There is seldom a lack of new studies of Isaiah. In this article I want to mention some aspects of a few recently published studies which direct our attention in different ways to the book of Isaiah, rather than to Isaiah of Jerusalem (or the so-called ‘second Isaiah’) as an individual with an historical role. Not that I am not concerned with the historical Isaiah of Jerusalem: in fact the concern is greater than the following reviews might suggest. Positively I am insisting that our quest for him must start from the book of Isaiah in all its variety and complexity, and not from its few familiar and congenially informative prose sections. Then the more negative suggestion that Isaiah may not have been a ‘prophet’ (at least in the sense that tradition came to regard him) is an attempt to clear the ground for a better point of view.

One of the more promising recent developments in Christian ethics is the attempt to re-think its starting point and its basis in the light of the advances in biblical studies which are recovering for the church the specificity of the biblical perspective. It is true that this concern to take the biblical perspective seriously must go hand in hand with another of the central themes of current ethical thinking, namely, the concern to pay close attention to the data of the concrete situation. Unfortunately, ‘situation ethics’, while commendable in its refusal of legalism and its openness to the givenness of the situation, is frequently lacking in any specifically Christian content, that is, content to which the biblical perspective has made at least some formative contribution. In this regard, the difficult problem is this: how do we appropriate the biblical perspective in such a way that it may illumine the present concrete situation and give shape to ethical decision? Not much progress has been made on the solution of this problem. Although in this article we are only working at one end of the spectrum, namely, one aspect of the biblical basis of Christian ethics, nevertheless we see this as part of the total problem of bridging the gap, for in fact this cannot be accomplished without the re-conceptualisation of ‘biblical ethics’ now taking place.

In July 1930 Bonhoeffer wrote in the preface to the published version of his doctoral dissertation: ‘The more theologians have considered the significance of the sociological category for theology, the more clearly the social intention of all the basic Christian concepts has emerged. Ideas such as “person”, “primal state”, “sin” and “revelation” are fully understandable only in relation to sociality.’ Two recently published works, a translation of Bonhoeffer's 1933 Christology lectures and John A. Phillips' study of Bonhoeffer's theology, give occasion for examining the meaning of this statement and its importance in understanding Bonhoeffer's thought.

Study of St. Paul among reforming theologians raised high shopes for definitive dogmatic decrees of an ecumenical council which would incorporate the new biblical insights. Cardinal Pole addressed an irenic plea to members of the Council, that they must begin the reform with themselves. One can read into Pole's philippic all the dreams of the Cardinal reformers, marshalled again after the bitter frustrations of 1541 and 1546 at Ratisbon. Pole's homily helps to penetrate the climate of opinion on the eve of the oft-postponed reforming council. There is still only a partial and imperfect understanding of Pole's role at Trent.

Paul Tillich did not contribute a detailed essay to the discussion of the programme of ‘Entmythologisierung’ (demythologising) as did Karl Barth or Karl Jaspers. However, it will not escape the reader of his works that Tillich has often expressed his views on this theme, though it be only by a brief reference. The question of the interpretation of myth has not only engaged him during the last decade; on the contrary, more than 30 years ago, Tillich had explained his position in systematic form in the article on myth in the 2nd edition of Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart. Tillich has not substantially departed from the essential points of this position. On the one hand, Tillich is concerned with the fundamental distinction between unbroken and broken myth, and on the other hand, with the equally characteristic relation which he draws between myth and symbol. These definitions and questions permit us in the following detailed interpretation to construct a form adequate to Tillich's thinking. First we will present Tillich's understanding of unbroken myth, and second, his definition of broken myth, which in its determining points is an interpretation having recourse to his definition of symbol.

In this essay I strive to exorcize an epistemological demon, the demon of closure. The demon has long haunted theology to devastating effect. It makes chimeric concerns appear urgent, encourages false trajectories of inquiry, fosters unnecessary fears, propagates intolerance, and instigates violence. I begin with Charles Taylor's exposure of the demon in the context of philosophy's free will/determinism debate. Second, I sketch the demon's haunting of the patristic trinitarian and christological controversies, and its recent haunting of theology vis-à-vis the problem of evil. Third, I delineate and champion what I call ‘Chalcedonian reason’ (Taylor calls it ‘revised transcendental reasoning’). Chalcedonian reason emerges in the wake of the exorcism of the demon of closure (and involves significant revision of modern ideas about rationality). I argue that Chalcedonian reason is as old as Job, emerges amazingly triumphant, if unrecognized, in the patristic period, fosters humility and openness to the Spirit, and is wonderfully consonant with Christian theology and spirituality.

It is the argument of this article that Dietrich Bonhoeffer's hermeneutical approach understands creaturely existence to be truly held by the Word made flesh as the risen Christ, who is still wholly human and therefore truly present in creation. Therefore, this article argues with Dietrich Bonhoeffer that, for a viable theological hermeneutics, it is critically necessary to consider the kenotic movement of the risen Christ, not only for a proper understanding of holy scripture in its genuine humanness, but also for an understanding of the new creation as taking place in reconciled creatures through the Word.

In much contemporary theology, pastoral/practical theology, and much of the more popular ‘Christian’ literature there is a concern for exploring and discovering various aspects of right relationship. These relationships might be political, marital, familial, sexual, economic, those within the church, or between the church and the greater society. What seems to be lacking in many of these discussions is an adequate theological foundation upon which to carry out the exploration. There are assumptions made about the nature of human relationships which seem to have no connection to theological underpinnings or are only loosely, or thematically related.

The Transfiguration narratives have received considerable attention from New Testament scholars, but so far very little has been written about them from the point of view of their reception-history. The purpose of this article is to examine the ways in which they have been interpreted in the Latin West from the time of Hilary of Poitiers in the fourth century to Peter of Blois in the early thirteenth. Among these writers, from the big names like Jerome to the lesser known figures like Peter of Celle, a varied tapestry emerges where light allegory plays an important part, whether in the symbolisms given to the choice of the three disciples, Peter, James and John, or to the dazzling clothes of Christ as baptismal – a particular insight of Bede, which keeps recurring in subsequent writers and preachers. Unlike the East, where the Transfiguration became a major festival on 6 August from the seventh century onwards, the Latin West was slow to absorb it; but it was given particular impetus by Peter the Venerable, Abbot of Cluny, in the twelfth century. Whether read as narrative in connection with Lent (‘glory before cross’), or as a festival in its own right, the Transfiguration emerges as an unusually rich source of biblical interpretation that poses real challenges to the use of the religious imagination today. And it provides a significant contribution to the development of a balanced view of reception-history in our own time.

The theme of the Ascension of Jesus Christ is one of the most JL important in the New Testament, yet during the present century, very little theological attention has been given to it. Most of the published work has been in the form of articles in theological journals and commentaries, though J. G. Davies' Bampton Lectures entitled He Ascended into Heaven, published in 1958, were devoted to the subject, and later, there appeared, also in English, U. Simon's The Ascent to Heaven in 1961. Even H. B. Swete's The Ascended Christ, which first appeared in 1910 and was subsequently published in several editions until 1916, expresses the hope that the work might awaken a response to a renewed sense of the importance of this great Christian festival. His earlier writing, The Apostles' Creed in 1894, contains a chapter on the Ascension which was a spirited reply to the German scholar Harnack, who asserted that the Ascension had no separate place in the primitive tradition, and whose views considerably influenced the thought of New Testament scholarship for many years to come. This article seeks to make an assessment of what the present writer considers to be a subject of the utmost importance, both in regard to its theological significance in the New Testament, and in its relevance for contemporary Christian experience. The Scriptures declare that Jesus of Nazareth was crucified, buried, and raised again the third day.

The thesis of the present essay is that the Westminster Confession represents a synthesis, unique among documents of confessional status and authority, of two intellectual and spiritual motifs which, at first look, might appear to represent almost opposite extremes: thoroughgoing philosophical rigor and radical biblicism. I shall undertake to explicate this thesis by an analysis of three areas of doctrine: those concerning God (including Christology), the so-called ‘natural man’, and revelation and authority. Under each of these three headings I shall present certain relevant material from the XXXIX Articles as a background ‘foil’ against which the contrasts as well as the similarities of the Westminster Confession may perhaps stand out more clearly.

William abraham criticizes the Yale school of theology for its ‘systematic cultivation of studied obscurantism.’ Abraham does not doubt the intellectual gifts of the Yale theologians, but he chides them for failing to tell us something definitive about God. ‘One hopes for such minimal things from a theologian. After all, that has always been a central element of any serious theology.’

Recent discussion regarding the beatific vision has concerned the object of the vision. Thomas Aquinas represents a robust account of the beatific vision according to which God will be seen in his essence by saints and angels in heaven. Others, however, have worried that such a view risks imperilling divine transcendence and incomprehensibility and favour instead an understanding of the beatific vision that is christologically oriented. This article offers a defence of the claim that we will see God's essence in heaven. First, it draws attention to various distinctions in Thomas Aquinas’ Summa Theologiae concerning how we see the divine essence in heaven. Then, it demonstrates points of continuity between Thomas’ account and that of later Protestants, particularly Calvin and Turretin. Third, following Simon Gaine, it argues that Thomas’ account of the beatific vision is not christologically deficient. Finally, it argues that Thomas’ account has biblical support.

In a well-known essay on ‘The Two Types of the Philosophy of Religion’, Paul Tillich distinguishes between the ontological and the cosmological approaches in our philosophical understanding of God, and aligns himself with the former. The ontological approach may be historically associated with Augustine and Anselm's ontological argument, as contrasted with Thomas Aquinas and the cosmological argument, but the decisive difference from Tillich's perspective is whether God is treated as a being, an instance of being exemplifying the fundamental metaphysical categories, or beyond being, a radical and necessary exception to these principles. Championing the ontological approach, Tillich declares: ‘The being of God cannot be understood as the existence of a being alongside others or above others. If God is a being, he is subject to the categories of finitude, especially to space and substance. Even if he is called the “highest being” in the sense of the “most perfect” and the “most powerful” being, this situation is not changed. When applied to God, superlatives become diminutives’ (ST I, 235). In response, proponents of the cosmological approach may agree with Alfred North Whitehead: ‘God is not to be treated as an exception to all metaphysical principles, invoked to save their collapse. He is their chief exemplification.’

The Göttingen New Testament Professor, Wilhelm Bousset observed that historical research was in ‘danger of placing Christianity in the flux of development’, of ‘failing to give due worth to its special character and unique meaning, and thereby neutralising and relativising everything’. ‘The halo of the supernatural which had clung around “sacred history” was destroyed,’ and history had become a ‘labyrinth for modern religious liberalism’, where it threatened ‘to betray itself’. In their attempts to avoid such a relativisation of the Christian faith, most of the members of the History of Religion School sought refuge in a primordial mystical experience expressive of non-rational feelings, of emotions, moods and fantasies.