Friday, August 7, 2026

E. A. Speiser on Genesis 16:5

  

5. This outrage. Literally “my injustice” in objective construction: the injustice done to me; the possessive is adequately reflected by “this,” as happens so often in interchanging possessive and defined forms, cf. “the boys”: “my men,” 14:24. For Heb. ḥāmās “lawlessness, injustice,” cf. 6:11; it is a strictly legal term, which trad. “violence” fails to show adequately. The same force is reflected in the Akk. verb ḫabālum “to deprive someone of his legal rights,” adjective ḫablum “wronged.” The Code of Hammurabi states explicitly that a slave girl who was elevated to the status of concubine must not claim equality with her mistress (par. 146). Sarah is thus invoking her legal rights, and she holds her husband responsible (literally “it is against you”) for the offense.

 

I myself put my maid in your lap. This is not just a fanciful expression, but recognized legal phraseology. For the identical usage, cf. the old Sum.-Akk. dictionary of legal expressions known as ana ittišu (B. Landsberger, MSL I, 1937): “he placed his daughter in [the other’s] lap,” Tablet 3, column iv, line 34. (E. A. Speiser, Genesis: Introduction, Translation, and Notes [AYB 1; New Haven: Yale University Press, 2008], 117-18)

 

Excerpts from Chapter 4, Reading 18 of Thomas Aquinas, An Exposition of The Divine Names

  

522. Regarding the first, one must know that angel translates as messenger.

 

Now [an angel] conformed to the divine goodness is said to announce “the divine goodness” inasmuch as in angels “in a secondary way” by “participation” there exists “that which” is enunciated about God not by participation, but “by the cause”; just as if I were to say that illuminated air announces the brightness of the sun, inasmuch as in a secondary way and participatively [the brightness] is in the air, and in a primary way and causally it is in the sun. And because that which something has participatively and in a secondary way is an “image” of that which has in it a primary way and causally, and the act of an image is to manifest that of which it is the image, consequently he infers a certain definition of a good angel: the manifestation of the divine “light” which is hidden from us on account of its excellence and simplicity. (Thomas Aquinas, An Exposition of The Divine Names, The Book of Blessed Dionysius, Chapter 4, Reading 18 [trans. Michael Augros; Scholastic Tradition in English Translation; Merrimack, N.H.: Thomas More College Press, 2021], 233)

 

 

527. Next, when he says [213] “But are they . ..,” he excludes an objection; and first, he gives it: for someone might say that “because” the angels “Punish” sinners, “they” are “evil.” And Matthew 13 [verses 41-42, 49-50] expressly says that they punish sinners, because they will cast out all scandals from the kingdom. Therefore, there is a question: whether they are evil in the fact that they punish.

 

Second, he shows that they cannot be called evil on account of this, because by the same argument those who chastise bad people by punishing them would be “evil,” such as judges and teachers; “and” likewise it would follow that certain priests “who” exclude “the unclean,” that is, a sinner, “from the divine mysteries,” by excommunicating him, would be evil, which is against the Apostle, who commands this in 1 Corinthians 5:3-5.

 

But because to multiply its awkward consequences is not to revolve [an objection], third, he resolves all the foregoing matters. And he says that “to be punished” “is not evil” simply and in itself, but it is in itself good, since it is just, but it is evil in some respect, inasmuch as it removes something good from someone. “But to become” a sinner, that is evil simply; and so he who punishes a sinner is not evil, but he who sins is evil. For the same reason, it is not evil in itself to be excluded “from holy things” “with” justice, but it is in itself evil that someone be tarnished by sin and abandon sanctity and by his become “unworthy of” divine things, which are in themselves “undefiled.” And he does not sin who excommunicates, but he sins who does something from which he becomes deserving of excommunication. (Thomas Aquinas, An Exposition of The Divine Names, The Book of Blessed Dionysius, Chapter 4, Reading 18 [trans. Michael Augros; Scholastic Tradition in English Translation; Merrimack, N.H.: Thomas More College Press, 2021], 235)

 

Charles A. Callis, “Book of Mormon Prophecies Fulfilled” (1945)

  

The Book of Mormon prophecies were uttered centuries before the events occurred, and the events that fulfilled the prophecies were of such a character that no human foresight or judgment “unaided by divine inspiration or revelation could have foretold them.”

 

Let us begin by citing the following prophecy uttered between 600 and 592 B.C.:

 

“Nevertheless, thou beholdest that the Gentiles who have gone forth out of captivity, and have been lifted up by the power of God above all other nations, upon the face of the land which is choice above all other lands.” (I Nephi 13:30.)

 

“The Lord God will raise up a mighty nation among the Gentiles, yea, even upon the face of this land.” (I Nephi 22:7.)

 

This was spoken between 588 and 570 B.C.

 

The Nephite prophet in vision, saw by an excellent spirit that the United States would be founded by the Almighty and become a mighty nation of acknowledged preeminence in the world.

 

The Lord has not in modern times forgotten the prophecies of His servants, nor His own promises concerning this mighty nation. True to its inspired destiny the mission our unconquerable republic is battling mightily to preserve “government of the people, by the people, for the people.”

 

. . .

 

The Nephite prophet, speaking some time between 559 and 545 B.C. said:

 

“For after the book of which I have spoken shall come forth, and be written unto the Gentiles, and sealed up against unto the Lord, there shall be many which shall believe the words which are written.” (II Nephi 30:3.)

 

Since the organization of the Church in 1830, countless thousands have, with joy and gladness of heart, obeyed the Gospel; they have sincerely and earnestly avowed a belief in the divine authenticity of the Book of Mormon and accepted it as one of the authoritative guides in faith and doctrine.

 

“And it shall come to pass that the Jews which are scattered also shall begin to believe in Christ.” (II Nephi 30:7.)

 

This prophecy was uttered six hundred years before the birth of the Savior.

 

It is estimated by careful statisticians that upwards of 224,000 Jews during the nineteenth century entered the Christian churches of Europe and America.

 

. . .

 

It has been the ardent hope and faith of the prophets of God that the Jews, not only by degrees, but as a nation, shall accept Jesus Christ as their Messiah and Redeemer.

 

We are justified in laying stress upon the fact that what the prophets foretold has to the present time been fulfilled.

 

“And the blood of the saints shall cry from the ground against them.” (II Nephi 28:10. This was said between B.C. 559 and 545.)

 

From the day that the blood of righteous Abel was shed, many men and women who have thought differently from their neighbors concerning religious belief have had to lay down their lives as proof of the sincerity of their convictions.

 

The innocent blood of the Prophet Joseph Smith, and that of his brother, Hyrum Smith, testifies to the fulfillment of this prophecy. They sealed their testimony with their blood.

 

In the path of expulsion from homes, milestones changed into headstones. The great souls who were victims of unlawful and cruel deeds died for the word of God. They could not bend their conscience. Their blood cries from the ground up to heaven “through every blue gate of the sky.” Yes, this prophecy has been fulfilled in blood and tears.

 

. . .

 

“And because my words shall hiss forth—many of the Gentiles shall say: A Bible! A Bible! We have got a Bible, and there cannot be any more Bible.” (II Nephi 29:3. Between B.C. 559 and 545.)

 

Every missionary can bear testimony to the fulfillment of this prophecy made upwards of five centuries before Christ. To those who opposed the Book of Mormon it was the last word. But the claims of the Book of Mormon cannot be dismissed so lightly. (Charles A. Callis, “Book of Mormon Prophecies Fulfilled,” in Fundamentals of Religion: A Series of Radio Addresses [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1945], 102-103, 107, 108-10)

 

 

Further Reading:

 

Resources on Joseph Smith’s Prophecies

Charles A. Callis (1865-1947) on Isaiah 2 Being a Prophecy Concerning the Two Future Capitals in the Kindom of God

  

Jesus Christ will rule the earth in truth and love. He will sanctify it and prepare it for celestial glory. Throughout the Millennium there will be two capitals in the kingdom of God,--Jerusalem in Palestine and Zion in America.

 

Then the words of the prophet shall be fulfilled. “For out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.” (Isaiah 2:2.) (Charles A. Callis, Fundamentals of Religion: A Series of Radio Addresses [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1945], 49)

 

A. H. C. Van Eijk (1971) on Clement of Alexandria's Eucharistic Theology

  

We have to face, however, another problem concerning the interpretation of these texts. Catholic scholars have seized upon them to make Clement a witness of the doctrine of the Real Presence and transubstantiation, whereas their protestant colleagues claimed them as supporting their conception of a symbolic or spiritualistic presence. The latter view undoubtedly finds a strong support in Clement's own terminology. It could be, however, that this is asking the wrong question; it does not take into account, or rather it ignores, the context of Clement's language. His preoccupation is not with the precise nature of the Lord's presence in the Eucharist, as seems to be that of his interpreters; if this were so, Clement's terminology would urge us to admit a similar (real or symbolic) presence of the Logos in milk (e.g. 49,3) or honey (51,1). In fact, what he wants to show is that one and the same Logos is in many ways allegorically described (πολλαχῶς ἀλληγορεῖται ὁ λόγος, 47,2). He is more interested in the communion with the Logos, i.e. the res sacramenti, than in the visible, sacramental means by which this happens. If we consider the Logos as food (a common idea in Clement, and, indeed, in Alexandrian theology, since Philo), it does not really matter, whether this food is described as bread, wine, or milk, and honey. It is the communion with the divine Logos on which Clement's concern seems to turn. This also accounts for the allusive character of his exegesis of John 6,53 in 42,2–43,3, which must be particularly disconcerting for the advocates of a “massive” realism. We should by no means say, therefore, that 42,4–43,3 gives only an allegorical interpretation of John 6,53 (the real one being the eucharistic), or that his exegesis has no bearing on the Eucharist, but only on “doctrine” (Batifol's opinion). That this does no justice to Clement's theology, is particularly evident from a passage in which he comments Mk. 14,25:

 

“‘Take, drink, this is my blood’. He allegorically calls (ἀλληγορεῖ) the blood of the vine (cf. Ped. 2,19,3) the Word, ‘shed for many, for the remission of sins’, a holy stream of gladness.” (Ped. 2,32,2)

 

The “holy stream of gladness” (εὐφροσύνης) undoubtedly refers to the Eucharist, εὐφροσύνη being often used in this context. We see, then, that Clement uses also the word ἀλληγορεῖν when speaking of the Eucharist. Moreover, we notice that he replaces αἷμα by λόγος as subject of ἐκχεόμενον: here again, the Logos seems all-important. A better understanding of the allegory as theological method would keep us from making such statements as the above; it would appear, that Clement ignores the distinction between allegory, and typology or symbolism. All such terms as ἀλληγορία, τύπος, εἰκών, παραβολή, αἴνιγμα, σύμβολον are equivalent. A more detailed study of this method would show, that it has its reason in the hidden character of the Truth, which is only accessible to those who are initiated. This hidden-ness is an essential characteristic of the whole revelation.

 

To conclude, in this (6th) chapter of the first Book of Clement's Pedagogue (esp. from 33 onwards), many allegories or symbols are used to signify one and the same res, i.e. the Logos; milk, or honey are as much a symbol of the Logos as bread, or wine. So it has no sense here to ask questions about the real presence in bread and wine; these questions prove themselves inadequate.

 

At the end of this discussion of Ped. 1,25–52 let us list the points on which some passages of this section can be usefully compared with some sayings of Ev.Phil.:

 

(1) The elements of the Eucharist are in both writings bread and the mixed cup.

 

(2) Though these elements are not explicitly mentioned, Ev.Phil. 23 and Ped. 1,42,3–43,3 refer in a rather allusive way to the Eucharist. In both passages John 6,53 is quoted, though more literally in Ev.Phil.; for both Clement and the author of Ev.Phil. the ultimate reality “behind” the images of flesh and blood are Logos and Pneuma; but whereas the former speaks of a κρᾶσις of Logos and Pneuma in the Lord, and of a κρᾶσις of these both with man, the latter expresses this “communion” in terms of Valentinian mythology; according to this myth Soter and Sophia (or Achamoth), i.e. in Ménard's interpretation Logos and Pneuma from say. 23, are united in a συζυγία, of which the συζυγία of the pneumatic man and his angel is a part. Ped. 1,39,1 shows that John 6,51 ff was also used by the gnostics fought by Clement.

 

(3) If we take Ev.Phil. 23 (104,31–105,3) as a description of the effect of the Eucharist, it seems that both here and in Ped. 1,43,1 this effect is seen as a stripping off the flesh and as a putting on Christ, i.e. Logos and Pneuma.

 

(4) Neither Clement nor the author of Ev.Phil. excludes the body from the salutary effect of the Eucharist.

 

(5) Finally, the resemblance between the two writings is not only verbal, there is also a similarity of thought-pattern which becomes particularly evident in the exegesis of John 6,53. For both Clement and Ev.Phil. words or names, and all (other) symbols refer to a deeper, or rather, the ultimate reality “behind” them. For both the words of the Scripture and the sacramental liturgy of the Church give access to the eschatological reality, this is only disclosed (in these symbols) for one who has γνῶσις. Both seem more interested in this eschatological reality itself (what we have called the res sacramenti), than in the symbols because of the provisory, and according to Ev.Phil., even deceiving, character of the latter. Both agree, that “Truth”, “Pleroma”, “God” can only be known and only reveal themselves by means of symbols, images and allegories, and that only the gnostic succeeds in reaching the eschatological res. In short, Clement shares with Ev.Phil., the same pattern of symbolic, even sacramental thinking. The main difference seems to lie in the fact that for Ev.Phil. the sacraments are the mirror by means of which the gnostic (re-)discovers his true self. (A. H. C. Van Eijk, “The Gospel of Philip and Clement of Alexandria: Gnostic and Ecclesiastical Theology on the Resurrection and the Eucharist,” Vigiliae Christianae 25 [1971]: 116-19)

 

Peter-Ben Smit (2011) on Baptismal Being Regenerative and Producing the Mark of Divine Sonship on the Soul in the Theology of Irenaeus

  

Baptism as Regeneration (Including the Forgiveness of Sins)

 

Irenaeus can describe the effect of baptism also as the forgiveness of sins and regeneration to new life  and, together with a description of baptism as a ‘seal’, these are also the main designations he uses.  The latter of the two effects of baptism appears to be the overarching one, as the forgiveness of sins is part of the regeneration to a new life, as becomes clear, for example, from fragment 34 of the lost works of Irenaeus, where Naaman’s ‘baptism’ in the Jordan is interpreted along these lines. The new life or new birth received at baptism can be seen as the counterpart to the ‘Adamic birth,’ made possible through Christ, the new Adam.  Irenaeus understands this rebirth in terms of becoming a child of God (see D 3) and considers it to be the work of the creative Word of God: the Son of God makes human beings into children of God. 32 In its fullness, however, baptismal regeneration consists of being born into (εἰς) the Father, through (διά) the Son in (ἐν) the Holy Spirit (D 7), as part of a Trinitarian economy of salvation. 33 In this way, the faithful once more come to occupy their place as creatures of God, regaining the image of God.

 

In fact, it can well be said that Irenaeus integrates his view of baptism fully into his soteriological paradigm of the recapitulation (see e.g. AH 4.33:4, 5.1:3, D 33), which encompasses both the past as well as the future destination of humankind/creation. The forgiveness of sins is not only an integral part of Christ’s salvific work as such, but it also becomes a reality for the individual believer through the gift of the Holy Spirit at baptism, which is in itself the beginning of the ‘re-creation’ of a person (see AH 3.17:1-2, 5.12:2). The rebirth of the faithful at baptism gives them back both the imago and the similitudo Dei, which had been lost because of the fall (see AH 5.6:1, cf. 3.23:1-5, 3.18:2). (Peter-Ben Smit, “The Reception of the Truth at Baptism and the Church as Epistemological Principle in the Work of Irenaeus of Lyons,” Ecclesiology 7 [2011]: 362-63)

 

 

Being Marked with the Image of Christ

 

As has just been shown, for Irenaeus baptism with water and baptism in the Spirit are the two components of the process of regeneration taking place at baptism as a whole. Of these components, one particular aspect of the Spirit’s work in baptism needs some further attention at this point, as the way in which the Spirit’s action is described may well have a bearing on the way Irenaeus views the reception of the rule of truth at baptism. In AH 3.17:3, Irenaeus describes the effect of the baptism by the Spirit as follows:

 

Quapropter necessarius nobis est ros Dei ut non comburamur neque infructuosi effi ciamur, et ubi accusatorem habemus illic habeamus et Paraclitum, commendante domino Spiritui sancto suum hominem qui inciderat in latrones, cui misertus est et ligavit vulnera eius, dans duo denaria regalia ut, per Spiritum ‘imaginem et inscriptionem’ patris et fi lii accipientes, fructifi cemus creditum nobis denarium, multiplicatum domino adnumerantes. (AH 3.17:3)

 

Whereas Houssiau is right in pointing out that this imagery is not the same as that of the sealing with the Spirit (the notion of the seal is simply absent here),  the reference to receiving by the Spirit the image and the superscription of the Son (i.e. as if on a coin), certainly bears some resemblance to the concept of being sealed with the faith (see D 3, 100, cf. 25). The ways in which both images are used both involve reception, change in ‘image,’ and in both cases the same three items are involved in either the sealing or the giving of the coin: the three main points of the faith, Father, Son and Spirit. It is therefore plausible to suggest that receiving the seal of faith or the image and superscription of Father and Son as if on a coin should be seen as referring to the reception of the rule of truth/the faith as outlined above: being illuminated by receiving the true ‘first principles’ or ‘hypothesis’, and thus being restored to the image of Christ. (Peter-Ben Smit, “The Reception of the Truth at Baptism and the Church as Epistemological Principle in the Work of Irenaeus of Lyons,” Ecclesiology 7 [2011]: 366-67)

 

Harry A. Whittaker (Christadelphian) on the Reason for Jesus's Fear in the Garden of Gethsemane

  

Various explanations suggest themselves, only to be dismissed as inadequate or manifestly untrue. It may be stated categorically that Jesus was not moved to this prayer by any dread of physical suffering. Crucifixion was probably the vilest form of torture and death that the wit of man had devised up to that time. The searing pain of nails in hands and feet, the apparently endless hours of agony as the wracked and tortured body hung in indescribable wretchedness and misery, the parching thirst, the unutterable hopelessness and longing for death—all these factors, each of which it is almost impossible for the modern reader to appreciate, contributed to make crucifixion a prospect from which the strongest of men would quail. But Jesus was no physical coward. He who could sleep quietly and wake calmly in a small storm-stricken boat when experienced fishermen cried out in their terror, he who could go forth coolly facing the fierce incalculable antics of two uncontrollable maniacs, he who could wither his adversaries with a quiet penetrating question even when the death-dealing missiles were poised in their hands, he was not afraid of crucifixion. Else were he a craven breaker of his own commandment: “Fear them not therefore”, and the disciple would be greater than his Master.

 

With far greater likelihood and with much stronger support in Scripture, the suggestion has been put that Jesus shrank, not from the suffering of the Cross, but from its shame. For assuredly crucifixion was regarded in those days not with the awe and reverence with which the death of Christ has since invested it, but with loathing, abhorrence and contempt. Crucifixion was the death of a felon or a runaway slave. It was for all the world as though in these days some Christadelphian of tried integrity and proven piety should be publicly charged with (say) the foul crime of the callous neglect and brutal ill-treatment of his children or with one of the beastly sexual offences such as the salacious Sunday newspapers delight to retail to the lascivious minds of their readers.

 

Such, frequently, are the associations of crucifixion in Scripture. “Crucifying the Son of God afresh” means “putting him to an open shame” (Heb. 6:6). “Cursed of God was every one that hangeth on a tree” (Gal. 3:13). To the Jews, a crucified Christ was a stumbling block, to the Greeks foolishness (1 Cor. 1:23). And Heb. 12:2 states plainly that when Jesus endured the cross, he did so despising the shame of it. (Harry A. Whittaker, “Gethsemane,” The Christadelphian 87, no. 1029 [March 1950]: 72-73)

 

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