Calvin has been traditionally regarded as having consistently interpreted scripture according to its literal sense and having also consistently repudiated non-literal modes of interpretation. This view has been recently challenged, however, by Gary Hansen, who claims that ‘Calvin's theological rules or priorities of interpretation allow for and even require non-literal interpretation of biblical texts’. The issue turns, however, on what interpreting scripture according to the literal sense actually meant for Calvin. Hans Frei claimed Calvin as a champion of the literal sense because he affirmed the primacy of the literal sense with respect to scripture's witness to the identity of Jesus Christ – that is, following the longstanding consensus of the church, Calvin proceeded on the basis that what the scriptures are literally about is not a concept or timeless truth, but the suffering, obedience, death, and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth.

The fact that other so-called ‘non-literal’ modes of interpretation such as allegory appear in Calvin's exegesis should not necessarily, however, be seen as a betrayal of Calvin's commitment to literal interpretation, but rather as evidence of the elasticity of the concept. For Calvin, metaphorical or allegorical interpretations may, to a limited degree, be ascribed to the literal sense, but they must not offend, subvert, or be given independent or equivalent status alongside the literal rendering of the basic story about Jesus depicted in the Gospel narratives.

This essay demonstrates that the literal sense in Calvin is a much more supple notion than many have assumed, especially when one considers his Harmony of the Gospels. Contrary to modernist assumptions and in contrast to a strict, direct identification between signa and res, a tight, irresidual, one-to-one correspondence between what is written and what is written about, Calvin's approach to literal interpretation allows for what Frei called ‘breathing space’.

The question concerning conflicting truth claims so often at the center of theological discussions of religious pluralism has not shown signs of resolution insofar as the debates have proceeded from within the framework of propositional discourses. Among other reasons, this is in part due to the inadequacies of language to capture and communicate transcendental realities, in part due to the variety of interpretative systems associated with the religions, and in part due to religious truths claims as inviting inhabitation and practical embodiment rather than just describing objective realities. The thesis proposed here is that a pneumatological approach to the diversity of religions provides hitherto untapped resources for the theological understanding of religious truth. Building on the narrative of Pentecost in Acts 2, it is suggested that the Spirit's being poured out upon all flesh enables us not only to register the values of particular and distinct claims to truth, but also to engage such truths in some ways ‘from the inside’. This preserves the otherness of the religious other even while enabling interreligious dialogue.

The purpose of this article is to look at how the Lord's Prayer, with its scriptural base (Matt 6:9–13) and frequent use in late medieval piety, came under careful scrutiny at the Reformation: Luther retained it as central to catechesis and worship; Calvin regarded it as an essential guide to the character of all prayer, but was cautious about its liturgical use; and Thomas Cranmer took a conservative approach, so that it appeared in all the services of the Book of Common Prayer and sometimes twice. Richard Hooker, the late Elizabethan theologian, had to defend Prayer Book usage against Genevans in the English church, who were suspicious of ‘vain repetitions’ – the Geneva Bible's translation of Jesus' warning about prayer (Matt 6:7) – and sought to base his defence by seeing the prayer as an essential part of all worship, both at the daily offices and at the eucharist. Some of his arguments, however, have not stood the test of time, as witness the revisions of the twentieth century, where the prayer is recited only once at each service, and invariably with the doxology – which Calvin favoured, and which Cranmer did not adopt.

In this essay I strive to exorcize an epistemological demon, the demon of closure. The demon has long haunted theology to devastating effect. It makes chimeric concerns appear urgent, encourages false trajectories of inquiry, fosters unnecessary fears, propagates intolerance, and instigates violence. I begin with Charles Taylor's exposure of the demon in the context of philosophy's free will/determinism debate. Second, I sketch the demon's haunting of the patristic trinitarian and christological controversies, and its recent haunting of theology vis-à-vis the problem of evil. Third, I delineate and champion what I call ‘Chalcedonian reason’ (Taylor calls it ‘revised transcendental reasoning’). Chalcedonian reason emerges in the wake of the exorcism of the demon of closure (and involves significant revision of modern ideas about rationality). I argue that Chalcedonian reason is as old as Job, emerges amazingly triumphant, if unrecognized, in the patristic period, fosters humility and openness to the Spirit, and is wonderfully consonant with Christian theology and spirituality.

Traditional atonement theories (and especially penal readings of the atonement) are being challenged because they seem to be based on divine violence and thus seem to condone or contribute to human violence rather than enable human practices of hospitality. In the face of such criticism, this paper argues that attempts to eliminate all violence from atonement theology do not contribute to the flourishing of hospitality but imply an erasing of boundaries necessary to counter unjustified violence and to safeguard the possibility of God's eschatological hospitality. Specifically, the paper critiques three stepping stones used in the defence of non-violent theories of the atonement. They are (1) the definition of violence as inherently negative, to which the paper opposes the possibility of the Augustinian notion of justified violence as an act of love; (2) the ‘fall model’ of Constantinianism which erroneously regards penal atonement theories as the outcome of the fourth-century Christianizing of the Roman Empire; and (3) the abandoning not just of penal atonement theories, but necessarily of each of the three main models, since each defends God's involvement in violence. The paper then argues that a penal aspect is indispensable to safeguard both God's absolute eschatological hospitality and its incarnation in human relationships.

How do a generous orthodoxy and contemporary feminist theology relate and work together, if at all? Can feminist theology have something to say to a generous orthodoxy other than blatant critique? Orthodoxy is seen as that view expressed in the rule of faith as early as Irenaeus and Tertullian, and is a constellation of beliefs which link Creator with Christ, OT with NT, and which employs the interpretation of scripture ‘according to itself’. A definition of generous orthodoxy means a Christ-like submission to the Other, and reasoning about God, three in one, through meditation on the scriptures and tradition of the church such that one's soul is turned to praise. A simple definition of feminist theology is ‘the radical notion that women are people too’ (so Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, Sharing Her Word: Feminist Biblical Interpretation in Context, 1998). Can these two ways of envisioning the theological task work together, and if so, to what extent? With key doctrines and concepts of feminist theology such as patriarchy, women's experience, feminist consciousness, one questions the fit between orthodoxy and feminist theology, but of course this is purposefully so on the basis of feminist principles and dogmas. We will examine and compare the construction of sin, Christology and the trinity in feminist theologies and generously orthodox theologies to clarify the discussion.

This is a book that has achieved some notoriety. It was criticised by some rabbis and as a result Dr Sacks rewrote a few passages for a new, revised edition. These changes will be discussed below, but in the book as a whole Jonathan Sacks has again used his gifts of learning, wisdom and accessibility to illuminate a range of concerns of fundamental importance to the future of humanity.