In one of the strangest stories in his strange Gospel, Mark records the two-stage healing of a blind man by Jesus in Bethsaida (8.22–6). Jesus’ first healing action of spitting on the man's eyes and laying hands on them is only partially successful; the man now sees something, but what he sees is people who look like walking trees (8.24). His vision is still unclear, so Jesus must repeat the therapy, this time with more felicitous results: και διεβλεψεν [sc. oτυϕγoς] και απεκατεστη και ενεβλεπεν τηλαυγως απαντα. But how exactly is this clause to be translated?

Taking the ‘first resurrection’ (Rev 20.4–6) as ‘heaven’ accords with early Christian, non-chiliast views of martyrs and other blessed. Exegetical development of this interpretation requires plotting (in line with the literary structure of Rev 4–22) the convergence of complementary eschatologies: first, the millennium brings to a climax a series of images expressing ‘vertical’ eschatology (the life of God's witnesses after death); second, the whole narrative focuses fulfilment of the Creator's scroll (‘what must take place [γενε´σθαι] hereafter’) on the very end of the end-time (i.e. ‘horizontally’, on the moment marked by the enthroned's voice in 16.17, γη´γoνην, and 21.6, γη´oναν: ‘It/They has/have taken place’), and on God's victory over those gathered by powers of deception for ‘the war’ at Armageddon (16.12–16; 19.19–21; 20.7–10). Christ's kingdom in heaven is followed by the advent of God's sacred kingdom on earth.

This article argues two major theses: (1) Paul was trying to teach the Corinthian church to think eschatologically; (2) Paul was trying to teach the Corinthian church to reshape its identity in light of Israel's Scripture. These theses entail two important corollaries: (1) the Corinthians did not have an ‘overrealized eschatology’; (2) scholars who contend that Paul engaged in OT interpretation only when his hand was forced by Judaizing opponents cannot explain Paul's rich and varied use of Scripture in 1 Cor. These theses are explained and defended with reference to 1 Cor 10.1–22; 1.18–31 and 5.1–13.

Acts 27–28 frequently points to the shipwrecks of Odysseus in Odyssey Books 5 and 12, the second of which the hero narrates in the first person. The shipwrecks of Odysseus and Paul share nautical images and vocabulary, the appearance of a goddess or angel assuring safety, the riding of planks, the arrival of the hero on an island among hospitable strangers, the mistaking of the hero as a god, and the sending of him on his way. Luke's intention in relating Paul's shipwreck to those of Odysseus was to exalt Paul and his God by comparison.

In a recent article in this journal, Michael Bachmann argued several points concerning Rev 6.1–8. I list both the important points he argues, as well as one of his major presuppositions, since I will respond to both: (1) the first horseman is to be understood in a positive sense, ‘als Hypostasierung des Erscheinens Gottes’; (2) he is strongly identified with Christ in Rev 19; and (3) the remaining horsemen are manifestly negative figures. The first point is correct, but I have reservations about the other two. Since the third point is actually not a thesis that Bachmann tries to win, but rather one that he presupposes in arguing the first two points, I am in the strange position of sometimes showing that Bachmann reaches a partially correct position ([1], not [2]) by a manifestly incorrect argument (i.e. separating the first horseman from the other three).

In this essay in speculative biblical theology on immortality/resurrection, the anthropological presuppositions need to be examined in both Hebrew and Greek usages, requiring an understanding of the absolute nature of death in its biblical context. While the notion of the resurrection took hold in post-Exilic Palestine, Socrates exulted in the immortality of his soul and the body–soul dichotomy, in terms of which early Christianity read the NT. Yet the NT itself neither teaches nor presupposes this immortality of the soul, but rather that identifiably the same ‘I’, who dies wholly and totally, is raised up to a newness of life, a new creation.

Phil 2.6b should not be understood in the manner of an idiom but in a clearly negative way (‘booty’). The central key to Phil 2.6b is offered by biblical, Jewish and Hellenistic traditions about a usurpation of equality with God by kings and rulers (cf. Isa 14.12–15; hubris of god-like kings like Alexander, who ‘robbed’ their position). The self-humiliating Christ (who did not claim equality with God) is conceived as an antitype to the self-elevating rulers of the world; his Lordship is not based on usurpation. Phil 2.6–11 is keenly aware of the Jewish notion of the One and Only God (cf. John 5.18); the mantle of God's Oneness also embraces Christ as the Lord.

Zur Beschreibung rabbinischer ‘Soteriologie’ haben sich in der Forschung zwei konträre Modelle etabliert: Dem einen zufolge entscheiden die Werke eines Menschen über seine Teilhabe an der kommenden Welt; dem anderen zufolge entscheidet seine Zugehörigkeit zum erwählten Volk. Beide Denkmuster sind in Talmud und Midrasch reichlich belegt. Herkömmliche Hierarchisierungen, die das eine Muster dem anderen starr über- oder unterordnen, sind jedoch unangemessen. Vielmehr bringt die rabbinische Tradition Erwählung und Vergeltung in stets wechselnden Proportionen zum Ausgleich, was bis zur scheinbaren Verabsolutierung des einen und Ignorierung des anderen der beiden Prinzipien reichen kann. Rabbinische Soteriologie ist in diesem Sinne ‘optional’ strukturiert.

Das Verhältnis Kirche/Israel beschreibt Paulus in Röm 11.16–24 mittels zweier Gleichnisse. Das Gleichnis von der Teighebe legt Paulus entgegen dem traditionell jüdischen Verständnis aus, um den kultischen Begriff ‘Heiligkeit’ in seine Darstellung einzuführen: So wie im Kult ein Teil das Ganze heiligen könnte, so heiligt im Gleichnis vom Ölbaum die Wurzel (Abraham) die Zweige (Juden).

In an earlier article, ‘The Johannine Origins of the Johannine Logos’, I proposed that the prevailing explanations of the background and origin of the celebrated Logos concept/title of the Gospel of John are misguided in their attempts to trace the title to some extraneous source. I argued, rather, that the development of the christological title Logos had a beginning, middle, and end, and that this may be demonstrated from the Gospel and First Epistle themselves. Crucial to my argument was the chronological ordering of the three documents: the Gospel of John ‘proper’ (John 1.19–20.31), the First Epistle, and then the substance of the Prologue (John 1.1–18). The thesis itself, more specifically, was that (1) λóγoς and ρημα were employed in the Gospel ‘proper’ with a demonstrably ‘christological transparency’, (2) λóγoς was employed with a quasi-titular force in the first verses of 1 John, and (3) λóγoς reflects a full-fledged christological title in the Prologue material, which was composed still later. At the end of that article I suggested that a similar development could be traced in the case of the Johannine term αρχη´ – immediately related to λóγoς in the very first line of the Gospel – and that, if so, this would surely enhance my argument concerning λóγoς. Here I attempt to make the argument for a similar christological development of the Johannine αρχη´. Even aside from its relevance for my thesis about λóγoς, the prominent and recurring αρχη´ justifies the attention. And it does confront us, after all, with the majestic phrase with which the Gospel opens: ‘In the beginning’.

In Acts 4.13 Peter and John are designated as αγραμματoι... και ιδιωται. Is that phrase meant as a harsh disparagement of the two apostles by the members of the Sanhedrin? On the basis of lexical, contextual, and social-historical evidence this study argues against an evaluation of the double qualification through the eyes of modern people with their usual disregard for illiterates (and non-specialists). The documentary papyri especially present a different, unbiased picture without any social or negative impact of illiteracy and non-specialism. They help to clarify Acts 4.13 and make the terms ‘illiterate people’ and ‘laymen’ acceptable.

In his study ‘Du kataluma à la crèche’, NTS 44 (1998) 618–22, J. Winandy argues that Luke 2.7, διoτι oυκ ην αυτoις τoπoς εν τω καταλυματι, does not imply that an innkeeper sent away (for want of room, τoπoς) one about to give birth, but rather that his convivial καταλυμα was inappropriate for the event. The argument attracts. But Winandy's seven examples of τo[pi]oς do not have this meaning. Each takes τo[pi]oς in the sense of ‘the place where one would expect to find something’. To[pi]oς can indeed mean ‘the appropriate place’ (LXX Job 18.22; Eccles 1.5; 10.4), ‘home’ (LXX 2 Chron 25.10; Job 27.21, 23; Isa 14.2; Jer 4.7), or even a temporary abode (LXX Esdras 1.4). But Luke's allusion eluded Winandy, as it does many of his readers. Isa 66 figures in early Christian apologetic. Matthew's Magi can be found there. Isa 66.19 appears as a parallel to Luke 2.34, and Luke 22.68 recalls Isa 66.4.

Does Rom 10.1 constitute a significant break in Paul's argument? Many commentators see 9.30–10.21 as the second of the three major sections in Romans 9–11. The subject matter introduced by the question τι oυν ερoυμεν of 9.30 is, according to them, so different from what precedes that it indicates a decisive transition point. One may ask, however, whether 9.30–3 is not better considered as the conclusion of that first stage.

The Fifty-third General Meeting of the Society was held at the University of Copenhagen (Panum Institute), Copenhagen, Denmark, during 4–8 August 1998 under the Presidency of Professor P. Borgen. About 353 members, spouses and guests were present.

Le mot πνικτóς utilisé en Ac 15.29 est l’adjectif verbal du verbe πνι´γω dont la signification de base est étouffer, suffoquer, étrangler. Il s’agit donc d’une façon de tuer soit un homme, soit un animal. Des quatre termes du Décret établis lors du Concile de Jérusalem, il est sans doute le terme le plus énigmatique et le plus important dans une tentative de compréhension du sens des restrictions. L’article ici présenté ne se veut pas une recherche sur la signification de l’ensemble du Décret mais est une proposition d’une autre lecture du mot πνικτóς. Cette lecture fait suite à une interrogation sur la position traditionnelle pour laquelle, dans le contexte du Concile, le terme πνικτóς signifie la viande d’un animal étouffé et qui n’a donc pas été complètement vidé de son sang.

Twice (John 4.29, 39), the Samaritan woman is said to have reported to her townspeople that a man had told her ‘everything’ she did. One may surmise that those whom she told knew rather well precisely what the things were that she had done, for they followed her urging to see this remarkably perceptive stranger. Precisely what did Jesus tell her that so moved her and others, and how did he go about it?

Commentators often note that the emphasis in Phil 2.6–7 on Christ's selfless giving is quite contrary to pagan concepts of divinity. N. T. Wright, for example, writes that αρπαγμoς, when construed as an abstract noun meaning ‘snatching’, ‘grasping’, or ‘getting’, ‘refers, intransitively, to a particular way of life, namely, that which characterized pagan rulers, and indeed pagan gods and goddesses such as the Philippians might have worshipped in their pre-Christian days’. Yet no commentator to my knowledge has referred to the excellent example of the grasping nature of pagan deities found in Aristophanes’ comedy the Ecclesiazusae (‘Women in Government’).