Divine hiddenness in the Hebrew Bible is widely construed as the conceptual equivalent to divine absence. This article challenges this influential account in light of Psalm 88—where the hidden God is hostilely present, not absent—and reevaluates divine hiddenness. Divine hiddenness is not conterminous with divine absence. Rather, with its roots in the ancient Near Eastern idea of the royal and cultic audience, the meaning of “hide the face” (סתר + פנים) may be construed as a refusal of an audience with the divine king YHWH. Building on this insight, I argue that divine hiddenness possesses a petitionary logic and develop a distinction between the experiential and petitionary inaccessibility of salvific divine presence. Divine absence and hostile divine presence denote the former, while divine hiddenness the latter. I probe the relationships between divine hiddenness, divine absence, and hostile divine presence, concluding that the absent or hostilely present God is not ipso facto hidden.

This article will suggest that scholars have overlooked a model plausibly lurking in the background of Col 2:15 which parallels the triumphal death of Christ: namely, the crucifixion of Regulus. Regulus was a general who achieved a near-mythic status during the First Punic War by his sacrificial death, in which his perseverance on the gibbet was seen as even greater than riding in the victor’s car. Tertullian credited Regulus as having set the precedent for enduring the torments of the cross, while others declared him as having overcome through death not only his human foes but also Lady Fortune. Regulus’ story enjoyed so much widespread popularity it was admitted in the curriculum of Roman schools by the middle of the first century CE. Because Regulus’ epic contains low-hanging fruit, ripe for comparison with Christ’s crucifixion, Christians drew upon the story of Regulus from at least as early as Tertullian, Minucius Felix, Arnobius, and Augustine. Nevertheless, scholars have overlooked the possible parallels with Regulus’ story and Christ’s triumphal death in Col 2:15. I will first provide a composite depiction of Regulus’ military life and sacrificial death along with its reported ramifications in order to tease out similarities and differences with Col 2:15 and finally conclude with comments concerning the significance of including the legend as additional background for the verse. In short, I will propose that reading Regulus’ story in comparison with Col 2:15 supports an anti-imperial and/or a supra-imperial reading of the letter.

Adversus haereses 3.22.4 is one of the key texts for Irenaeus’ views about the virgin Mary’s role in the “economy” of salvation. Among the many interpretative riddles of this passage, this paper discusses the function of the metaphor of the knots in Irenaeus’ argument. A close analysis suggests that the lines in question are not the conclusion of the preceding section (as implied by the Latin version—and modern interpreters), but the opening of a concluding development that sums up the role of the New Adam and the New Eve. As a result, the metaphor of knots should not be understood in exclusive connection with Mary: it applies to both Christ and her— though it is particularly fitting for expressing Mary’s role as New (and Anti-) Eve.

Divine names are linguistic objects that underlie the grammar of religious language. They serve as both representations and presentations of the divine. As representations, divine names carry information pertaining to God’s nature or actions, and his unique will, in a manner that adequately represents him. As presentations, divine names are believed to somehow effect divine presence in proximity to the believer, opening a path of direct connection to God. This paper seeks to analyze the interaction between presentation and representation concerning divine names in major trends within Judaism and Islam, from the Hebrew Bible and the Qur’an to medieval theological debates. It aims to demonstrate how central currents within both traditions shaped the intricate relation between divine presentation and representation through the prism of divine names. Whereas positions in philosophy of language focus on either the representational or the presentational functions of proper names, Jewish and Islamic theologies suggest ways to combine the two functions with regard to divine names.

This article traces the evolution of a kabbalistic prayer supplication that was designed to purify male Jews from pollution caused by improper seminal emission. In doing so, it focuses on the metaphysical rationale behind it, its function, and its metamorphosis from a highly technical practice into a mainstream devotional practice. It addresses how notions of sexual pollution (qeri) were contextualized in Lurianic Kabbalah and how they were later embedded in kabbalistic manuals and prayer books. Furthermore, the article examines Jewish-Christian and inner- Jewish debates that emerged in connection with the effects of spilling semen in vain. Special attention is paid to possible social factors that may have impacted the increased anxiety about male bodily fluids and “misguided” desires. In addition to the available research on the theological and general historical background of the prohibition of wasting seed, the following analysis offers a microhistory of this short yet highly influential text.

This article argues that Henry David Thoreau believed in the essential unity of the five senses and privileged each as a source of wild and divine knowledge, which, when combined, created a full picture that might result in a true approximation of God in and beyond nature—the hallmark of Thoreau’s fundamentally incarnational theology. Thoreau treated each sense not only as a source of divine knowledge but as a site of theological discourse: for touch, the relationship between sin and grace; for smell, the conundrum of an eternal divinity acting in historical time; for taste, the efficacy of sacraments; for hearing, the possibility of continuing revelation; and for sight, the ability for human beings to actually see God. The senses were the practical entry point to Thoreau’s theological system, which was concerned with the discovery and redemption of internal “wildness” and reconnection to the mysterious, divine source of that wildness, to the unaccountable in nature.

Edward L. Greenstein, who has recently published a most accomplished translation of the biblical book of Job, gives an indication of the extent of the labor required to produce such a translation: “I have been deeply engaged by the challenges of the book of Job—its themes, literary affiliations, language, and poetics—for over four decades” (xvii). That Greenstein has more than endured what he rightly characterizes as “this intimate endeavor” (xvii), including especially “the painstaking work of original philological investigation” (xviii), demonstrates that he is not only a long-suffering “scholar of difficult language” but indeed a “lover of words,” and of the work of words (ix). Further proof of his love lies in the stated altruism of his goals (xvii). He has aimed “to make good sense of the text of Job” and “to convey something of the text’s poetics” (x, xxxvi). That is, he has tried to recreate in English something of the theological and literary genius of the ancient Joban writers, better than others have done previously. And fellow students of Job and lovers of words, including the present author, owe a debt of gratitude to Greenstein for his labor of love and this work of translation. For, true to his goals, the still enigmatic biblical book begins to make (stunning) good sense and, here and there, lays bare more of its (sinuous) literary genius in Greenstein’s new translation.1