It is instructive to see the similarities and the differences between the account of the origins of the synagogue in the Jewish Encyclopedia of 1907 and the more extended discussion of the subject in the Encyclopedia Judaica of 1971. In the earlier work, Wilhelm Bacher observes that by the time the synagogue had become the central institution in Judaism, it was already regarded as of ancient origin, dating back to Moses.1 He was of the opinion that the synagogue as a permanent institution originated during the Babylonian captivity,2 and conjectured that the reference in Isa 56. 7 to the temple as a ‘house of prayer’ was to be understood as connected with the term for place of prayer, proseuche, which was used during the exile and among Jews in the diaspora in later centuries. Balcher's theory continues that it was Ezra and his successors who reorganized the religious life of Israel into congregational worship, with special place for prayers and the reading of the scriptures. This development, he proposed, took place in parallel with the revival of the temple cult and led to the building of synagogues. He finds evidence for synagogues in Palestine in the pre-exilic period in Ps 74. 8, although in fact this psalm comes from the Maccabean period or even later.3 Then, astonishingly and without any attempt to explain, he asserts that the complete absence of allusions to synagogue in 1 or 2 Maccabees is the result of the author's primary concern for the purity of the temple ritual.

Zu den Vorarbeiten für einen Kommentar zum Römerbrief gehört der Versuch, über den Zweck und den Gesamtcharakter dieses Apostelschreibens Klarheit zu gewinnen. Darum gibt es von Ulrich Wilckens einen ‘Aufsatz Über Abfassungszweck und Aufbau des Römerbriefs’, vier Jahre vor dem ersten Band seines Kommentars erschienen,2 und von Peter Stuhlmacher einen Vortrag ‘Der Abfassungszweck des Römerbriefs’,3 erwachsen aus der Vorarbeit für seinen Römerbrief-Kommentar im ‘Neuen Testament Deutsch’, mit dessen Erscheinen bald zu rechnen ist. Einen ähnlichen Stellenwert und Sinn hat für mich das folgende Referat im Blick auf die Kommentierung des Römerbriefs im Theologischen Handkommentar zum Neuen Testament, die mir übertragen worden ist. Dabei freue ich mich besonders, diesen Vortrag in eben dem kirchlich-gesellschaftlichen Raum halten zu können, in dem auch der Kommentar in erster Linie seinen Beitrag zum Verständnis und zur Wirkung des Neuen Testaments leisten soil. Daraus könnte eine Diskussion erwachsen, die meine Arbeit an der Auslegung des Briefes durch neue Gesichtspunkte anregt und vorantreibt.

Within the story-world of Mark, the religious authorities — the scribes, Pharisees, Herodians, chief priests, elders, and Sadducees — form a united front opposed to Jesus61 and therefore constitute, literary-critically, a single, or collective, character. If Jesus is the protagonist, they are the antagonists, and both Jesus and they exhibit a ‘root character trait’, that is, a character trait from which all other traits spring. Thus, Jesus, as the Messiah Son of God, is characterized as ‘uniquely related’ to God. As such, he is endowed with divine authority and ‘thinks the things of God’, which is to say that he views reality from a divine perspective. In contrast, the religious authorities are characterized as being ‘without authority’, which is to say that they ‘think the things of men’ and view reality from a purely human perspective. Consequently, the conflict between Jesus and the authorities in Mark's story is an extended clash over ‘authority’. Instead of receiving Jesus as God's Messiah and Son, they oppose him throughout his ministry.

In his now programmatic article, ‘Die Legitimität des Apostels’, E. Käsemann drew attention to the fact that the issue at stake in 2 Corinthians was Paul himself and that, of all the accusations being levelled against him, Paul was especially being blamed for his supposed ‘Selbstlob’. From his opponents' perspective, Paul's μέτρον το κανόνος; (10. 12 ff.) and his δοκιμή (13. 3, 6) appeared questionable, lacking the obvious and objective power and authority associated with apostleship. His boasting was thus viewed to be irresponsible, illegitimate, and deceitful (5. 12; 11. 16; 12. 16). Specifically, Paul lacked a ‘fixed μέτρον’, i.e. an objective evidence for his legitimacy, which was ‘controllable’. For, in contrast to the apostles in Jerusalem, Paul could not point to a commissioning from the earthly Jesus, the miraculous signs of an apostle, or financial support from churches to support his claims. Hence, ‘seinem Apostolat fehlt die nachprüfbare Eindeutig-keit’.

The conviction that God is good, that he takes ‘no pleasure in the death of the wicked’ (Ezek 18. 23), that he ‘desires all men to be saved’ (1 Tim 2. 4), and that Christ ‘gave himself as a ransom for all’ (1 Tim 2. 4), belongs to the main thrust of Christian soteriology. Although there have been soteriological pessimists (Thomas Aquinas, the Angelic Doctor, was an optimist on the salvation of the angels, but a pessimist on the salvation of human beings) and optimists (Karl Barth construed Paul's universalist teleology as a flat guarantee of universal salvation), most Christians have had to content themselves with an affirmation of God's at least antecedently universal salvific will, with the hope for the salvation of many and even of all, and with a straightforward agnosticism respecting whether the finally lost will be ‘any’ or ‘many’ or something in between. But, in the word of Matt 22.14 (l.v. 20. 16), Jesus himself speaks, and he seems (a) to evoke election = predestination = salvation, (b) to reduce the number of the elect = predestined = saved to ‘few’, and (c) to suggest that the differentiation between the called and the elect is not the outcome of human acts but of divine decision. All three factors — final salvation is at stake, few are saved, and this by God's sovereign decision — say why this word has been a crux interpretum.

The death of Christ has not been prominent in the significant recent debate about the centre of Paul's theology, between E. P. Sanders and H. Hübner. Sanders characterizes Paul's pattern of religion as a ‘participationist eschatology’ as compared to the ‘covenantal nomism’ of the contemporary Judaism. H. Hübner champions the centrality of ‘justification by faith’, over against a ‘mystical identification with the crucified and risen Christ’. The former comes from Luther, and the latter from Albert Schweitzer. Hübner says of Sanders' book that in several passages it sounds as if Schweitzer redivivus were speaking. Sanders tends to make Paul's religion too intellectual — a change of world view, rather than a response to experience. Hübner does not take seriously enough the convincing evidence that Paul's problem with the Mosaic law was not the same as Luther's, namely that it promoted a ‘works righteousness’ which caused pride, but rather that in its social role as the guardian of the boundaries of the Jewish community, it excluded the Gentiles. Both, however, do not take the Cross seriously enough.

Chapter 9 is the pivot of Luke's gospel containing, as it does, the transfiguration as well as marking the transition from the Galilee ministry to the journey to Jerusalem. Not only is it rich in incident, it is also rich in the range of titles given to Jesus. It includes the first recognition, outside the infancy narrative, of Jesus' messianic role (9. 20), the first passion prediction of the Son of Man (9. 22) as well as the first mention of the future Son of Man (9. 26). Furthermore, the chapter contains two titles peculiar to Luke, Master (έπιστάτες, 9. 33, 49) and Chosen One (έκλελγμένος, 9. 35). Luke presents this wealth of christological material in answer to the question posed by Herod, ‘Who is this about whom I hear such things?’ (9. 9). The complexity of the christology in Luke 9 stems not only from the variety of the explicit titles but also from Luke's direct mention of, or allusions to, OT prophets who are used as antetypes for the prophetic role of Jesus. The prophetic ideas in the Lucan writings have been set out by Tiede but the importance of the prophetic element in Luke 9 seems to have been somewhat overlooked in the more detailed studies of this chapter. Ellis, in his essay on the sources of the christology of Luke 9, has noted the Moses typology and possible allusions to Isaiah's servant, although it is doubtful whether the use of κλελεγμέ in 9. 35 (cf κλεκτόζ, Isa 42. 1) and the prediction of Jesus' suffering and rejection are sufficient to make the presence of the servant idea here more than speculative.

Matt 5. 27–32, from the Sermon on the Mount, and Mark 9. 42–10.12 are passages that contain similar material, although neither is directly dependent on the other. Both have sayings that deal with ‘offences’ caused by certain body members (the verb used is σκανδαλίζω), and both contain a version of Jesus' prohibition of divorce. Between these two passages and a third, b. Nid. 13b, from the Babylonian Talmud, there also exist several similarities. Despite this intriguing configuration of materials, which might indicate that all three passages are dependent on a common set of traditions, scholars have approached these texts from a very different perspective. Those who posit a connection between the synoptic and the rabbinic materials do so only with respect to Matt 5, never Mark 9; and several scholars have instead sought parallels to the synoptic passages in Hellenistic gnomic literature, disregarding or ignoring the rabbinic material altogether. In the present study I intend to challenge the validity of these approaches and propose that there is indeed a common set of traditions to which all three of these texts are indebted. I will begin my investigation by highlighting three peculiarities of Mark 9. 42–48, and then posit a relation between this passage and b. Nid. 13b. Following this I will bring the material from Matt 5. 27–32 and Mark 9. 49–10. 12 into consideration. One of the results of this study, as I shall explain more thoroughly in the conclusion, will be the identification of a discussion on male sexuality that took place in Jewish and Christian circles sometime in the middle of the first century C.E