The Bible has a fascinating history. Before the advent of the printing press it was a scarce commodity. Laboriously copied by hand in the monasteries, only a few copies were available here and there. These copies were so prized that they were often fastened into position with chains to prevent their being stolen. Once the printing press had been invented, the story changed. Now the Bible could be made available in quantities by mass production.

The printing press did not solve all the problems connected with the publication of the Word of God, however. When printing came into use, the Latin Vulgate was the chief source of religious truth. Yet hardly anyone could read Latin. And even for those who could read it the Vulgate was a problem. It contained thousands of errors, not the least of which was one that changed the thinking of Martin Luther. The Vulgate translated Jesus’ words in Matthew 4:17, “Do penance.” The KJV and the RSV translate them, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” It was from the printed Greek text of Erasmus that “Luther had learned that the original simply meant ‘be penitent.’ The literal sense was ‘change your mind.…’ This was what Luther himself called a ‘glowing’ discovery. In this crucial instance a sacrament of the church did not rest on the institution of Scripture” (Roland Bainton, Here I Stand, New York, 1950, p. 88). Men like Luther quickly discerned that if the Bible were to be brought to the people, it would have to be translated into the language of the reader, despite the intense and continuous opposition of the church.

Luther made the Bible available in the German vernacular. This was a laborious task in which he encountered innumerable problems. He wrote a letter to a friend saying: “I am all right on the birds of the night—owl, raven, horned owl, tawny owl, screech owl—and the birds of prey—vulture, kite, hawk, and sparrow hawk. I can handle the stag, roebuck, and chamois, but what in the Devil am I to do with the taragelaphus, pygargus, oryx, and camelopard (names for animals in the Vulgate)?” (ibid., pp. 327, 328).

The Bible, kept from the masses for so long but now available in more than a thousand tongues, has been, and is, a controversial book. Indeed, no book has been more widely examined and attacked. No other book has had so many books written about it. And no book has remained more solidly in the affections of men with no signs of the law of diminishing returns setting in. The enemies of the Bible have sought to eliminate it from the counsels of men and nations. They have done all they can to relegate it to the scrap heap of forgotten literature and to cause men to despise it. But the critics of the Bible die, and their works crumble to dust. The Word of God abides forever. Like the hammers of a blacksmith that beat upon the anvil without destroying it, so the critics who beat upon the Word of God disappear. Their hammers are cast away, and the anvil remains to test the hammers of men of generations yet unborn. These too will follow the example of their predecessors. Their hammers also will be broken. But the Word of God will go on forever.

In America the Bible is an open book, available to everyone. But to many Americans it is a closed book, either because they leave it unread or because they read it without applying its teaching to themselves. No greater tragedy can befall a man or a nation than that of paying homage to a book left unread and of giving lip service to a way of life not followed. By this attitude men pass judgment upon the Book; some day they will discover that the Book has passed judgment upon them.

Timely Though Ancient

One of the chief reasons why men disregard the Bible is the notion that a book as ancient as this one cannot speak to the needs of today. Men somehow think that in an age of scientific achievement, when knowledge has increased more in fifty years than in any preceding centuries, this ancient book is anachronistic. But the Bible is perennially relevant. It had a message for the first century. It has a message for the twentieth century. And it will have a message for the fortieth century, if the world lasts that long.

The main thrust of the Bible is alien to the general orientation of our day. It proclaims absolutes at a time when relativism is the prevailing philosophy in the Western world and when ultimate truth is regarded by many as ineffable. The philosophy of relativism is not new. It has been current coin among thinkers of the East for at least as long as the philosophy of absolutes has been current in the West.

This tradition of absolutes is at the heart of the Hebrew-Christian religion. If it were to disappear, there would be no hope for mankind. Certainly relativism cannot do more than assure us that nothing is permanent and eternal, that all things are subject to flux. The religion of today may be untrue tomorrow. The ethics of today may be completely reversed tomorrow. Social mores then become time-structured and subject to the changing ideas of men. The homosexuality of today may be the norm of tomorrow, the monogamy of today may yield to the polygamy of tomorrow, and the lie of today may be true tomorrow.

But once man has committed himself to the absolutes of the Hebrew-Christian tradition, the picture changes. Absolutes remain fixed principles by which man guides his course. They are true yesterday, today, and forever. They are not subject to the vicissitudes of circumstance nor superseded by the latest fancies of science and sociologists. Absolutes give man something on which he can depend and by which he can steer a straight course.

It is in the Bible that God has spoken, and he has not stuttered in his speech. His revelation need not be rewritten by every generation nor his thoughts revised and altered by the questing minds of men. His principles are enduring, but they need to be applied reasonably and intelligently to the problems we face in a world where scientific advance has outpaced spiritual perception.

Need For Modern Prophets

The great lack of our day is the failure of the Church and Christians to make known the relevancy of the Bible to current movements and problems. There is a “Thus saith the Lord” for a world which faces apocalyptic catastrophe. We need prophets neither of doom nor of gloom. Rather do we need men who know what God has said and who will speak with complete abandonment as prophets of God to the nations.

Perhaps the most vexing problem in our culture today involves the American Negro. This problem finds its best and happiest solution for all when the principles of the Bible are accepted and applied by men of good will. Everywhere men are saying that the color of one’s skin is immaterial. Everywhere the consciences of men are declaring that segregation is wrong, that it is wrong to refuse a man a seat in a train, or to deny him entrance to a restaurant, or to keep him from voting, because his skin is black. But the significant fact is that this view derives from the Bible. Therein we discover that God is no respecter of persons, that there is neither Jew nor Gentile, male nor female, bond nor free, but that all are one in Jesus Christ. This is no new truth. It is as old as the revelation of God. And we must be reminded of an additional fact—if this truth were to be considered relative instead of absolute, then the day might come when segregation could be justified. But under God’s absolutes in Scripture we may confidently affirm that prejudice based on the color of a man’s skin is wrong.

The Bible is also relevant to politics and passes judgment upon men who fall short of the moral principles that must undergird sound political life. Does God have a word for a culture? Does God have something to say to those in government? Indeed he does. As men and nations sow, so shall they reap. There are eternal moral principles that will, when broken, be paid for by the generation that has broken them or by generations as yet unborn. The history of mankind is filled with examples of men who have defied the laws of God. Always and inevitably the price of sin has had to be paid. In the ruins of the city of Pompeii, which was buried beneath the ashes spewed forth from Mount Vesuvius, there are places that defy description. They are kept locked, and the guides will permit no woman to enter and look. The obscenity and depravity equal that of Sodom and Gomorrah. Surely the cataclysm that overtook this city was a fitting climax to its sin.

The Bible also speaks to labor and capital, to unions and big business. It outlines the principles that are to undergird their relations. It forbids not only the actions of a corrupt labor leader, but also the collusion of price-fixing electrical giants. It not only prohibits featherbedding by labor; it also prohibits the employer from oppressing his employees. It declares that the laborer is worthy of his hire and should be paid a fair wage. But it also asserts that the laborer should give a fair day’s work for a fair day’s wage. There are no problems between labor and capital that cannot be settled fairly when men of good will apply the principles of Scripture to their business lives.

One must admit that the biblical principles are rarely applied to the problems mentioned, because men do not wish to be bound by them. Selfishness, pride, and the hundred other sins to which men are addicted keep them from following the second law of love, “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” This law of neighbor-love works when it is applied; it does not generally operate because men do not choose to obey it. Although sometimes men are not aware of the compelling principles of the Word of God, most often it is not ignorance but indisposition. Men feel that the idealism of these principles is impractical for use in everyday life and would endanger their success, and they deliberately spurn the commandments of God. In the long run, however, racists, immoral politicians, corrupt labor leaders, and unethical businessmen will reap as they have sown.

The Bible perennially speaks to men. To every age it speaks racially, politically, socially. It speaks to men in business, in school, and in the home. Its principles are as enduring and valid today as they were when first they were given by God as a part of his divine revelation.

Harold Lindsell, vice-president and professor of missions at Fuller Theological Seminary, holds the degree of Ph.D. from New York University. This essay is condensed from an address he gave at the 1963 convention of the Christian Booksellers Association in Washington.

The observation has been made that “history students seem to retain a religious affiliation more often than those in other disciplines” (Dexter Perkins and John Snell, The Education of Historians in the United States, p. 44). Whatever the reasons for this, the student of history, by retaining such affiliation in a secularistic society, runs the risk of having his objectivity as a scholar questioned. Already there has been much discussion of the problem of religious commitment and historical writing. It is a problem which bears further examination, however, not only because it relates to a significant number of historians, but because the entire Western historiographical tradition is entering a crucial phase. Thus the question may be asked, What is the role of the Christian historian in this new phase? To answer this we must know something about the nature of the new phase.

A historical epoch is ending, an epoch which has been called “The Age of Vasco da Gama”—not because Vasco da Gama himself possessed such extraordinary significance, but because he symbolizes the most important feature of the age. Although there is no denying the variety and the splendor of “non-Western” civilizations in the past half-millennium, it is still true that this period has been one in which the Western world, having seized the initiative in making contacts beyond the limits of its own center, has expanded its horizons to encompass the entire world—at the height of its power subordinating much of that world. Through that contact and subordination the West has profoundly influenced all societies and cultures, but the “end of empire” is introducing a new phase of contact.

The Western world has experienced an internal crisis, while the peoples of the non-Western world have been assimilating forces created in the West into their own cultural traditions. I am not speaking here of a “decline of the West” in terms of a historical cycle or trying to stir up images of crumbling ruins. The point is that over the past five hundred years the West has occupied a peculiar place in world history. The concerns of Western historiography, as varied as they are, have been dependent to a great extent on this peculiar relation between West and non-West. With this relation now changing, a major task facing the Western historian is the renewal of the attempt to view world history in its totality; but before this is possible there must be increased study and broader comprehension of the history and cultures of non-Western societies.

The recognition of this need is reflected by the increased interest in the study of Asia, the Near East, and Africa. No one will pretend, however, that this study has been either intensive or extensive enough as yet. These are still “new” fields of historiography, and our “experts” are only pioneers; the patterns of procedure and interpretation are still fluid.

The role of the committed Christian in this examination is obscured by the increasing tendency to use the term “Post-Christian Era” as an appropriate historical description, even in reference to the Western world alone. Implicit in this usage is the idea that to write history from a “Christian point of view,” a practice that has long been suspect, is now anachronistic. If such is the case, then the Christian historian has no part in the “new” historiography; a man may be both a Christian and a historian, but he has to keep these roles separate. Thus it becomes necessary for our purpose to examine the term “Post-Christian Era.”

An argument sometimes employed to support this usage is an appeal to numbers. Not only in the world as a whole but even in the “Christian countries” of the West Christians are a minority (though “Christian” be only loosely defined as a practicing member of a church professing a tie with primitive Christianity). But when have Christians ever been a majority in the world? And has there not been at least a substantial minority of non-Christians in every epoch of Western history?

More striking is the argument that the Christian ethos of Western civilization is breaking down, that we are living in a world increasingly dominated by values which are a-Christian, if not anti-Christian. While the argument from numbers is superficial, this one states the real problem.

It is common to speak of Western civilization as the product of a fusion of the classical, Judeo-Christian, and Teutonic traditions. Indeed it would be idle to deny that the prevailing ethical views in the West were molded by Christianity. Further, Christianity can be cited as an instrumental force in the development of most other aspects of our culture and civilization. In the crisis of confidence that has been so apparent in the twentieth century, it is obvious, first, that the traditional morality and ethos of Western civilization are being transformed and, second, that a secularism indifferent and even alien to Christianity is flourishing. If these things are true, is it not the logical conclusion that we live in the “Post-Christian Era”?

A Man-Centered World

It is the awareness of this change that is occurring that has produced the term under discussion. It is the change itself that makes the term possible, for it is based on the man-centered orientation of the modern world. Viewed from this vantage point, Christianity is essentially an ethic, a code of behavior for men. Put in another way, Christianity is identified with the men who profess themselves Christians, and in these terms is obviously Western. Western civilization has been a Christian civilization to the extent that the Christian ethic was one of its roots and that the majority of Christians have been Westerners.

But in the first place, Christianity is not simply an ethic; and in the second place, while Western civilization has been a product of Christianity, Christianity is not coterminous with Western civilization—though there are many who believe it to be. Jesus Christ was not the founder of Western civilization, but the redeemer of mankind. It has been the great failing of Western Christians that they have sought to imprison God’s redemptive power within a human cultural framework. In its essence, Christianity is not bound to any one culture; it is a historic act of God.

When we speak of a “Post-Christian Era” what we are saying is that Western man has failed to carry the Gospel into the world as he was commanded, and that in hiding the light under a bushel he has lost sight of it himself. It is a phrase that is concerned with man, and in this sense it is undoubtedly true. The West has failed both in preaching the Word of God to all peoples, and in practicing the Word in life.

In truth there can be no “Post-Christian Era,” for God sent his only begotten Son into the world to be the one, true, holy, and living sacrifice for all men. The redemption of mankind by Christ is the central fact of history, not because it stands in a cause-and-effect relation with all other events, but because it happened once, for all time and for all men.

If the relation between Christianity and Western civilization is understood in this way, then it follows that the Christian historian is equipped particularly well to exercise a role in the “new” historiography.

For the Christian the central fact of history is the life of Jesus Christ, and especially his crucifixion and resurrection, by which man is provided with some awareness of the manner in which ultimately human history will be judged. For the Christian this central fact is framed by the knowledge that God created the world and man in his own image and that there will come a time when all men will be judged in the light of the promise offered to mankind by Christ Jesus. The Christian is provided with a view of the nature of man explicit in the doctrine of the Fall and with the conviction that God has a purpose in history, but he is not bound by theories of historical development.

There have been numerous attempts to formulate a “Christian philosophy of history,” but these attempts have been hardly more convincing than secular philosophies of history. (By “philosophy of history” is meant an attempt to define a systematic theory of historical development applicable to all times and places.) One of the strengths of Christianity is that, while acknowledging that God does have an ultimate plan, it admits the impossibilities of man’s full comprehension of that plan. At most the Christian has a “view of history.” And a most important result of this view is that it frees the historian to use a wide variety of interpretative devices to understand a given historical problem.

The Christian’S Intellectual Freedom

God has a purpose in history which the Christian identifies as the redemption of man from the consequences of the Fall. The total process by which this purpose is fulfilled composes the ultimate plan of God, but the plan is beyond our comprehension. Within the limits of God’s design, however, man is confronted by the need to formulate historical interpretations which are valid in terms of human understanding. To bind oneself to a philosophy of history that does not allow for the variety of human natures and of human cultures is to impede the use of man’s reason and thus to prevent the possibility of full human comprehension. The Christian is free to use the intellectual capacity of man to its fullest potential and in full freedom—a freedom which does imply, however, an overwhelming responsibility.

It is this freedom which gives the committed Christian a particular advantage in approaching the historiographical problem created by the ending of the “Age of Vasco da Gama.” Since he is not unalterably committed to a set interpretation of history—and note that our patterns of interpretation are themselves the products of a particular tradition—the Christian historian is free to approach the history of non-Western cultures and to examine them as entities; to view India, for example, in terms of Indian culture rather than in terms of Western “philosophical” categories.

This is not to say that the role of the Christian historian is an easy one. He too has been influenced by his environment; but by the nature of his faith he possesses a greater freedom to understand than do his fellows, a freedom limited only by the knowledge that God alone is infinite.

William J. McGill, Jr., assistant professor of history at Alma College, Alma, Michigan, has the B.A. from Trinity College, M.A. and Ph.D. from Harvard University.

Through my college days in France I was an agnostic. Strange as it may seem to the reader, I graduated without having ever seen a Bible. To say that the education I received proved of little help through front-line experiences as a lad of twenty in World War I would amount to quite an understatement. What use, the ill-kept ancient type of sophistry in the philosophic banter of the seminar, when your own buddy—at the time speaking to you of his mother—dies standing in front of you, a bullet in his chest? Was there a meaning to it all? The inadequacy of my views on the human situation overwhelmed me. One night a bullet got me, too. An American field ambulance saved my life and later restored the use of my left arm. After a nine-month stay at the hospital, I was discharged and resumed graduate work.

Needless to insist that the intellectual climate had changed as far as I was concerned. Reading in literature and philosophy, I found myself probing in depth for meaning. During long night watches a few yards from the German trenches, as I looked at swollen bodies dangling in the barbed wires, I had been strangely longing for …—I must say it, however queer it may sound—for a book that would understand me. But I knew of no such book. Now I would in secret prepare one for my own use. And so, as I went on reading for my courses, I would file passages that spoke to my condition, then carefully copy them in a leather-bound pocket book I would always carry with me. The quotations, which I numbered in red ink for easier reference, would lead me as it were from fear and anguish, through a variety of intervening stages, to supreme utterances of release and jubilation. The day came when I put the finishing touch to “the book that would understand me,” speak to my condition, and help me through life happenings. A beautiful, sunny day it was. I went out, sat under a tree, and opened my precious anthology. As I went on reading, however, a growing disappointment came over me. Instead of speaking to my condition, the various passages reminded me of their context, of the circumstances of my labor over their selection. Then I knew that the whole undertaking would not work, simply because it was of my own making. In a rather dejected mood, I put the little book back in my pocket.

At that very moment, my British-born wife—who, incidentally, knew nothing of the project I had been working on—appeared at the gate of the garden pushing the baby carriage. It had been a hot afternoon. She had followed the main boulevard only to find it too crowded. So she had turned to a side street which she could not name because we had only recently arrived in the town. The cobblestones had shaken the carriage so badly that she had wondered what to do. Whereupon, having spotted a patch of grass beyond a small archway, she had gone in with the baby for a period of rest. At this point in her story, she had a moment of hesitation. As she resumed her account, it turned out that the patch of grass led to an outside stone staircase which she had climbed without quite realizing what she was doing. At the top, she had seen a long room, door wide open. So she had entered. At the further end, a white-haired gentleman worked at a desk. He had not become aware of her presence. Looking around, she noticed the carving of a cross. Thus she suddenly realized that this was a church—a Huguenot church hidden away as they all are, even long after the danger of persecution has passed. The venerable-looking gentleman was the pastor. She walked to his desk and heard herself say, “Have you a Bible in French?” He smiled and handed over to her a copy which she eagerly took from his hand; then she walked out with a mixed feeling of both joy and guilt. (I should confess at this point that I had once for all made the subject of religion taboo in our home.) As she now stood in front of me, she meant to apologize. This was the way things had happened … She had no idea … But I was no longer listening:

“A Bible, you say? Where is it? Show me. I have never seen one before!”

She complied. I literally grabbed the book and rushed to my study with it. I opened it and “chanced” upon the Beatitudes! I read, and read, and read—now aloud with an undescribable warmth surging within … I could not find words to express my awe and wonder. And all of a sudden, the realization dawned upon me: This was “the book that would understand me.” I needed it so much that I had attempted to write my own—in vain. I continued to read deep into the night, mostly from the Gospels. And lo and behold, as I looked through them, the One of whom they spoke, the One who spoke and acted in them, became alive to me. The providential circumstances amid which the Book had found me now made it clear that while it seemed absurd to speak of a book understanding a man, this could be said of the Bible because its pages were animated by the Presence of the Living God and Power of his mighty Acts. To this God I prayed that night, and the God who answered was the same God of whom it was spoken in the Book. A decisive insight flashed through my whole being the following morning as I probed the first chapter of the Gospel of John.

I still proceed on the old theme of “the Book that understands me,” the main difference being that I now capitalize the B. My devotional life springs from my conversations with Holy Writ. Whenever I am confronted with difficulties, with a puzzling situation, or with a call on which more light is needed, I turn to a set of similar circumstances as presented in Scripture. Or it may be that as I read the Bible as a normal, daily practice, a passage “jumps at me” and lights up the way I must go. Whatever the case may be, I pray over the page, waiting upon Him who speaks through it in a joyful eagerness to do his will. I have learned to beware of putting too much trust in the immediate feelings that may thus be awakened in me, for I know that at such a time, first impressions may amount to mere wishful thinking. Rather, I allow life to take its course, in this way emulating the faith of the Centurion. What is it that the Lord is trying to show me as actual situations develop? Thus I learn to “read” daily happenings in the light of Scripture. The margins of my Bible are marked with dates together with brief reminders of occasions when such a passage “spoke” to me and directed me.

An unexpected result of this approach has been its effect on whatever amount of scholarship I may be credited with. Thus it has sharpened my sensitiveness to the working of the Word in the achievements of such outstanding Christians as Pascal. Some of my students have caught the vision and proceeded upon it. It profoundly moves me to see how the faltering steps I have taken in the light of Scripture have become in their case a firm, steady walk. I think, for example, of some admirable young scholars who are interpreting patterns of Christian thought and life in great writers such as Milton, Bunyan, and Shakespeare. So true it is that any real achievement generally points to an enlightened insight of youth brought to fruition by maturity.

Theological hairsplitting may well suggest to some that a dividing line should be drawn between the scholarly and the devotional approaches to the Bible. All I can say is that things have not worked out this way in my case. My experience of the Bible, unsophisticated though it has continued to be, has actually inspired and directed the best of my efforts as a liberal-arts student.

Voice For Today

Samuel, is that you …

Do you hear nighttime voices, too?

Lie down, lad, listen and obey the One

Whose torments augur judgment on my day.

The Word of hope, before I die

May come to you. Alas, tis Hophni

That I hear within the sacred door

Carousing with some drunken whore,

And Phinehas, with unctious, cadenced

Beat, intoning prayers and cheating

On the offered meat.

What need more sin to weigh?

Samuel, what does Jehovah say?

ARTHUR O. ROBERTS

Dr. Emile Cailliet held professorships in French literature at Scripps College, the University of Pennsylvania Graduate School, and Wesleyan University (Middletown, Connecticut) before going to Princeton Theological Seminary, where he was Stuart Professor of Christian Philosophy until he became emeritus professor in 1960.

The multiplication of translations of the Bible has doubtless prompted more than one bewildered reader to rephrase the Preacher’s melancholy observation, “Of the making of many Bible versions there is no end!” (Eccles. 12:12). During the past twenty years—to go no further back—at least eighteen new English renderings of the entire New Testament were issued, in addition to reprinted editions of at least eighteen earlier translations. The latter are the versions made by Alexander Campbell, E. J. Goodspeed, George Lamsa, James Moffatt, Helen E. Montgomery, James M. Pryse, Joseph Smith, Jr., Father F. A. Spencer, John Wesley, Richard F. Weymouth, and Robert Young, and a slightly modified form of The Twentieth Century New Testament, as well as the King James, the Revised Version of 1881, the American Standard Version of 1901, and several Roman Catholic versions, such as the Challoner-Rheims, the Westminster, and the Confraternity versions.

The new translations of the New Testament published since 1944 include three widely used versions, namely the Revised Standard Version (1946), that by J. B. Phillips (1947–1958), and the New Testament portion of the New English Bible (1961). The other fifteen versions, which are less widely circulated, are the following: Msgr. (later Bp.) Ronald Knox’s translation of the Latin Vulgate (1944); the Berkeley Version by Gerrit Verkuyl, based chiefly on Tischendorf’s Greek text (1945); Erwin E. Stringfellow’s translation of the Westcott-Hort Greek text (two volumes, 1943–1945); George Swann’s translation o£ Westcott-Hort (1947); the Letchworth Version in Modern English translation by Thomas F. Ford and R. E. Ford (1948); the New World Translation of the Jehovah’s Witnesses (1950); the Sacred Name Version of the New Testament of our Messiah and Saviour Yashua, attributed to A. B. Traina (1950); the Authentic Version prepared by an anonymous translator (1951); the Plain English rendering of C. K. Williams (1952); the translation from Souter’s Oxford Greek text by George Albert Moore (Col., USA, Retired), described as “new, independent, individual” and limited to 250 copies (1953–1954); the Roman Catholic rendering by J. A. Kleist and J. L. Lilly from Bover’s Greek text (1954); the Authentic New Testament translated by Hugh J. Schonfield (1955); Kenneth E. Wuest’s Expanded Translation (three volumes, 1956–1959); Frances E. Siewart’s Amplified New Testament (1958); and the New Testament in the Language of Today translated by William F. Beck of the Missouri-Lutheran Church (1963).

It is appropriate that, on the eve of Bible Sunday, the relative merits of several of the more widely circulated English versions of the New Testament be compared and evaluated. But first it will be necessary to consider why new translations are needed.

The Need For Revisions

The recurring need for new translations of the Bible arises from several circumstances, the three most compelling being (a) advances made in lower (or textual) criticism of the New Testament manuscripts, (b) the acquisition of more precise information about Greek lexicography and syntax, and (c) changes in the use of the English language. Of these the first is obviously the most basic, for without applying textual criticism one does not know which of several divergent manuscript readings of a given passage deserves to be regarded as the original text.

In 1611 the only Greek text available to the King James translators was the so-called Textus Receptus. This was the corrupt form which the Greek Testament had taken after having been copied and recopied for a thousand or more years, with the accumulated modifications introduced by scribes over the centuries. Fortunately for the Bible translator today, during the past one hundred years literally scores of ancient manuscripts of the New Testament (in Greek, Syriac, Coptic, and other languages) have come to light; these texts are much older than the Textus Receptus and therefore are usually more reliable, being much less contaminated through repeated recopying.

Notable advances have also been made in knowledge of the meaning of the Koine dialect of the Greek language, in which the books of the New Testament were written. The discovery during the past half century of tens of thousands of Greek papyri preserving everyday documents in the language of the common people has enabled scholars to enrich our lexicons of New Testament Greek and to clarify many puzzling points of New Testament grammar.

Besides the significant gains in these two areas, another consideration is that the English language itself is changing, as to both the meaning of words and their usage. For example, though the word “let” meant “to hinder” in Shakespeare’s day, it has an entirely different meaning in twentieth-century parlance; therefore the King James rendering of Second Thessalonians 2:7 now conveys precisely the opposite of Paul’s meaning. Again, in older English “prevent” meant “to precede,” and thus the 1611 version could properly translate Psalm 119:11, “I prevented the dawning of the morning.” Today this rendering makes the Psalmist appear somewhat ridiculous.

For these reasons, therefore, it is necessary that new English translations of the Bible be made in the interest of accurately presenting the Word of God in the words of man. In response to the invitation of the editors of CHRISTIANITY TODAY, the following paragraphs attempt to assess the strengths and weaknesses of four widely used English versions of the New Testament.

The King James Version

In Great Britain it is customary to refer to the 1611 version of the Bible as the Authorized Version. There is no evidence, however, that the version was ever officially authorized by the Crown or by Convocation. If, on the other hand, its authorization could be proved, it still could not properly lay claim to being the Authorized Version, for several other English versions of the Bible have also been authorized. For this reason it is more appropriate to refer to the 1611 version as the King James Version, for it was James VI of Scotland (who as the successor to Queen Elizabeth in 1603 became James I of England) who appointed a committee of nearly fifty of the best biblical scholars of the day to revise the then current edition of the Bishop’s Bible, first issued in 1568.

In the amazingly short time of two years and nine months this committee of revisers produced what is generally acknowledged to be “a well of purest English undefiled.” Published at a time when the English language was still young, vigorous, and malleable, the version is characterized by majestic rhythm and splendid cadences that are unmatched. Such an opportunity comes perhaps only once in a nation’s annals, and the translators’ performance matched the times. In short, they created what is certainly a literary masterpiece.

Curiously enough, the King James Version at first had to overcome opposition in certain quarters. Hugh Broughton, one of the most learned as well as most disputatious scholars of his day, had not been appointed to the committee of translators. At the appearance of the revision, therefore, it is not surprising that Broughton published a book denouncing it as an incompetent and heretical work. “I had rather be rent in peces with wild horses,” he declared, “than any such translation by my consent should be urged upon poore Churches.” When the Pilgrims came over to the shores of New England in 1620, they brought with them copies of the Geneva version of 1560, for the 1611 version was too modern for their liking. In fact, the popularity of the Geneva version was so great that it continued to be printed until 1644 and was the version used by William Shakespeare, John Bunyan, and other prominent literary men of the period. Eventually, however, the intrinsic merits of the King James Version became more and more widely appreciated, and quite apart from any official authorization it came to be popularly regarded as the English Bible.

The Revised Standard Version

For the reasons mentioned earlier, the need for a new English version of the Bible began to be more and more apparent. The Revised Version of 1881–1884, issued in this country as the American Standard Version of 1901, was altogether too wooden and literalistic a rendering to be commended to general use. In the words of Charles H. Spurgeon, it was “strong in Greek, and weak in English.” In order, therefore, to conserve more of the melody of the English of the King James Version, while at the same time taking into account the advances made in biblical scholarship, the International Council of Religious Education voted in 1937 to authorize a revision of the American Standard Version of 1901. Two panels of translators, representing a variety of denominations, were appointed, with Dr. Luther A. Weigle, dean of Yale Divinity School, as chairman. The New Testament panel completed its work first, and the Revised Standard Version of the New Testament appeared in 1946. When the Old Testament was added in 1952, about eighty changes were made in the text of the New Testament.

The work of the revisers has been both praised and denounced, depending on the point of view of the one passing judgment. Some complained that the committee had gone too far in altering the language of the King James Version, while others thought it was too conservative and timid in introducing changes. Charges of modernism were leveled against the revisers because, for example, the phrase “through his blood” was no longer included in Colossians 1:14. In this case it was overlooked that the words are not present in the oldest and best manuscripts, that they got into the Textus Receptus by scribal conflation with the parallel passage in Ephesians 1:7, and that already in 1901, the American Standard Version had eliminated the spurious words.

Since the RSV has been widely available for a good number of years and has been adopted by many denominations in the United States and Canada, space need not be taken here to quote sample passages. Today many would agree with the evaluation given by a reviewer of the RSV writing in The Scotsman of Edinburgh: the review concluded, “In general it may be claimed, whatever criticism may be directed to this or that minor detail of text or diction, that here we have the most significant and adequate of existing revisions, the one most tenacious in its style and form of the tradition of the English Bible.”

The Phillips Version

It was during the Second World War amid the London blitz that an Anglican parish minister of scholarly bent began a new translation of the New Testament. The first section, entitled Letters to Young Churches, appeared in 1947 and instantly became a best seller. It was dedicated to the task of conveying to the modern reader the full import of the original in an “easy-to-read” style. To attain this end the translator, according to Phillips, must be “free to expand or explain” the text. By following this policy, Phillips has produced what is better described as a paraphrase than a strict translation. At the same time, however, his vivid style and imaginative use of modern idiom have helped to transform the New Testament for many readers from a “foreign” and rather tedious book into a vibrant, contemporary document. Breaking through the thick crust of traditional terminology, Phillips’ rendering has enabled many a modern pagan to hear afresh the living oracles of God.

The chief criticisms to be leveled against Phillips relate to the Greek text underlying his rendering, and his tendency to over-modernize the language of the New Testament. Though he does not specify which edition of the Greek text he followed, it appears that in numerous passages he used the medieval Textus Receptus rather than a critically established text, such as that of Nestle or Westcott and Hort. Such deliberate obscurantism in textual criticism is hard to defend.

The other criticism, that of over-modernization, will be differently evaluated by various readers. Some will not be offended that in the American edition of Phillips Mark is made to refer to a “nickle” (12:42) and John to a “quarter” (Rev. 6:6), or that Jesus speaks of “ten dollars” and “a hundred dollars” and “fifty dollars” (Luke 19:13, 16, 18). One must ask, however, whether it is legitimate to transform the “holy kiss” into a “handshake,” usually a “handshake all round” (Rom. 16:16; 1 Cor. 16:20; 2 Cor. 13:12; 1 Thess. 5:26; 1 Pet. 5:14). The statement, “whom I delivered to Satan” (1 Tim. 1:20) becomes in Phillips’ words, “I had to expel them from the Church.”

Here and there Phillips’ paraphrastic rendering alters the theology of the original. For example, the Johannine doctrine of the Incarnation is modified by inserting the word “Man” in such passages as “Somewhere among you stands a Man you do not know” (John 1:26) and “This is really the Man Who will save the world” (John 4:42). (In the 1958 edition the latter reads, “This must be the man who will save the world.”) In neither passage does the Greek contain the word for “man.” The divine predestination involved in the last phrase of First Peter 2:8 (King James, “Whereunto also they were appointed,” RSV, “as they were destined to do”) becomes merely “a foregone conclusion.” The present writer does not suggest that Phillips deliberately set out to modify the doctrinal implications of these passages. At the same time, it is obvious that, whether intentionally or not, the theological point of view of the original has been altered.

The New English Bible

It was in 1946, the same year that the Revised Standard Version of the New Testament was published, that plans were initiated for making a British rendering of the Bible “in the language of the present day.” (It may be mentioned that participation of British scholars in the making of the RSV was invited, but owing to the war and other circumstances this proved impracticable.) Unlike the RSV, which preserves cadences of “Biblical English” from the Tyndale and King James tradition, the new rendering was to be not a revision but a totally fresh translation into “timeless English.”

The philosophy of translation that underlies the New English Bible differs from that of both the King James and the Revised Version of 1881. The translators of the latter two sought to render each word in the original with an equivalent word in English, and to distinguish words added for the sake of English idiom by printing them in italics. In contrast, the committee under the leadership of Professor C. H. Dodd undertook to translate concepts and whole clauses, rather than individual words, by English equivalents. Instead of a literal translation, this procedure results in what may be called a literary or, at times, paraphrastic rendering. The point may be illustrated by comparing Matthew 25:26 in several versions. The King James reads, “Thou wicked and slothful servant.” Phillips also keeps the two adjectives and a literal rendering of the Greek noun: “You’re a wicked, lazy servant!” The New English Bible, however, makes no attempt to render word for word, but conveys the idea with the pungent, “You lazy rascal!”

Judging from what the British translators produced, the style which they followed seems to involve a preference for (1) short sentences, (2) simple rather than complex sentence structure, (3) variety rather than repetition, and (4) contemporaneity of diction. It will probably be agreed among English stylists (despite the adverse criticisms of such notable literary figures as T. S. Eliot and Robert Graves) that the over-all impression made by the new version is good. Its sentences are clean and vigorous; there is a directness and a virility in both language and style, particularly apparent in the narrative sections of the Gospels.

On the other hand, the manifest intention of avoiding anything that might smack of repetition or of consistency in rendering a Greek word or phrase by the same English each time it appears means that in parallel passages the reader cannot trust the English text to indicate faithfully the degree of likeness and difference. For example, in Matthew’s Gospel Bar-Abbas appears, whereas in the other Gospels he is called Barabbas. In two Gospels “a cock crew,” in two “the cock crew.” In John’s Gospel the NEB has four ways of rendering the characteristic phrase of Jesus, “Amen, amen, I say to you” (KJV, “Verily, verily …”).

It is regrettable that occasionally a preconceived idea seems to be imposed on the text. For example, the Greek word ekklesia means “church” or “congregation.” It is not by accident that in Acts the NEB reserves the translation “church” for the Jerusalem ekklesia, whereas every ekklesia outside Jerusalem is a “congregation.” As a result there are no “churches” in Acts, only congregations. The same kind of stereotyping appears in the Epistles, where likewise there are no “churches,” only “the church,” and where the plural ekklesiai is translated “congregations” or by a variety of other renderings.

The translators of the new version have not hesitated to encroach upon the domain of the commentator by employing paraphrastic expansions when they believed that a literal rendering would be less satisfactory. Thus, in First John 2:15–17 the word kosmos, which means literally “world,” is rendered “godless world.” “In Asia” (Rev. 1:4) becomes “in the province of Asia.” “Tongues” (1 Cor. 13:8) is interpreted as “tongues of ecstasy.” “Angel” becomes “guardian angel” in Matthew 18:10 and Acts 12:15.

The net result of having aimed for a literary rather than a literal translation is summed up by the principal reviewer of the NEB in The Times Literary Supplement (London; March 24, 1961), who concludes with the judgment: “If one’s sole concern is with what the New Testament writers mean, it [the new version] is excellent. It is otherwise if one wants to find out what the documents really say.”

So far, only the New Testament of the NEB has been published, and it is obviously premature to attempt anything more than a provisional assessment of the version’s worth as whole. The phenomenal sales of the first printings suggest that a great many more people in Great Britain and America are reading the Word of God because of the appearance of the NEB than otherwise would, and for this one must be profoundly grateful. At the same time, it is surely not being unmindful of the honest and diligent labors of the NEB panel of translators to observe, with Professor H. F. D. Sparks of Oriel College, Oxford, that “whatever its merits as literature may be, not only its declared aim to be ‘contemporary’ in its English, but also its manifest concern to avoid at all costs any trace of literalism in its renderings, make it a far less satisfactory basis for serious study of the Bible than either the RV or the RSV” (Hastings’ one-volume Dictionary of the Bible, revised edition, 1963, p. 259).

Conclusion

What should be the attitude of the average church member toward these and other English versions of the Bible? Doubtless the multiplicity of translations causes a certain confusion in the minds of many as to what the true Word of God is in any given passage. But this uncertainty is unavoidable, for to provide a translation that is absolutely satisfactory in every detail is impossible. Even if such a translation could be produced for one generation, it would cease to satisfy the next generation because of inevitable change in the English language.

Certainly it is advantageous to use, along with the version on which one was nurtured, several others that can serve as guides in passages that either are perplexing or have become stale through one’s familiarity with traditional phraseology.

As indicated in the opening paragraphs above, numerous versions of the Bible are available today. Some are definitely partisan or eccentric. One example of each may be cited. The New World Translation of the Jehovah’s Witnesses introduces anti-Trinitarian theology at crucial points (for example, “the Word was a god” [John 1:1] and “by means of him [Christ] all other things were created” [Col. 1:16], where the word “other” is an indefensible addition unsupported by the Greek). The Amplified New Testament seems to many readers to be a strange way in which to handle a piece of literature. At frequent intervals the “translator” inserts in brackets a variety of English synonyms and comments, from which the reader is to choose.

What of the future? Obviously no one in his senses would desire to stifle the work of honest scholarship, inspired by a sincere desire to put the living oracles of God in still clearer and more adequate English form. At the same time, the multiplication of new versions sponsored by rival publishers with an eye solely on economic profit is far from being desirable.

The wide variety of renderings already on the market rightly leads many persons to conclude that the need for additional translations is diminishing. What is needed, rather, is the “translation” of the Word of God into the daily lives of those who profess to be followers of the living Word!

Bruce M. Metzger is professor of New Testament language and literature at Princeton Theological Seminary. His most recent book, entitled Chapters in the History of New Testament Textual Criticism, was awarded a $1,000 prize by the Christian Research Foundation.

This symposium presents the testimonies of seven Christians regarding their personal use of the Bible. What they have written comes out of their commitment to Christ and their use of the book that makes him known. It also illustrates the kind of witness that many thousands of our readers and many millions of other Christians throughout the world would gladly bear, if given a like opportunity.

The uses of the Bible are varied. Ministers go to it for sermons, theologians study its doctrines, textual and historical critics deal with its manuscripts and authorship, and students of literature read it for its beauty of expression. But behind the many uses of the Bible there is one that Christians, regardless of their special interests, neglect at peril of their souls’ health. That is the personal use of Scripture. Because the living God speaks to man in its pages and because Christians need to listen to what their Creator and Redeemer says to them, the day-by-day use of the Bible is as indispensable to the Christian life as prayer.

What makes the Word of God a living force in this as in any age is what the individual does with it. “The Bible,” said Matthew Henry, “is a letter God has sent to us.” And the personal use of the Bible is the opening and reading of that “letter” coupled with the determination by God’s grace to do what it says.

Each of the contributors to this symposium was asked to tell in several hundred words something of what the Bible means to him and how he uses it. The statements are in each case preceded by a brief identification of the writer.

Martin J. Buerger

Professor Buerger, formerly chairman of the faculty at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and now director of the School for Advanced Studies at the institute, is a world-renowned scientist in the fields of crystallography and mineralogy.

What one’s personal use of the Bible is depends on what he thinks of the Bible. If one regards it as the Scripture inspired by God, it then becomes not just another piece of literature but a unique piece of literature, worthy of more than casual attention. I take this view.

The Bible is the literature from which man has learned of God. If one accepts the idea of God at all, this is the place to get authentic information about him. All other sources are either at best tradition, or at worst man’s own philosophy backed by his limited imagination.

If one had a perfect mind, it would be sufficient to read this biblical literature once. Mine is far from perfect. I find that I can read almost any brief piece of literature twice, and the second time grasp some new facet of meaning which I missed in the first reading. This phenomenon appears in multiplied form in reading the Bible. I have read it many times, and continue to do so regularly. I believe that I understand its broad theme, yet on each new reading features appear which I had missed on earlier readings.

If one had a perfect memory, then the precepts of the Bible, once grasped, would last indefinitely. Mine is far from perfect. I find the Bible worth reading again and again to remind me of many things that I already know, but that are forced into the back of my mind by the daily traffic of new impressions. I need to be reminded, for example, that God expects me to use his absolute standards as my model, but that, even when I fall short of these, he does not reject me, but accepts me because, in accordance with his instructions, I accept Christ as my substitute. I can always seem to remember the substitute part very well, but I find it important to be reminded again and again of God’s absolute standard. I find it important to be reminded that, of those to whom much is given, much is required (Luke 12:48). Surely this applies to me as if it were underlined; yet I tend to forget it.

So, because of my finite mind, I benefit by reading the Bible; consequently I do this regularly. But I find that regular Bible reading has another benefit. It puts me in a frame of mind for prayer. Accordingly, it is my practice to do my regular Bible reading early in the morning, and then address God in prayer. Surely there is no consistency in professing that one believes in God and yet not taking advantage of his standing invitation to make requests of him. “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him” (James 5:5). What scientist can afford to ignore this biblical invitation to understanding? Not I.

Billy Graham

Dr. Graham has unquestionably proclaimed the Gospel to more people than any other preacher in Christian history. And few men in the ministry have traveled more widely and have been more constantly busy than he.

Among us preachers there is a tendency to read the Bible for ammunition, and it is indeed the great source-book for our preaching. But it is much more. It is strength and it is sustenance.

Through the years of experience I have learned that it is far better to miss breakfast than to forego a session with His Word. Not that Bible reading is some kind of religious fetish which brings good fortune, but that I myself lack decisiveness and purpose and guidance when I neglect what is more important than my necessary food.

For many years I have made it a practice to read five Psalms and one chapter of Proverbs every day. The Psalms show me how to relate my life to God. They teach me the art of praise. They show me how to worship—how to dwell “in the secret place of the most High” (Ps. 91:1).

The Book of Proverbs shows us how to relate our own lives to our fellow men. The first verse of Scripture I ever memorized was taught me by my mother from the Book of Proverbs: “In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths” (3:6). These twelve words formed the foundation for the faith which later transformed my life.

I find that unhurried meditation on the Word of God is of great value. When in the morning I read a chapter and meditate upon it, the Holy Spirit brings new shades of meaning which are thrilling and illuminating. Sometimes His Word makes such an impact on me that I have to put the Bible down and get up and walk around for a few moments to catch my breath.

If the Bible does not inspire us in the privacy of our rooms, then we can be assured that our messages will not move those who listen to us preach. If it does not reach our hearts, it will never reach their hearts. If it does not stir us, it will never stir the hearers.

Our day at home begins with Bible reading and prayer. I know it is old-fashioned, but so are breathing, eating, and sleeping. The people who help us around the house join the family, and together we read a portion of God’s Word, meditate upon it, make a comment, and then have prayer.

On my desk are many things—a telephone, a dictating machine, a pen, and a Bible, among other things. They are on my desk because they work. The Bible is the one indispensable item. If ever I get to the place where the Bible becomes to me a book without meaning, without power, and without the ability to reprove and rebuke my own heart, then my ministry will be over, for the Bible has been far more than my necessary food.

Mark O. Hatfield

The Hon. Mark O. Hatfield is Governor of the State of Oregon. Before entering political life, he was dean of students and associate professor of political science at Willamette University, Salem, Oregon.

God is not a mysterious Being who has isolated himself completely from us. He has taken the initiative to communicate with us in a way we can understand. He has given us the Bible, which is so readily available to us for reading, studying, exploring, discussing, and teaching. In the Bible we learn who God is and what he desires of man. Christ established the pattern for our relation with God, with our neighbors, and with society. He makes his own power available to us for a more abundant life.

I do not regard the Bible as a bedtime story to prepare me for a restful night. Nor is it simply an order of worship to be used on Sunday mornings. Since it is the source of God’s truth, we need to be saturated with it. We need to delve into it systematically, with enthusiasm, with curiosity, and with willingness to apply God’s will as it unfolds to us. Often I need the peace and refreshment of the Book of Psalms. On other occasions, I need the assurance of God’s unfailing, unchanging, eternal, and personal love for me as it is wonderfully revealed in passage after passage of the New Testament.

It is through the message of the Bible that we meet Jesus Christ, and become committed to him. Then naturally and increasingly our selfish motives and actions are revealed to us. We seek God’s forgiveness and move to a higher plane of living. This constant interaction with God, through the Scriptures, is the only way to maintain a healthy Christian life.

Charles R. Landon

Major General Landon, USAF (Ret.), served with distinction in the armed forces for many years following his graduation from the United States Military Academy at West Point. Prior to his retirement he was director of Statistical Services of the United States Air Force.

The Bible is the Word of God. It contains the Creator’s own account of the beginning of the universe, the origin of man, his fall from grace, and the means of his redemption, and an outline of the course of human history. True, some of this may be in the briefest summary form, but careful, thorough study reveals sufficient detail, not found anywhere else, to place otherwise divergent modern trends and events in proper perspective. Most important, the Bible is the only source of knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

We are in the midst of a headlong race into Godless materialism, in which very articulate proponents of one “ism” or another tell us that the people are no longer satisfied by or with the “myths” of biblical teaching, that the world has outgrown the old values and standards, that new ones must be devised more in keeping with the times—standards and values and mores which will meet modern man’s need for purpose in his life and for self-determination to help him find his place in the world. The Scriptures, as in Second Peter 2:2, tell us that this situation will arise, and in such passages as Matthew 22:37–39; Matthew 6:33, and Micah 6:8, they tell us the remedy for it.

The Bible tells me that I must be right with God before I try to do anything else. It may not be difficult to act justly and love mercy, but to walk humbly with my God takes a great deal more than lip service.

Personally I look to the Bible for indications of what a Christian’s attitude should be toward the social and political questions of the day, for one must view and act on these as an individual rather than merely as a member of an organized church. Here again it seems to me that Micah 6:8 and Matthew 22:39 are the guide, and that walking humbly is the key. How to apply these is the problem. It is one’s personal relation to God which counts, and when this is what the Lord wants it to be—yieldedness to him—everything else falls into place, whether the world is noticeably affected or not.

I am not an expert Bible student, but I do know Christ as my personal Saviour; and although I do not consider myself a good example of a born-again Christian, I have been a church member for some fifty years. I know that the Bible is true in all respects and is the foundation of the Christian faith. I read and study it not only to see its almost incredible application to all history and the problems of today, but primarily to learn what I can of my salvation, which the Lord Jesus provided when he died for my sins on Calvary.

Carl G. Morlock

Dr. Morlock is professor of clinical medicine in the Mayo Foundation, Graduate School, University of Minnesota, and is a consultant in internal medicine at the Mayo Clinic, Rochester, Minnesota.

I find the Bible a limitless source of encouragement and inspiration. It affords a verbal assurance of God’s plan on behalf of my eternal destiny. It reminds me of my responsibility for correct attitudes toward God and my fellow man.

I have never been satisfied to think of the Bible as simply containing God’s word, or as a record of man’s yearning after heavenly things. I accept it in its entirety as God’s Holy Word and approach it in expectation of meeting him on virtually every page. Because of this, I find certain parts of it speaking to me in a special way even though all portions are not equally meaningful. Problem areas in this wonderful Book have not been stumbling blocks, because I have found that, as enlightenment comes, these have an exquisite way of fitting into the mosaic of the biblical message.

What is the biblical message to me? It is that I am a needy soul and can find rest only in the security of God’s presence; that God has made this possible through an unique act on his part; and that my position is assured by an act of faith alone. Recognition of my personal frailties makes me glad that my assurance is based on Someone outside myself and is not dependent upon personal merit.

I try to set aside some portion of each day for Bible reading and prayer. When, however, the press of work crowds out time that should be given to these matters, I find that my personal life suffers.

Though a panoramic view of the Bible is necessary and has been helpful to me, its message becomes of greatest value when I take particular portions and find what relation they bear to other areas of the Book. I then discover that all the authors basically have a similar theme to present. The Bible becomes a cohesive unit. Answers to daily problems come from the Book itself. It begins to speak as the voice of God, and its study becomes an ever fresh experience.

Though my assurance of a right relation to God is all important, I recognize also a deep responsibility to live a consistent holy life. As an increasing familiarity with its message becomes my daily experience, I appreciate the Bible more and more as a secure guide for living in a world which seems to be ever more uncertain of what is the best in human conduct.

Robert M. Page

Dr. Page is director of research at the United States Naval Research Laboratory in Washington, D. C. He is a widely known authority in the field of radar and electronics.

My first approach to the Bible was one of learning its contents, from which I was given faith in God’s plan of salvation in acceptance of atonement through his Son, Jesus Christ.

In later years it became necessary to reconcile alleged incompatibilities between Scripture and my chosen profession in scientific research for military purposes. My own studies of the Bible, stimulated by other men’s expressed ideas, both pro and con, and my personal experience, led me to conclude that: (1) biblical paradoxes are comparable to scientific paradoxes in their challenge to human understanding, and (2) the dimensions of nature are not the sum total of all the dimensions of reality, which must include a world of mind and spirit at present beyond the grasp of science.

Answers to my prayers, together with the military consequences of my scientific research, have convinced me that I was placed in my profession by the will of God for purposes known to him, and only speculated on by me.

There have been in my life, as in most people’s lives, times of unusual stress and trouble. At such times I have found solace in the Psalms, and only those who have needed, sought, and found such solace will appreciate what this means.

For maintaining emotional balance and stable sailing on life’s restless sea, few things can excel reading the Bible aloud in the home. That was practiced faithfully in my childhood home, and it is the practice in my home today.

Herbert J. Taylor

Mr. Taylor is chairman of the board of Club Aluminum Products Company, La Grange Park, Illinois. In 1954–1955 he was president of Rotary International. He is the author of “The Four Way Test” used by Rotary Clubs throughout the world.

My Bible is the most precious treasure I have other than the love of God, the guidance of the Holy Spirit, and the living Christ, my Saviour. Its words constantly influence my thoughts, words, and deeds in my relations with others in my home, in business, and in all other areas of life. I have learned through years of experience the complete truth of these profound words of God found in Isaiah 55:11—“My word … shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.” I am praying that some day I may completely understand the power and authority of that wonderful statement and fully appreciate the great blessing God has given to us in his Word.

In the spring of 1947 I was led to memorize the Sermon on the Mount, the fifth, sixth, and seventh chapters of Matthew. Since that time I have been repeating this message from Christ our Lord every day, because I believe its contains a summary of Christ’s commandments for our daily living. Because I recognized the great blessings I was receiving from the influence for good of the Sermon on the Mount on my thoughts, words, and deeds, I continued to memorize and repeat daily other chapters. I have surely found that “faith comes by hearing and hearing by the word” (Rom. 10:17). I have discovered that there is no better way to obtain complete peace of mind and have one’s faith greatly strengthened than by faithfulness in feeding on God’s Word.

Sin is the source of all our problems, frustrations, and fears, and in the precious Bible I find the remedy for sin and the peace that passes understanding for my time of sorrow.

In John 15:7 we find these words of Christ our Lord: “If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.” I have come to have a deep and abiding faith in these words, as through the years God has heard and answered my prayers regarding problems in my home, in business, in the work of the church, and in social life. I daily praise and thank God for the tremendous blessing of his wonderful abiding word—the Bible.

“We are not here just to promote programs and to push professional interests. We hope to reproduce here the basic experience at Pentecost out of which the New Testament Church arose when they were all together in one place with one accord.” So spoke Dr. Robert W. Burns, president of the International Convention of Christian Churches (Disciples of Christ), on opening night of the annual assembly held last month in Miami Beach. There was indeed the distant sound of a rushing mighty wind, yet it came not from heaven but out of Cuba. Her name was Flora, and she served only to keep attendance down to 6,500.

But Disciples who came to Miami Beach were seeking means to hurl back a tide which seemed to be running against them. Founded on the nineteenth-century American frontier with a view toward unifying Christians everywhere, their body now seemed fractured, racked by uncertainty now on its founding principles, its early momentum slowed to a walk. After a year of travel to the borders of the “brotherhood” (Disciples historically have resisted the fact that they have become a denomination, though they now more readily admit it), President Burns was deeply concerned and talked in terms of sickness and pitiful failure. He cited a 1 per cent gain in world membership during the past decade as compared to 19 per cent for Protestantism as a whole. Spot checks of the 1963 reports indicate a membership drop larger than last year’s net loss of 14,500. “Our evangelism has not lagged for lack of adequate plans,” he said, “but because too many of us lack a deep concern for the salvation of our neighbors’ souls.” And pointing to his audience, he asked: “How long since you were the means through which God added a soul to the church? How long since you even tried?”

Dr. Burns spoke also of division among Disciples: this was later underscored theologically by Glenn Routt, theologian of Texas Christian University, who spoke as a member of a panel of scholars authorized seven years ago to re-examine Disciple “beliefs and doctrines in the light of modern scholarship.” The study has resulted in three volumes entitled: Reformation of Tradition, Reconstruction of Theology, and Revival of the Churches.

Dr. Routt reviewed the early formulation of Disciple tradition, the liberal reformulation of it, and the consequent dislocation as both confronted the modern Protestant theological renaissance. The early Disciples who followed Thomas and Alexander Campbell and Barton W. Stone emphasized the restoration of the New Testament order as the constitution of the Church. Today many Disciple scholars repudiate the idea that the New Testament is a constitution for the Church.

Originally church unity was to come locally through dissolution of denominational loyalties; today the emphasis is on ecumenical conferences composed of denominational delegates. In the beginning creeds were repudiated and theology devalued; now that theology has become a major Christian preoccupation, growing though still small numbers of Disciples see the desirability of affirmations of faith. Baptism by immersion was once a major emphasis; today it represents an “ecumenical stumblingblock,” and Disciples are described as “confused and apologetic” on the subject.

“Disciples’ thought,” said Routt, “seems to be moving toward a ‘kind of synthesis’ of the best perspectives of the Disciple fathers and those of classical Protestant Christianity” along lines of “the new biblical theology, one that avoids both biblical literalism and rationalism.” Not all Disciples are prepared for this journey from the teachings of their fathers. The existence of the conservative and rigidly congregational Churches of Christ is well known. They divided from the Disciples early in this century, partly over Disciple introduction of instrumental music in church services, and now number some two million. Less well known is a serious and widening breach among the 1,800,000 Disciples in the United States and Canada. A host of theologically conservative Disciples, adhering to the original Disciple distinctives, participate in their own separate North American Christian Convention. Having become virtually another denomination, this convention showed its virility last spring when with the National Christian Education Convention it attracted nearly 10,000 conventioneers to Long Beach, California.

Many of the churches represented there no longer report facts and figures to the International Convention, citing theological liberalism in the older body as a prime factor. Several strong race resolutions passed at this year’s Miami Beach assembly have given rise to predictions of further defections in the South to the more conservative convention.

But a more important factor for further transfers of convention loyalties was established by last month’s assembly. It voted for the decisive step on the road to restructure of the International Convention, a process representing a movement in the opposite direction from the Disciples’ traditional policy of congregational autonomy. This confessedly would allow more freedom in the Disciples’ “whole-hearted participation in the ecumenical movement,” and pave the way for possibility of merger with the United Church of Christ or with the other five denominations participating in the Consultation on Church Union originally proposed by Presbyterian Eugene Carson Blake. For ironically enough, the original ecumenical plea of the early Disciples proves more of a hindrance than a help in the current ecumenical move toward church mergers, and Disciple leaders declare that it proved a failure in respect to attaining its goal of church unity. They speak in private of a willingness to sacrifice the churches which will leave the convention over the issue of restructure. This is seen as the necessary price for the greater aim of unhampered participation in future merger talks. They expect restructure to take some seven years.

Elected convention president for the coming year was Dr. W. A. Welsh, pastor of East Dallas Christian Church in Dallas, Texas. At forty-six one of the youngest of convention presidents, he preached his first sermon at the age of eleven. He is a member of the commission on restructure and of the Unity Commission of the Council on Christian Unity. In his latter capacity he participates in the Consultation on Church Union and in conversations with the United Church of Christ.

Dr. A. Dale Fiers of Indianapolis, Indiana, president of the Disciples’ United Christian Missionary Society, was named to a six-year term as the convention’s executive secretary, its highest elective office. He succeeds Dr. Gaines M. Cook, who retires next June after seventeen years in the office. Honored at a special reception, Dr. Cook looked at the “unfinished task of evangelism” and said: “We must sustain each other. This is no time for negative criticisms. Year Book statistics provide a fairly accurate picture of where we stand in evangelism. We have all written these statistics. Let’s face them. Discouragement is least worthy of our response.”

Restructuring The Ncc

A sweeping reorganization of the thirteen-year-old National Council of Churches moved another step toward completion last month at a special meeting of the council’s policy-making General Board in New York City.

Last June the board recommended adoption of a revised constitution for consideration by the NCC General Assembly, to convene in Philadelphia next month. Inasmuch as it is the proposed constitution which empowers the board to “adopt and amend the Council’s bylaws,” the board this time could only approve the “substance and basis” of new bylaws and the proposed new council structure, which it did with relatively little debate. The assembly is then to review the new bylaws and structure, leaving the final wording and completed reorganization plan to be submitted to the board for adoption at a meeting the following June.

The new constitution and bylaws clarify responsibilities of member communions for council policy and work, and re-align the council’s major operating units. A new division of ecumenical development has been added, and provision made for establishment of temporary emergency program units such as the present Commission on Religion and Race.

Centralization of authority over the various NCC agencies is projected. Dr. Henry P. Van Dusen, the former president of Union Seminary, had previously objected to an “intense preoccupation with authority” and spoke of a “hierarchical strait-jacket.” Neither he nor several other leading board members were at this special meeting, attendance being below normal. Council leaders respond that the aim of reorganization is to “simplify” the NCC, though one official indicated that the aim was to get more board members on the various agencies, thus to get them more involved and financially responsible.

The nation’s racial problem was a major concern on the General Board’s agenda. Members listened to a report of the board’s emergency Commission on Religion and Race which somberly declared that little progress had been recorded in public accommodations, voting rights, or housing. It called for “the wisest Christian counsel and most generous churchly resources for the healing of our social ills.” “We have been long on the pronouncement of moral ideals and very short on experimentation and risk.”

The report warned: “In certain parts of the country fanatical white supremacists have stepped up their hard-core resistance to Negro civil rights. The parallels between this situation and conditions which prevailed in Germany when the Nazis took over are frightening in the extreme. There exists now clear evidence that these ‘master race’ believers control state governments and employ both a gestapo and extra-legal mob action to enforce their will. What is more shocking, in some cities they are able to compel churches and ministers to preach an heretical doctrine of man, which condones segregation and distorts the Christian faith. Both Negroes and whites who do not submit to this view are subject to harrassment and threats to their lives.”

The General Board was plainly displeased with Attorney General Robert Kennedy’s strategy of accepting a weakening of a House subcommittee’s civil rights bill for the purpose of getting Congressional approval for it. The board overwhelmingly voted full support of a bill which would include all the elements set forth in the testimony of NCC representatives on Capitol Hill, “a bill covering all the areas specified in the bill as it was reported out of the House committee.”

In other action, the board:

• Elected as NCC associate general secretary the Rev. Dr. David R. Hunter, who since 1952 has been director of the Department of Christian Education of the Protestant Episcopal Church’s National Council.

• Took first steps toward establishing a department of the arts designed to “foster and strengthen relationships” between the Christian faith and “all areas” of the fine arts.

A week earlier the National Council had created a new department of “the church and public school relations” to meet a growing need for “some recognizable and unified establishment in the [NCC] to deal as a unit with our increasing relationships and involvements with public schools.”

FRANK FARRELL

In the course of one week I listened to and watched a whole Billy Graham broadcast from Los Angeles and read a book by John A. T. Robinson, Bishop of Woolwich, called Honest to God. This is a concatenation to be wondered at. When one ponders the gamut of Protestantism from Bishop Robinson to Billy Graham, one wonders just what Protestantism is.

Billy Graham says quite flatly, “The Bible says,” and the good bishop leaves us wondering what the Bible is, making us very uneasy about what the Bible was. The whimsical John Bald, a professor of theology from Pittsburgh Seminary, was wont to say, “They tell me Tillich speaks to our day. The only trouble is the people of our day go to hear Billy Graham.” But with the publication of Honest to God and its fabulous sale, one has the feeling that crowds of people are listening to Tillich by way of the Bishop of Woolwich.

Honest to God is a much more serious and important book than I thought it would be from its somewhat “smarty” title. One comes away with the impression that the writer is indeed honest, and toward the end of the book there is a kind of pensiveness about his own spiritual pilgrimage which is almost touching. Robinson has struggled in the deeps with his spiritual experience. He does not have easy answers, because he knows the questions are very difficult; and he carries the added burden of being an official—indeed a bishop, indeed a pastor—in a church which carries its traditions loyally and usually with great firmness. There will be those in the Anglican communion who will call him a heretic, but it is pretty hard to be a heretic in any church (try yours, for instance) in which the leaders who might pursue the heresy trial are unsure of their own doctrinal position.

Several thoughts occur to me which are relevant to bell, book, and candle.

1. Barth is completely absent from Honest to God. This says almost as much as anything can about the shift in modern theology. A good way to test a man’s importance in his own field is to see whether the field can be discussed without reference to him. Since 1930 it has been impossible to discuss theology without reference to Barth, whether pro or con. Now here is a book that doesn’t even mention him. Young theologians here and abroad are “hot” on Bonhoeffer (whose theology was never given a chance to be systematized), and the other theologians à la mode are Tillich and Bultmann. Honest to God is built on Tillich’s philosophical theology and Bultmann’s demythologizing, with illustrations now and again from Bonhoeffer.

2. Robinson seems to accept Bultmann rather uncritically. For sound criticism on Bultmann you must look far beyond the range of this article. A criticism, however, which I have so far missed has to do with the shift of the miracles from the Gospels to the early Church. The Gospels move on miracles inescapably, and we must deal honestly with miracles in a scientific day. There have been ways of explaining and ways of explaining away. Bultmann’s explanation is simple enough: the realities of the Incarnation were surrounded by the myths of the first century. The early Church created the Gospels in their present form to show in their own way what they believed about Christ. Our problem is to strip away myths to get at realities.

I remember Horace Bushnell’s famous Chapter Ten in Nature and the Supernatural and the long treatment given by Andrew Fairbairn in The Philosophy of the Christian Religion; and there have been similar treatments the burden of which has been that the character that appears in the Gospels could not have been invented. How can the Gospels tell us about one who is fully God and fully man without giving us a monstrosity—giving us instead the most attractive figure in history? If the miracles of the Gospels need to be explained or explained away, who will explain the miracle of the early Church being able to invent the Gospels? Maybe Bultmann should be demythologized.

3. Robinson refuses, in Honest to God, any God “up there” or “out there.” He prefers Tillich’s ground of being and wants us to find God in the deeps. I think we can all go along with the shift in cosmology which makes it hard to talk about “up there” and “out there,” but I don’t see quite where the change in our figure of speech to the “depths” instead of the “heights” is a great deal of help. The very fact of incarnation shows us that God has to have his rapport with us in human terms, and there is no fundamental reason why we ought to make light of our human way of expressing infinite things. Surely it doesn’t hurt us to say that the sun rises even though we know better. One says easily, “Her tears broke my heart,” knowing perfectly well that the tears were the sign and not the reality and that a breaking heart is quite a figure of speech. Don’t we know that language itself is symbolic, a way by which the word becomes flesh and dwells among us?

4. It is interesting to see the people and to talk to the people who are excited about Honest to God. It is a tempting generalization that they are attracted by the title because there have been worries and speculations about the honesty of religion in our day. This fact is its own concatenation of a lot of things we all know about; but if Robinson thinks that religion can be made palatable to 1963 any more than it was made palatable to the Roman Empire or to the Greek intelligentsia by a shift in terms, he is much misled. There is no Christianity without repentence of some kind, or strong crying and tears, and a kind of commitment to cross-bearing. These are the real stumbling blocks.

Meanwhile the tens of thousands come to hear Billy Graham. There is power in prayers to the God “out there,” and there is power in preaching from the Bible as it is, not as reconstructed by Bultmann.

BUDDHIST LEADERSHIP HURT—The Buddhists’ startlingly efficient tactical and propaganda leadership has been severely hurt. Many of the dissident Buddhists, if they are not in jail, have apparently gone underground.—Time.

IN BRIEF—U THANT, United Nations Secretary General: Exercise tolerance and settle the matter in the name of peace, justice and fair play; Secretary of State DEAN RUSK: [A] dirty, untidy, disagreeable war; MME. NGO DINH NHU: My people never beat anyone, chiefly the Americans, without some reason.

VIETNAMESE HUMOR—A current joke in Saigon is that the United States Mission is like a log drifting downstream covered with ants—each of whom thinks he’s steering.—Newsweek.

STRATEGIC HAMLETS—In the past year nearly one million Vietnamese who were formerly subject to sporadic Communist incursions or even outright Communist control, are now covered by effective government administration and protection. This has been achieved largely through the strategic hamlet program. This program is the heart of the war effort in Vietnam. It is a co-ordinated across-the-board political, economic and military responsibility to the Communist threat.—THEODORE J. C. HEAVNER, former deputy of the United Nations Working Group.

UNSUCCESSFUL DEBUT—Mme. Ngo Dinh Nhu … making her first appearance on a national television news panel show … was a flop. Not even the obvious chic and charm of this oriental beauty could cover her virulent anti-Americanism.—The Chicago Tribune.

NEUTRAL CLASS—As the war staggers on, many middle class Vietnamese in Saigon … are turning to neutralism as the only possible foreign policy which might bring peace and prosperity to South Vietnam. They feel that American tactics have failed because the underlying policy of trying to convert South Vietnam into an anti-Communist bastion is mistaken. To insist on a policy of purging Communists cannot fail to tear South Vietnam apart. Besides, South Vietnam is too weak, and too small, and too vulnerable to be an effective bastion against the Chinese colossus.—The Nation.

SCREAMING MATCH—We did not go there to make certain that every single peasant has rural electrification and social security by tomorrow morning. Therefore, Diem’s domestic shortcomings are really none of our business. If his shortcomings are military in nature or effect, let’s get rid of him and find somebody in his place. But let’s not, at any rate, go on and on with this trans-Atlantic screaming match as though this were the most important thing in the world.—Columnist WILLIAM S. WHITE.

PEACE CORPS-TYPE AID—The kind of aid we really should be emphasizing [is] the same sort of thing we are doing with the Peace Corps and through the Alliance for Progress, the kind of activity which does not feed communism by turning people away from us, but turns them from communism because they find ours the better way. But it takes a different point of view from that of the military leadership which sees the whole struggle in terms of armored cars, machineguns, and snipers.—Senator VANCE R. HARTKE of Indiana.

VAGUE AMERICAN POLICY—It will take a great deal of wisdom for the Vietnamese Government to recover what has been lost in the last few months. I cannot clearly see what American policy is at this stage. The American Government has wanted to try to discover new tactics to make it possible to beat the world Communists. As a result Vietnam has become secondary in this and it has been placed above the interests of Vietnam.—NGO DINH NHU.

A CATHOLIC VIEWPOINT—As so often happens when Catholic interests are involved in a major incident abroad, a series of news stories in the secular press is challenged by accounts written exclusively for the American Catholic press.… The term “persecution of Buddhists” is too strong to accurately describe the situation. Buddhist complaints … have been filed in only three of the nation’s forty-one provinces.… Charges of Catholic domination are unrealistic since only five of seventeen cabinet ministers and only three of nineteen generals are Catholics.… We regret that once again the reports given credence in the Catholic press diverge so greatly from what the most reputable secular papers report.—Commonweal.

VICTORY IN 1964—I think the national campaign plan will be successful, and I feel that we shall achieve victory in 1964. We realize that United States aid has reached its ceiling, and now is the time to fully utilize it to achieve successfully the objectives of the national campaign plan.—Maj. Gen. TRAN VAN DON of South Vietnam.

COMMUNISM’S BEST ALLY—President Diem must decide whether he is fighting for his family or for his country, and whether he can afford to permit unbridled license to his sister-in-law, who is developing into the Communists’ best ally right in his own palace.—The New York Times.

WITHDRAW SUPPORT—Our efforts have increased, the situation has worsened.… It is urged upon us that the Communist presence in South Vietnam requires us to support the Diem regime, regardless of how repugnant it becomes, and irrespective of its contemptuous refusal to respond to our entreaties. To accept such an argument is to concede that the great American Republic is no longer the master of her own course in South Vietnam, but has become the servant of the mandarin autocracy which governs there.… Persecution of the Buddhists … is an affront to the good conscience of the American people. If these cruel repressions are not abandoned, further American aid … should be terminated.…—Senator FRANK CHURCH of Idaho.

“When preaching is dull,” said Morgan Phelps Noyes in his Lyman Beecher Lectures, “or when preaching fails to be helpful, the chances are that it has gone off into abstractions.” It isn’t that abstractions are always under ban. Lecture rooms can do with them—but not pulpits.

How to avoid the abstract?

For one thing, be biblical. The world of the Bible in certain external particulars is not our world of astronauts and countdowns and blast-offs, our world of vitamins and cholesterol and Salk vaccines; but it is, for all this, a real world peopled by magnanimous Abrahams and greedy Lots, by cunning Jacobs and transparent Josephs, by moody Elijahs and lying Ahithophels, by hot-blooded Davids, and treacherous Judases, and winsome Johns, and adventurous Pauls, and by a host of others who, like these, are capable of acting “out of character,” so that the noblest of them, eyeing the worst of them, are obliged to say, “There, but for the grace of God, go I!”

The Bible is full of ideas, but they are not primarily ideational: they have skin on their faces and a glint—good or bad—in their eyes.

Closely linked with the wisdom of being biblical is a second piece of counsel for the preacher who would cultivate the concrete: be imaginative. This, we should be warned, is not the same as letting one’s fancy run riot or one’s rhetoric run purple and gold.

In the service of the preacher imagination is a kind of coagulant by which ideas, held in intellectual and theological suspension, are “precipitated” in the form of images. What, for example, is God’s bearing toward any prodigal who is sick of it all and ready to return in chastening and penitence? “Merciful,” we may say. Or “forgiving.” True enough! But is that the only way to say it?

One night, years ago, a preacher said, “Right now, if you will listen, you can hear the looms of Heaven weaving new robes for prodigals who, having wandered far, are coming home.” And suddenly the world of reconciliation, God’s world of grace, was lit up for me by the flash of an image I have never forgotten.

“First of all,” wrote Gustave Frenssen, in comment on his own homiletic method, “I take the text out of its ancient setting and plant it in our own life, and in our own time. My text, so to speak, saunters up and down the village street once or twice with thoughtful eyes and meditative mind. It becomes accustomed to the village, learns to feel at home in it.”

Here, obviously, is homiletical harnessing of the imagination, the effect of which is to pull the sermon through many an otherwise dull stretch where interest would flag and time would hang heavy.

One other suggestion: be word-conscious. Said that pulpit craftsman extraordinary, Charles Jefferson: “Words have moods as people do.… There are reverent, kneeling words, warm, tender, and affectionate words, open-handed, open-hearted, hospitable words, laughing, shouting, hallelujah words—words which are so rich in human experience, so saturated with laughter and tears that if the preacher breaks them upon his congregation, they fill with perfume, like precious alabaster boxes, all the place where he is preaching.”

Let the preacher go back over his notes or manuscript and prune severely those words that are torpid rather than lively, dull rather than bright, abstract rather than specific.

A recent issue of the Saturday Review reports that when British children were asked, “What are the twelve loveliest things you know?,” one boy answered:

“The cold of ice cream.

The scrunch of dry leaves.

The feel of clean clothes.

Water running into a bath.

Cool wind on a hot day.

Hot water bottle in bed.

Honey in your mouth.

Smell of a drug store.

Babies smiling.

The feeling inside when you sing.”

Note the specific situations. Mark the simple language. Catch the overtones of words like “clean” and “cool” and the sense-suggested-by-sound effect of a word like “scrunch.” Then think, if it isn’t too utterly beyond belief, of the distinguished clergyman who, according to the London Times, once preached a sermon to the ordinary people living in Wordsworth’s Lake District in which he assured them they were surrounded by “an apokdeiksis of theocratic omnipotence.” A garrison like that must have struck them as being more oppressive than protective.

But Jesus would have caught the eye and ear of that English lad. He would have done it with his “city set on a hill,” and his “salt of the earth,” and his “candle” on a “candlestick” and not “under a bushel,” and his “sower” going forth “to sow,” and his “five sparrows” in the market place, and a hundred other pictures-in-words which he painted with a deftness never surpassed.

The lesson is for all of us: our hearers are dulled and distanced by abstractions. What captures them is the concrete.

Today shall thou be with me … (Luke 23:43; read vv. 33–46).

Jesus has a supreme concern for the individual. Our Lord also thinks highly of the godly home, and the spiritual church. Because of his lofty ideals for home and church, he cares most of all for persons one by one. This truth shines out most wondrously on the day of the Cross. In our text He is speaking to the first believer in his Cross. Here our Lord reveals to us now three Gospel truths:

I. The Heart of Our God. In Old Testament times God cared for the humblest, simplest, meanest soul, but men did not know his deep concern, and did not dare to believe it. In Christ on the Cross we behold God as the supreme Person; it becomes sweet reasonableness to believe that he cares supremely for every soul he has made. This is the truth that shines out in the supreme care of Christ for the individual today. “Having seen Him, we have also seen the Father.” When we watch our Lord dealing as tenderly as a mother deals with each child; above all, when we follow his footsteps on the day of the Cross, we behold his supreme concern for the individual, and thus we learn the very mind and heart of God.

II. The Value of Each Soul. To seek and to save, one by one, souls lost in sin Jesus came from heaven, lived among men, suffered and died, the just for the unjust. Herein lies the value of each soul, that a man has in him the quality of life, made of God to go on forever. Since each soul is of infinite value to God, who has made it part of an eternal order, what an untold zest there is in living, what unspeakable value there is in each soul! What if the Master of the world’s music were to miss your voice in the harmony? What if the Master Workman were to find your place vacant?

This is the revelation Jesus has given of his supreme care for each of you. When we hear him assuring troubled hearts that he is preparing a place for them, where he will forever receive them to himself, we behold God in Christ caring for the individual soul.

III. The Duty of the Individual. This duty is to respond to God in love and faith. Since God so loves, the supreme duty of life is to love God, and bring the soul into harmony with his will. To save the soul is to make loving response to God, and thus allow his will to fashion your life.

This is the supreme duty of every person, for his own sake and for the sake of others. One by one we are born; one by one we must be born again. “Behold,” Jesus whispers, “I stand at the door and knock. If any man hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.”—From The Day of the Cross, London, 1910, pp. 313–24.

… The image of the invisible God (Col. 1:15a; quote vv. 15–18).

No loftier description of the Saviour appears in the writings of Paul. It may have been one of the early Christian hymns. The passage is remarkably similar to the Prologue of John’s Gospel. These sublime words of Paul (vv. 15–18) speak of Christ’s threefold relationship:

I. The Relation to God. For ancient men the supreme question was how the unseen eternal God can communicate with his creatures. In Paul’s day the Gnostic answer was that He did so through lower and lower emanations. “Not so,” said Paul; “if the high God of heaven is made known, he must come down in his very image as the Mediator who is not an intermediate being, but One who is fully identified with God and with man.” According to a papyrus, the Greek word for “image” also meant a portrait. According to the Nicene Creed (A.D. 325) Jesus was the first begotten, not the first created. Begotten of God here means that Jesus was exactly like the Father. Amen!

II. The Relation to the Universe. In Colossae false teachers talked about other intermediaries, such as stars and angels. Paul answers that Christ is the Creator of all things visible and invisible, including the stars and the highest of angelic rulers. They are all subject to him. In him alone all things hold together. Since in all the universe Christ is the principle of unity, the Christian must be completely united in devotion to him. As believers we all are moving, not toward extinction, but toward Christ. At the end of the road every man must meet Christ. Beyond Western civilization, beyond this age and all ages, beyond this world and all worlds, stands the shepherd with his staff and his rod.

III. The Relation to the Church. The Church is part of God’s plan from all creation. In the message that Christ has committed to the Church creation finds its meaning and mission. Creation was made for redemption. As the living body of Christ the Church goes on doing his work, bearing the griefs, carrying the sorrows of humanity, and leading men to God. In the Church Christ and men are made one as the family of God. He is the Head of the Church. He directs the activities and causes the body to serve the Head. He is the beginning, the source from which comes the Church. He is the first-born from the dead. By his Resurrection he became the immortal Conqueror. This triumph makes him supreme in all things. These magnificent descriptions cause us to sing:

Jesus, my Shepherd, Brother, Friend,

My Prophet, Priest, and King,

My Lord, my life, my Way, my End,

Accept the praise I bring.

—From The Shepherd of the Stars, Nashville, Broadman Press, 1962.

For this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me (2 Cor. 12:8; read vv. 1–10).

Almost every person of middle age or older has a thorn in the flesh. Something physical, painful, at times excruciating, more or less chronic, and often a hindrance to one’s work. In such a case, what should a believer do? Pray until God answers!

I. Pray about It as Real. The Bible recognizes such ailments as real. It seems to ascribe them to the Evil One (cf. Job 3:2–8). About such an ailment a believer ought to pray. In dealing with “the God of detail” prayers may well be specific.

II. Ask for Its Removal. Often the Lord grants such a request through the proper use of medicine or surgery. Almost never does he work directly to heal when he can do so through human agents and means. However the healing comes, a person should render thanks to God for a thorn removed.

III. Accept It as Permanent. Even with such a saint as Paul, God sometimes says No. Instead of talking much about unanswered prayer, we ought rather to think of ones that God denies, for reasons known only to him. Like Paul, when God refuses, a believer submits. He no longer prays for removal. God does not always choose to say Yes, or to heal disease.

IV. Thank God for the Thorn. Like Paul a believer now may learn to give thanks for what once seemed a real handicap. As with Paul, a thorn in the flesh, once accepted, may become a means of grace. It seems to have been God’s appointed way of making Paul still more useful, more radiant, more Christlike, and all because he prayed, leaving the issue with God, whose grace is all-sufficient.

No one now can diagnose Paul’s ailment. Whatever your thorn, remember that it may be like that of Paul. It is God’s invitation to learn something more in the school of prayer. Meanwhile among your friends not young, which person seems most like Christ? Does not that person have a thorn in the flesh? Which elderly friend seems not to be growing more like Him? May it not be because of refusal to accept a thorn in the flesh?

In view of blindness after he was grown, George Matheson once wrote: “My God, I have never thanked Thee for my thorn. I have thanked Thee a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my thorn. I have been looking forward to a world where I shall get compensation for my cross, but I have never thought of my cross itself as a present glory. Teach me the glory of my cross. Teach me the value of my thorn. Show me that I have climbed to Thee by the path of pain. Show me that my tears have been my rainbow.”

I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God (Rev. 21:3; read vv. 1–27).

What a text for the last Sunday of the church year! As the voice speaks for God the listening Church stands on tiptoe. This is the final consummation of all God’s plans and purposes toward men. Hence we close the church year, fixing our eyes not on a world in decay, but on the Christian hope that brings into our chaos the assurance of final victory.

I. The Completed Redemption of Christ. The assurance of final victory depends on God, not on us. In the price that our Lord has paid for us on the Cross, God has completed our redemption. Some day he will instruct the archangel to sound the trumpet and awaken the dead, so as to invite us into the presence of God forevermore.

This is an appropriate time to thank God for the privilege of gathering here every Sunday to learn of our salvation. Let us confess that we have not always fully appreciated our privilege of worship. How good God has been in giving us so many rich occasions to hear of his love in Christ our Lord! Who but an ingrate would neglect to say: “I thank Thee, O God, for letting me hear again and again how Christ has won the final victory, and how I am to build my confidence on full redemption through thy Son”?

II. The Holy Fellowship Hereafter. The voice from heaven reminds us that God himself will be with his redeemed children forevermore. Here is the final consummation of all his plans and purposes. This pledge of God’s continued presence with his believers is so staggering that we can but kneel down to worship and adore. Always the Gospel is the wondrous victory of God who has loved us even unto death, and who now calls for the transformation of all who anticipate sharing those joys.

Among our most determined and consecrated efforts will be the decision to share with others the victory that our Lord has won for us and is anxious to have all people enjoy. The sharing time is now. This is the reason we are here on earth. The Lord has for us a mission that only we can carry out for him. He would have us help others discover in Christ the only assurance of sharing in the final victory.—From The Concordia Pulpit for 1962, Missouri Lutheran, St. Louis, 1962.

‘Where Is His Voice?’

The Representative, by Rolf Hochhuth (Methuen, 1963, 331 pp., 16s), is reviewed by J. D. Douglas, British editorial director, CHRISTIANITY TODAY.

Because of the furor this play has caused in Europe, it is advisable at the outset to get straight certain historical facts. Between four and six million Jews (no one knows the precise figure) were massacred by the Nazis during World War II. Pope Pius XII avoided specific condemnation of the massacres. So much for the facts. Was Pius wrong in not speaking up? It is this problem of choice that Hochhuth deals with in his play, which has been widely misunderstood. The 31-year-old German publisher’s reader, himself neither Roman Catholic nor Jew, does not accuse the Vatican of anti-Semitism, does not say that papal intervention would have saved the Jews, and does not fail to give specific examples of Pius’ concern for them. Nor is this a German attempt to shift some of the responsibility for the national guilt—careful perusal of the play will reveal, indeed, that Hochhuth deals ruthlessly with his fellow countrymen.

Much of the dialogue is concerned with a young Jesuit father’s indignation about the pope’s silence. Though he displays at times a naïveté one does not normally associate with the Society of Jesus, one exchange which the priest has with his father, a Vatican official, puts the whole thing in a nutshell. “How you simplify …,” says Count Fontana; “can you believe the Pope can see without pain the hunger and suffering of a single person? His heart is with the victims.” Replies Father Riccardo: “And his voice? Where is his voice?”

Says the Christian S.S. officer (an almost incredible character) to the cardinal; “For sixteen months now Rome has known what Hitler is doing to Poland: why does the Pope say not one word about it? There where the towers of his churches stand, stand also Hitler’s smoking chimneys. Where the bells ring on Sundays, the ovens burn on weekdays: that is the look of the Christian West today.” Pius himself said that he had limited his condemnation against Nazism “to avoid greater evils” (ad maiora mala vitanda).

Because he can do nothing to save the victims, Riccardo joins a consignment of Italian Jewish captives and ends up in Auschwitz. Here the play concludes with a debate between Riccardo and the camp doctor, himself a renegade priest (based on a real-life character) who has given himself to wholesale slaughter with the professed reason of provoking God to reveal himself. Now he taunts Riccardo: “It was your Church first showed that one could burn a man like coke. In Spain, alone, and without crematoria, you incinerated three hundred and fifty thousand, and nearly all alive.…” The young priest confesses his share in the great collective guilt of humanity—just as we must do whatever conclusion we draw from Hochhuth’s work.

J. D. DOUGLAS

A Valuable Study

The Basis of Religious Liberty, by A. F. Carrillo de Albornoz (Association, 1963, 182 pp., $3.73), is reviewed by S. Richey Kamm, professor of social science, Wheaton College, Wheaton, Illinois.

This book, issued under a directive from the Delhi Assembly of the World Council of Churches, sets forth the thinking of the WCC assemblies and committees on religious freedom. Written by the current head of the Secretariat for Religious Liberty of the World Council, it endeavors to bring together in organized form the content of pronouncements and discussions on such topics as: “What is Religious Liberty?,” “Why Christians Demand Religious Liberty,” and “How Religious Freedom Can Be Exercised.”

The volume concludes with a statement of issues on which there is now a common agreement within the ecumenical community, and of issues on which there is majority agreement or little consensus. The Appendix includes materials that will be useful to any group that takes up the challenge of studying the whole question of religious liberty in the modern world.

As an organized summation of thought on this subject within the ecumenical movement, this volume is very useful. One finds a clear distinction between “freedom of conscience” as personal, and “freedom of worship” as corporate or social in its dimensions. The author accurately delineates the various understandings of religious freedom which prevail throughout today’s world. The theological justifications for individual religious freedom are clearly set forth, in contrast to the justifications employed by political societies which recognize only group or corporate freedom. Rational arguments for religious freedom in all societies are stated with thoroughness.

Conspicuous by absence from these discussions is a clear statement of a biblical basis for religious freedom. Even though the author affirms that the World Council members hold a Christian view of man and the world, it is quite evident that much of their argument is based upon sociological or humanistic presuppositions. Perhaps the clearest expression of the council’s perspective is to be found in this climactic contention: “Religious liberty is a fundamental human right … having its roots in the human race as such” (pp. 34, 35).

Despite these weaknesses the book merits serious study. The present curbs on religious expression in the United States, the tensions which exist in Roman Catholicism and Judaism over religious liberty, the growing policy within the Muslim republics to insist upon religious uniformity, and the Communist effort to thwart the further extension of any religious thought within the orbit of their power, all make religious liberty one of the burning issues of the mid-twentieth century. American Protestants with a biblical commitment will do well to extend their studies of church-state relations in the United States to the broader perspective of religious liberty throughout the world. The questions raised in the study under review would form an excellent “green” from which to “tee off” into such an effort.

S. RICHEY KAMM

Between The Shabby Curtains

The Shoes of the Fisherman, by Morris L. West (Morrow, 1963, 373 pp., $4.95), and Letters from Vatican City, by Xavier Rynne (Farrar, Straus, 1963, 289 pp., $3.95), are reviewed by David E. Kucharsky, news editor, CHRISTIANITY TODAY.

These books, one of which became a best seller overnight, peer between the shabby curtains of secrecy which envelop the Vatican with decreasing effectiveness nowadays.

West sees the Vatican through the eyes of a novel. It reflects his experience as a young apprentice of the Christian Brothers, an Australian teaching order, plus later years as Vatican correspondent for the London Daily Mail. He made his debut in fiction with The Devil’s Advocate.

The Shoes of the Fisherman is a tantalizing tale of a Ukrainian political prisoner who is elected to the papacy as the world totters on the brink of nuclear war. His former jailer is now the Soviet ruler, and the pope is obliged to become an international intermediary. Enriching the plot is an assortment of problems on the home front ranging from heresy to adultery. Through it all the reader gets insights into the workings of the Roman Catholic Church at the highest level.

For particular insights, however, Letters from Vatican City is hard to beat. The book is an expansion of essays which originally appeared in The New Yorker under the pseudonym Xavier Rynne. Actual identity of the author (s) is the most intriguing mystery in ecclesiastical circles today.

The “letters” provide an interpretative running account of the first session of Vatican Council seasoned with anti-Curia, anti-old-guard judgments. They seem to add up to a major achievement in religious journalism, although there is no easy way to determine accuracy.

DAVID E. KUCHARSKY

Step-Children Of The Reformation

The Anabaptist Story, by W. R. Estep (Broadman, 1963, 238 pp., $4.50), is reviewed by Leonard Verduin, pastor emeritus of Campus Chapel, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Michigan.

“At long last these step-children of the Reformation have had their history-making moment, in the New World; here the end of the medieval idea of culture was achieved and in the place of the coercive culture of the State-Church combination came the beginning of modern culture separate from the Church.” So wrote Ernst Troeltsch concerning the Anabaptists. Another German historian expressed it this way; “To a modification of the original Protestant idea of the State, a modification that aided the cause of toleration, the Anabaptists have compelled the Protestant proponents of the State Church; and in so doing they have in much suffering and travail rendered a mighty service, one for which they have not as yet received the thanks which before the bar of history is their due.”

Estep’s present book will help toward the payment of a bill long past due. As we read on the dust jacket, “Perhaps there is no group in history that has been judged as unfairly as the Anabaptists of the sixteenth century. Theirs has been the lot of the widely misunderstood, deliberately misrepresented, or completely ignored.”

Professor Estep, who teaches church history at Southwestern Seminary, tells the story of a band of people who knew four centuries too early that “Christendom” is a myth—that there is not and cannot be such a thing as “Christian culture,” and that the Church of Christ must by definition stand in tension with the culture in the midst of which she lies, that the Church must be loyal first of all to her Lord rather than live in bondage to cultural pressures or to the great ones who rule in the affairs of men. Estep deals with pioneers of the insight that the Church must “instead of pretending to be coextensive with the world around her, confess herself to be the Church of a minority, accept a position of conscious antagonism with the World; then she will, in return, gain in some measure her former coherence.”

The Anabaptist Story is authoritative, well-written, easy to read. Each chapter has some forty or fifty valuable footnotes. There is an excellent and up-to-date bibliography on things Anabaptist, eight pages long. Also, an index—of persons; one on subjects would have increased the book’s usefulness. This book is perhaps as good as any for the busy man who, knowing that here is an area in which his sights need to be adjusted, looks for a readable and dependable account. Estep’s contribution, in which we move from “The Rise” to the “Spread” to the “Theology” to the “Continuing Influence” of Anabaptism, gives, in as brief a compass as the story permits, the story of the “step-children of the Reformation.” One comes away from this book with the feeling that his mind and soul have had a bath.

For American readers the last section will be especially welcome; in it Estep examines the bridges by which the Anabaptist vision reached the shores of the New World, where it has in almost every respect become the accepted one.

The Anabaptist Story is so good that it deserves better proofreading than it has received. One is asked to go along with “odius” (p. 1), “saguinary” (p. 107), “discernable” (p. 128). More disturbing are such as the following: “decided” for “decide” (p. 11), “wrecked havoc” for “wreaked havoc” (p. 100), “formally” for “formerly” (p. 157), “immortality of the day” for “immorality of the day” (p. 169).

Like most of the writers of today Professor Estep has little use for the thesis than Anabaptism has long roots, roots that reach far back in time, more than a millennium. At this point a chapter in the total story of Anabaptism remains to be written.

Altogether we have here an excellent introduction to a most intriguing chapter in church history. To read it is an absolute must for all who would divest themselves of fables that have been handed down anent the step-children of the Reformation, fables that have for too long a time been told and re-told in seminaries and classrooms.

LEONARD VERDUIN

The Strides Are Long

Christianity on the March, edited by Henry P. Van Dusen (Harper & Row, 1963, 176 pp., $4), is reviewed by Dirk W. Jellema, professor of history, Calvin College, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

This collection of seven short essays by various scholars makes available a set of lectures given at Union Seminary to an audience of church women. The essays deal with some problems Christianity has faced and does face, and with the hope for continued vitality which the ecumenical movement gives. The subject matter is wide-ranging and the essays by necessity highly condensed. They have the virtue of being readable by the average layman.

Cyril Richardson leads off with a lucid discussion of some of the problems faced by the early Church (the rival “mystery religions,” opposition from the state, and the like). There is not, unfortunately, an essay on medieval Christianity. Wilhelm Pauck follows, discussing how the Reformation replaced ceremony and ritual with the Bible and faith. The treatment is sometimes somewhat simplistic; the Reformers, for example, are presented as being surprised that there could be disagreement on interpretation of texts.

From the Reformation, we jump to the nineteenth century. Robert Handy stresses the advance of technology (in somewhat rosy fashion; it meant sweatshops as well as faster communication), and Henry Van Dusen discusses (again, in glowing terms) the achievements of overseas missions. Both stress the value of the ecumenical movement, growing out of the nineteenth-century background.

Three essays on contemporary rivals of Christianity complete the book. John C. Bennett attacks “secularistic humanism” (not clearly defined; often used for a kind of rationalism rarely encountered in our current age of faiths). R. B. Manikam rapidly surveys the main opponents in Asia; he names “Religious Nationalism” as one of them, in a few noteworthy paragraphs. Tom Driver concludes with a provocative essay on existentialism, which he sees as moving towards a sort of Neo-Stoicism.

The faults of the book—lack of focus, frequent superficiality—are outweighed by its virtues. It is interesting, readable, understandable, and admirably suited for use by a discussion group. The evangelical reader should be provoked to consider, in the case of each essay, how and to what extent the evangelical viewpoint makes a difference.

DIRK W. JELLEMA

English Symposium

Vox Evangelica II, edited by Ralph P. Martin (Epworth Press, 1963, 80 pp., 6s.), is reviewed by Geoffrey S. R. Cox, curate, Christchurch, Bromley, Kent, England.

This second collection of “Biblical and Historical Essays by Members of The Faculty of the London Bible College” maintains the high academic standard set by the first (1962) symposium.

The editor, Ralph P. Martin, gives twenty-six of the seventy-four pages to “Aspects of Worship in the New Testament Church.” Concentrating mainly on the use of hymns, he shows conclusively that the “psalms and hymns and spiritual songs” of Ephesians 5:19 and Colossians 3:16 can by no means be interpreted to mean only the Psalms of the Old Testament.

In an equally scholarly manner and at almost equal length, Donald Guthrie surveys “Recent Literature on the Acts of the Apostles,” covering the last nine to fifteen years. While he gives fair consideration to various exegetical studies, commentaries, and works on composition, speeches, sources, text, and theology of Acts, he does not hesitate to point out those which give Scripture its rightful position and value in relation to the Holy Spirit.

Principal Kevan criticizes Emil Brunner for confusing a wrong “legalism” with a right respect for the Law of God, and then condemning both.

Dermot McDonald attempts an impossible task—in twelve pages to answer the question “What is religious experience?” The country man’s sermon criticism seems apposite: “He should have used less nails and hit them in harder.”

It is difficult to say whether one’s vague dissatisfaction at John Savage’s review-article on a recent Student Christian Movement symposium, The Theology of the Christian Mission, is due to the article or to the book reviewed. (Perhaps this is because reviews of symposia are always cumbersome and uneven!)

The collection will no doubt advertise the academic qualities of the staff at L.B.C., and may even do something to prove that evangelical scholarship is becoming intellectually respectable; but it is difficult to view it as anything but another theological journal.

GEOFFREY S. R. Cox

Splendor Through The Seams

The Enterprising Americans; A Business History of the United States, by John Chamberlain (Harper & Row, 1963, 282 pp., $5.95), is reviewed by Melvin D. Barger, editor, The Flying A, company magazine of Aeroquip Corporation, Jackson, Michigan.

The complete story of how a once badly underdeveloped nation took its own economic destiny by the horns and competed itself to greatness has long deserved better treatment than it has usually received from historians, journalists, and novelists. The old game of exposing the perfidy and ruthlessness of American businessmen has continued almost unchecked since the days of Ida Tarbell and Upton Sinclair, and it finally resulted in the creation of a widespread anti (big)-business bias that persists to this day. Scorned by the intellectuals, frequently set upon by legislators, and distrusted by the multitudes, businessmen have spent the last several decades in storm cellars, feeling terribly hurt that they aren’t always liked in places like Harvard and Washington.

But there are signs that the sun may be coming up again. Any businessman who tries to defend the free enterprise of our present day by making exaggerated apologies for its past ought first to read this book by John Chamberlain. Here is a revisionist work that definitely rescues the American business tradition from the lopsided “robber baron” image it has been forced to endure these many decades. Chamberlain brings off this long overdue attempt extremely well because of his own inherent fairness and his ability to sort through the debris of the past in order to find the relevant issues.

By picking up the thread of business history in colonial times and following it unbrokenly down to the present moment, Chamberlain keeps the reader conscious of seemingly unrelated events that were to be of critical importance to one another in the shaping of the nation and even in the winning of our wars. In the Civil War, for example, it was the McCormick reaper and the iron foundries which gave the North an insuperable advantage. Much later, and in a changed political climate that left him often discouraged and restrained, the American businessman of the 1930s placed his bets on certain new and developing technologies (such as aviation and chemicals) that so greatly helped the United States to emerge as victor in World War II.

As a shrewd and resourceful trader in the near-barter system of the colonial period, the American enterpriser always operated with a shortage of real capital. But he made the best of the natural industries, such as shipping and fishing in early Massachusetts, and moved swiftly to develop manufacturing industries as the young republic moved away from dependence on European goods. An aggressive merchant fleet grew up after the War of Independence and built up investment capital just in time to finance the earliest beginnings of the Industrial Revolution.

After that, it’s just one fabulous development after another. There is Paul Revere, whose great contribution to the republic was not his nocturnal horsemanship but his discovery of methods of rolling copper sheathing for ship hulls, an innovation that gave the United States Navy a parity with England’s. Eli Whitney comes on stage, and it is noted that besides the cotton gin he was to introduce the use of jigs, fixtures, and other production aids, such as interchangeability of standard parts. The river steamboat appears, and is belatedly acknowledged as the key tool in the country’s early westward expansion during the pre-railroad era.

The relevant issues continue to stand out as Chamberlain moves forward in history to encounter those entrepreneurs whom we have previously known as arch-scoundrels. We are reminded that John Jacob Astor, ruthless though he may have been, clothed the city people of two continents for thirty years against wintry weather. And of Cornelius Vanderbilt, who made the New York Central a model of efficiency and cut the travel time on the New York-Chicago run from fifty hours to twenty-four, Chamberlain observes that if he “was a robber baron, the country needed more like him.” We meet John D. Rockefeller, and learn that he was indeed a monopoly-minded man, but that he also brought order and improvement to the chaotic oil business. And we learn something else that apparently eluded the muckrakers who were to make careers of denouncing the Standard Oil monopoly: despite his best efforts, John D. was never able to get the complete monopoly he craved, and any hope for it was lost forever when the fabulous Spindle-top well came in (1901), bringing on the scene more powerful competitors in addition to those already challenging his leadership.

We meet Edison and Carnegie, and finally the great Pierpont Morgan, who is seen giving discipline and direction to the growing money powers and behaving with a far greater sense of public responsibility than he seems to have had in the Frederick Lewis Allen accounts. By 1906 the country may be in the grip of giant trusts, but the reader suddenly remembers a relevant fact stated in the Introduction: the United States is already the world’s leading producer!

The subsequent periods are covered with superb skill, and Chamberlain brings us to see that the 1920s, far from being the pointless gin-and-jazz age of its stereotypes, was actually a period of solid economic growth, culminating with the production of 4½ million cars in 1929. And the 1930s, surprisingly enough, was far from a period of total stagnation brightened only by the tip of F.D.R.’s cigarette.

Telstar is in orbit and the 1962 steel price rise has been aborted when Chamberlain leaves us with some sobering observations on the expanded role of government in private economy. One closes the book with the feeling that the author has told a remarkable story very well, and that America owes a lot of strength to the traders and inventors and manufacturers who “matched her mountains.”

One might also feel that The Enterprising Americans could be extremely valuable to the emerging nations of Africa and the retarded economies of Latin America. As these countries set out on socialistic programs designed to bring about forced economic growth, Chamberlain’s book could be offered as an alternate solution, a kind of “here’s-how-it-worked-for-us” approach. It is just possible that it might get some attention three, four, or five years from now when the Marxist programs fail to “deliver the goods.” For the heroes of The Enterprising Americans knew how to deliver the goods. And while Chamberlain admits that his enterprisers were not morally perfect, what they did is neither all sordid nor without greatness. As he says, “Despite all the seaminess, splendor was there.”

MELVIN D. BARGER

Strong Within Limits

People of the Covenant: An Introduction to the Old Testament, by Henry Jackson Flanders, Jr., Robert Wilson Crapps, and David Anthony Smith (Ronald, 1963, 479 pp., $6), is reviewed by J. Hardee Kennedy, dean of the School of Theology, New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary, New Orleans, Louisiana.

Three college professors, all in the Department of Religion at Furman University, have joined their knowledge and insights in the preparation of this new general introduction to the Old Testament. The work is designed for use as a textbook in beginning courses of study and is written against the background of considerable classroom experience.

According to the Preface, “three objectives have guided the authors in their writing: (1) the provision of a foundation of understanding upon which the serious student can reliably build a life of biblical study, (2) the stimulation of an intense interest in the subject which will spur him far beyond these beginnings, and (3) the intensification of the student’s regard for the scriptures—their nature, message, origin, and relevance to human existence.” The result is a treatment which combines heavy emphasis on the major historical and literary factors of the Old Testament with very broad thematic interpretations of the life and thought of Israel, especially the exodus event and the covenant motif.

The book is developed according to a general historical perspective and embraces ten chapters, with headings as follows: Setting the Stage, In the Beginning, The Patriarchs, The Exodus, Conquest and Amphictyony, The United Kingdom, Israel’s Decree of Divorce, The Divided Kingdom: Judah, Restructuring the Nation, and The Emergence of Judaism. With studied adaptation to the intended reading audience, the clear and expressive literary style succeeds admirably in achieving freedom from complex theological concepts and technical language.

Many points of strength mark this introduction. Chief among them are an evident awareness of the major problems in contemporary Old Testament study; a stimulating reflection of wide reading in the more influential literature in the field, including works in German; and a variety of study aids adapted to the needs of beginning students, especially charts of chronology, archaeological sidelights, a glossary, and a selective bibliography.

On the other hand, the book is limited somewhat by an inadequate acknowledgment, in footnotes or otherwise, of the complex and problematical nature of certain issues in current scholarly studies, together with the considerable uncertainties and divergent opinions. The most conspicuous example is the handling of the JEDP literary framework (pp. 8 ff.). The beginning student is given ample and appropriate opportunity for acquaintance with this interpretative scheme, but ample provision is not made for an awareness of the tenuous nature of numerous aspects of the analysis. Perhaps multiple authorship is the basic explanation, for, curiously enough, a contrasting critical forthrightness is reflected in summary statements concerning the Kenite theory (pp. 133, 134), the New Year’s enthronement festival in Israel (p. 152), and many other difficult matters. In any case, the problem is regrettable, since the book contemplates the needs of the student who is least able to evaluate interpretative orientation and perspective.

J. HARDEE KENNEDY

Book Briefs

How to Found Your Own Religion, and Other Stories, by Francis J. Phelan, C.S.C. (Helicon, 1963, 119 pp., $2.95). A Roman Catholic father, with a satirical and sprightly style in the C. S. Lewis tradition, exposes the cloven-hoofed diabolical character hiding beneath the robes of many of society’s most cherished idols. Delightful reading.

The Layman’s Role Today, by Frederick K. Wentz (Doubleday, 1963, 229 pp., $4.95). A call for Christian behavior in everyday life.

The Christian Person, by Arthur A. Vogel (Seabury, 1963, 124 pp., $3.50). Within the context of classical Christian thought and modern psychological insights, the author writes perceptive and readable essays on the meaning and reality of the Christian person.

Documents of The Christian Church, selected and edited by Henry Bettenson (Oxford, 1963, 489 pp., $3). First published in 1943, this second edition includes additional documents on the Independents (1658), Roman Catholic social policy (1891, 1931, 1961), the Church of South India, and World Council of Churches. The book is about as valuable as this type of book can be, but no more, since it can be no more than a sampler.

At Wit’s End, by Jack Finegan (John Knox, 1963, 125 pp., $2.75). Written for people who feel they are at their wit’s end. To such people the author gives much good advice, yet his answers are more remarkable for what they omit than for what they include.

“But God Hath Chosen …”: The Story of John and Mary Dyck, by Margaret Epp (Mennonite Press, 1963, 176 pp., $2.50). The story of Mennonite Brethren missionaries’ success along the San Juan River in Colombia.

William Temple: Twentieth-Century Christian, by Joseph Fletcher (Seabury, 1963, 372 pp., $3.50). The life, and the shape and impact of the thought of the former Archbishop of Canterbury. For the non-professional reader.

The Essential Lippmann, edited by Clinton Rossiter and James Lare (Random House, 1963,552 pp., $7.50). A comprehensive selection from the always astute writings of Walter Lippman, penetrating political pundit. Richly rewarding.

Prophecy in the Space Age, by A. Skevington Wood (Zondervan, 1963, 159 pp., $2.50). A provocative discussion of biblical prophecy with special probing into such matters as the rejection of Israel, the fate of the Gentile nations, the rapture of the saints, and the future judgments and return of Christ.

Reason and Analysis, by Brand Blanshard (Open Court, 1962, 505 pp., $8). A vigorous defense of rationalism against the criticisms of the analytic philosophers.

Four Prophets: Amos, Hosea, Micah, Isaiah, translated by J. B. Phillips (Macmillan, 1963, 161 pp., $3.95). Phillips’ first translation from the Old Testament. The Isaiah of the title is “First Isaiah” only, that is, the first thirty-five chapters. A fresh and exciting translation.

Paperbacks

From Luther to Kierkegaard, by Jaroslav Pelikan (Concordia, 1963, 171 pp., $1.75). The story of Lutheranism’s struggle with philosophy from the days of Luther until the emergence of Kierkegaard, in whom, the author contends, Lutheranism produced a philosopher who both brought on a revolution in theology and philosophy, and made possible the recovery of Luther’s deep evangelical insights. First published in 1950.

The Americanist Heresy in Roman Catholicism, 1895–1900, by Thomas T. McAvoy, C. S. C. (University of Notre Dame, 1963, 322 pp., $1.95). At the turn of the century the Roman Catholic Church in America went through a crisis that turned on Americanization of Roman Catholic practices imported from the old world. This is its story of conflict and of the final resolution by papal intervention.

The Moral Life and The Ethical Life, by Eliseo Vivas (Regnery, 1963, 292 pp., $1.95). The story of the author’s search and argument for an ethical position. Forsaking naturalism, he now posits the objective reality of values and urges that the highest value is the ethical man. Author makes no pretense of working from a Christian basis, nor does he think it necessary. Yet his probings are interesting to the student of ethics and morals. First printed in 1950.

The Sunday School Story, by Martin A. Haendschke (Lutheran Education Association, 1963, 137 pp., $2). The story of the Sunday school in the Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod: how it was opposed because it brought in the English language, how it became for some a substitute for the parish school, and how and why it finally was accepted. An interesting history, often repeated in other immigrant churches.

Miracles, A Preliminary Study, by C. S. Lewis (Macmillan, 1963, 192 pp., $.95). A popular, lucid defense of miracles in the style and brilliance for which the author is famous. First published in 1947.

The Lost Books of the Bible and the Forgotten Books of Eden (World, 1963, 565 pp., $2.25). All the writings attributed by one or another to Christ or his followers during the first four centuries. How can “lost” books be published? Both the titles and the prefaces serve to blur the distinction between scriptural and non-canonical writings.

William Carey: Father of Modern Missions, by Walter Bruce Davis (Moody, 1963, 160 pp., $.59). A brief story of the life of Carey, one of the world’s greatest missionaries, and his work in Bengal and Serampore.

Love and the Law, by C. Ellis Nelson (John Knox, 1963, 93 pp., $1.50). Although he leaves his Christology somewhat in doubt, Nelson approaches the Ten Commandments from a soundly biblical theological perspective. His treatment will be helpful for people long past their teens, though it appears to have been written for the latter.

Speaking in Tongues, by H. J. Stolee (Augsburg, 1963, 142 pp., $1.95). Reprint of a 1936 work entitled Pentecostalism. In a day of glossolalic resurgence, this volume is yet useful in presenting ably a Protestant case against Pentecostalist teaching.

Naught for Your Comfort, by Trevor Huddleston (Macmillan, 1963, 188 pp., $1.45). A book about one priest’s battle with “apartheid” in South Africa. First published in 1956.

The Supreme Court and Prayer in the Public School, by J. Marcellus Kik (Presbyterian and Reformed, 1963, 40 pp., $.75). Author argues against the court’s decision on the New York Regents’ prayer. He stresses that the intent of the framers of the First Amendment was not to exclude religion from public life but rather to prohibit the establishment of one church over another. If historical circumstances have changed, a change of the Constitution may be called for. But the court’s decision in this case stems from the justices’ minds, he urges, not from an application of the Constitution. The author weakens his argument by overstating his case and understating the problems. More recent decisions of the court have already contradicted his claims that the public school teacher cannot now “mention Almighty God” and that “the public domain is out of bounds for God.”

A Layman’s Guide to Protestant Worship, by Homer J. R. Elford (Abingdon, 1963, 64 pp., $.75). A primer for those interested in understanding the processes of worship in evangelical Protestant churches. The author discusses the order of worship and such matters as the current return of the Communion table to its earlier position at the focal center.

You Have a Ministry, by R. Eugene Sterner (Warner, 1963, 110 pp., $1.50). A Church of God minister calls on laymen to share in the ministry of the Church.

Christian Discipline in Child Training, by William A. Kramer (Concordia, 1963, 15 pp., $.15). A short discussion of the nature, purpose, techniques, and proper attitudes toward child discipline; written from a Christian perspective.

Communism and the Christian Faith, by Robert Scharlemann (Concordia, 1963, 38 pp., $.35). Stimulating, provocative, high caliber.

The Authority of the New Testament Scriptures, by H. N. Ridderbos (Presbyterian and Reformed, 1963, 93 pp., $2.50). A conservative theologian presents an exceptionally solid and clear discussion of the canonical and authoritative character of Scripture. Much clear light is thrown on the concept kerygma, which plays so great a role in modern theological thought.

Where in the World?, by Colin W. Williams (National Council of Churches, 1963,116 pp., $.75). Material designed to stimulate study of whether the present form of the Church, particularly that of local congregation, is a hindrance to evangelism. A study authorized by the World Council of Churches at New Delhi.

When Children Worship, a symposium (Judson, 1963, 63 pp., $1). A very fine discussion of how to lead a child into the attitude and act of worship. For both parents and Sunday school teachers.

Essays on the Death Penalty, edited by T. Robert Ingram (St. Thomas. 1963, 138 pp., $1.95). Essays which do not deal exclusively with, but are heavily weighted in favor of, capital punishment.