This article traces the role of the Holy Spirit throughout Augustine's De Trinitate. After situating Augustine's treatise in terms of texts of Athanasius and Basil on the Holy Spirit, it treats the place of the Holy Spirit in his critique of the existing dogmatic terminology and the distinction between the economic and immanent Trinity. In contrast with the dominant Western and Eastern traditions, for Augustine the Holy Spirit comes to be thought of as God in a privileged sense, that is, as the person of the Trinity who is the most proper bearer of certain privileged names of God, most notably love. The notion of the Holy Spirit as eternal ‘gift’ proves to be especially troubling for Augustine, but also especially productive, and the present reading explicates the complex interrelationships that he is forced to develop among the concepts of love, cupiditas, gift, communio and enjoyment. The analysis of the concept of enjoyment in particular leads to the claim that the notion of property or ownership is completely foreign to God and that the Holy Spirit as communio must be thought as ‘gift’ only insofar as it is disruptive of the realm of ownership, that is, the realm of sin. The article finishes, as the De Trinitate does, with the implications of Augustine's treatment of the Holy Spirit for ethics and ecclesiology.

The work of Alister McGrath and Julius Kostlin challenges the often-cited claim regarding Luther's dependence on Augustine. The article demonstrates that such critics fail to recognise the rich diversity of the African father's thought, but have been inclined to read it systematically the way the Roman Catholic interpretative tradition has. Text study of Augustine's writings, as well as Luther's comments about the African father, reveals that the Reformer's insights about soteriology (including the externality and passivity of righteousness as well as other aspects of his dialectical thinking) are affirmed by Augustine. Likewise, even Luther's critiques of Augustine lend insight into the Reformer's appropriation of his thought. The article demonstrates that when Luther diverges from the African father the two men are addressing incompatible pastoral concerns, but when he is inspired by Augustine their pastoral contexts are similar. This insight sheds fresh light on the sense in which we can speak of an Augustinian character of the Reformation. The article's findings also lend further credence to the possibility that there is a pattern to the use of Christian concepts in the history of the church, whereby, in similar contexts such as in response to perceived Pelagianism, Christians have pretty much responded similarly throughout the centuries.

Beginning from Richard Bauckham's proposal that the biblical theme of creation's praise is of considerable importance for an ecological spirituality, this article takes a close look at Luke 19:40, a text largely ignored in ecological readings of the Bible. An examination of Luke's distinctive account of the entry into Jerusalem and a consideration of the relevant Jewish parallels to the motif of the crying stone leads to a view of the stones’ cry as one of both praise and protest. The ecotheological potential of this text is then discussed and, in contrast to Bauckham's view of creation's praise as something creation always and already does simply by being itself, an eschatological view of creation's praise – and the combined expression of praise and protest – is presented as important, not least for its ecotheological and ethical potential.

Scholarship on Karl Barth's engagement with so-called ‘personalist philosophy’ has claimed that the following three sources exerted a significant influence on this aspect of Barth's thought: (1) the founders of an interdisciplinary society known as the ‘Patmos Circle’; (2) Barth's fellow dialectical theologians, Emil Brunner and Friedrich Gogarten; (3) Martin Buber, in particular his classic work, I and Thou. In spite of these assessments, however, I argue that Barth's initial stance towards personalism is actually best characterised as one of resistance and criticism. Specifically, I claim here that Barth undertakes a highly critical appropriation of personalism in which the categories of encounter (Begegnung), co-humanity (Mitmenschlichkeit) and the I–Thou relation (Ich–Du-Beziehung) are deeply criticised and recast in an explicitly theological – not philosophical – mould. When Barth does use personalist categories in his own theological anthropology – particularly in the Church Dogmatics, III/2 – he roots his notion of the human being as a ‘being in encounter’ in his christology and trinitarian theology, comprehensively restructuring personalist categories by placing them on a new foundation.

The aim of this article is to provide a provisional review and evaluation of recent Christian endorsements of the notion of political forgiveness. Attention is given to the doctrine of forgiveness in the New Testament and to its distinctive theological grammar. The chief theological features of Christian accounts of political forgiveness are outlined, before a number of weaknesses in the literature are identified and discussed. The implication of our discussion is that Christian love is expressed in two different ways, that of forgiveness upon repentance within the church and that of justice tempered by mercy in the socio-political realm.

In their remarkable new book, Christianity, Democracy, and the Radical Ordinary, Stanley Hauerwas and Rom Coles endorse a radical turn in our democratic practices and ecclesial engagements. In what follows, I say what this turn amounts to and consider what reasons might encourage churches and democracies to make it. In the end, I argue that good reasons are missing. We should forgo the radical and settle for just democracy, just church. In large measure, it is a dispute over Augustine's legacy as a social critic. Hauerwas and Coles accent the discussion of pagan virtue and temporal politics in the City of God while I prefer the remarks on idolatry and just love from book 4 of the Confessions. Hauerwas and Coles might share Augustine's anxiety about idolatry, but they resist his solution. He suspects that our idolatrous tendencies can be resolved only as we take on the just love of Christ, while they are inclined to think that democracy and church made radical will do the trick. They might also insist that their departure from Augustine on this matter is less than it seems, that they accent the radical in order to avoid unjust love, but I'm not convinced and in the end I bring in Plato's Alcibiades – garlanded, drunk and angry – to help justify my doubts.

‘Radical Ordinary’ seemed like a good idea. The ‘ordinary’ is just, well, it is just so ordinary. No one is particularly attracted to the ‘ordinary’. But our lives are sustained by the ‘ordinary’. So maybe one of the ways to remind us of the significance of the ordinary is to qualify the ordinary by the word ‘radical’. A clever strategy that may, given Bowlin's response to the book Coles and I wrote, be far too clever.