Listening For Divine Revelation

Handbook to the Old Testament, by Claus Westermann, translated by-Robert H. Boyd (Augsburg, 1967, 285 pp., $5.95), Introducing the Old Testament by L. A. T. Van Dooren, translated by G. P. Campbell (Zondervan, 1967, 192 pp., $4.95), and Introduction to the Bible, by Pierre Grelot (Herder and Herder, 1967, 448 pp., $7.50), are reviewed by Clyde T. Francisco, John R. Sampey Professor of Old Testament Interpretation, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, Louisville, Kentucky.

These three works from the European Continent present an intriguing picture of the unity and divisions of modern Christianity. They portray the viewpoints of an eminent Protestant scholar, an entrenched fundamentalist, and an eloquent Roman Catholic. There is agreement among the three that God speaks to man in the Bible, and with equal commitment to the word of God they listen for divine revelation.

However, they find this in quite diverse ways. Van Dooren finds the final authority of God in every word, even asserting, with some hesitation, that since the genealogies of Genesis depict twenty-three centuries, from the creation of man until the death of Joseph, the believer is bound to the same conclusion. Both Westermann and Grelot assume the critical position that the Old Testament accounts are based on traditions handed down for centuries and must be sifted for authenticity. The word of God in such passages is the truth taught by the biblical writers in their use of these ancient materials. To Westermann, the guide through the maze is science, reason, and faith. Grelot agrees, so long as the guide stays within the limits prescribed by the Church: “To read the Bible in and with the Church is the only sure method.”

The approaches of the three writers are obviously influenced by the audiences they are addressing. Van Dooren speaks to a pietistic group largely unacquainted with critical work and concerned primarily with devotional response to the Bible. Westermann appeals to a university audience acquainted with the scientific approach to life but largely ignorant of the Bible. Grelot writes for Catholics who respect the Bible as the infallible word of God but who have little knowledge of critical research and need to see it in the context of their faith.

All three interpreters succeed in their efforts to find a word of God. Indeed, it is the same word that they ultimately find! Van Dooren concludes in his study of Malachi:

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It is significant to observe that the first book of the Old Testament closes with a reference to a coffin and the last book of the Old Testament closes with reference to the curse—both the curse and the coffin coming as the direct result of the sin of man. Throughout the Old Testament there is the story of man’s sin and failure, but ever there is the promise of the coming of the Second Man, the last Adam, the Lord from heaven, who came to give life and life more abundantly, so that there might be no more death and no more curse.

Westermann, using critical tools and a different vocabulary, eventually comes to a similar observation:

In the midst of this human race God initiates a way by means of Abraham and this way is supposed to become a blessing someday for everyone. Here the first fundamental correspondence between the Old Testament and the New Testament appears. Even as God became flesh for everyone’s salvation in the one man, Jesus of Nazareth, so he here calls forth this one family out of the nations in order to bless by it all families of the earth. The blessing beginning here points beyond the entire history of this family that became a nation even to the words of the New Testament, telling of the time of fulfillment. The opening part of Gen. 12 directs one to John 3:16: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only son.”

Father Grelot will say:

From one end to the other, the Bible is the witness of the acts of God in human history, that is, revelation, with its century by century progress; the preparation of Israel for the Gospel, throughout the vagaries of its destiny; the coming to earth of the Son of God, who completed revelation and saved men by his redemptive sacrifice.

Regrettably these men who so closely agree in their reverence for Scripture and in their ultimate conclusions are led by their methodological differences to disdain one another’s camps. Grelot says of those with Van Dooren’s position:

On the other hand, certain spirits, frightened by the Modernist danger or disturbed in their intellectual ruts, confused the dogmatic tradition of the Church with the conservative positions of yesteryear’s exegetes and clung without profit or serious argument to their obsolete and scientifically valueless solutions.

The British writer replies that scholars who hold critical views like those of the other two authors, who date a book in a way different from the generally accepted tradition, “claim by profession to be preachers of the word” but are using a method that “springs from Satan.”

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To the credit of Westermann, he does not engage in such skirmishes. He makes no reference at all to the fundamentalist position. But what is more disturbing than to be ignored?

Ramsey On Ethics

Deeds and Rules in Christian Ethics, by Paul Ramsey (Scribner’s, 1967, 245 pp., $5.95), is reviewed by John M. Bald, associate professor of Christian ethics, Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Professor Paul Ramsey is a most able and stimulating protagonist of his point of view, and this book will enable readers to assess his contribution to the ongoing ethical debate. It is basically a republication of an essay that appeared in the Scottish Journal of Theology, No. 11; to this he has added three chapters: “Two Concepts of General Rules in Christian Ethics,” “The Case of Joseph Fletcher and Joseph Fletcher’s Cases,” and “A Letter to John of Patmos from a Prophet of the ‘New Morality.’ ” Ramsey introduces his discussion by adopting as a heuristic device terms William K. Frankena used to describe two ways in which the Christian ethic, defined as normative love or pure agape, expresses itself in practice. The terms are act-agapism and rule-agapism. In act-agapism the Christian ascertains as best he can the facts of the situation confronting him and then acts in the way that will be most expressive of Christian love. He does not refer to rules for action; he simply acts in love. In rule-agapism the Christian decides what he is to do by referring to rules that have been discovered to embody Christian love in certain circumstances.

Ramsey holds that the pure act-agapism that has become the vogue among theologians and Christian ethicists is not a viable approach to Christian ethics. Love and rules of action are not necessarily antithetical, he says:

Theologians are simply deceiving themselves and playing tricks with their readers when they pit the freedom and ultimacy of agape … against rules, without asking whether agape can and may or must work through rules and embody itself in certan principles which are regulative, or the guides of practice [p. 5].

At the same time Ramsey does not himself advocate rule-agapism as an alternative. What he says is simply that regulation of moral conduct by reference to love-embodying rules is a valid form of Christian life under the norm of agape, and that we must acknowledge this as a necessary aspect of Christian ethics without denying that in some situations act-agapism is appropriate. This is his general argument as he examines various ethical approaches based on some form of act-agapism—those of Bishop Robinson, Paul Lehmann, and Joseph Fletcher, in particular. He shows that none of them can avoid coming to a point at which there is a crucial need for rules to determine what moral action is expressive of love.

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This brief notice cannot begin to describe the fullness of the argument and the penetrating criticism with which it abounds. It is well worth the careful study it demands.

In The Heat Of The Day

Run While the Sun Is Hot, by W. Harold Fuller (Sudan Interior Mission, 1967, 256 pp., $3.95), is reviewed by O. Wilson Okite, East African Institute of Social and Cultural Affairs, Nairobi, Kenya.

In the United States one says, “Make hay while the sun shines.” In Ethiopia one quotes an Amharic proverb, “Run while the sun is hot.” With this proverb Ethiopians counsel travelers to get moving along the trail while the sun is high; otherwise darkness will overtake them. And with this proverb W. Harold Fuller counsels the Church to say with Christ, “I must work while it is day; the night comes when no man can work.”

Run While the Sun Is Hot is part of the magnificent story of Christ’s continuing conquest of Africa. It is an account of the Sudan Interior Mission and its local churches—in Ghana after the fall of Nkrumah, in a Nigeria that is falling apart, in the torrid Islamic Republic of Sudan, in the Coptic Empire of Ethiopia, in Liberia, Upper Volta, Niger, Aden, and Somalia.

Fuller writes out of a rich experience and contact with Africa. He edited African Challenge, the continent’s widest selling Christian magazine, from 1952 to 1965, the period during which Africa made its decisive step into the mainstream of world history. Currently he edits Africa Now, house organ of the Sudan Interior Mission.

He traveled by mule, jet, horse, motorcycle, two-cylinder French Citroen, dugout canoe, camel, six-cylinder German Mercedes Benz; he was careful to ask for “gas” in Liberia, for “essence” in Ivory Coast, for “petrol” in Ghana, for “benzine” in Ethiopia, for “ghaz” in Sudan. He ate camel-burger and drank hot coffee trimmed with rancid butter and salt. He attended overcrowded churches, accompanied lone evangelists, listened to heart-rending stories of the persecution of Christians.

He saw Africa—its lush tropical forests, its endless deserts, its majestic mountains. He saw Africans—hot with tensions, changes, shortages, revolutions. He saw Communist literature on street corners, fetishes around the neck of a dying grandfather, a thirteen-year-old girl in childbirth, Muslims in robes and beads. He saw modern Africa with its contemporary architecture, sophisticated leaders, and well-planned, teeming cities.

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Fuller presents his 12,000 miles of amazing diversity simply and sincerely. To an African reader, the book is not only challenging but surprisingly informative. To the American or European, it should be both enlightening and thrilling.

The Sudan Interior Mission is running while the sun is hot. And it realizes that the African sun is not only hot but also high. The Africa of our day presents immense and rapidly disappearing opportunities. Fuller makes it unmistakably clear that if ever Christianity is to seize the offensive in Africa, this is the time.

But that is as far as he goes. He leaves many of the burning questions only superficially discussed. What is the role of the “foreign” missionary in an independent Africa? Where is the line between “modernization” (sometimes called “Westernization”) and the normal spiritual development of a believer, the process one might call “Christianization”? What is to be the relation between the newly independent churches and home churches? What should the home churches understand about the “Africanization” of the African churches? What are the guidelines for leadership training in the new churches? How are individual believers to relate to the revolutionary changes occurring in their countries? What steps should evangelical leaders take to ensure the continuing centrality and lordship of Jesus Christ in the developing institutions?

But Fuller did not set out specifically to answer these questions. And from his illuminating report, one may gather data to begin formulating broad guidelines for the missionary enterprise in Africa. His account is penetrating and intelligent, the product of a heart full of love. It opens up a new style of “missionary talk” about Africa. May others follow!

Reading For Perspective


A Question of Conscience, by Charles Davis (Harper & Row, $6.95). A brilliant English priest-theologian sensitively but forthrightly gives his personal, theological, and ecclesiastical reasons for leaving Roman Catholicism.

The Wycliffe Historical Geography of Bible Lands, by Charles F. Pfeiffer and Howard F. Vos (Moody, $8.95). An informative text, excellent photographs, and useful maps highlight this reference work on ten Bible lands.

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Set Forth Your Case, by Clark H. Pinnock (Craig, $1.50). These studies in Christian apologetics offer solid evidence for the integrity of the historic biblical Gospel and show it to be rationally compelling and vastly superior to existential aberrations in contemporary theology.

The Empty Preacher?

The Empty Pulpit, by Clyde Reid (Harper & Row, 1967, 122 pp., $3.50), is reviewed by Harry E. Farra, assistant professor of speech, Geneva College, Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania.

Reid immediately clarifies the idea behind his strangely titled volume: “The emptiness of which I speak is an absence of meaning, a lack of relevance, a failure in communication.” The Empty Pulpit traces the decline of preaching to two factors: (1) a change in the authority structure of the pastoral image, and (2) a change in the communicative structure, from the “monological illusion” of authoritarian speaking to a “dialogical” (two-way) involvement of audience and speaker. Reid charges that traditional preaching does not communicate, has been overemphasized, and does not lead to change in persons.

The significance of Reid’s book is its application of modern communication theory to the preaching situation. The Church’s appropriation of the more important aspects of the communication revolution is long overdue; which of its tasks would not be made easier by good communication? Reid’s communication concepts are based on theory well supported by experimentation and research, and his evidence comes from the standard volumes of theorists such as Berlo, Barnouw, and McLuhan. He describes in detail sermon substitutes and supplements that have been tried with varying degrees of success, such as small-group study, retreats, and sermon seminars.

The limitation of Reid’s book is his underlying assumption that a change in the communicative structure of the Church will produce “relevance.” He is dubious about preaching because not all men are skilled in preaching. But the other communicative approaches demand as much skill, if not more. “Dialogical” skills are much harder to control because they involve a greater number of people. Use of this method requires the training of laymen in these skills. Even then success is not guaranteed, for training does not insure talent. Where we had “monological” failures, we might now have “dialogical” failures.

Those who are convinced that traditional preaching is no longer serviceable will find much in Reid’s book to guide their reforms. Those who are not will nevertheless find a challenge to rethink the nature of preaching.

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Categorically Sinful

A Catalogue of Sins, by William F. May (Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1967, 209 pp. $4.95), is reviewed by Mark W. Lee, professor of speech and drama, Whitworth College, Spokane, Washington.

William F. May here examines Christian conscience. His examination is divided into four parts: the sins of man with his world, the sins of man with his neighbor, the strategy and atmosphere of sin, and the destiny of sin.

The result is readable, scholarly, orderly. He gives helpful summaries of main points and keeps his definitions clear. Generally, the writing style is interesting and forceful. About sin he says: “Like a Guerilla army, it can never be seen in its entirety.” “Sin is not one of the provisions of God, like stars, trees, and mother’s milk.” At times his attempt to maintain an economy of style succeeds too well; one wishes for further elaboration of some passages. His adoption of certain key phrases associated with modern theologians—“this worldly asceticism” (Weber), “Nonbeing” (Tillich), and “I and Thou” (Buber)—seems somewhat Unnecessary.

Often, though not always, May’s ideas are stated clearly and succinctly, so that the reader grasps them immediately. An example is the discussion of avarice. Traditionally, the miser sits behind a locked door greedily counting his possessions. But in our prosperous society, avarice may reveal itself in “conspicuous consumption”:

We have moved from a society of locks and thick-walled castles, vaults, and secret treasures, to a society of the open door, neon lights, and the picture window, with grain spilling out of silos, cars pouring out of factories, and paper glutting garbage cans. This is a society that no longer hoards—it burns up money, alcohol, raw materials, and natural resources, and it produces everywhere a stepped-up tempo. Instead of keys, we have keyed-up nerves. Too much drink, too much conversation in overcrowded rooms, a calendar jammed with obligations, phones ringing, overheated homes. The American experience of avarice is not like the anal experience of the recent European past, for which gold and dung, the images of inert weight, are appropriate. We should speak of avarice now rather as a veritable firestorm of activity, generated by the flickering, formless desires, and fears that leave a person burnt out and exhausted at the age of fifty.

In a word, May’s analysis is relevant. His criticism of Christianity is fair and incisive. Although his analysis of lust is non-judgmental (as is his overall approach to sin—apparently he leaves judgment to God), it is nonetheless a challenge to the easy sexual ethics and practices of our day.

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A Critique Of Conzelmann

St. Luke: Theologian of Redemptive History, by Helmut Flender (Fortress, 1967, 167 pp., $4.95), is reviewed by Ralph P. Martin, lecturer in New Testament studies, University of Manchester, England.

In 1960 Ernst Käsemann had reason to comment that the problem of Luke’s writings in the New Testament had suddenly become a burning issue, and in the following year C. K. Barrett echoed this judgment by remarking that “the focus of New Testament studies is now moving to the Lucan writings.” Both these assessments were largely occasioned by the appearance of H. Conzelmann’s highly original work, The Theology of St. Luke (E.T. 1960). This volume heralded a new era in the study of the gospel writers, whom the then prevalent form criticism had largely dismissed as collectors and editors of an evolving church tradition. Conzelmann, on the contrary, gave gospel study a new twist by taking seriously the claim that each evangelist (Luke in particular) was both a historian and theologian in his own right and that by his method of selecting and arranging his material he was the author of a distinctive contribution to early Christianity. This is the claim of Redaktionsgeschichte, and it has captured the attention of much Continental scholarship.

It is against this background that Flender’s new treatment of Luke’s theology must be viewed. Indeed, without this warning much of it will appear enigmatic to the uninitiated! But once inside the magic circle of the pundits, readers will appreciate this fresh examination of Luke’s Gospel and Acts, and some will welcome his critique of Conzelmann’s position. Flender argues that a neat threefold scheme of Luke’s history embracing the time of Israel, the time of Jesus’ ministry, and the time of the Church is too speculative, and that Luke keeps past and present in dialectical tension. Indeed, a dialectical relation runs through his philosophy of salvation history binding together earth and heaven, the human Jesus and the exalted Lord, Israel and the Church, the Resurrection as an event in history and an existential encounter.

The book sparkles with insights and flashes of illumination; and even where the author compels us to part company with him, he never fails to stimulate.

Erosion In Lutheran Theology

Crisis in Lutheran Theology, Volume I, by John Warwick Montgomery (Baker, 1967, 133 pp., paper $1.50), is reviewed by Iver Olson, professor, Association Lutheran Seminary, Minneapolis, Minnesota.

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This is the first of two volumes on the current state of Lutheran theology. Each volume has two parts, the first addressed to the theologically sophisticated and the second to lay readers. Volume I consists of five articles that previously appeared in religious journals. As a result, unity suffers somewhat; articles range from discussions of inspiration and hermeneutics to the author’s defense of his own views against criticism.

Montgomery points out that there has been an erosion in Lutheran theology in general, but he centers his attention on the erosion seen in American Lutheranism during the past decade. The heart of the problem is the doctrine of biblical inspiration. The question concerns, not so much the fact of inspiration, but the extent of it. Scripture is still held to be authoritative in spiritual matters, but is held to be considerably less than authoritative in details; here one must consider it at best as a witness to inspiration.

Montgomery acts as spokesman for the view that inspiration and inerrancy cannot be separated. If one cannot trust the Scriptures in small matters, what reason is there to trust it in the weightier matters of religion? He points out that archaeological discoveries in recent years have tended to undergird rather than undermine the inerrancy view. Furthermore, the parading of errors found in Scripture—a pastime of existentialist critics—reveals only examples of nineteenth-century criticism that have been adequately explained and answered many times. If Scripture is not inerrant, it is qualitatively no different from any other good religious book.

The author emphasizes that modern Lutheran hermeneutics is a far cry from Luther’s. The Reformer found objective truth in God’s Word; from this truth he was led to discover a Saviour. His modern counterparts are confronted by a Person; objective observations about him are of negligible importance. At best the propositions made about and by him are a witness to the truth, rather than the truth itself. Montgomery’s view is that without the objective truth there can be no real confrontation; the person by whom one is confronted in such instances is but a Christ of one’s own making.

The second part of the book is a discussion of the presence and expressions of this new orientation in the Missouri Synod.

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I myself think that the crisis in Lutheran theology exists mainly among tenured theologians at the seminaries. Having once taken a stance, they cannot be converted and save face at the same time. What the next generation of theologians will bring out of their briefcases remains to be seen, but it probably will not be the same as what is delivered from the lecterns today.

Playing God

Christ the Representative: An Essay in Theology after the “Death of God,” by Dorothee Soelle (Fortress, 1967, 154 pp., $3.95), is reviewed by Owen Onsum, minister, the Union Congregational Church, Shafter, California.

“Who am I? Am I replaceable? Unique? Representable?” In the opening chapters of her book, Dorothee Soelle attempts to answer these questions as she deals with the subject of personal identity. Technology answers that man is just a cog in a machine and is therefore replaceable. Yet science and machines enable men to do things once attributed to divine power. From this jumping-off point, the author goes on to show that the individual is not replaceable but is representable.

In the second section she discusses “Representation in the History of Theology.” The Egyptians, for example, placed little models of wood, stone, or clay in the tombs of their dead. These ushabti were believed to have the power to help the dead with their duties and problems in the abode of the dead. The basis of this belief was the idea that every living thing was represented by its image; whatever happened to a man’s image happened to the man himself.

Then the author moves on to the Old Testament and finds a parallel belief in Leviticus 16:20, 21:

Even the Old Testament, which elsewhere demagicized and de-mythicized so many elements common to all religious history, does not rise above this level, if we leave out of account the approaches to personal representation in Jeremiah, Hosea, and Second Isaiah. For example, the concept of the scapegoat does not go beyond the circle of imitative magic. Sin is presented as something physical. The priest identifies the sin of the people with the goat by laying his hands on its head and confessing over it all the sins of the people.… The goat … is driven into the desert.…
The important thing is not who removes the sin. What matters is that it disappears from the human sphere. In other religions, the remover can be a human being, another kind of animal, or very often some object, a stick or stone, which can be loaded with the sin and slung away.

In the third section Miss Soelle presents “Christ the Representative,” with the subtitle, “Sketch of a Post-Theistic Theology.” Christ is the “true teacher” because he identifies with us. Yet although he represents us, he does not replace us. He is provisional; his representation of us will continue until we can fulfill our own role. Christ also represents God, who “has changed”:

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The progressive awakening of the consciousness has excluded [the possibility] of attaining certainty about God. In whatever way we may interpret the objectifications of God in the past—miracles, providential dispositions, channels of continuing revelation—such objectifications have been carried away by the flood of advancing critical consciousness. We are no longer under any necessity to attribute these objectifications to God.…
In this changed world, God needs actors to take his part. So long as the curtain has not rung down and the play still goes on, God’s role cannot be left unfilled. God’s leading player is Christ. Christ takes the part of God in this world, plays this role which without him would remain unfilled.

This is incarnation: Christ playing God in this world. And what he does, we can do also. We can “play the role of God in conditions of helplessness,” “claim God for each other.”

Christ’s representation of us is provisional; it is to last until we can play our own role. And even Christ’s representation of God is incomplete, for there is more of God yet to come. Likewise, our play-acting is provisional. Nevertheless, the important thing is that identification with God, in which Christ was the pioneer, is possible. “We, too, can now play God for one another.”

Another Look At Anselm

The Many-Faced Argument, edited by John Hick and Arthur C. McGill (Macmillan, 1967, 373 pp., cloth, $8.95, paper, $2.95), is reviewed by Gordon H. Clark, professor of philosophy, Butler University, Indianapolis, Indiana.

This high-priced book is better studied than reviewed, for it is a survey of recent historical studies in Anselm and of recent original forms of the ontological argument.

Part One, after reproducing the Proslogion, Gaunilo’s On Behalf of the Fool, and Anselm’s Reply (the latter two so arranged that each unit of the Reply immediately follows the pertinent passage of Gaunilo), consists mainly of reprints of articles by Beckaert, Barth, Hayen, and Stolz. Preceding these reprints editor McGill has a long survey of the opposing views.

In general, these views reject the traditional interpretation of Anselm, which Kant popularized by his refutation. McGill asserts that neither Kant nor Thomas Aquinas had ever read Anselm. Kant’s refutation is so obvious and devastating that a man of Anselm’s ability would never have made the blunder Kant exposes. Therefore new interpretations of Anselm are necessary.

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The new interpretations vary: one makes Anselm a rationalist, another a fideist, and a third a mystic. Anselm is also pictured as a realist, as a Cartesian, as an analyst of the concept of possibility, as the user of a “reflexive” rather than a “representative” idea of God, as one utterly dependent on revelation, or as some combination of these. Editor McGill points out the textual difficulties these views must face, but he does not pursue any constructive solution very far.

Part Two takes up the use made of the ontological motif by a few modern philosophers. Here the chief figures are Ryle, Forest, Malcolm, and Hartshorne. In addition to reprints of articles by these (and also by Russell and Shaffer), editor Hick provides an elementary preface for readers “who are not already familiar with the philosophical issues,” and a concluding critique. The critique contains a very keen discussion of the difference between logical necessity and factual necessity, a distinction allegedly overlooked by Hartshorne and Malcolm. Its excellence causes us to regret that Hick wrote only sixteen pages.

A selected bibliography covers fourteen pages, and a good fifty philosophers are referred to in the book. A solid volume for study.

Book Briefs

The Dictionary of Religious Terms, by Donald T. Kauffman (Revell, 1967, 445 pp., $8.95). Definitions of 11,000 religious names, facts, symbols, and abbreviations.

Know Why You Believe, by Paul E. Little (Scripture Press, 1967, 96 pp., $1.25). Little wades into key issues of Christianity—existence of God, deity of Christ, the Resurrection, reliability of the Bible, possibility of miracles, relation of science and Scripture, the problem of evil—and offers satisfying, biblically sound answers.

The Economic Life of the Ancient World, by Jean-Philippe Levy (University of Chicago, 1967, 147 pp., $5). A French scholar examines economic development in Egypt, Phoenicia, Mesopotamia, Greece, and Rome from pre-Alexandrian times to the fall of Rome.

The Thousand Years in Both Testaments, by Nathaniel West (Kregel, 1967, 493 pp., $4.95). The Tabernacle, by Henry W. Soltau (Kregel, 1965, 474 pp., $4.95). Reissues of important nineteenth-century books.

Trustees and Higher Education, by H. Leo Eddleman (Christ for the World Publishers, 1967, 91 pp., $2). A seminary president advises trustees of academic institutions of their relation and responsibilities to the institutions they serve and the administrators they appoint.

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Please Give a Devotion—For All Occasions, by Amy Bolding (Baker, 1967, 121 pp., $2.50). Continuing her series, this minister’s wife offers warm devotionals that incorporate many poems and homey anecdotes.

A Drink At Joel’s Place, by Jess Moody (Word, 1967, 125 pp., $3.50). With aphorisms and one-sentence paragraphs, a popular Florida pastor challenges Christians to live authentically and witness boldly. “The gut issue,” says Moody, “is, what will the church do to keep John, Mary, Billy, and Susie Doe lashed to the cross and made into happy servants of the Lord Christ.”

Social Scientific Studies of Religion: A Bibliography, by Morris I. Berkowitz and J. Edmund Johnson (University of Pittsburgh Press, 1967, 258 pp., $7.95). A useful tool for scholars.

The Voluntary Church, edited by Milton B. Powell (Macmillan, 1967, 197 pp., $5.95). The observations of European visitors on American religious diversity and voluntary support, 1740–1860, provide insights into the national character. Includes writings by G. Whitefield, A. de Tocqueville, P. Schaff, fifteen others.

Jesus in Our Time, by James McLeman (Lippincott, 1967, 158 pp., $3.95). McLeman reflects the nonsense of much current theology that one can deny the virgin birth, miracles, and bodily resurrection and yet through faith and selective biblical historical data have a valid conception of Jesus Christ.

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