Orthodox Christians, Rahner declares, are ‘almost mere monotheists’, isolating the dogma of the Trinity from any personal relevance to their lives. The doctrine of the Trinity appears in the Church's creeds, prayers, rites, and hymns, but the faithful must often wait till Trinity Sunday to hear the significance of the Trinity for their identity as Christians. Likely, they will hear imperatives without indicatives, moral mandates devoid of ontological grounding in God's grace. No wonder that the laity often ignore the triune God whom they confess and praise in Church amid their life and work in society.

At least it may be said of the Epistle of James that it escapes the ‘woe’ of Luke 6.26 (‘Woe unto you, when all men shall speak well of you!’).

This article takes as its starting-point certain questions raised by Ernst Käsemann's recently-published essay ‘Das theologische Problem des Motivs vom Leibe Christi’; it is, however, principally concerned with Paul's earlier letters and, more specifically, with I Corinthians, but this is done in the conviction that these writings provide the key to the later ones, and not vice versa.

I would like to draw attention to certain influential misrepresentations of the views of Martin Buber and others relating to the notion of an encounter between God and man.

There are, for purposes of this paper, two remarkable facts about Christianity on the African Continent. The first is its antiquity. There seems to be every likelihood that it was as early as its very inception that Christianity, as part of its rapid sweep across the first century Graeco-Roman world, reached Africa as well. The New Testament contains a number of hints that suggest that places such as Ethiopia, Egypt (particularly Alexandria) and Cyrene could vie with each other for first position. In any case, by the second and third centuries, the African Church could boast of such great leaders and thinkers as Clement of Alexandria, Origen, Tertullian and Cyprian; and a century later of the highly influential Augustine of Hippo. The significance and influence of these men extended well beyond Africa. After that, with the exception of Egypt and Ethiopia, there is a lacuna in our knowledge of Christianity in Africa. The next significant centuries are the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries in respect of North, West and Central Africa, and the nineteenth century in respect of virtually the entire Continent. In short, Christianity is not a newcomer to the African Continent. Ups and downs of various kinds it has experienced here as it has done elsewhere; so also, in respect of a number of areas, major gaps affecting its continuous and unbroken existence down the centuries. Nevertheless, a newcomer to the Continent it is not.

Among the reforms needed for a relevant Christian theology today is a capacity for discovery. One of the chief powers of modern science is its ability to discover hidden areas of reality and bring them to our understanding. Science by its success in continually finding new levels and dimensions in nature testifies regularly that life is interesting and dynamic. The example of science has yet to be followed in theology which may explain why the layman today does not really expect much from theologians except the trite clichés of the past.

‘The Holy Scriptures teach ethics, or the theory of duties, far better than any Ciceros or Aristotles’, claimed Luther, comparing the Bible with the standard ethical handbooks of antiquity, both Latin (Cicero's De Officiis) and Greek (Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics). Luther had in fact lectured on Aristotle's Ethics in 1508/9, a few years before he received the degree of ‘Doctor in Biblia’. It was as a Professor of Bible, mainly of the OT, that Luther earned his living for over thirty years, and Calvin too expended a large proportion of his efforts as preacher, commentator and lecturer on the OT. Comparisons of their use of the OT have tended to concentrate on the law and to a lesser extent on Christological (Christocentric) hermeneutics. This essay will endeavour to cast the net more widely and to broach the question of the law as it arises within a broader context.

Those who oppose the use of the biblical account of creation in classes in science often do so in the spirit with which the great formalist, Hilbert, sundered pure and applied mathematics. One day he was asked to substitute in a class at a nearby technical school for his colleague, Felix Klein, where Klein used his intuitive approach to mathematics to obtain practical applications. Hilbert said to the engineers, ‘I understand that there are those.who feel there is some conflict between pure and applied mathematics. But this cannot be. Sie haben nichts mit einander zu tun.’

Art is part of the history of the church, and relates to spirituality and to the practical expression of Christian faith. It illustrates theological loci and biblical themes. Often, the art which fulfils this function does so with the conscious intent of the artist; sometimes not. Attempts have been made, however, to argue that art not only illustrates theology, but also contributes to it. Even so, systematic theologians and biblical scholars — when they do talk to each other — still converse on the basis of largely word-centred approaches to their tasks. I am neither systematic theologian nor biblical scholar, precisely because I attempt to keep a foot in both camps. I am even less of an art critic. Yet it is clear that in the world of art there is a whole area of exploration yet to be ventured into not only historically (have we really sufficiently explored how biblical interpretation and doctrinal theology have been influenced by art?) but also from the perspective of constructive theology (what contribution can art past and present make to the very reformulation and expansion of Christian doctrine?). This paper offers a brief reading of three paintings by Rembrandt, of the Emmaus Road story in Luke 24.13–35. The theological significance of the changing interpretations of the passage is drawn out and the implications of the use of the paintings, in terms of the creative use of the Bible in Christian theology.

‘What is Woman that thou art mindful of her, or the Daughter of Woman that thou dost care for her?’ The question posed by this revision of Psalm 8:4 has troubled feminist theological scholarship in myriad ways over the last thirty years. To be sure, even within non-theological feminist scholarship, the question of what defines ‘womanhood’, how woman is biologically, socio-culturally, emotionally and spiritually constituted, has been explicitly addressed and hotly debated. In theological feminist scholarship, the question has often remained underground and implicit but nevertheless central. In regard to this question's specific relation to the doctrine of sin, the debate has had a complex history in feminist theological scholarship. It will be argued, after the history of the debate has been sketched, that the terms of the debate have been limited from the outset by a reaction to one stream of Protestant thought. The debate itself is therefore theologically thin, and in need of further fleshing out. It will be the thesis of this essay that the theological inadequacies of the feminist debate over the nature of women's sin in effect undercut the intentions of feminist scholarship to heal the wounds inflicted by sexism, and that a hamartiology such as that found in Karl Barth's Church Dogmatics may promise a way beyond the impasse.

The term ‘Son of Man’ is one of the enigmas of the Gospels. G. Vermes has re-examined the Aramaic background of the phrase in Appendix E of the third edition of M. BlacK's Aramaic Approach to the Gospels and Acts. Even if his argument that barnāsh (ā) is in some passages a mere circumlocution for ‘I’ is not wholly convincing,page 2 he has demonstrated beyond doubt that the phrase was not in New Testament times a title with a clear and recognised meaning, whether messianic or other. The phrase in itself merely signifies ‘man’, whether mankind in general, or a particular man. Only the context can determine its meaning more precisely. Apart from Act 7.56 it is used virtually exclusively in the New Testament by Jesus, and the question of the crowd in John 12.34—‘who is this Son of Man?’ —shows clearly that the expression was not immediately intelligible to the first century,page 3 and that we are not at liberty to dismiss it as no more than an elaborate way of saying ‘man’ or ‘I’. This is the justification of the immense activity that has gone into the exploration of the previous history of the expression, and to which this article is a small contribution.page 4

This article engages Robert W. Jenson on the question of the relation between the immanent Trinity and the person Jesus of Nazareth and proposes a restatement of the doctrine of God that takes into account his concerns. I note that many of the criticisms levelled against Jenson are contradictory and offer instead a rearticulation of Thomas Aquinas's doctrine of God, refracted through the theology of Hans Urs von Balthasar, as a more viable mode of engaging Jenson's ideas. In particular, I suggest an analogia temporalis rooted in the divine processions to account for the relationship between time and eternity, thereby showing how Thomas's theology can both accommodate and benefit from many of Jenson's insights, while also avoiding the more serious charges levelled against him.

The concept of ‘desire’ offers an interesting bridge between cultural phenomena of contemporary society and the theological tradition. The exploration of some key elements of this tradition concerning desire supports the launching of a ‘theology of desire’. Although the natural desire for God, as discussed in the so-called ‘théologie nouvelle’, provides very valuable material for this exploration, ‘desire’ is conceived here in a somewhat broader sense. Three levels of desire are distinguished. The ‘lover's desire’ refers to the conscious affirmation of the presence of God's love. The second level, called the ‘seeker's desire’, concerns a more general desire for happiness. Third, the desire for God as an ontological term refers to the relationship between God and humankind. The desire for God, revealed by Jesus Christ, demonstrates the ultimate capacity of our human nature. Thus christology, and especially the creed of Chalcedon, offers the key to systematic anthropology. Finally, the daily reality of the desire for God is discussed with the help of Gregory of Nyssa's concept of asceticism. The integrating power of the Holy Spirit makes the channelling of our desires possible, so that the desire for God forms a part of daily life. Three challenges to encourage continuation on the way toward a theology of desire form the conclusion. The reconsidering of an ontological approach in theology, the priority to christology in systematic anthropology and the ethical and missionary possibilities of the desire for God are invitations for theologians to further explore the theology of desire.

The question ‘Who is the Servant?’ is one which remains a debated topic among many interpreters of Isaiah 40–55. This article seeks to address the same question with the aid and perspective of narrative identity. Narrative identity, as explicated by Ricoeur and Frei, is a means of understanding a character within a literary plot, or real life, as displayed in a narrated sequence of events. A person's identity, especially within literature, is the constancy of the self in the tortuous events of a narrated sequence over time. This article seeks to adjudicate the question of the Servant's identity by observing the character of the Servant within the plot of Isaiah 40–55. The conclusion drawn is that the Servant is the unique means of God's reconciliation of both Zion and the nations. Also, the divine action and description of YHWH and the Servant begin to bleed in such a way that the Servant can be described as a unique member of the divine identity.

Karl Barth saw himself as a ‘Randfigur’, a boundary figure, in ecumenical theology, while important members of the ecumenical movement regarded him as a ‘Wegbereiter de Okumene des 20. Jahrhunderts’, a pioneer of the ecumene in the twentieth century. Which characterisation is correct?

The article sheds light on Karl Barth as an ‘ecumenical theologian’ in eight different phases of his life: his wrestling with Roman Catholicism in Göttingen and Munster, particularly with the help of the Munich Jesuit Erich Przywara; his encounter and interaction with ecumenical leaders such as Visser't Hooft and Pierre Maury at the beginning of the Nazi dictatorship and his disappointment about the failing resistance of the ecumenical institutions against Hitler; his search for a clear ecumenical course during the Second World War and the Cold War thereafter; his contribution to the meeting of the World Council of Churches in Amsterdam in 1948 and in the preparation of this meeting; his complex and complicated dealing with the ‘fundamental ecumenical question’ of church and Israel; the reception of his theology in Roman Catholicism in the 1950s and 1960s through von Balthasar, Kung and other young theologians and Barth's interaction with them; Barth's engagement with Vatican II and his trip to Rome; finally, his personal ‘ecumenical existence’ in the last years of his life.

The contribution explores continuities and discontinuities in his stance towards ‘ecumenical theology’ – ecumenical theology in its various meanings. It depicts Barth in his journey from a fighter against the ‘Roman heresy’ to a critical pioneer of ecumenical theology in general and the institutionalised ecumene in particular.

Francis Watson has written a stunning book, bringing to us a remarkable confluence of wissenschaftlich control and interpretive imagination, a combination vigorously to be applauded. There are stretches of genuine exegesis in which ancient texts are read patiently and faithfully, whether drawn from Genesis or Ben Sira or 2 Corinthians. These carefully crafted exegetical probes are accompanied by theological analysis in which Watson listens with an imaginative ear, exploring, for example, the relations between scriptural interpretation and issues of divine and human agency. And, as though these two factors were not enough, far from being a shrinking violet, Watson has drawn from the exegesis and the imaginative listening an extraordinarily bold thesis, to which I will return. As detail is not here sacrificed to synthesis, so synthesis is not a substitute for analytical detail.

This article explores the notion of ‘middle future’ apocalypticism through the work of the late sixteenth-century Scottish theologian and the discoverer of logarithms, John Napier. Middle future apocalypticism envisaged the end of the world, not in the immediate or far distant future but (rather like modern environmental apocalypticism) within the next 100–200 years. It enabled the understanding of the present in apocalyptic terms, and set out the requisite conditions, tasks and obligations – social, political and personal – essential for bringing to reality those events which were necessary precursors of the coming of Christ. John Napier's 1593 A Plaine Discovery of the whole Reuelation of Saint Iohn was the first Scottish work on the book of Revelation. Though later to be derided by historians of mathematics and science, in its time, it was highly influential, not only in Scotland and England but also in Protestant communities on the Continent. I explore the complex mathematics which Napier brings to bear and suggest that the middle future apocalypticism of Napier, as demonstrated in the carefully articulated mathematics of history in this work, is both socially conservative and socially active. Living in the seventh age, as Napier believed he did, did not entail either ‘downing tools’ and passively awaiting the end, nor actively hastening the end by radical social upheaval. But it did mean in the here and now fighting the Antichrist of Rome, bringing in Reformed religion and spreading the true Gospel.

This article describes the process of the deconstruction and reconstruction of Islam in its transition from an Islamic to a Western culture, and does so from a hermeneutical perspective. In this process of reinterpretation of tradition ‘Western’ Muslims have a number of options: traditionalism, moderate orthodoxy, fundamentalism, radicalism and religious liberalism. On the basis of the process of change in orthodox Reformed churches in the last part of the twentieth century, I describe the process of change among Muslims who have to find a way in Western Europe. This process of reinterpretation in such a different context necessarily triggers off a discussion of the principles of fiqh and the right understanding of the Qur'an and hadith. In this discussion the ‘options’ mentioned arise. This hermeneutical analysis adds theological insights to processes of change and conflict that often are analysed only in terms of social-economic processes, and can help to understand the developments also from a theological perspective.

In his The Postfoundationalist Task of Theology, F. LeRon Shults recommends postfoundationalism as a via media between modernist foundationalism and postmodernist antifoundationalism. He advocates postfoundationalism as an epistemological approach which avoids the pitfalls on either side and provides the best way forward for constructive theological work. In this article I attempt to assess how well Shults's proposal treats Christian theological knowing. I begin by entertaining a Barthian theological concern which might be employed as soft criteria for an assessment of any proposed theological epistemology. This concern stipulates that an epistemology in the service of Christian theology must respect a commitment to the objective reality of God who, as Word become flesh, makes himself known through the human experience of reality to his church, while recognising the fallibility of human knowing, presupposing a knowledge of God accessible through experience always only by the prevenient, self-giving action of God. I then turn to a brief analysis of the Shults–van Huyssteen case against foundationalism and nonfoundationalism, focusing particularly on the postfoundationalist critiques of foundationalism and fideism in dialogue with Barth. The article concludes with an appraisal of the postfoundationalist recommendation. I argue that Shults's approach maps well to the theological concern for critical realism and a recognition of the social embeddedness of human knowing. Postfoundationalism's underlying commitments, however, leave it closed to an external source of warrant, and as a consequence repudiate a from above view of theological knowing. I suggest instead that only a theofoundationalist epistemology avoids the pitfalls sketched by Shults in a way that maintains proper epistemic humility without entering the ghettos of fideism or scepticism.