocalyptic thought.

The importance of Papyrus Bodmer II, to be designated P66 for textual studies can scarcely be overlooked, even in an age accustomed to startling discoveries in the biblical field. The scholarly world is indebted to Professor Victor Martin for prompt publication, and it is to be hoped that a facsimile will follow.

The position of Johann Georg Hamann (1730–1788) in the history of German thought is an embarrassing subject for the English-speaking scholar. For, when pressed to state the significance of the so-called “Magus of the North,” he must do so in such epic terms that his hearers may well ask: “If Hamann is so important, why has so little been said about him in English? If it is true, as literary historians maintain, that he is the father of the Storm and Stress movement in German literature, that many of Herder's best insights stem from him, that he was the author from whom Goethe learned most, that the concept of the ‘total work of art’ (Gesamtkunstwerk)in German music derives ultimately from his theory of language, that he was, as Hendrik Kraemer maintains, ‘probably the most profound Christian thinker of the eighteenth century,’ why, if all these statements are true, have we Englishspeaking people heard so little about him?”

E. K. Rand tentatively ascribed the Paris MS B. N. 4404, s.IX, to the Scriptorium of Tours which he reconstructed in the monumental studies in the Script of Tours. Bruno Krusch offered a detailed description of this manuscript which Theodor Mommsen used for his edition of the Theodosian Code. The MS contains a collection of Roman and Germanic law codes and sources of law. Here we are especially interested in the Lex Romana Visigothorum, also called the Breviarium Alaricianum, and in the Salian and Ripuarian Codes, i.e., sources of law used in the Frankish Empire of Charlemagne. Some capitularies of Charlemagne, issued during and after the year 803, are attached at the end of the MS, which occupies an important place in the much discussed text transmission of the Lex Salica. Turonian provenience of the MS has been denied by Philippe Lauer, Bruno Krusch, Wilhelm Köhler, and C. H. Beeson, but Rand assumes that it deserves a listing among the books of Tours, since its script “seems nearer to that of Tours … and yet … none versed in manuscripts has ascribed the book to Tours.”

The Oxyrhynchus Papyrus fragment 402 (Greg. P9) is located in the Semitic Museum of Harvard University. Its text is transcribed by Grenfell and Hunt in Oxyrhynchus Papyri III, pp. 2–3.

Adrien Baillet, an erudite priest who was librarian and preceptor in the house of the distinguished magistrate Chrétien-Fran¸ois de Lamoignon from 1680 till the time of his death in 1706, was one of the most prolific writers of his time. A Cartesian and a Jansenist, the author of substantial biographies and histories, voluminous critical compendiums on both secular and theological subjects, and provocative religious treatises, and the center of some of the stormiest quarrels of the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, he is today unknown to nearly everyone except specialists in his period. Many of the latter, moreover, are acquainted only with his massive biography of Descartes (1691) and his nine volume compendium Jugemens des scavans (1684–1686), an incomplete composition calculated to evaluate the principal works composed in all fields of human endeavor since earliest times as well as the judgments of their critics. The present study concerns one of the most obscure and at the same time most explosive of Baillet's works, his treatise on the cult of the Virgin Mary.

In 1928 Maurice Goguel declared that Luke 16,16–18 was ʻsans relation organique sensible, and thereby repeated the result of older German research. Now David Daube has been able to show a continuous chain of ideas in this passage and has thus confronted the exegesis with a new situation. Therefore the question of the historical place of the passage becomes urgent once more.