The author's purpose in this essay is, first of all, to evaluate the recent assessments of the self given by Stanley Hauerwas and Rowan Williams. Second, in registering his reservations with these views, he claims that confessional theologians have rich resources for shaping a powerful and innovative redescription of the tradition of transcendental subjectivity that does not conclude in, or require, the self's disappearance (or the concomitant annihilation of interiority). The person willed by God into being possesses a certain formfulness that is neither pure intentionality nor interiority, a certain formful unity constitutive of its being created in the image of God. Third, the author argues that Dietrich Bonhoeffer's christological account of the self, supplemented by Eberhard Jüngel's trinitarian account, offers a promising alternative to Hauerwas and Williams. The article's general concern is to show that modern theology does itself and Christian congregations a disservice if it fails to appreciate the depth, complexity and created dignity of human personhood.

Is there valid justification for affirming the motherliness of God while holding fast to the cross and to the Judeo-Christian heritage? Some feminists view the God of Abraham and Jesus as so closely linked with patriarchy and abuse that they reject this God as hopelessly male. Other theologians adhere to an exclusive emphasis on God as Father, and regard motherly appellations of God as distortions of biblical faith. Can the crucifixion and the atonement be seen in terms that are affirming of that which is female, yet remain grounded in the biblical texts and traditions? This article focuses on the theology of Julian of Norwich, whose meditations on the cross provide a middle way of affirming both the motherly nature of God and biblical revelation and tradition.

The Scots Confession announces the incarnate Son as the ‘angel of the great counsel of God’. Derived from Isa 9:6(5) LXX, that title has come through a tradition traceable through Justin, Irenaeus, Athanasius, Augustine and Calvin. It designates Jesus in his teaching ministry and prophetic office as revealer of God's saving purpose carried out in him and expresses both connection and distinction between God's eternal Wisdom and its incarnation. Parallels in Calvin's polemic against Osiander bring out the Confession's emphasis on the saving and revelatory significance of Jesu' humanity and his being both communicator and content of the divine counsel.

This essay explores the deeper theological presuppositions foundational to Tertullian's defense of the Logos-theology in the Adversus Praxeam. After providing a brief description and historical contextualization of the monarchian argument that Tertullian opposes, this essay then explores the unique manner in which Tertullian attempts to redefine the notion of the divine monarchy through a renewed understanding of the divine economy. This essay proposes that Tertullian reflects upon the notion of the economy in a decidedly internal fashion, emphasizing the inner relations within the depths of the divine, in order both to preserve the idea of the Father's invisibility, and to steer away from a model of the economy as historically conceived.

This essay explores the intersection between feminism and the work of Stanley Hauerwas. The recent critiques of Hauerwas's writings by Gloria Albrecht and Linda Woodhead are examined and a general assessment of the relationship between feminist theology (in its various guises) and Hauerwas's work is offered. It is suggested that the intersection of Hauerwas's theology with some strands of feminism reveals some surprisingly similar theological convictions and faith commitments, and that these areas of common concern offer unique opportunities for mutual engagement and enhancement.

The subtitle of Drake's book, ‘The Politics of Intolerance’, provides an apt starting place. First, ‘Politics’: it is Drake's contention that many earlier scholars’ investigations of Constantine have run amok by adopting largely theological perspectives, by worrying whether Constantine was ‘sincere’ in his Christian profession. Indeed, much in Constantine's practices and discourse (such as we can recover them) suggested to previous commentators that he had little understanding of theological niceties, and that his Christian commitment was to some degree feigned. Drake argues that we should rather look to the political problems that Constantine faced and the policy options available to him. (For one, Diocletian's persecution had proved a massive and costly failure: where to go from there?) If ‘politics’ is the arena in which we assess Constantine, scholars should investigate social processes, not theological puzzles. We have been using the wrong map: ‘political symptoms’ should not be treated with ‘theological remedies’ (465). Public policy studies, in particular, is the field to which we should turn.

Elizabeth Clark was characteristically generous and incisive in her comments. She asks six questions, which I will paraphrase as follows: (1) How can we know Constantine's intentions? (2) Did ‘pagan monotheism’ have a broad enough appeal to create the type of constituency Constantine would have needed, and (3) even if it did, would not the turn from ‘cultic practice’ to ‘a system of belief’ – whether pagan or Christian – still have resulted in ‘intolerance and its political analogue, compulsion’? (4) Do I overrate the impact of Julian? (5) ‘Where are the Jews in this discussion?’ (6) Can metaphors based on modern political language and a public policy model be applied to this period without distorting the subject?