2 Cor 10–13 may be seen to hang together closely, both internally and with the rest of the canonical letter, once one notices the very careful manner in which Paul distinguishes between and handles three groups: (i) the Corinthians as such, a group that includes his ‘own people’ and sometimes also (ii) his internal critics; and (iii) the rival missionaries. The four chapters are built over a set of four motifs: 2nd or 3rd person? absence or presence? meekness or boldness? building up or tearing down? In light of this, one finds the following structure: A (10.1–11) on the i- and ii-groups; B (10.12–11.21), C (11.22–12.10), and D (12.11–13) on the iii- and i-groups; and E (12.14-13.13) on the i- and ii-groups. The four chapters – and indeed, the letter as a whole – have an inner dynamic that reaches its writerly goal in the comparison of Paul to the iii-group (C). The final, rhetorical aim, however, consists in establishing the proper relationship between Paul himself and the i-group as he is about to reach Corinth once more in the flesh.

In Gal 1:10, Rom 1:1, and Phil 1:1 Paul refers to himself as δοῦλος Χριστοῦ (Ἰησοῦ). This self-designation is open to interpretation. What is the function of this claim of roles, which is slightly varied syntagmatically in the three passages mentioned, i.e., tends to be linguistically flexible on Paul's part and thus adapted to the context in each case? The present contribution is intended to expand the interpretive framework with an aspect that has been rather neglected in previous Pauline research, when it invokes the interpretive context of Roman law. For it is Roman law that is of particular interest for the self-definition as a slave. In Roman legal discourse, which finds universal application through the ius gentium as the ‘law of all men' (Gaius 1.1), i.e. also application to non-Romans or the peregrinus, the scope of action for slaves in relation to their ‘masters' is also conceptually determined by taking into account the ‘human characteristic of the slave'. Within the interpretive framework of ancient Roman law, therefore, those lines of meaning in Pauline self-fashioning as δοῦλος Χριστοῦ Ἰησοῦ that reveal self-designation in subordination to Christ as enabling ambition, zeal, honour, and success are particularly revealing. These aspects include (1) the Pauline description of status and the legitimation and exposition of his (2) relationship to the “Lord”, the description of (3) his areas of work and responsibilities, and his (4) socio-economic living conditions and lifestyle. Thus, against the background of ancient Roman law, which primarily focused on its pragmatisation rather than problematising the socio-historical reality of slaves or the moral-philosophical attitude toward slavery, certain aspects of Paul's understanding of himself and his apostolate can be more sharply defined.

While it is easy to interpret the first and second of the Matthean Antitheses (5.21–30) as intensifications of the Mosaic law, it is difficult to interpret the remaining Antitheses (5.31–48) in this manner. In the history of interpretation, two main strategies have been adopted for dealing with these later Antitheses, the ‘rejected interpretation’ hypothesis and the revocation hypothesis. The ‘rejected interpretation’ hypothesis, however, is only plausible for the last Antithesis (5.43–8), which appends ‘and hate your enemy’ to the Levitical exhortation to love one's neighbour; in all other instances, the ‘thesis’ statement is either a biblical citation or a close paraphrase of one or more biblical passages. Although the revocation hypothesis has often been deployed in an anti-Jewish way, there is nothing intrinsically anti-Jewish about it; indeed, both biblical authors, such as the Deuteronomist and Ezekiel, on the one hand, and some rabbis, on the other, explicitly revise prior biblical laws while at the same time claiming to be changing nothing. Matthew does something similar when he introduces the revisionist Antitheses with a programmatic statement about the unchangeableness of the Law (5.17–20). The Matthean Jesus, then, is not ‘seconding Sinai’ but correcting it.

This article, originally presented as the Presidential Address at the 2022 SNTS Meeting in Leuven, explores the ways in which Paul configures giving and ‘wealth’, both in relation to the Macedonians and Corinthians (as contributors to the Jerusalem collection) and in relation to Christ. Drawing on the dream-interpretations of Artemidorus, it illustrates how ‘wealth’ could be understood in antiquity as performance rather than possession: one is wealthy in giving and not (or not only) in having. In this light, Paul offers a striking image of the Macedonians who in their poverty were ‘rich’ in their unreserved commitment to the collection, fulfilling the dream of the poor by acquiring the dignity of giving. The Christological statement of 2 Cor 8.9 can also be understood (and integrated) in a new way: it was in his wealth (of self-sharing) that Christ became poor (in the weakness of the cross), so that the Corinthians, participating in this momentum, might become ‘rich’ in the same self-giving of Christ. Although grace and money are not identical, neither are they unrelated ‘economies’: the grace of the Christ-event transforms its beneficiaries into givers, rich in multiple forms of generosity, including material gift. The text thus evidences principles of a non-competitive mode of social relations operative in the material sphere, with the capacity to stimulate a theological challenge to dehumanising forms of capitalism.

The title σωτήρ, ‘saviour’, is bestowed on Christ and God in the New Testament and rendered in the Latin translations by conseruator, saluificator, salutificator, salutaris and saluator. Although these terms convey the same meaning, they are not interchangeable: this study argues that conseruator, which is the most frequent word for saviour on imperial coins, is rarely attested in the Latin versions because of its association with the imperial cult. The predominant translation, saluator, was coined as an alternative rendering to the other words which had religious and political connotations.

Although an increasing number of works are focusing on depictions of God in the New Testament, none so far specifically focus on how these depictions rely on anthropomorphic language in their presentation of God. This article attends to this oversight by turning to the Synoptic Gospels (and the book of Acts) as a test case. Not only do these narratives lack an explicit anti-anthropomorphic agenda, but they also rely on divine anthropomorphisms that are derived from Jewish Scripture. To demonstrate this claim, the article concentrates on how Matthew and Luke expand Mark's anthropomorphic presentation of God and how Luke's presentation emerges as the most anthropomorphic of all. It also discusses how Mark, Matthew, and Luke's respective narratives depict God's human, or human-like, characteristics according to the following four categories: (1) God's human roles and titles, (2) God's depiction as an acting subject who speaks and desires to be in relationship with humans, (3) God's concrete presence located in space, and finally, (4) God's description as a character with recognisable body parts and other markers of corporeality. In the end, we shall see that anthropomorphism is a central component of God's characterisation in the Synoptics and that this anthropomorphic characterisation better enables readers to see the Jewish, scriptural shape of God as a personal deity who desires to be in relationship with humans.

After reviewing and offering a critical evaluation of the main interpretations of the sayings in Mark 9.43–7, the paper proposes a new reading that considers them in the Jewish context and in their co-text (Mark 9.33–50). The context is the marginal condition in which physically impaired people lived in Jewish society and communities. In view of this context, it is possible to point out the consistency of Jesus’ logia on self-maiming in order to enter the kingdom of God (Mark 9.43–7) with their co-text. The disciples are urged not only not to scandalise the little ones of the community (Mark 9.42), but also to share their minority state, thus avoiding stumbling in their own discipleship because of claims of greatness and superiority.

Angesichts der fortschreitenden Publikation der Encyclopedia of the Bible and Its Reception (EBR), der Weiterarbeit an den Bänden des Evangelisch-Katholischen Kommentars zum Neuen Testament (EKK) und der Fortsetzung von Blackwell's Kommentarserie Through the Centuries lautet die Leitfrage des vorliegenden Artikels: Wie kann zur Theoretisierung und Methodisierung einer Rezeptionsgeschichte des Neuen Testaments beigetragen werden? Um diese Frage zu beantworten und Perspektiven zu entwerfen, unternimmt der Artikel den Versuch einer neuerlichen Klärung der Begriffe ‘Wirkungsgeschichte’ / ‘wirkungsgeschichtliches Bewusstsein’, ‘Auslegungsgeschichte’, ‘Rezeptionsgeschichte’ und schlägt zwei Fragenkataloge vor, die das Vorgehen einer cross-temporal und cross-cultural ausgerichteten Rezeptionskritik des Neuen Testaments inhaltlich und methodisch reflektieren und kontrollieren.

Two Greek gospel manuscripts with an exegetical commentary in catena form present a text of Mark which ends in the middle of Mark 16.8. One is GA 304, a twelfth-century codex which is often adduced as a witness to the Short Ending. The other is the eleventh-century GA 239, which has not previously featured in discussions of the conclusion of Mark. In each case, it is shown that considerations of scribal practice, codicology and the broader traditions of text and catena mean that neither witness should be treated as evidence for the Short Ending as found in Codices Sinaiticus and Vaticanus.

A response to the article by Christina Hoegen-Rohls.

The ending of Mark, ‘And they (the women) said nothing to anyone for they were afraid’ (16.8) is one of the most famous cruxes in the New Testament. Could the author really have intended to complete the gospel in such a way? Building on a suggestion made by Joel Marcus and Benoit Standaert, this article defends the hypothesis that Mark is deliberately making a reference to Genesis 18.15 LXX. The same rare expression ἐφοβήθη γάρ which has the verb ‘to be afraid’ followed by the preposition γάρ, appears in a comparable context. In both cases, one or more women are presented by God or his messengers with what could appear to be an unlikely promise and a radical impossibility: the birth of a child in old age or the resurrection of a dead person. While presenting a critique of S. Hultgren's recent proposal that Dn 10 is the background of Mark, the approach here is to add an argument based on a scriptural allusion, which Mark was perfectly capable of making, in support of the now predominant view, but still with many critics, that the writer fully intended to end his gospel with 16.8b.

The tears of the ‘daughters of Jerusalem’ in Luke 23.27–31 are often taken as a representation of pathos. However, women's public performance of lamentation serves several purposes in the biblical prophets and Greco-Roman historiography and rhetoric. Women are responsible for mourning rituals following a death to honour the deceased and their family. They express communal lament following defeat in war. Women use tears to protest political and legal situations, swaying public opinion and decisions. The rhetorical functions of women's mourning in antiquity offer valuable insight into the potential purposes of mourning in Luke 23.27–31. The women's initial display of tears honours Jesus. The disruption of the negative perception of Jesus at this point in the narrative suggests the women's tears may be political protest. The redirection of their tears to themselves and their children provides the audience with a model response to the destruction of Jerusalem. As in Jer 9.17–22, the mourning of Luke's ‘daughters of Jerusalem’ is prophetic.

The history of reception is suffering from a fundamental misunderstanding. Since the publication of Truth and Method, everyone has had the impression that reception history is just another exegetical technique. However, the heart of Gadamer's argument is not the history of the effects of the text, but the historicity of understanding: a text is seized only within the limits of the historical situation of its interpreter. To demonstrate this point, this paper takes the example of the Markan ending. Surprisingly, a 16th-century Thomistic theologian, Cajetan, and a contemporary commentary are so close that one might think they are defending the same view of the text. Both intend to maintain the canonicity of verses 9–20, but both point out that it may be adventurous to build any doctrine or practice on these verses alone. But the context is different, obviously. The first one tries to justify a conception of faith that does not depend directly on miracles; the second one affirms a hermeneutic centred on the interpreter's response, being wary of its ecclesiological drifts. This confirms that theological considerations rather than philological ones have prevailed in challenging Mark's ending.

This article examines the language of seed reception within the Parable of the Sower in Mark and Luke. The paper argues that Mark's diction introduces reproductive terms into the seed figure and that Luke edits Mark to include even more distinctively gynaecological and reproductive terminology. The result is a parable in Luke that turns the audience into uterine receptacles of the seed/logos.

In Luke-Acts, the city of Jerusalem is mentioned very often. The city is considered the site of the temple and forms the centre of the narrative spatial configuration of Luke-Acts. Narrative analysis and the evaluation of the lexically marked language (‘terminology of salvation’) show that for the author of Luke-Acts, the city and its inhabitants, who are mainly portrayed as hostile opponents of Jesus and Paul, have no future within the narrative of Luke-Acts. However, Jesus will appear as the Son of Man at the Parousia in Jerusalem and will also bring the liberation of the city of Jerusalem (Luke 2.38: λύτρωσις ᾿Ιɛρουσαλήμ).

Most scholars assume that 1 Timothy 3.16b is a hymn, or a fragment of a hymn, belonging to another context. However, Furley (1995) points out that even the ancients had difficulty categorising their poetic materials. 1 Timothy 3.16b has no metre and neither praises God nor asks him for benefits, which are the usual indicators of a hymn. This article argues that 1 Timothy 3.16b was written by the writer for insertion into the letter, and it was intended to be used in his congregation as a bulwark (1 Tim 3.15) against his opponents. 1 Timothy 3.16b more closely resembles an epigram, normally written to accompany an epiphany of a god.

While surviving the shipwreck and the viper bite in Acts 28.1–6 have often been recognised as symbolic assertions of Paul's innocence, the viper may hold further symbolic significance. Following his act of matricide in 59 ce, Nero was linked to Aeschylus’ portrayal of Orestes, who, in turn, was linked to a tradition that understood a viper's birth as matricidal. Thus, through his encounter with the viper, Paul symbolically ‘appears before’ the emperor Nero—something that is anticipated yet never happens overtly in the narrative of Acts itself.

The present article first presents and explains the theses that emerge from Régis Burnet's monograph ‘Exegesis and History of Reception’ (Tübingen 2021) and from his SNTS Main Paper published in NTS 2023, ‘Why “Reception History” Is Not Just Another Exegetical Method: The Case of Mark's Ending’ (Leuven 2022). It then develops questions and perspectives that result from the dialogue between Burnet's approach and my own approach and continue this productive, unfinished discussion. It should be postulated that the history of interpretation and the reception history belong to the field of theological encyclopaedia and have the potential to lead to an ‘aesthetic theology’.

The saying in Matthew 9.37–8 and Luke (Q) 10.2 reads as follows: ‘He said to his disciples: The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. So ask the Lord of the harvest to dispatch workers into his harvest’. The present study attempts to illuminate this logion by considering its setting in first-century Palestine. The focus here is not on the logion's possible metaphorical application, but on the literal saying, which involves ancient agriculture.

Συνɛίδησις is a relatively rare word, but a favourite for Paul, whose undisputed texts contain nearly half of its New Testament occurrences. In the 19th and 20th centuries, scholars debated the origin of the substantive and the possibility of Stoic influence, which led to a consensus that the term was not a technical philosophical one and Paul's use was not affected by Stoic thought. There is evidence, though, that the presence of συνɛίδησις in a few Stoic texts is due to its semantic relationship in Stoic discourse with συναίσθησις, the Stoic term for self-perception, which was a key component in their epistemological and ethical theory. This article argues that a reading of Paul's use of συνɛίδησις as Stoic self-perception explains the distinctive features of his use to which scholars have recently drawn attention, namely, the permanent and continuous operation of the συνɛίδησις, its ability to be passively impacted by the actions of others and the neutral or positive content of its reflexive knowledge. After a review of recent scholarship, I discuss the role of συναίσθησις in Stoic theory and the evidence for its semantic relationship to συνɛίδησις, then offer a reading of 1 Cor 8–10 demonstrating Paul's use of συνɛίδησις as self-perception.