Although Maximus' and Augustine's theologies of the will were shaped by very different polemical contexts, it is arguable that the two thinkers were interested in securing the same theological ground. In response to positions that treated the will as a reserve of human autonomy over against God, both thinkers sought to see the freedom of the will as a function of its integration into the natural order through grace. Maximus' concept of the natural will in particular functions as a means of challenging both divine determinism and human libertarianism as adequate accounts of the relationship between divine and human activity.

This paper argues for the possibility of a non-foundationalist reading of Karl Rahner's theology, one which treats it as logically independent of his philosophy. It argues that there is a greater degree of discontinuity between Rahner's early philosophical writings and his later theology than is usually recognized, and focusing on the Vorgriff auf esse, that the same claim may function differently in his theology than it does in his philosophy. Through an analysis of a line of tension running through much of Rahner's later thought, it shows that his insistence on the inescapability of pluralism, if taken fully seriously, has significant consequences for one's understanding of the ‘transcendental’ aspect of Rahner's theology.

This paper highlights two aspects of Stanley Hauerwas's thought: philosophical ethics, which consists of second-order methodological claims; and moral theology, which consists of first-order, local, unsystematic moral descriptions. I show how the philosophical ethics relates to the moral theology by proposing a set of rules that constitute a ‘grammar’ of Hauerwas's thought. These rules are asymmetrical in that later rules presuppose earlier rules but earlier rules do not presuppose later rules. Each rule corresponds to texts that Hauerwas recommends and relies upon. The first rule prioritizes MacIntyre's concept of non-foundational ‘practical wisdom’. The second rule, which draws on Aristotle, Wittgenstein, Anscombe and Kovesi to stress the impossibility of separating agent from act, influences the third rule that ethics is moral description. The fourth rule uses ‘postliberal’ theologians and draws on the liturgy alongside Barth and Yoder, in order to redescribe the shape of Christian life in liberal modernity.

The work of Alister McGrath and Julius Kostlin challenges the often-cited claim regarding Luther's dependence on Augustine. The article demonstrates that such critics fail to recognise the rich diversity of the African father's thought, but have been inclined to read it systematically the way the Roman Catholic interpretative tradition has. Text study of Augustine's writings, as well as Luther's comments about the African father, reveals that the Reformer's insights about soteriology (including the externality and passivity of righteousness as well as other aspects of his dialectical thinking) are affirmed by Augustine. Likewise, even Luther's critiques of Augustine lend insight into the Reformer's appropriation of his thought. The article demonstrates that when Luther diverges from the African father the two men are addressing incompatible pastoral concerns, but when he is inspired by Augustine their pastoral contexts are similar. This insight sheds fresh light on the sense in which we can speak of an Augustinian character of the Reformation. The article's findings also lend further credence to the possibility that there is a pattern to the use of Christian concepts in the history of the church, whereby, in similar contexts such as in response to perceived Pelagianism, Christians have pretty much responded similarly throughout the centuries.

To deal with NT eschatology in the time available to me, I should have either to be a vastly more competent NT scholar and theologian than I am or else to be prepared to state my own views dogmatically and treat differing views in a cavalier fashion, a procedure I regard as unscholarly and unacceptable. So what I amoffering is something much more modest —just some thoughts on the subject.

In choosing the title for these reflections, I have attempted to note not only a transition in the occupant of the Chair of New Testament Language, Literature & Theology in the University of Edinburgh, but also the historic period in which this transition takes place, in the closing years of one millennium, approaching the threshold of a new one. In an effort to engage the interests of a wide circle of readers in various scholarly specialities, I have also chosen to discuss (though only in very limited depth) several major questions, each of which could occupy us for much longer than space here permits. I hope at least to underline their importance, and to sketch a rationale for the positions I shall advocate. I cannot hope that this sketch will persuade anyone not already inclined to my views, but I can perhaps indicate that they are not without reason. If a thorough treatment is not possible here, I shall at least endeavour to be clear, and this may better stimulate the reflections of others.

The parallel between Augustine's preoccupation with language and the ‘linguistic turn’ of the last century has made him a valuable figure in recent discussions on hermeneutics and meaning. Still, he has yet to be brought into serious conversation with contemporary narrative hermeneutics. In this essay, I contend that narrative hermeneutics provides a lens through which we can appreciate the important role narrative plays in Augustine's hermeneutics and, in particular, how it shapes his account of meaning. Rather than casting his perception of meaning as a static reality that lies completely beyond the text, recognising the place of narrative in his thought allows us to appreciate the dynamic and personal aspects of meaning which it produces.

Recent decades have witnessed a near-consensus of critical opinion (1) that the idea of God's creation of matter ‘out of nothing’ is not affirmed in scripture, but instead (2) originated in a second-century Christian reaction against Gnosticism's convictions about matter as evil and creation as the work of an inferior Demiurge. (3) Judaism's interest, by contrast, was generally deemed late and philosophically derivative or epiphenomenal upon Christian ideas. This essay re-examines all three convictions with particular reference to the biblical creation accounts in Palestinian Jewish reception. After highlighting certain interpretative features in the ancient versions of Genesis 1, this study explores the reception of such ideas in texts like the Dead Sea Scrolls and early rabbinic literature. It is clear that the typically cited proof texts from biblical or deutero-canonical books indeed do not yield clear confirmation of the doctrine they have sometimes been said to prove. Genesis was understood even in antiquity to be somewhat ambiguous on this point, and merely to say that creation gave shape to formlessness need not entail any creatio ex nihilo. This much seems uncontroversial. Nevertheless, closer examination also shows that the Scrolls and the rabbis do consistently affirm Israel's God as the creator of all things, explicitly including matter itself. Graeco-Roman antiquity axiomatically accepted that ‘nothing comes from nothing’, which also meant the pre-existence of matter. To be sure, the conceptual terminology of ‘nothingness’ came relatively late to Christians, and even later to Jews. Yet the substantive concern for God's free creation of the world without recourse to pre-existing matter is repeatedly affirmed in pre-Christian Jewish texts, and constitutes perhaps the single most important building block for the emergence of an explicit doctrine of ‘creation out of nothing’. In its Jewish and Christian origins, therefore, the idea of creatio ex nihilo affirms creation's comprehensive contingency on the Creator's sovereignty and freedom. This in fact is a point which has been rightly and repeatedly accented in both historic and modern Christian theology on this subject (e.g. by K. Barth and E. Brunner, J. Moltmann and C. Gunton). Well before its explicit articulation in dialogue with Hellenistic philosophy, the doctrine of God's creation of all matter was rooted in biblical texts and their Jewish interpretation, which in turn came to be refined and enriched through Christian–Jewish dialogue and controversy.

The purpose of this essay is to address one of those passages in the Bible, and in the annals of human spirit, which strike one as monumental. It is not only an exemplary piece of biblical literature, as well as a particularly fitting fragment in the context of a particular story. It stands out because of its relevance in places and times other than those set for it in the text. It transcends the setting of the story and of the epoch, whatever it may be, and becomes perennial. It is, of course, of primary significance to Judaism and an important contribution to what is best in Western Civilization.

Aremarkable effort at reform is now occurring in English-speaking Christian discourse. This effort is the ongoing proposal of feminist theologians that the exclusive use of the masculine third-person pronouns to refer to God be eliminated. The traditional usage is rejected on the ground that it identifies the Godhead as male. Several alternatives to this usage have been suggested, and some of them are now being tested in various quarters of the Church. In this paper we disclose theolinguistic implications of the use of pronouns in reference to divinity and offer critique of current reformist proposals.

The aim of this paper is to place Richard Dawkins' book The God Delusion (2006) within a particular literary genre and, by so doing, to account for certain features of its written style, to identify its structuring claims and to offer an explanation for the popularity it has enjoyed with a broad readership. By offering a description of this kind, I hope to avoid engaging in the polemics which the book both offers and has elicited; the argument is situated at another level. My proposal may seem a surprising one: Dawkins' work comes within a spectrum that includes in its modern forms both science fiction and fantasy literature, a spectrum that uses the products of science to think with, in order to explore human dilemmas. In a word, this is a modern theodicy. I shall begin by sketching out the notion of thinking with science, before turning to characteristic stylistic features of Dawkins' work, and then examining the core claims of the book in the perspective outlined. I shall offer some concluding remarks, but there is little to be said about the author's argument with respect to religion or faith; his topic is a pretext for another kind of exercise.

It is my impression that in Britain there is more awareness of the importance of John Calvin as a biblical expositor and theorist on the doctrine of Scripture than there is of the parallel significance of Martin Luther; but perhaps I am generalising from my own experience of realising the creativeness of Luther's work much later than I did that of Calvin's. Admittedly Calvin's doctrine of Scripture is more clearly formulated and his exegesis is tighter. But often the issues that are raised and not entirely solved in Luther are the ones that continue to trouble and fascinate biblical scholars and theologians. His new hermeneutic foreshadows many aspects of the problem of the status and interpretation of the Bible as these have since unfolded; indeed, he was a decisive stimulus to this development.

“I Believe that we have to learn anew what the Holy Scriptures say and mean by substitution of Jesus Christ and satisfaction.” These words, spoken by Karl Barth in the course of a discussion on “The Christian as Witness”, provide much food for reflection. For if there is one conclusion which had come almost to be taken for granted in enlightened Christian quarters, it is that the idea of substitution has led theology on a wrong track; and that the word “substitution” must now be dropped from the doctrine of the Atonement as too heavily laden with misleading and even false connotations. By “liberal” or “modernist” theology the idea of substitution is of course rejected out of hand. And even the theology which prides itself on being “positive” and “evangelical” and which seeks to maintain lines of communication with the great traditional doctrines of atonement is on the whole disposed to reject it. And this, not merely on the ground that it holds implications which are irrational and morally offensive, but even and specifically on the ground that it is unscriptural. Thus Dr. Vincent Taylor as a result of an exhaustive examination of the “Idea of Atonement in the New Testament” gives it as his conclusion that the idea of substitution has no place in the New Testament writings; that in fact it is opposed to the fundamental teaching of the New Testament; that even St.

There was a widespread assumption in the 1980s that liberation theology had come of age. The early passionate manifestos of those such as Hugo Assmann had been replaced by a deluge of substantial theological works which entered the theological debate bearing the wounds of oppression and injustice in Latin America, and also the clear marks of the European academy. Liberation theology remained highly controversial, but it had to be taken seriously. It suggested a new way of doing theology which was at one and the same time a recovery of older understandings of the nature of theology and rooted in Latin American reality. It plundered and turned on their original possessors the weapons of post-Enlightenment and post-Vatican II theologising, and it was viewed with deep suspicion by most of the authorities in church and state. The movement found resonances and allies in many countries of the Third World, and spread from systematics into biblical studies, ethics and pastoral theology.

The attempt to bring radical orthodoxy (and in particular, the work of John Milbank) into conversation with Barth is hampered by the movement's dismissal of him as ‘neo-orthodox’, a thinker who rejected liberalism only to embrace revelatory positivism. If Barth were a positivist, he might be guilty of alienating human history, language, and culture from their divine source: ‘the secular’ would then be autonomous. But he does nothing of the kind – certainly not in his mature theology, probably not even in his earlier work. Radical orthodoxy's reading of Barth may reflect the influence of D. M. MacKinnon, who tended to highlight the prophetic and crisis elements in Barth's thought. The radically orthodox are more accurate when they cite ecclesial mediation as the real source of contention. While the stress on mediation can have disastrous results, dissolving Christ's identity into that of the church, this need not happen; indeed, one can argue that Barth's Christology demands a stronger account of church and sacraments than he himself supplied. The deeper issue may be what radical orthodoxy means by its stress on human poesis. Is the movement really an ecclesial theology, taking its stand within the historic church? Or is it just another form of liberalism, seeking to re-invent the church in default of authentic performance? If the latter, then theology has indeed become ‘tragically too important’, occluding sheer celebration of the divine gift.

This passage has aroused much debate about the possibility that Paul is here using Greek rather than Hebrew concepts. Some, like W. L. Knox, have contended that in order to appeal to Hellenistic hearers, the apostle, after his alleged failure at Athens, realised that he must move away from Hebrew categories. (Cf the chapter ‘The Failure of Eschatology’ in St Paul and the Church of the Gentiles.) Others maintain that Paul's language and concepts in this passage can all be explained from his Hebrew background; e.g. W. D. Davies in Paul and Rabbinic Judaism, ch. 10).

This article examines Karl Barth's conception of the interpersonal relation of male and female and demonstrates that, although Barth superimposes the concept of order within the Trinity onto the specific interpersonal relation of male and female, there is provision within his anthropology concerning interpersonal relations in general (i.e. interpersonal relations which are irrespective of sexual distinctions) to correct this error. I focus on Barth's exegesis of the creation narratives in Church Dogmatics III/1 and his discussion of the interpersonal relation of male and female in Church Dogmatics III/4. Then, because of Barth's principle of analogia relationis, I will briefly examine his doctrine of the Trinity in Church Dogmatics I/1. Whereas the role of christology in Barth's anthropology is frequently highlighted, there is often little regard for the trinitarian grounding of Barth's anthropology, especially with regard to the interpersonal relation of male and female. Finally, I will look at Barth's discussion of interpersonal relations in general in Church Dogmatics III/2 where he delineates a principle of the ‘priority of the other’, which serves to redeem his anthropological statements on the humanity of male and female. I contend that the recognition of the imago Dei in the interpersonal relation of male and female, sustained by the priority of the other, is a better way to achieve the personhood of both sexes than Barth's proposed static relational order.

In his oft-cited article, ‘God Was Accommodating Himself to Human Capacity’, Ford Lewis Battles makes the following claim:

It may be that we have succumbed to the temptation of putting the concept of accommodation too much at the center of Calvin's thought and of trying to organize everything around this notion. Yet, if this be a faithful interpretation, accommodation would seem (even when Calvin does not explicitly advert to it) his fundamental way of explaining how the secret, hidden God reveals himself to us.

Robert Jenson's two-volume Systematic Theology is a highly creative and individual synthesis of a number of often divergent strands of contemporary theology. An ecumenical and trinitarian theology, it is also a theology of narrative, hope, and of the word. The main body of this article attempts a sympathetic paraphrase of the argument of this work section by section. In a more critical ‘postscript’, it is argued that ‘word of God’ language is appropriate to the bible's twofold canonical structure, and that the appropriation of the beginning, middle and end of the biblical narrative to the first, second and third persons of the trinity respectively results in an undue bias towards eschatology.