The subject which I have been asked to consider is the concept of Ktisis in the New Testament, with special reference to those decisively important texts, Romans 8.18ff, and Colossians 1.15ff. At the cost of repeating what others may have said, or may be going to say, here, I must preface my remarks with some observations about the attitude to creation which seems to be characteristic of the Old Testament, because to a large extent it is presupposed by the New Testament writers. The following points seem to be relevant for our purpose. First, the views of the Hebrew writers about creation are, in a sense, wholly anthropocentric. Man stands at the centre of the whole picture, and the rest of the animate and inanimate world is seen as a kind of backcloth for the drama of human history. What we ourselves would call ‘nature’ derives its significance from the activity within it of mankind and, in particular, of the chosen people of God. In this sense, what we call the ‘natural order’ revolves around man as the central point and focus which gives meaning to the whole. The creation of the world is not extra-historical. It is itself a part of history; for the creation narratives are part of a story which continues straight on to the great redemptive events which formed the basis of Israel's faith in God and the ground of her existence as his people. In the pentateuch, as in the prophets and psalms, creation and redemption are inseparably linked together.

Experience shows that the numerous passages in the Old Testament treating of war, and particularly those which represent Yahweh as bringing about and rejoicing in the destruction of Israel's enemies, present an immediate obstacle to the minds of many people. This contributes to an attitude, disquietingly common among worshippers, that most of the Old Testament is no longer suitable for use in Christian worship; and itself reflects the widespread but mistaken notion that, if any claim is made for the authority of the Bible as a whole, each and any part of it may be taken at its face value, and immediately related to Christian doctrine or practice. In contrast to this, it can hardly be over-emphasised that the Old Testament as a whole, and any part of it in particular, must be interpreted in the light of its historical context.

One who is engaged in university teaching must often wonder what happens to the discipline of knowledge with which he is concerned, when his pupils begin to make professional use of it. The example of Aristotle may haunt him. Alexander the Great was a distinguished enough pupil. But did the master ever intend that his teaching should be exploited as Alexander exploited it? A universe seems to lie between the search for truth we see in Aristotle, and the practical utilisation of knowledge for the purpose of world hegemony that we see in Alexander. The university teacher who specialises in biblical studies is in a fascinating position, for at least two kinds of pupil take what they have learned from him, and then begin themselves to teach. They are the schoolteacher and the minister or parson. What kind of use do they make of what they have learned? What has happened to the product by the time the process has come to an end?

The apparent lack of interest of the Gospels in the last words of Jesus seems strange to us today with our almost morbid interest in ‘famous last words’. None of them records them all. The Marcan tradition records only one, the Lucan preserves another three, whilst the Johannine supplements these with a further three, making a total of seven in all. It is possible that Jesus spoke more words than these during the six hours He hung on the Cross, but these are all that have been preserved for us. Their preservation is probably due more to the presence the women at the crucifixion than to that of the men for we hear of John alone of the disciples being present at the Cross. The rest, including Peter, were still scattered and afraid.

Two questions are usually asked concerning the historical J. value of the Lazarus narrative. One question is whether or not Lazarus rose from the dead. This will be answered by arguments concerning the possibility of miracles, but John is not concerned to indulge in such arguments. The other question is about the place of this event in the course of Jesus' ministry. If the synoptic tradition is taken as the norm, the historical value of the Lazarus story seems threatened. We appear to be forced to choose between the cleansing of the Temple (Mark 11.8) and the raising of Lazarus (John 11.47–53) as the direct cause of the final plot to kill Jesus. There is, however, no certainty that one event alone caused the final decision against Jesus; both Mark and John are aware of other attempts and plots (Mark 3.6, John 7.32).

The book of the prophet Isaiah opens with a superscription in the manner of other prophetic collections. The modern reader may be pardoned if he makes a mental note of the information and passes on quickly to the oracles that follow. The superscription associates the book with the name of the prophet Isaiah whose father Amoz, though the subject of later and probably unreliable Talmudic tradition, is otherwise unknown. The oracles are firmly dated in the days of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz and Hezekiah. Chapter 6 shows that the opening date must be the year of Uzziah's death, variously determined by scholars between 748 and 734 B.C. The last date may be that of the death of Hezekiah, say 697 B.C. On any reckoning, the prophetic ministry of Isaiah was a long one, and it covered a series of vivid and pivotal events—the crisis created by the aggression of Syria and Ephraim in 734–732 B.C. (see chapters 7–9.6), the fall of Samaria and of the northern kingdom of Israel in 721 B.C., Hezekiah's attempt at reform, the dangerous crises of 705–701 B.C. when the southern kingdom all but shared the fate of the north at the hands of Assyria, and a number of other events and situations, either allusive and hidden from us, or patiently to be inferred from such oracles as have been transmitted. The eighth century was also a period of economic transition with all the consequences of change in conflict, insecurity and moral and spiritual turmoil.