The Pauline epistle known as Philemon is generally understood to be a letter written by Paul to a slaveowner on behalf of the runaway slave Onesimus requesting that the latter be allowed to return without penalty to the household in which he served. This article proposes a new interpretation of the letter that differs from the traditional in four major points: (1) the letter is written to a church, a congregation of which the individual addressed in the main body of the letter is a member; it is not a personal letter. (2) the slave Onesimus is with Paul in prison because he was sent there by the individual addressed in the main body of the letter (probably Archippus) on behalf of the Colossae church; Onesimus did not run away. (3) Paul writes to request that Onesimus be released from his obligations in Colossae in order that he might remain with Paul to work in the church in a Christian ministry. (4) Paul makes clear that Onesimus is no longer to be considered a slave within the Christian community, and separately suggests Onesimus be manumitted.

A frequent source of consolation among Christians is that, while they do not have the same attitudes towards creeds, liturgies, or church structures, they all share the same canon of the NT. That common heritage might seem to be reinforced by B. S. Childs' recent insistence, or even hyper-insistence, on canonical dimensions in studying NT text questions, in interpreting individual NT books, and in evaluating the whole collection. In point of fact, despite Childs's emphasis (which, while exaggerated, makes some very important points), scholarship has gone in the opposite direction. For various reasons and from various vantage points, the validity and value of the NT canon are being seriously questioned.

The eschatological teachings in 1–2 Thessalonians have a common purpose: correction. In 1 Thessalonians Paul wants to correct a disbelief that caused sorrow over the fate of deceased Christians. The author of 2 Thessalonians wants to correct a belief in the immediacy of Christ's return, a belief that may have had its origin in (or at least have been abetted by) exhortations to readiness in 1 Thessalonians. In both letters, earlier traditions come into play for the purposes of correcting the disbelief that caused sorrow, of exhorting the readers to readiness, and of correcting the belief in immediacy. Both dominical and Jewish materials make up these traditions. Though we may take a side-glance at the question of authorship in 2 Thessalonians, an examination of the ways in which the traditions are molded to make the correction in that epistle depends very little on the answer to the question. We shall discover that Paul (whose name will cover the authorship of both letters without prejudice) hellenizes dominical tradition and Christianizes Jewish tradition in order to make his corrections and rein-force his exhortation.

The Apocalypse of John mirrors in a very distinctive way the social and cultural amalgam which constituted late first century Christianity. Though a Christian document it is heavily indebted to Jewish religious and apocalyptic traditions. It also exhibits both the influences of and the reactions to Hellenism. The purpose of this paper is to examine selected Hellenistic magical traditions which have been taken up consciously by John and fashioned into an anti-magic apologetic.

At the primary, narrative level the riddle of Mark's brief account of Jesus' death and its immediate aftermath must still be pronounced unsolved. There has been a steadily growing awareness among scholars that, for all the insights they have afforded us, form and redaction criticism have tended to deprive the Evangelists of reputations for competence as narrators and their story-lines of coherence and integrity and that this tendency does them injustice. Yet though the latest study of Mark 15. 37–39 is sensitive to this issue, it cannot be pronounced successful in making complete sense of Mark's narrative qua narrative. This paper offers a solution to the riddle and argues what I realize is the rather radical thesis that Mark intended a connection between the events of these verses that has never been fully and properly understood.

Writing more than fifty years ago Ernst Lohmeyer said of Phil 2. 5–11, ‘Dieser Abschnitt gehört zu den schwierigsten Abschnitten der paulinischen Briefe.’ The passing years have only served to confirm his judgment, and in fact Lohmeyer himself did much to shape the terms of reference for the subsequent investigation of this complex passage by his emphasis on its poetic structure, its traditional character, and its conceptual background. Perhaps the most important trend to emerge in the scholarly research of this passage in the last two decades has been the attention given to whether Phil 2. 6–1 1, the supposed poetic piece in the passage, presupposes or contains a reference to the pre-existence of Christ. Up until the 1960s it was generally assumed that the passage referred to Christ's heavenly pre-existence, and thus R. H. Fuller writing in 1965 could declare the occasional attempts at eliminating the idea of pre-existence from the passage a failure. In light of a series of important investigations which have appeared since then, Fuller's pronouncement can no longer be affirmed unreservedly. The momentum of research may in fact be in the opposite direction. J. Murphy-O'Connor, for example, claims that ‘the notion of pre-existence is only part of the Vorverständnis with which exegetes approach the hymn’ rather than a conclusion derived from the careful investigation of the passage and its backgrounds.

‘L'Esprit du Seigneur a rempli l'Univers et lui qui maintient tout dans l'unité, il connaît toute parole.’ Tel est l'introït de la fête de la Pentecôte dans la liturgie de l'Eglise catholique latine; c'est une citation du livre de la Sagesse (1. 7). La thèse d'une omniprésence de l'Esprit saint s'est trouvée, au cours des siècles, développée dans différentes directions. Sensible à la question de la vérité, le Moyen-Age aimait commenter une maxime datant du 4e siècle: ‘Toute vérité, quel que soit celui qui la dise, vient du Saint-Esprit.’ Préoccupé de la sécularisation contemporaine, le Concile Vatican II disait: ‘L'homme, sans cesse sollicité par l'Esprit de Dieu, ne sera jamais tout à fait indifférent au problème religieux.’ Et, soucieux comme toute notre génération de la justice dans la société, il affirmait: ‘L'Esprit de Dieu qui, par une providence admirable, conduit le cours des temps et rénove la face de la terre, est présent à [l'] évolution [des mentalités dans le sens du progrès social].’

During the last thirty years significant advances have been made in the study of early Christian miracle stories. The story of the woman who touched Jesus' garment has been especially well analyzed by Heinz Joachim Held and Gerd Theissen, and recently Manfred Hutter has brought additional information to bear on the Matthean version. It is my goal to look at each version of the story from the perspective of ‘comparative social-rhetorical’ analysis and interpretation. The rhetorical observations are informed especially by Kenneth Burke's chapter entitled ‘Lexicon Rhetoricae’ in Counterstatement and by Robert Alter's The Art of Biblical Narrative. The comparative and social observations are stimulated by various interpreters' use of Hellenistic-Roman data as well as Jewish data for analysis of New Testament literature.

This is still an unresolved problem. Our aim is to investigate the question to see whether Paul's opponents are one group or more than one, and to ascertain the nature of their views.

Five assumptions are made; they are taken as axiomatic, so a case for them in detail is not argued. First, the integrity of Phil. has been successfully defended against attempts to analyse it as containing three originally separate letters to the Philippians, especially by P. Schubert, V. Furnish, R. Jewett and T. E. Pollard, and supported by R. P. Martin. This does make it somewhat easier to maintain a single-front hypothesis, but only marginally makes it more probable. The principle of Occam's razor (entia non sint multiplicanda praeter necessitatem), tends to favour the assumption of a uniform view, but only if evidence for multiple opponents appears weak.

Das Hirtenkapitel Joh 10 ist unbestritten ein anziehender, aber zugleich auch mit fast allen Problemen der Johannesexegese belasteter Abschnitt. So ist nicht nur der Beginn, die Form, die Binnenstruktur, teilweise der Wortlaut und vor allem die Stellung im Makrotext, sondern auch die Aussageabsicht des Kapitels umstritten.

In recent studies of the parables, including some of those dealing with the judge and the widow, there has been an overemphasis on philosophical-theological and existential meaning. At the same time, there has been a lack of concern for the writers' vocabulary, methods when dealing with sources, and style and literary methods as these things relate to the study of parables. Such things, rather than the meaning of the parable, are my primary concern in dealing with the parable of the judge and the widow.

This paper explores some relations between dominant scientific Paradigms and hermeneutical schemas currently used in analyses of the history of biblical interpretation.

The most significant recent contribution to the understanding of Matt 6. 22–23 (= Luke 11. 34–36: Q) comes from Hans Dieter Betz. In his article on ‘Matthew vi.22f. and ancient Greek theories of Vision’ Betz claims to find in the pre-Socratics, in Plato, and in Philo the clues by which the enigmatic logion about the eye as the lamp of the body can best be elucidated. He directs attention to the following texts in particular: (1) Plato, Timaeus 45B–46A. In discussing the creation of the human body by the gods, Plato speaks of the ‘light-bearing eyes’(φωσφόραμματα), and he asserts that, within the human eye, there is a type of fire, a fire which does not burn but is, as Bury translates, ‘mild’. When we see, this fire, which is both ‘pure’ (είλıκρωές) and ‘within us’ (έντòς ὴμῶν), flows through the eyes and out into the world, where it meets the light of day. Now since like is attracted to like, the light of the eyes coalesces with the light of day, forming one stream of substance. And then, to quote Plato, ‘This substance, having all become similar in its properties because of its similar nature, distributes the motions of every object it touches, or whereby it is touched, throughout all the body, even unto the soul, and brings about the sensation which we term seeing.’ In fine, we see because we have within us a light that streams forth through our eyes.

In recent years the importance of the title ‘Son of God’ for Matthew's Gospel has received well-deserved recognition. There need be no hesitation in acknowledging the programmatic role which it plays in the christological development of the First Gospel. Thus, in considering this appellation, we are not lightly extracting a vacuous designation appropriated by the Evangelist from his tradition, but are dealing rather with a confessional title of continuing vitality for the Matthean church. All the more surprising is it, then, that the actual content of this expression has of late received comparatively little attention from many of those concerned to establish its importance. Moreover, among those who have dealt in more detail with the meaning of the title in Matthew's Gospel, little by way of a satisfactory consensus has been achieved.

In the past fifteen years or so New Testament scholars have sought to balance the predominantly historical orientation of biblical studies with insights and methods derived from literary studies and literary criticism. In addition, discussions of hermeneutics and pastoral ‘application’ have attempted to replace the overall framework of meaning that has been eroded by the eclipse of biblical theology understood as salvation history. Finally, the studies of the social world of early Christianity have focused anew on the social-political situation and economic-cultural conditions of the New Testament writers and their communities. However, these discussions have not yet led to the formulation of a new integrative paradigm in biblical interpretation. This paper seeks to contribute to this three-pronged discussion by utilizing rhetorical criticism for the interpretation of Paul's first extant letter to the community of Corinth. My main goal is thereby not to add a ‘new interpretation’ to the many variant readings of 1 Corinthians but to explore the questions, methods, and strategies involved in the interpretation of the letter.

Als Lukas in Apg 6 die beiden Gruppen hellenistai und hebraioi einführt, beginnt er eine neue Phase in seiner Schilderung der Geschichte der Urgemeinde. Das relativ friedliche Dasein im Schutze des Tempels und des jüdischen Kultes ist zu Ende. Die Dramatik nimmt ihren Anfang. Die umwälzenden Geschehnisse führen zu Massenflucht der Christen aus Jerusalem, was seinerseits wiederum eine Ausweitung des Verbreitungsgebietes der christlichen Botschaft bewirkt – sowohl geographisch als auch religiössoziologisch. Das Christentum fasst nun definitiver auf ausserpalästinenzischem Boden Fuss, und die Christusverkündigung wird auch an nichtjüdische Gruppen und Völker gerichtet. Im Zentrum dieser umwälzenden Geschehnisse stehen die Hellenisten.

There is not the slightest doubt about the immense significance of Paul's Damascus experience. It changed Paul's life and turned a persecutor into a missionary. Jesus Christ became and remained the centre of Paul's existence.

It is another question, however, to what extent Paul's theology was conceived soon after the call experience.1 Was Paul's peculiar view of the law as found in Galatians or in Romans an immediate consequence of his Christophany? That is at least a very common view.2 Paul's call experience resulted, it is held, in his making immediately a sharp contrast between ‘works of righteousness’ and ‘righteousness by faith’. In his Damascus experience Paul perceived that Christ was the end of the law and God's judgment ‘upon all human accomplishment and boasting’3. It is also commonly held that that experience made Paul regard the law as a ‘spur to sin’, from which the death and resurrection of Christ had liberated the believers.

Chapters 144–148 of the Acts of Thomas contain a long prayer of the apostle Judas Thomas, in which he anticipates the completion of his apostolic task at his approaching martyrdom.1 The prayer has one dominant theme: the apostle prays that, since he has faithfully accomplished the work God has given him to do, he may inherit his heavenly reward. This theme is elaborated by means of, first, a series of allusions to Gospel parables (145 [end]–146), and then a series of allusions to metaphorical sayings of Jesus (147). It is the sequence of parable allusions which concerns us here. For the text of this passage not only the Syriac but also two divergent Greek versions (represented by MS. U and by MS. P and four other MSS.)2 are extant. There are some differences between the three versions, but, apart from the loss of a few lines in MS. U by homoioteleuton at the end of ch. 145 and the beginning of ch. 146,3 the sequence of parables is the same in all three. It begins (at the end of ch. 145) with a mixture of allusions to the parables of the Sower (Matt 13. 3–8, 18–23) and the Tares (Matt 13. 24–30, 37–43), which the author may have known in a conflated version, rather than in the canonical versions. At the beginning of ch. 146 there is a passage which alludes to no known parable. Then the sequence continues with allusions to the parables of the Talents or Pounds (Matt 25. 27; Luke 19. 23), the Pounds (Luke 19. 16, 26), the Unmerciful Servant (Matt 18. 28–34), the Great Supper (Luke 14. 16–24), the Wedding Garment (Matt 22. 2–3, 11–13), the Watching Servants (Luke 12. 35–36),4 the Servant put in Authority (Matt 24. 45–46; Luke 12. 42–43), and the Thief (Gospel of Thomas 21, 103; cf. Matt 24. 43; Luke 12. 39).5 In each case Thomas identifies himself with a character in the parable, and claims either to have done what a praiseworthy character in the parable did (the servant who traded his pound and gained ten, the watching servants whose lamps remained alight, the wise servant who remained vigilant in his master's absence, the householder who stayed awake to guard his house6) or to have done what a blameworthy character in the parable should have done but failed to do (the servant who should have deposited his money with the bankers, the supper guests who should not have made excuses, the wedding guest who should have worn a wedding garment).7

Paul's thought forms a unity of a very peculiar kind. It certainly has a single focus: Christ, but this fact is not in itself sufficient to bring the many disparate elements in his thought together to form the unity that it manifestly has. Nor is that unity that of a system. The search for a Pauline ‘system’ of beliefs (δόγματα) with clearly defined relations between them is in vain – and even more so is the attempt to find a single formula supposed to express the whole of his thought. The immense diversity of his thinking should never be forgotten.

In this article I shall discuss a subject which, to my knowledge, has never been considered before – namely, whether Jude 5–7 presents Jesus as the Angel of the Lord. A final solution to the vexed problem of the varia lectio (or variae lectiones) in v. 5 is not of paramount importance in the following pages, for even if it could be agreed that (ò) κύρως was the original reading, it would have to be explained why a copyist could feel able to substitute ΊησοṺς for ‘Kyrios’. Some see ‘Jesus’ as the result of a mere ‘transcriptional oversight (―KC being taken for ―IC)’, but text-critical conjectures are to be dismissed if a reading can be given a reasonable meaning, and the same principle would have to apply to an assumed substitution.