The two-dot-plus-bar ‘distigme-obelos’ symbols in Vaticanus signal added text. Five characteristic features distinguish their obeloi from paragraphoi. Like scribe B's LXX obeloi, all eight distigme-obelos symbols mark the location of added text. A gap at the exact location of a widely recognised, multi-word addition follows every distigme-obelos except one with distinctive downward dipping strokes. The Vaticanus Gospels are so early that they have virtually no high stops, a feature older than even 75. Consequently, they contain none of these additions, but the Vaticanus epistles have high stops throughout and contain their one distigme-obelos-marked addition, 1 Cor 14.34–5. Contemporaneous LXX G has corresponding distigmai.

Hebrews 1.5-14 has proved difficult to integrate within the author's larger literary project. More recent scholarship has emphasized rightly that the catena centers upon the Son of God's royal enthronement, but the question as to why the author should begin his argument this way has yet to be answered. In this essay I argue that the event which the catena describes, namely the Son's enthronement to the heavenly world, is critical for the entire logic of the author's argument regarding how humanity's salvation is accomplished. The likelihood of this conclusion is bolstered by the rarely recognized inclusio between 1.5-14 and 12.18-29. Finally, I briefly examine four texts which suggest that the author envisions the Son's narrative, particularly his entrance into God's heavenly realm as described in 1.5-14, as a soteriological necessity, and pattern, for humanity.

This article springs in part from a critical consideration of Professor F. L. Cross's I Peter, a Paschal Liturgy (Mowbray, 1954), and is an attempt, first, to define difficulties which seem to me to stand in the way of accepting his thesis, and then to offer an alternative suggestion. But first of all, I must express my gratitude to Dr Cross for the stimulus of his lecture and my admiration for the skill and brilliance with which he handles the material. My only hope is that my own attempts at a solution of the problem of I Peter are advanced with anything like as much modesty as his: for I have no doubt that they will need the more clemency.

In the discipline of New Testament studies there are particular reasons for critical vigilance concerning the ways in which historical reconstructions can be shaped by a sense of both religious and ethnic or racial superiority. This risk applies specifically to the contrasting depictions of Judaism and Christianity, and it is notable that, despite the changing phases of scholarship, the tendency to replicate a dichotomy between an ethnically particular Judaism and a universal, open, trans-ethnic Christianity persists. As one facet of a critical consideration of this dichotomy, this essay considers two specific texts that contribute to the ethnicisation of early Christian identity: 1 Corinthians 7 and 1 Peter 3. In the former, Paul develops two principles that are significant in the ethnicisation process: endogamy as norm for the contraction of marriage (1 Cor 7.39) and the assumption that children with a Christian parent (even in a so-called ‘mixed marriage’) are part of the Christian community (1 Cor 7.14). The later household codes further develop this idea that the household is a place for the reproduction and generation of Christian identity. In 1 Pet 3.1–6, part of the letter's household code where mixed marriage is again an issue, two features of the text are of particular interest: its focus on a ‘way of life’ (ἀναστροφή) and the connections drawn between conduct and ancestry. In both of these respects, 1 Peter seems to be constructing a form of group-identity that shares features in common with Jewish notions of group-belonging in the period. The ‘ethnicising’ features of these texts raise questions about any categorical contrast between Jewish ethnicity and Christian inclusive trans-ethnicity. Why then is such a depiction of the Christian achievement – which in many ways parallels depictions of modern Western political liberalism – so enduring and appealing within the discipline? It is suggested that the answer must be sought in the religious and ethnic or racial location of that scholarly tradition.

Will man das Geschehen, von dem Paulus Gal 2. 11 ff., berichtet, und das wir gewöhnlich mit der um möglichste Wertungsfreiheit bemühten Bezeichnung ‘der antiochenische Zwischenfall’ benennen, in seinem Wesen erfassen, dann muß man sich zunächst die Art des einzigen Zeugnisses vergegenwärtigen, das wir über es besitzen. Schon lange ist darauf aufmerksam gemacht worden, ‘daß diese Erzählung eine gelegentliche ist und in einem Zusammen-hang stattfindet, welcher den Erzähler in keiner Weise zu einer vollständigen Mittheilung des Vorganges an sich selbst und in allen seinen Einzelheiten verpflichtet’.1 Und weiter: ‘die Erzählung des Paulus ist ein Ganzes, das zwar eine unvollständige Mittheilung des nur gelegentlich berührten Vorganges, aber in sich selbst wohl geschlossen ist und keine Ergänzung duldet’.2 Paulus will in der Tat in Gal 1 f. nicht über ein Stück Geschichte des Urchristentums informieren, sondern er will mit gezielter Spitze sein Verhältnis zu den Jerusalemer Autoritäten, insbesondere zu Petrus, darlegen. Darauf ist der Bericht über seinen Lebensweg ausgerichtet, er mündet in dem uns beschäftigenden Abschnitt. Paulus will zeigen, daß sein Evangelium und Apostolat zugleich unabhängig von und identisch mit dem der Jerusalemer ist, die vor ihm Apostel waren.3

Rhoda, the slave maid (παιδισκη) in Acts 12.13–16, has been seen as a classic example of a touch of realism that lends authenticity to Luke's narrative: the vivid and precise detail of her flighty joy presents such a candid snapshot of her individuality and eccentric Christian faith that it could only come from a historical source, perhaps the eyewitness reminiscence of Rhoda herself. While less willing than earlier commentators to accept the description in its final form as factual, more recent scholars still perpetuate the goal of discerning the historical core behind the account and continue to read it as a piece of realistic drama. Many, to be sure, have detected in the scene the presence of other elements, such as comedy and extraordinary suspense, but this idea is downplayed or subordinated as further evidence of realism; a few discount the idea as a modern reading. Nonetheless, a consensus emerges: Rhoda's dramatic function in the narrative is to heighten realism. Some scholars then discover a further theological theme of liberation: Rhoda's genuine, assertive behaviour to speak her mind ‘breaks down’ the oppressive hierarchy between master and slave – revealing Luke's so-called subversion of slavery as a social institution – and the subsequent vindication of Rhoda's speech as trustworthy authenticates and uplifts the Christian witness of women (cf. Gal 3.28).

II Corinthians xii. 1–1O gives us a glimpse into the life of Paul the visionary and the resurgence of interest in transcendental experiences has brought new attention to Paul's experience of the third heaven. Research into drug-induced experiences sheds no greater light on Paul's account but, as might be expected, relating the episode to ‘charismatic’ experiences has proved more fruitful.

Scholars are gradually relinquishing the belief that the Corinthians were Gnostics. As a noted student of Gnosticism concludes, we find in Corinth ‘at most only the first tentative beginnings of what was later to develop into full-scale Gnosticism’. In fact, a kind of agnosticism has emerged with regard to the early Christian community in Corinth. ‘The position in Corinth cannot be reconstructed on the basis of the possibilities of the general history of religion.’ I suggest, however, that it is possible to determine with some degree of precision the nature and background of the ‘proto-Gnosticism’ in Corinth: Hellenistic Jewish religiosity focused on sophia and gnosis.

While presupposing the widely accepted conclusion that the Gospel of John, like the other Gospels, is generically a bios, this article examines more distinctive features of this Gospel which it shares with ancient historiography: precise topography, precise chronology, selectivity, narrative asides, and claims to eyewitness testimony. In these respects the Gospel of John would have appeared to contemporary readers more like historiography than the Synoptics would. The problem of historiographical representation of speeches is solved differently by John from the way the Synoptics deal with it, but John's method of composing discourses and dialogues conforms to good historiographical practice as well as does that of the Synoptics.

Hebrews is the most accomplished writing in the New Testament. The unknown author's command of the art of rhetoric is universally recognized. He was evidently well educated by the standards of Hellenistic education of the time. His use of Greek is more cultivated than that of Paul, and he makes greater use of rhetorical devices than Luke. Spicq gives an impressive list of the stylistic features and rhetorical devices that are to be found in Hebrews. But every reader can appreciate the fine style and persuasive power of the author's writing.

It is admitted that the celebrated Pericope de Adultera is a piece of authentic tradition going back to the beginnings of the church, though it is extracanonical and its text evidently suffered from its independent wanderings before it found its way into the canonical gospels. It was readily used to show that, as our Lord was supposed to have shown mercy, if not actually unasked forgiveness, to an adulteress, so the church ought to deal leniently with offenders. Other doubtful interpretations have been and are placed on the passage; and the story, as it lies baldly on the paper, might well give offence. Perhaps this helps to explain why it was not used by the compilers of our gospels. In any case it has its obscurities, and it is the purpose of this paper to attempt to clear them up. From the material submitted here it may be possible, by the use of strict reasoning, to recreate what actually took place.

In 1830 F. C. Baur tried to demonstrate that the early Church was split up into Jewish Christians and Gentile Christians, but more than a hundred years later H. Köster wrote: ‘…a label such as, for example, “Jewish-Christians” is misleading insofar as everyone in the first generation of Christianity was a Jewish-Christian anyway…’. In spite of this observation it still seemed possible to organize a ‘colloque’ on Jewish Christianity and to publish a book with many contributions to this subject. But it cannot be denied that the word ‘Jewish Christian’ poses a problem which we shall study in the present essay. First we shall give a brief survey of the study of Jewish Christianity from F. C. Baur to the present time in order to show the development of the word ‘Jewish Christian’, and with the results of this survey we shall then try to show what can be regarded as belonging to the field of Jewish Christianity at the present moment.

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.

Philemon 10 gives a clear indication that the slave Onesimus and the apostle Paul came to be together in a place of imprisonment. How exactly this transpired is a matter of debate. Some have simply asserted that ‘Paul somehow got to meet Onesimus’, or that Onesimus ‘came into touch with Paul’. Others, however, have offered one or more of several hypotheses.