In 1 Clement 32–33, Romans 5–6 is alluded to in a summary statement concerning justification by faith (32.4), followed by two rhetorical questions that stress the ethical implications of this confession (33.1). These allusions to Romans are punctuated by an appeal for readers to imitate the pattern of good works established by God during creation (33.2-8). This article contends that the difference between Romans 5–6 and one of the earliest Christian readings of these chapters is not accidental, for the ethical appeal in 1 Clement 33 reflects the author's distinct cosmological perspective and rhetorical aims.

The opening words of 1 Corinthians 13 have undergone numerous translations since their initial composition in the first century C.E. Although translators have often differed in semantic emphasis, there is remarkable agreement regarding the function of ἤ. Indeed, in every translation ἤ has been rendered as a disjunctive conjunction, equivalent to the English ‘or’. Unfortunately, this consensus has never produced a wholly satisfactory translation, resulting instead in some rather creative etymological crusades.

The attempt to get behind the gospel record back to the authentic words and acts of Jesus has occupied many scholars of this generation. This has come about because of a scepticism regarding the historical value of the sayings as recorded, and has often concluded by assuming that the New Testament throws light only on what the early Christian community believed Jesus said rather than on what he did say. It is not the writer's intention to belittle the problem, but to suggest it may be approached from a fresh angle. This article seeks to show that in one respect at least the words of Jesus, as recorded in the gospels, are of a distinctive character, especially when compared with the editorial comments of the evangelists, and hence the form of the first may not be as dependent on the evangelists and the early church as sometimes claimed.

In a previous study ‘How Many Cock-Crowings? The Problem of Harmonistic Text-Variants’ I raised the question of ‘harmonistic’ readings in synoptic texts. When dealing with the triple tradition we have been trained at points in a gospel where there are two possible readings, one of which agrees with the other two gospels and one of which does not, to favour the odd man out. In that instance I argued that the byzantine text of Mark with its two crowings had got out of step with Matthew and Luke because of an accidental interpolation into its text, and that the ‘harmonistic’ reading was in fact original. More often, however, the byzantine text of one gospel is suspected of getting into step with the other two through harmonistic changes. But it is unwise to assume this too readily, as may be illustrated from the most notorious example: the case of the rich young man in Matthew 19. 16, 17. This example raises sharply two questions: What is the relation between textual criticism and the synoptic problem? And what place should be given to supposed harmonization in assessing readings?

Cambridge people, incorrigible as they are, like to sing the praises of Cambridge. Sharing this obligation I select a subject that may be in tune with this theme. As a New Testament man I do not have to compass land and sea in order to find an association. What may fairly be described as a unique challenge given by Cambridge to New Testament studies is to be found in the University library. It is what may be called the pericope Cantabrigiensis, the addition to Luke 6. 4 in the Codex Bezae Cantabrigiensis, which runs as follows: On the same day he saw someone working on the Sabbath and said to him: man, if you know what you are doing, you are blessed, if you do not know, you are cursed and a law-breaker (τυτ ⋯μέρᾳ θεασάμενός, τιναᾳγαζόμενον τ σαββάτ επεναυτ ἅνθρωπε ε μįν οδας τί ποιεις, μακάριος ε ε δį μεοįδας, ᾳπικατάρατος κᾳι παραβάτης ε τοū νόμον).

This essay does not attempt to give evidence for a particular answer to a question, but discusses the question itself. I would like first to present a sketch of the history of how the question has been handled, and then make some suggestions for its reformulation. The question is: ‘Are sayings of Christian prophets included in the canonical Gospels as sayings of Jesus?’

Romans 3. 1–8 is one of the most puzzling passages in the epistle. It is commonly assumed that Paul is here using the ‘diatribe’ style of contemporary philosophers. In the diatribe, arguments are put into the mouth of imaginary objectors, and the writer replies to them in the form of a dialogue. But we must confess that, if Paul is really using the diatribe style in this passage, he is using it in a very strange way. Normally, in the diatribe, the objector's point is stated briefly, and replied to in detail. But in Romans 3. 1–8, as commonly interpreted, the objections are stated in detail, and Paul's replies are brief and inadequate. Various explanations are given for this by the commentators. According to Dodd, ‘the whole argument of 3. 1–8 is obscure and feeble’ because Paul is ‘defending a poor case’. Other scholars are more charitable, saying that the questions raised by the imaginary objector are in fact adequately answered later in the epistle. But they fail to explain why Paul should state at this stage in the epistle detailed objections, to which he is either not willing or not able to give an immediate answer.

The problem of whether the meal conducted by Jesus (Mt. 26. 17–30: Mk. 14. 12–26; Lk. 22. 7–22; Jn. 13), was a Passover Seder is a matter of long-standing discussion and need not be entered into or documented here.1 What deserves further attention, however, is the light shed on this question by 1 Cor. 10. 16, which was recently considered in the pages of this journal.2 In this discussion the author cites the view of others that the cup of Mt. 26. 27 refers to the cup of blessing accompanying the Grace After Meals, birkhat hamazon, or in terms of the cup-sequence of the Passover Seder, the third cup.3 The author further indicates that the same scholars generally view ‘the cup of blessing’ at 1 Cor. 10. 16, to be the kosshel berakhah, and take this term to be a technical one that refers to the cup of thanksgiving for food, birkhat hamazon, or again, the third cup of the Passover Seder. Cohn-Sherbok argues, however, that Mt. 26. 27 refers to the fourth cup of the Seder, which accompanies the birkhat hashir, the blessing of song, which comes at the end of Hallel (M. Pes. 10. 7; B. Pes. 118 a).4 Finally, in discussing Paul's phrase, to poterion tes eulogias (1 Cor. 10. 16), Cohn-Sherbok argues that it need not refer to any particular cup of the Seder, and might mean generally a cup consecrated by Jesus.5 16, to be the kosshel berakhah, and take this term to be a technical one that refers to the cup of thanksgiving for food, birkhat hamazon, or again, the third cup of the Passover Seder. Cohn-Sherbok argues, however, that Mt. 26. 27 refers to the fourth cup of the Seder, which accompanies the birkhat hashir, the blessing of song, which comes at the end of Hallel (M. Pes. 10. 7; B. Pes. 118 a).4 Finally, in discussing Paul's phrase, to poterion tes eulogias (1 Cor. 10. 16), Cohn-Sherbok argues that it need not refer to any particular cup of the Seder, and might mean generally a cup consecrated by Jesus.5

Die Gleichnisse Jesu und der Rabbinen schöpfen unabhängig voneinander aus dem gleichen Repertoire jüdischer Bilder und Erzählmuster. Da die rabbinischen Gleichnisse der Schriftauslegung dienen, sind sie oft durch eine Straffheit der Gedankenführung und eine Konzentration auf die wesentlichen Züge der Handlung gekennzeichnet. Ihre neutestamentlichen Gegenstücke spiegeln die soziale Wirklichkeit lebendiger wider und weisen eine ausgeprägtere Erzählstruktur auf, um für die Gottesherrschaft zu werben. Dabei wird das Geschick der Sünder im Gegenüber zum Geschick der Gerechten thematisiert und die Integration von Randgruppen Israels in die Gottesherrschaft verteidigt. Diese unverwechselbaren Züge der Gleichnisse Jesu berechtigen nicht zur Abwertung der rabbinischen Gleichnisse.

The letter addressed to the Christian Chruch in Colossae speaks to a definite situation of Christianity in Asia Minor. This situation is not known to us from direct reports, but has to be inferred from hints and allusions within the letter. Though an absolutely certain result cannot be attained in every respect, nevertheless a sufficiently clear picture emerges. From the polemical argument carried on in the second chapter of the letter one can gather a whole series of catch-words and themes which were used by a group that worked their way into the congregation and offered it a new teaching. What sort of a teaching was it, and why does it present such a dangerous threat to a congregation which wants to remain true to the apostolic Gospel?

Les rouleaux de la Mer Morte ont ramené l'attention sur la connaissance des secrets apocalyptiques. D'aprés W. D. Davies, ces documents fourniraient le milieu littéraire dans lequel il faudrait situer Matt. xi. 25–30; on se contente plus souvent de faire le rapprochement avec la sagesse en mystére de saint Paul. Pourquoi ne pas songer ègalement au logion de Matt. xiii. II ‘A vous il est donné de connaître les secrets du Royaume des cieux’ avec ses parallèles Luc viii. 10 et Marc iv. II? On pourrait tenter l'interprétation de cette parole du Christ dans l'atmosphère des révélations apocalyptiques.

The Gospel of Peter (GP), often claimed to be theologically unsophisticated, offers a theological reflection upon the saving work of the Lord in his resurrection. GP receives the synoptic tradition, which itself has no narration of the resurrection (but only narrations of ‘appearances’), and fills in this lacuna. The narration of the resurrection is patterned upon GP's narration of the crucifixion, thereby suggesting that the resurrection and the crucifixion are two coordinated salvific events. GP's reception of the synoptic tradition is thus not only apologetic or polemical, but also theological.

Paul's address to the Ephesian elders in Acts 20 stands at the center of an extended treatment of the internal life of the church (20.1–21.17), and constitutes Luke's last portrait of the believing community. In this section, scenes of community life (20.7–12, 17–38; 21.8–14) alternate with travel episodes (20.1–6, 13–16; 21.1–7, 15–17) to show the relationship among groups of believers scattered around the Aegean and back to Caesarea. The resulting portrait of believing communities echoes some important features of the early descriptions of community life in Jerusalem. In this larger literary context, the speech to the Ephesian elders takes on a different appearance from its usual characterization as the farewell address of Luke's hero, Paul. The speech repeatedly connects the church to God, introducing Luke's larger themes of God's plan, the action of the Holy Spirit, and the instruction of Jesus himself. These features show that the church's future, in Luke's view, has less to do with its imitation of Paul than with its relationship to the God who calls it into being.

It is a common notion among modern biblical scholars that Origen doubted Paul's authorship of the Epistle to the Hebrews. This article offers an examination of Origen's writings on this question, and shows that the evidence is wildly misrepresented in contemporary discussions. It does this by beginning with Origen's Letter to Africanus, continuing with an overview of his Hebrews citations across his writing career, and concluding with an analysis of his oft-cited comments in Eusebius’ Ecclesiastical History. This examination shows that while Origen suspects Hebrews’ composition to involve more than Paul alone, his surprisingly consistent testimony is that the epistle is indeed Paul's.

This article explores the interconnection between intellection and life in ancient theology and philosophy by means of a reexamination of Paul's famous Areopagus discourse. Instead of reading the speech as an attempt at theological rapprochement, this essay interprets the speech as a place where fundamentally different grammars for the whole of life come into conflict.

Während die lukanische Kindheitsgeschichte im ganzen recht zusammenhängend konzipiert erscheint, weist ihr matthäisches Gegenstück zahlreiche Widersprüche und Ungereimtheiten auf. Dies gilt besonders für die im zweiten Kapitel geschilderten Vorgänge. Ohne plausible Erklärung bleiben z.B. das verhängnisvolle Zusammentreffen der Magier mit Herodes und die merkwürdigen Himmelsbewegungen des Wundersterns. Engelserscheinungen im Traum dienen wiederholt dazu, entscheidende Handlungsmomente notdürftig zu motivieren. Doch in der Situation nach dem Tode des Herodes versagt selbst diese Erzählfigur. Nachdem ein ἃγγελος κυρίου Josef versichert hat, die Verfolger des Kindes seien gestorben (2. 20), verläßt die Hl. Familie Ägypten und kehrt zurück in das ‘Land Israel’. In Judäa aber stellt sich heraus, daß die tödliche Gefahr nach wie vor besteht, denn nunmehr regiert dort Archelaus, ein Sohn des Herodes (2. 22).