An vier Stellen der Apostelgeschichte des Lukas (Apg 23. 6; 24. 15 f.; 26. 6 f.; 28. 20) beteuert der angeklagte Apostel Paulus, daß er nur ‘wegen der Hoffnung Israels’ vor Gericht stehe. Wie ist diese Beteuerung zu verstehen? Was besagt sie im Kontext der erzählten Handlung? Und was bedeutet sie für den Erzähler Lukas und für die Leser seines Werkes? – Eine Klärung dieser Fragen ist exegetisch geboten; denn die auffällige Wieder-holung ist ja als schriftstellerischer Hinweis auf die Wichtigkeit der Sache zu werten.

In the continuing discussion of the possible role of Christian prophets in the formation of the tradition of the words of Jesus, reference continues to be made to the relevance or irrelevance of the words of the exalted Christ transmitted by the prophet John in the Apocalypse. They remain the only un-disputed example from the first century of prophetic utterances made in the name of Christ in the first person, and for advocates of the creative activity of the Christian prophets they are therefore invaluable evidence that such utterances could be made. Their use as evidence for the role of prophecy in the formation of the Synoptic tradition involves, admittedly, additional assumptions not easily demonstrable. We must suppose that John's prophecy is typical of the content of early Christian prophecy in general, and also that this late first-century work is faithfully representative of the earlier prophets whom alone we can suppose to have been responsible for originating logia which actually entered the Synoptic tradition. The uniqueness of John's prophetic status vis-à-vis that of the church prophets has been cogently argued by D. Hill, and it seems that at least we cannot infer otherwise un-attested characteristics of early Christian prophecy in general from the contents of the Apocalypse alone. In any case the Apocalypse is surely untypical in being a lengthy and closely integrated literary composition, with its own distinctive stylistic traits. Partly for this reason the words of Christ reported in it are for the most part quite unsuitable for transference to the lips of the Jesus of the Synoptic tradition, at least without substantial adaptation.

I hope that no apology is necessary for the choice of a subject so closely akin to that of the Presidential Address by Professor William Manson last year.1 It was in fact that address which inspired the present paper. If any further justification is necessary for reverting to this theme I would remind you that a presidential address is by use and wont exempt from criticism, so that last year there was no opportunity for the discussion of a subject which should surely invite lively debate. Moreover, though Dr Manson in his address made occasional reference to Paul's thought, he deliberately confined himself in the main to the ‘Spiritual Background of the Work of Jesus in the Synoptic Gospels’. Such promising exploration deserves to be followed up, for it is only with Paul that this background is filled in, in all its tremendous cosmic grandeur. As Dr Manson put it, the spirit world in Paul's thought ‘has taken on new dimensions and acquired a cosmic range and character’. Or again, whereas last year we were meeting the demonic powers ‘in the form of malignant and ghoulish beings, on the earth-level of popular demonic belief’, this year we are confronted by Paul's ‘grandiose hierarchy of cosmic spirits’. But my best justification is the sheer importance of this subject for the understanding of Paul's thought. As Professor J. S. Stewart has remarked in a notable article in the Scottish Journal of Theology (vol. IV, no. 3), we shall never get inside the mind of Paul until we take seriously what has in fact been ‘a neglected emphasis in New Testament Theology’, and cease to treat ‘as secondary and extraneous elements in the primitive Christian proclamation what in fact are integral and basic components of the Gospel’.

There has been in recent years an upsurge of interest in the social description of early Christianity, particularly in the reconstruction of its ‘social world’. Any valid sociological analysis of early Christianity of necessity depends upon the exacting interpretation of the NT texts, since these constitute the necessary data for such studies. In many cases such exegetical ground-work has been done thoroughly and well, so that fruitful social studies can be conducted on the basis of the resulting data. Unfortunately, in the case of early Christian disciplinary practices, relatively little careful research has been done, and much of what has been done is, in the opinion of the present writer, seriously flawed. Social descriptions based upon this data are inevitably likewise flawed, and a distorted picture of early Christian communal life is the unfortunate result. The nature of early Christian discipline is obviously a problem of a social nature, but before serious sociological studies can be done, there must be a correction of the distortions which are currently prevalent in the scholarly consensus regarding this subject.

II Cor. ii. 9, 12 betont Paulus den Korinthern gegenüber, daß er von ihnen bisher keine finanzielle Unterstützung angenommen habe und dieses Verhalten beizubehalten gedenke. Dies ist eine merkwürdige Absicht, zumal er doch sonst durchaus bereit war, Unterstützung anzunehmen, ja sic geradezu erwartete (vgl. Phil. 4. 10 if.). Der Frage nach dem Verhalten des Paulus bezüglich der Annahme bzw. Ablehnung von Unterstützung durch seine Gemeinden soil im folgenden nachgegangen werden.

The Apocalypse is not a random jumble of ‘prophecies’: it shows clear evidence of ordering. The problem, however, is to know on what principles the ordering has been done, and which principle has been dominant or primary, and which less influential. For example, the Seven Letters, Seals, Trumpets and Bowls seem at first sight to dominate the book; but then every commentator has some embarrassment in explaining the intrusions of chs 7 and 10–11, let alone the second half of the book. Even then, we need an explanation of the symbolism of the seals, trumpets and bowls, which is in no obvious sense given: so, on their own, the four Sevens are only a partial answer to the question.

Although St Paul had no disciples, on μαθηραι, he did have many associates. These persons present something of a puzzle to the student of Christian origins, both in the titles and functions that are ascribed to them and, more generally, in the precise relationship that had to Paul. A clarification of their role may serve to illuminate the structure of the early Christian mission as well as a number of problems within the Pauline letters.

Erastus (Rom 16.23) has featured prominently in the ongoing debate over the social and economic make-up of the early Pauline communities, since how one renders his title (ὁ οἰκονόμος τῆς πόλεως) dramatically affects the range of economic stratification represented in the Corinthian church. Relying chiefly on epigraphy, including an important new inscription from the Achaean colony of Patras, this article engages the scholarly dialogue about the Latin equivalent of Erastus' title, rebutting the arguments in favour of arcarius and aedilis, and contends that he served as quaestor, a high-ranking municipal position exclusively occupied by the economic elite.

The importance of the quotation of Isa 54.1 in Gal 4.27 for understanding Paul's allegorical reading of the story of Sarah and Hagar (Gen 16–21) in Gal 4.21–5.1 has often been underestimated. Paul uses this quotation to give his interpretation of this story an eschatological dimension that, unlike the eschatology of Second Isaiah, is both profoundly christological and apocalyptic.

The fundamental outlook in what follows is that there is a fairly consistent, compact, yet expanding and developing promise tradition which is founded on the promises to David (and his descendants) in the Hebrew Scriptures; that this tradition in certain ways has been rejuvenated and strengthened in the early Christian period; and that it enters Christianity in connection with the application of these promises to Jesus' resurrection apart from the title Son of David itself, a title whose acceptance and adaptation in early Christianity appears on both historical and redaction critical grounds to be relatively late. The hypothesis is not totally new. My intention will be to put some older information into what will hopefully be an illuminating perspective, to draw out some implications from the perspective itself, and to nail down the hypothesis of the use of Old Testament texts in connection with the resurrection of Jesus a little tighter. I have not undertaken here to trace out a history of tradition in the New Testament such as can now be found in C. Burger's excellent study, Jesus als Davidssohn, though the direction of the paper will support the legitimacy of his starting point in early Christian formulae.

The ‘enigmatic ending’ of Acts continues to baffle the exegetes. Not the least of its difficulties is the status of ‘the Jews’ after Paul's peculiarly solemn pronouncement of Isa 6. 9–10 against a ‘closed’ and ‘hardened’ people (Acts 28. 26–27). Coming as it does as a climax to the equally ponderous pronouncements of judgment in Acts 13. 46 and 18. 6, for many scholars the cumulative, three-fold impact of this indictment resounds a note of finality, of foreclosure upon Israel which consequently consummates an era and looks ahead almost exclusively to a Gentile church. The two leading clusters of opinion expressing this understanding are those associated with E. Haenchen – viz., that repentance for Israel by the end of Acts is de facto now over, with Gentiles replacing Jews as the people of God – or with J. Jervell – that a core of repenting Jews constitutes a restored Israel which, along with increasing numbers of Gentiles, by the end of chapter 28 has completed its mission to unrepenting Jews who no longer have a right to the name ‘Israel’ or ‘people of God’.

It is hardly necessary to emphasise the problematic nature of this passage. Its tragic misuse, in past and present, in the interests of supporting oppressive regimes and suppressing protest can neither be denied nor condoned. It is easy to lay the blame for such abusesat the door of non-contextual literalism, with its hidden agenda of endorsement of the status quo. Liberal interpreters, however, also work with a hidden agenda and cannot be allowed to assume that they know from the outset the ‘right’ interpretation of the passage.That is why we have described it as a test case for New Testament interpretation. It is not simply that the passage is being tested. Thetest is whether New Testament hermeneutics is able to handle acase as difficult and controversial as Rom 13. 1–7 while remaining true to its principles and without resorting to emergency procedures, such as drastic surgery!

Rudolf Bultmann in his magnum opus, Theology of the New Testament, tends to dismiss the Epistle to the Hebrews as ‘allegorical’,1 ‘legalistic’,2 exemplaristic',3 and ‘sacramentalistic’.4 This is overly negative. The Book of Hebrews may be a unique contribution to New Testament thought, and may possess its own peculiar logic and expression; nevertheless, it is a decidedly Christian document.5

There are many problems which the layman finds easy and the expert difficult. Certainly we have – all of us, many times – heard people say that the parables of the gospels are so simple that a child can understand them. At our scholarly meetings and in our seminar rooms it is more often stated – I think – that the parables belong to the most difficult texts in the New Testament. A blessed peacemaker could, of course, say, ‘They are simple at the surface level but you can never fully reach their depth.’ However, King Solomon would hardly find that sentence quite satisfactory.