Because the sermon on the mount (hereafter SM) has received as much attention as any text in all of world literature, informed attempts to interpret it should in some way come to terms with the history of the discussion. For this reason we shall commence by examining several traditional approaches to the SM. We fully recognise that ‘a history of the interpretation of the Sermon on the Mount throughout the past two millennia would virtually amount to an introduction to the entire development of Christian theology and ethics’ — a fact which means that our own review is of necessity brief and piecemeal. Nonetheless, the following few pages do suffice to reveal certain important tendencies in exegetical history. Among them, and of first importance for our concerns, is the unfortunate habit of viewing the SM in isolation. Interpreters have again and again failed to take seriously the broader, literary context of Mt. 5–7 and have instead interpreted the chapters as though they were complete unto themselves, as though they constituted a book instead of a portion of a book. The considerable hermeneutical consequences have, on the whole, led away from the intent of the evangelist (our primary concern herein). It is our contention that any credible interpretation of Mt. 5–7 must constantly keep an eye on Mt. 1–4 and Mt. 9–28, for the part (the SM) draws its true meaning only from the whole (Matthew's Gospel). Put otherwise, the proper interpretation of the SM must be at one with the proper interpretation of the First Gospel in its entirety.

The most significant recent contribution to the understanding of Matt 6. 22–23 (= Luke 11. 34–36: Q) comes from Hans Dieter Betz. In his article on ‘Matthew vi.22f. and ancient Greek theories of Vision’ Betz claims to find in the pre-Socratics, in Plato, and in Philo the clues by which the enigmatic logion about the eye as the lamp of the body can best be elucidated. He directs attention to the following texts in particular: (1) Plato, Timaeus 45B–46A. In discussing the creation of the human body by the gods, Plato speaks of the ‘light-bearing eyes’(φωσφόραμματα), and he asserts that, within the human eye, there is a type of fire, a fire which does not burn but is, as Bury translates, ‘mild’. When we see, this fire, which is both ‘pure’ (είλıκρωές) and ‘within us’ (έντòς ὴμῶν), flows through the eyes and out into the world, where it meets the light of day. Now since like is attracted to like, the light of the eyes coalesces with the light of day, forming one stream of substance. And then, to quote Plato, ‘This substance, having all become similar in its properties because of its similar nature, distributes the motions of every object it touches, or whereby it is touched, throughout all the body, even unto the soul, and brings about the sensation which we term seeing.’ In fine, we see because we have within us a light that streams forth through our eyes.

The question, What did Paul know about Jesus of Nazareth?, has long been debated by students of the New Testament. The debate has not issued in any consensus. Indeed, critical appraisals of Paul's relation to the Jesus of history and to traditions about him have been unusually disparate. Thus, on the one side, W. D. Davies has argued that ‘Paul is steeped in the mind and words of his Lord.’ On the other side, R. Bultmann could claim that ‘the teaching of the historical Jesus plays no role, or practically none, in Paul’. The contrast between these two assertions is puzzling, and all the more so as neither can be regarded as idiosyncratic: Davies is not alone in avowing that sayings of and traditions about Jesus were of momentous significance for Paul, and it is not difficult to find critics at one with Bultmann. Moreover, as our two quotations do not simply represent two circles of opinion but also mark poles between which appears a variety of viewpoints, matters are even further complicated.