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Spinoza developed a method of biblical interpretation which has guided most scholars ever since. It requires an understanding of the scriptural languages, a comparison of different discussions of the same topic (not assuming that Scripture, as the word of God, must be consistent), and an account of the authorship, date, circumstances, and transmission of each book. Renaissance humanists like Erasmus had anticipated some of his method, but Spinoza was more systematic and bolder: not only did Moses not write the Pentateuch, many of the traditional assumptions about the authorship of biblical books were mistaken. A late editor, working on now lost mss. of earlier histories, had compiled them. Spinoza writes mainly about the Hebrew Bible, but also draws challenging conclusions about the New Testament: the apostles didn’t write with prophetic authority; James was right (against Paul) to emphasize works over faith. He also suggests that the apostles probably wrote in Aramaic, so that the Greek text is a translation of a lost original. Like Erasmus, he emphasizes the moral teachings of Scripture and avoids philosophical speculations, of which the doctrine of original sin is probably the most important example. His advocacy of theological minimalism furthered the cause of religious liberty.
This essay will examine the contribution of pastoral (professional) supervision in enabling and ensuring a safe church. Pastoral supervision is the brave, safe space where clergy (and ministry workers) reflect on their ministry practice in a regular, planned supervision session. The present article emerges from a decade of training pastoral supervisors and consultation across the national Anglican Church during 2019 based on recommendations made by the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse. It concludes that the properly Christian way for pastoral supervision to change the culture of the Church is christological: a rigorous grounding of its theory and practice in the story of Jesus Christ.
This chapter provides a brief overview of the “quest for the historical Jesus” and survey current trends in research. These trends include shifting evaluations of (1) the criteria employed in determining the authenticity of sayings (e.g., dissimilarity) and other methodological issues, (2) recent discussion of “Q,” and (3) the relative value of noncanonical books.
Origen here represents Christian notions of angelification, although brief consideration is given to antecedents, namely Clement of Alexandria and the Valentinians. Origen, like Empedocles, offered a cosmic story of fall and redemption. According to Origen, humans are “cooled” intellects whose natural state is to burn with love for God. A species upgrade is part of humanity’s evolutionary design, but it takes intense moral labor. Origen offers the most speculation on the nature of angels, the original consubstantiality of angels and souls, how angels and souls fell from divine Love, and the moral means of their return.
The conclusion summarizes this volume’s primary scholarly contributions according to three, key subjects: a canonical approach to Kings and the application of an agrarian hermeneutic (Chapters 1 and 2), exegetical examination of the Elijah narratives (Chapters 2, 3, and 4), and the relationship between the Elijah narratives and the book of Kings as a whole (Chapters 4 and 5). The author concludes by pointing readers toward new insights that the study may generate with respect to the New Testament’s typological extension of concepts central to the book of Kings.
This chapter examines passages in Hebrews where the Father or God is portrayed as the speaker of Scripture quotations (Heb 1:5–13; 5:1–10; 7:1–28; 8:1–13). In Hebrews 1, the Father speaks 7 quotations to the Son or to/about the angels. These quotations show the Son’s superiority. In Hebrews 5, the quotations show how the Son is called to be a priest and how that is linked to his Sonship. In Hebrews 7, the author’s important quotation of Ps 110:4 establishes Jesus as a high priest in the likeness of Melchizedek. Finally, in Hebrews 8, the Father speaks and establishes a “new covenant.” In most instances, a pattern emerges where the Father speaks to the Son and confers authority upon him. These speeches are then “overheard” by the addressees.
Dunn identifies two foundational types of motivating experiences in earliest Christianity: postmortem appearances of Jesus and the first disciples’ Pentecost experiences. He regards the experiences of the apostle Paul as particularly illustrative of early Christianity, featuring the liberating power of the Spirit and of being “in Christ,” experiencing the Spirit of God as the Spirit of Jesus, and the shared experience of believers as members of the body of Christ.
Empire-critical and postcolonial readings of Revelation are now commonplace, but scholars have not yet put these views into conversation with Jewish trauma and cultural survival strategies. In this book, Sarah Emanuel positions Revelation within its ancient Jewish context. Proposing a new reading of Revelation, she demonstrates how the text's author, a first century CE Jewish Christ-follower, used humor as a means of resisting Roman power. Emanuel uses multiple critical lenses, including humor, trauma, and postcolonial theory, together with historical-critical methods. These approaches enable a deeper understanding of the Jewishness of the early Christ-centered movement, and how Jews in antiquity related to their cultural and religious identity. Emanuel's volume offers new insights and fills a gap in contemporary scholarship on Revelation and biblical scholarship more broadly.
This chapter investigates narrative representations of free speech in early Christian martyr acts written between c. 150 and the end of persecution in 313. It discusses both pagan and Christian models that inspired authors of early Christian martyr acts to represent the speech and behaviour of martyrs in a certain manner. One of the issues the authors addressed was how a Christian should behave when he or she stood trial before secular authorities, and what measure of frank speech was appropriate in this situation. Early Christian martyrs are often presented as respectful, polite and reticent towards authorities during interrogation. We also see a clear preference for plain speech over studied rhetoric. The chapter addresses the question of whether new interpretations of parrhesia that we find in these martyrdom narratives should be seen as indicative of a growing reluctance among Christians to criticise those in power, or as part of a process of acculturation.
This chapter investigates narrative representations of free speech in early Christian martyr acts written between c. 150 and the end of persecution in 313. It discusses both pagan and Christian models that inspired authors of early Christian martyr acts to represent the speech and behaviour of martyrs in a certain manner. One of the issues the authors addressed was how a Christian should behave when he or she stood trial before secular authorities, and what measure of frank speech was appropriate in this situation. Early Christian martyrs are often presented as respectful, polite and reticent towards authorities during interrogation. We also see a clear preference for plain speech over studied rhetoric. The chapter addresses the question of whether new interpretations of parrhesia that we find in these martyrdom narratives should be seen as indicative of a growing reluctance among Christians to criticise those in power, or as part of a process of acculturation.
The cosmic eschatology of the Gospel of Mary is the subject of Chapter 4, and it primarily examines the opening dialogue between Jesus and the disciples. I argue that the cosmology of the Gospel of Mary is simpler and more christocentric than has been assumed by past exegetes. This gospel shares the common Christian belief that matter is the raw material of a cosmos shaped by God. Matter has been affected by passions, which in turn affect the individual causing sin and death. Jesus, here called ‘the Good’, has come to dissolve/restore the cosmos to its original constituent parts. The Gospel of Mary stands in contrast to the ‘traditional’ expectation of a future parousia as found in the synoptic gospels, and actively contradicts this expectation by stating that ‘the Son of Man is within’. The make-up and dissolution of the cosmos is interpreted by using ideas already present in John and Paul.
Although the Gospel of Mary is a dialogue gospel, the text’s narrative frame is just as integral to understanding the message of the gospel as the eschatological teachings in the dialogues. The narrative frame includes Jesus’ departure, Mary’s intervention, and the ensuing dispute among the disciples. This chapter explores possibilities for what was contained in the missing opening pages of the Gospel of Mary, firmly situating the text within the dialogue gospel genre. It then analyzes the Saviour’s farewell discourse, which encourages the disciples to be active participants in the Christian message of salvation. The section on Mary’s intervention focuses on her relationship with the male disciples and her relationship with Jesus, and argues that the Coptic manuscript heightens animosity between the disciples in contrast to the earlier Greek versions. Mary’s relationship to Jesus, on the other hand, is one of succession. The final part of the narrative frame sees the disciples split into two factions, with Mary and Levi on one side and Peter and Andrew on the other. It is unclear at the ending of the gospel whether the disciples are reconciled, and this is explored in light of other dialogue gospels such as the Pistis Sophia.
Chapter 1 looks at previous scholarly work on ‘dialogue gospels’ and offers a new group of 13 early Christian texts in which Jesus engages in dialogue with his disciples, answering their questions on the eve of his departure. Earlier classifications of dialogue gospels have varied widely, resulting in divergence regarding both what to call the genre and which texts are to be included in it. To construct a genre for the purpose of comparison, I argue for an inclusive and open understanding of genre. The 13 chosen texts demonstrate that the dialogue gospel form is not intrinsically linked to ‘gnosticism’ or any specific theology; that the narrative frame of the text and the dialogue are normally not two separate entities later glued together; and that the dialogical form is a fitting vehicle for eschatological revelation. This is followed by a preliminary comparative survey of main themes found within dialogue gospels: the saviour and eschatology. Dialogue gospels are comparable in that each is attentive to eschatological revelation, yet the revelations themselves are divergent. The overlaps and connections within these revelations demonstrate how problematic it is to taxonomize these texts into particular theological groups.
Chapter 1 looks at previous scholarly work on ‘dialogue gospels’ and offers a new group of 13 early Christian texts in which Jesus engages in dialogue with his disciples, answering their questions on the eve of his departure. Earlier classifications of dialogue gospels have varied widely, resulting in divergence regarding both what to call the genre and which texts are to be included in it. To construct a genre for the purpose of comparison, I argue for an inclusive and open understanding of genre. The 13 chosen texts demonstrate that the dialogue gospel form is not intrinsically linked to ‘gnosticism’ or any specific theology; that the narrative frame of the text and the dialogue are normally not two separate entities later glued together; and that the dialogical form is a fitting vehicle for eschatological revelation. This is followed by a preliminary comparative survey of main themes found within dialogue gospels: the saviour and eschatology. Dialogue gospels are comparable in that each is attentive to eschatological revelation, yet the revelations themselves are divergent. The overlaps and connections within these revelations demonstrate how problematic it is to taxonomize these texts into particular theological groups.
This book focuses on the 'Gospel of Mary' in the context of a broader analysis of early Christian dialogue gospels - a popular literary genre used to present Jesus as conversing with select disciples and answering a series of questions on life, death and the cosmos at the conclusion of his earthly career. Jesus' teachings in these texts can vary greatly, from affirming the resurrection of the flesh to denying it completely. This book highlights the diversity of perspective within this genre, bringing together New Testament, 'gnostic' and (proto-)orthodox texts. Yet each text is based on the premise that it contains new or clarified teaching from the risen or glorified Lord, often in the form of a final revelation concerned with the disciples' eschatological salvation. This book offers a fresh and in-depth analysis of the 'Gospel of Mary' in the context of the dialogue gospel genre, concentrating on the narrative frame, the eschatological teachings, and the relationship between the two.
The central symbolic event of the Christian religion appears everywhere in Hughes’s poetry and prose, explicitly and implicitly, as a fundamental metaphysical statement about the human condition. This chapter begins with a discussion of “Hawk in the Rain,” the opening and title poem of Hughes’s first collection, as an update of Hopkin’s explicitly Christological poem “The Windhover,” which leads to a consideration of how the crucifixion has been made less horrific over the years through the use of comforting cultural “roses.” Making much use of the theologian Paul Tillich, this chapter introduces the concept of teleological freedom, of which the crucifixion is a powerful representation, not least in Hughes’s poetry. Key crufixional Crow poems, especially “Crow Blacker Than Ever,” are discussed, and the prevailing critical reading overturned. The chapter concludes with a theological and literary look at Jesus’ death-cry, an act which echoes repeatedly in Hughes’s work.
The curious resurrection account in the Gospel of Peter (10.39–42) is not simply the author's creative innovation, but is based on a Christocentric interpretation of LXX Ps 18.1–7. The Gospel of Peter’s unusual description of Jesus’ exit from the tomb, whereupon he expands gigantically so that his head enters heaven (GPet 10.39–40), derives from an early Christian interpretation of LXX Ps 18.5c–7. The following conversation between God and the glorified cosmic cross (GPet 10.41–2) derives from a Christocentric interpretation of LXX Ps 18.2. In addition, the cross's verbal affirmation that it had preached to the dead (GPet 10.42) follows from a literalising yet Christocentric reading of LXX Ps 18.2b.
For Paul, where is Jesus now? The Apostle's Christ-mysticism provides one important clue to his sense of continued personal presence, but this coexists with an important eschatological dialectic that involves absence as much as presence. Moreoever, straightforward sublimation in terms of the Holy Spirit in no way exhausts the register of Jesus’ personal presence for Paul, which also finds specific application in repeated visionary experiences, as well as in the church gathered for worship, baptism, and eucharist. The dialectic of absence and presence appears on the one hand personally attuned in the assurance of Paul's Jesus that ‘My grace is sufficient for you’ (2 Cor 12:7), but it is also eschatologically and spatially articulated in the promise that ‘the Lord is near’ (Phil 4:5).
The Gospel of the Ebionites is a ‘text’ that only exists as fragments cited in and extrapolated from the heresiological writings of Epiphanius (Pan. 30). Like Recognitions 1.27–71, the Gospel of the Ebionites is one of a number of second- and third-century Jewish Christian sources, texts and traditions alleging that Jesus rejected animal sacrifice. In this article, I seek to review the history of research on this particular text and tradition and explore its significance as a case study in the use of non-canonical gospel traditions in New Testament studies.
The recently discovered Gospel of Judas has created much controversy among scholars. While it is clear that Judas is liable for Jesus' crucifixion in this text, it is much debated whether his actions should be understood positively or negatively. This article suggests that focusing on how the Gospel of Judas evaluates the salvific meaning of Jesus' crucifixion alongside the New Testament gospels and other early Christian writings may provide a key for solving this problem. In this way, the Gospel of Judas can be seen as a rare attempt to unravel what Irenaeus aptly termed ‘the mystery of the betrayal’.