‘Promise and fulfillment’, ‘Verheissung und Erfüllung’, is a familiar phrase in New Testament theology. It has furnished the title for at least one notable book, and occupies considerable sections of other works in the New Testament field. It is a well-known fact, too, that, in some senses at least, it belongs also to the Old Testament scene. It is possible, as an article by W. Zimmerli illustrates, to tell the Old Testament story under the same title.

The relation of the so-called ‘mystical’ to the so-called ‘juridical’ aspect of Paul's theology has been frequently discussed. While Albert Schweitzer thought that the doctrine of justification by faith was no more than a ‘side-crater’ in the Pauline theology, Rudolf Bultmann considered the idea of a participation in the destiny of Christ a Gnostic influence not really fitting into the Pauline pattern of thought. This disagreement is not of merely historical interest; behind it lies the central theological problem of the significance of Jesus' life, death and resurrection for us today. Is this significance to be expressed in the categories of an example to be followed or a forerunner, who opens the way ahead for us, or are the categories of sacrificial or vicarious death more adequate? At first sight, the two patterns seem to contradict each other. According to the first, the believer dies with Christ; Christ's death becomes the believer's death; according to the second, Christ dies under the curse of divine judgement, lest the believer undergo this judgement. However, the first observation that we make in the Pauline texts is the coincidence of both lines in the same sentence: II Cor. v. 14: ‘One has died for all; therefore all have died’; I Thess. v. 10: ‘Christ died for us so that whether we wake or sleep we might live with him.’

Après 450 ans, la critique du texte du Nouveau Testament n'est plus à I'âge des progrès fulgurants — mais d'ailleurs a-t-elle jamais connu cet âge heureux? J'espère avoir au moins fait pressentir l'ampleur des travaux qui lui restent à accomplir si elle veut respecter intégralement ses sources et leur histoire. Par la force des choses, ces travaux seront de plus en plus longs et spécialisés, affaires d'équipes et d'institutions plus que de personnes. On ne peut donc que souhaiter voir ces équipes et ces institutions s'étoffer en hommes et en moyens, se multiplier et collaborer à I'œuvre commune dans un esprit que ne gêne aucune sorte de frontiêre, mais avec le souci primordial de mener à bien, pour longtemps, les tâches fondamentales de documentation.

L'éude des traditions patristiques et liturgiques relatives à la date de la Cène amène à examiner les témoignages anciens qui se rattachent au mercredi saint. Cet inventaire a permis de retrouver des textes qui n'avaient pas été signalés auparavant; on ne peut naturellement assurer qu'il soit exhaustif.

Until the latter half of the eighteenth century, the apostolic authorship of ‘the Gospel according to Matthew’ seems to have been generally accepted. But questions and doubts began to arise from different points of view in the examination of what were regarded as the relevant documents; and it would be a reasonable assessment of the general opinion of current scholarship to say that, whilst it may be agreed that Matthew is probably in some sense behind the Gospel that bears his name, there are few, if any, who would claim for him complete responsibility for the work. Yet, in the second, third and fourth centuries of the Christian era, the authorship of Matthew was not merely unquestioned: it was repeatedly and positively affirmed. These affirmations, however, have been subjected to close scrutiny, and even the basic declaration of Papias of Hierapolis, a declaration that belongs to the earlier part of the second century, has been used to refute the claim to apostolic authorship. It is the purpose here to examine the early evidence again, in the hope of finding some solid ground in the critical morass where so many seekers are apt to lose their way.

‘If you do not understand this parable’, says Jesus to his disciples in St Mark's gospel, with reference to the parable of the sower, ‘how can you understand any of the parables?’ The saying is certainly not meant to indicate that this parable is the most easily understood of all that Jesus told. It indicates rather that the parable of the sower is fundamental; that it is concerned, in some way, with the innermost secret of Jesus' proclamation of the kingdom of God. That this is so is further indicated by the fact that the parable serves to introduce a section about Jesus' preaching in parables and that the conversation which ensues is concerned with two questions, the significance of Jesus' use of parables as a whole, and the meaning of this parable in particular. Such is the case in Mark; the extent to which Matthew and Luke are in agreement must be examined later.

Most modern editions of the New Testament have in Mark x. 46 the following reading: καὶ ἔρχονται εἰς ’׀εριχὼ καὶ ἐκπορευομένου αὐτοῦ ἀπὸ ’׀εριχὼ καὶ τῶν μαθητῶν αὐτοῦ καὶ ὄχλου ἱκανοῦ ὁ νἱÒς Τιμαίου Bαρτίμαιος, τυφλὸς προσίτης, ἐκάθητο παρὰ τὴν ὁδὸν I do not think that there is any reason for not accepting this reading as the original one (although we can never be quite sure). But several variants are as I think of great interest for the history of the text. To begin with, D supported by 61 258 481 and Origen (partly) has ἔρχεται instead of ἔρχονται and this reading is also presupposed in many Old Latin MSS. (a b d ff i r: uenit). This alteration, which has many analogies, corresponds with the following ἐκπορευομένου. More important, however, is the continuation. There are many witnesses which instead of ἀπὸ ’׀εριχὼ have ἐκεῖθεν. This variant is also to be found in D and Latin MSS (a b d f ff i q r: inde), and is moreover supported by ϴ and 700, although these MSS have ἐκεῖθεν in another place, namely not until after the words τῶν μαθητῶν (αὐτοῦ). Another MS with many interesting readings, 565, has first ἀπὸ ’׀εριχώ and then later, in spite of this, ἐκεῖθεν. This last text is obviously a contamination of two readings, the original one with ἀπὸ ’׀εριχώ and a revised one with ἐκεῖθεν. For it is surely evident that ἐκεῖθεν was put in as an amendment, in order to avoid the repetition of the town-name. The presupposition then of course is that the Vorlage had this repetition. That is of some interest, as the words καὶ ἔρχονται εἰς ’׀εριχώ are missing in B prima manu (and 63). The revised text with ἐκεῖθεν thus can even help us to reconstruct the original text, as it can be booked here as a witness against B. How the text of B* is to be explained is another question, but it is near at hand to think that this is another amendment in order to avoid the repetition and to get a more apt beginning for the pericope.

Shortly before May 1961 two Coptic parchment codices in an excellent state of preservation were discovered. One contains the Gospel of Matthew on 238 sheets, the size of which is 12.5 × 10.5 cm, and is now in Schweinfurt. The other contains Acts i. I–XV. 3 on 107 sheets of the same size and is now kept at the Pierpont Morgan Library. Both were written—by some professional copyists—in a thus far little known Middle Egyptian dialect. The text of Acts, unlike the text of Matthew, shows the characteristics of the so-called ‘western’ text type. Microfilms and photographs of the two codices have been kindly put at the disposal of Professor Kurt Aland for the ‘Institut für neutestamentliche Textforschung’ of the University in Münster/W. It was within the framework of, and in connection with, this institution that the present essay originated.

In the autumn of 1947 Togo Mina, Director of the Coptic Museum in Old Cairo, showed to Jean Doresse a Coptic manuscript acquired the previous year, which we today call Codex III. Doresse recognized its gnostic character and its importance, and began inquiries as to whether there were other manuscripts in the same find, a find dated ‘about 1945’. Parts of one other codex—today called Codex I—were located in the possession of a Belgian antiquities dealer Albert Eid. This incomplete codex was subsequently taken out of Egypt and, via America and Benelux, emerged in Zürich, where it was purchased for the Jung Institute by Mr George H. Page and named the Jung Codex. It was presented to Jung as a birthday gift, and is not, as one usually infers from the literature, the possession of the Jung Institute, but rather of the heirs of C. G. Jung. An agreement to return it to Egypt after its publication has been made in principle. The Gospel of Truth (1, 2) has been turned over to the Egyptian Embassy in Berne, and from there wad returned to the Coptic Museum; however, the tractate On the Resurrection (1, 3), though published, ahs not been thus far returned. What is still in Zürich is in the Leu Bank.

Die meisten und vor allem die neueren Forscher, die sich mit ‘Joseph und Aseneth’ (JA) beschäftigt haben, halten diese Schrift für reinjüdisch. Chr. Burchard hat in seinen soliden ‘Untersuchungen zu Joseph und Aseneth’ nachgewiesen, daß die Schrift nicht aus essenischen oder therapeutischen Kreisen stammt, daß sie von Hause aus griechisch abgefaßt war und daß sie vermutlich in Ägypten entstanden ist. Dagegen dürfte seine Behauptung ‘Es gibt… in ihr keinen Satz, der nicht jüdisch sein könnte’, mit dem er die gegenwärtig herrschende Ansicht über JA zusammenfaßt und sich zu eigen macht, von einigen Beobachtungen her, wie sie hier vorgetragen werden sollen, in Frage gestellt werden können.

The first two chapters of I Corinthians are an important source for illuminating Paul's understanding of his missionary proclamation and teaching. The evidence is, however, by no means unambiguous and has been variously assessed. At one extreme stands a view such as that of Hans Windisch, who believes that Paul's christology here, as elsewhere, has been decisively influenced by Jewish wisdom teaching. Completely in the opposite direction goes the recent work of Ulrich Wilckens, who rejects any essential relationship between Paul and wisdom theology. Wilckens's studies represent a prominent tendency in recent scholarship and well merit more detailed exploration than the outline that is possible here. According to this scholar the Corinthian opponents are gnostics. Their wisdom is derived not from Greek rhetoric but from a revelatory theology whose chief offence to Paul is that it denies significance to the cross. Yet in the crucial section, I Cor. ii. 6–16, Paul himself would almost appear to be the gnostic, so similar are his words and ideas to gnostic views. The apostle's language here stems, however, from the Corinthian theology, not from his own characteristic thought. What Paul intends to do is in fact to attack the gnostic christology; but since he actually shares many ideas with the gnostics, this section, despite its intent, could actually be taken entirely in the gnostic sense. The paradoxical result of Wilckens's argument is that in those sections where Paul describes the Corinthian wisdom, one finds only Paul's derogatory and inaccurate judgement, while in the section where Paul would seem to be speaking of his own wisdom teaching, one can see the real view of the Corinthians.

In letzter Zeit ist die Frage nach dem Verhältnis Jesu zu den Pharisäern häufig diskutiert worden. Nicht nur die neuen Jesusdarstellungen, sondern auch mehrere Spezialuntersuchungen haben sich dieses Themas angenommen. Aber alle diese Arbeiten unterscheiden sich durch die grundverschiedene Beurteilung der neutestamentlichen Aussagen. Während etwa G. Bornkamm von der ‘Feindschaft’ zwischen den Pharisäern und Jesus spricht, E. Haenchen sogar von einer ‘Todfeindschaft’, wird andererseits von J. Klausner erklärt, Jesus sei ‘in Wirklichkeit ein Pharisäer’ gewesen, ‘der nur den Schwerpunkt der pharisäischen Lehre verschob’, und bei P. Winter findet sich sogar der Satz: ‘Jesus was a Pharisee.’ Zwischen diesen unvereinbaren Positionen finden wir noch mancherlei Kompromifißlösungen, die von solchen Autoren vorgeschlagen werden, die zwar die Evangelienberichte nicht ohne weiteres als tendenziös und falsch beiseite schieben wollen, sie aber doch ihrer theologischen Relevanz berauben möchten. Soführt R. T. Herford, dessen Buch kürzlich eine Neuauflage erlebte, die Opposition Jesu gegen den Pharisäismus darauf zurück, ‘daß Jesus mit der Tradition, die er angriff, nicht sehr vertraut war’, die Auseinandersetzung war also nur Folge eines bedauerlichen Mißverständnisses. Ähnlich will S. Zeitlin die Kontroverse zwischen Jesus und den Pharisäern verharmlosen, indem er sie auf verschiedene Ansichten über die ‘nature of society’ zurückführt: ‘Jesus and his disciples, being idealists, dreamed of establishing a Utopian society’; diesem Wunsche mußten sich natürlich vernünftige staatserhaltende Kräfte entgegensetzen.

The broad title of this article can be misleading. That is the reason why I have added a sub-title pointing out that I am not going to present a study of the whole complex of ideas connected with the Pauline and Johannine concept ‘to know God’. Because of the limited space that an article offers such a study could hardly be a complete one, and, in any case, the fine analyses of the knowledge of God in Paul and John which already exist make it unnecessary. As the sub-title indicates, my intention is to discuss one point only in this field, namely the Greek philosophical principle ‘like by like’ as an essential element in John's and Paul's understanding of how one gets to know God, and thus to contribute to the discussion of how the Hellenistic way of thinking influenced them or rather how two outstanding Early Church theologians adapted their argumentation to a Hellenistic pattern. By analysing primarily the two passages I Cor. ii. 6–16 and John i. 1–18 and interpreting them in the light of the Greek principle, it will be clear that the authors of these passages were familiar with the principle. It might seem strange to choose these two passages that are very much debated as chief sources of an exposition of such a complicated idea as ‘to know God’, particularly as at first sight the idea does not appear to be the most important one in I Cor. ii and the conclusive verb γινώσκειν occurs only once in the Prologue, i. 10. Nevertheless I think that both passages give evidence of a usage of (or an adaptation of the theological reasoning for) the principle ‘like by like’. This has not been stressed sufficiently in earlier studies.

Luke xv. 11–32, an elaborate, circumstantial, in fact the longest, parable, calls now for the endeavours of a symposium. This paper cannot do more than open the legal aspects, which have already been handled by Professor David Daube and Professor Jean Dauvillier, and the symbolic aspects, which have been ignored. A complete investigation of the symbolism is not to be looked for until the midrashic links between the parable and its associated passages in Deuteronomy have been expounded by an expert in the technique of delivery of sermons amongst the Jews. Our parable's place in a lectionary cycle has been identified, and the implications of this also must be brought out: in part these will overlap with the work just alluded to, and in part they will reveal the early church's view of the parable's implicit significance. This work, however, will relate to the stage at which the parable became a written document, and to its worth for those who first used it in liturgy. This paper is concerned with Jesus’ own meaning, so far as we can rediscover it from the shape and content of the parable in the light of contemporary attitudes. Though this means covering ground already covered often, and much current exegesis will be confirmed, there is more by way of subtle statement and even more subtle contention in the parable than could have been realized before. Close studies of the vocabulary from Wetstein to J. Jeremias do not help us much at this stage of refinement; but it is interesting to note that in Jeremias's view, well substantiated as to the greater part of the parable, traces of the semitic origin of the document before us are visible throughout.

‘Il y a beaucoup de raisons d'affirmer — constatait G. Kuhn il y a plusieurs années déjà — que le livre de la Sagesse jouissait d'une grande estime chez les auteurs du Nouveau Testament. On le lisait assidûment et ses traces se retrouvent aujourd'hui aussi bien chez saint Paul que dans l'Apocalypse, dans les Evangiles et, peut-être, dans I'Epître aux Hébreux et dans l'Epître de Jacques.’

My purpose here is to suggest the possibility that Matthew used Mark and a primitive version of Luke in the composition of his Gospel. Although I can only point to some thematic and structural patterns, I find that both word studies and detailed analysis of passages support this possibility. The hypothetical primitive version of Luke resembles what we know of Marcion's Gospel both in content and in arrangement. It consists of the bulk of the material in Luke between the pericopes on John the Baptist and the Passion narrative, inclusive. It contains all the Marcan material in Luke, all the material common to Matthew and Luke, and much of the material peculiar to Luke. I shall refer to it as ‘Primitive Luke’.