As students in this summer's School of Theology you have attended a series of lectures on fluctuations in religious interest, on the frequent occurrence of religious declines followed soon by recoveries or regenerations both within and without the churches, on the frequent attempts to bring the prevalent religious doctrines into harmony with new tendencies in the intellectual world, on the constant struggle between conservatism and liberalism in existing churches and between idealism and materialism in society at large, on the effects of popular education and the modern spirit of inquiry on religious doctrines and organizations, on the changed views of thinking people concerning the nature of the world and of man, on the increase of knowledge as affecting religion, and on the new ideas of God. You have also listened to lectures on psychotherapy, a new development of an ancient tendency to mix religion with medicine, and on the theory of evolution, a modern scientific doctrine which within fifty years has profoundly modified the religious conceptions and expectations of many thinking people. You have heard, too, how the new ideas of democracy and social progress have modified and ought to modify not only the actual work done by the churches, but the whole conception of the function of churches.

I do not venture to meet this company as one qualified to preach, nor yet as an authority in matters which are technically theological. My contribution is intended to present some thoughts that have interested me as a student of philosophy. I hope that one or another of these thoughts may aid others in formulating their own opinions, and in defining their own religious interests, whether these interests and opinions are or are not in agreement with mine.

The language of the Greek New Testament has been under the continual search-light of criticism since the early part of the seventeenth century, when the keen debate between the Purist and the Hebraist produced a copious literature. The former laid a very heavy burden on his own shoulders. Although he could easily argue for his thesis of the “purity” of the New Testament language by citing numberless parallels between it and the best Greek writers, it was hard to account for the many points of divergence, and consequently the Hebraist steadily gained ground. Antecedent probability, as well as common sense, seemed to be on the side of the latter. For the New Testament was akin to the Septuagint, and that was regarded as a treasure-house of Semitisms. Moreover most of the writers of the New Testament were Jews, and nothing seemed more natural than that their Greek should be deeply tinged with the idioms of their native tongue. Accordingly Hebraism was granted large concessions, and under it were included not only the Greek expressions which happened to have sister-constructions in Hebrew or Aramaic, but also many usages peculiar to Greek but unusual in the days of the best Attic. These Semitisms were supposed so to affect syntax, vocabulary, and style as to make the result un-greek.

The debt of religion to philosophy is thus far a somewhat questionable obligation. The influence of philosophy upon religion has been, of course, profound; but this influence has been by no means always helpful or beneficent. Indeed there is some reason to say that, take the world together, philosophy has quite as often hindered the development of the religious consciousness as it has set forward the course of religious progress.

We have had abundant evidence of late, if evidence were needed i n the matter, that preaching is not of necessity confined to pulpits, nor a matter solely of the churches of the world. There are sermons which come from men of letters, as well as ministers, and from politicians who are genuine prophets. Whatever may be thought about the character of the sermons he delivers, and the nature of the texts from which he draws his inspiration, there can be no question of the fact that Theodore Roosevelt is essentially a preacher. His messages to Congress, which came with more than ministerial regularity and frequency, were essentially homiletical in form as well as hortatory in purpose, and his public addresses might well be collected under the Newmanesque title of Political and Plain Sermons.

This dictionary has been prepared because Hastings's Dictionary of the Bible and the Encyclopaedia Biblica have been found too “discursive” for handy use. It is intended for educated ministers, who “have not always the leisure to enter into a discursive presentation of critical research”; for Sunday-school teachers and workers; and for intelligent laymen interested in Bible study. To serve such readers, the dictionary should be accurate but not technical; “it should be up to the day in its information, but not so discursive as to burden its pages with the pedantry of undigested facts.”