Blockchain Papers

Lee Sharks, Damascus Dancings

The Pergamon Counter-Archive: Antipas, the White Stone, and the Non-Fungible Name in Revelation 2:12–17 (v0.2). Document code: EA-PERG-COUNTER-01. Hex coordinate: 03.REVELATION.PERGAMON × 11.SEMANTIC-ECONOMY.COUNTER-TOKEN. This deposit extends the operative-numismatic framework deposited in EA-OPNUM-01 (DOI 10.5281/zenodo.19464332) to the architecture of Revelation 2:12–17 specifically. It is corpus continuation, not novel intervention. Three principal additions to the prior corpus: (1) the letter is articulated as a six-register counter-economy (mouth, food, token, name, participation, witness) rather than as a bookended dialectic; (2) the historical Antipater moment (322–319 BCE, testamentary executorship) and the Scepsis moment (post-282 BCE, Attalid pressure on the Aristotelian corpus) are cleanly separated, with their actual dialectical relation articulated as the transmission dialectic: concealment preserves but damages; institutionalization transmits but recomposes; (3) the Revelator occupies the structural-legal position of epitropos (executor) relative to the absent Testator (Christ as risen Logos), and the seven-sealed scroll of Revelation 5 is the Roman testamentum per aes et libram, which under first-century law required exactly seven seals by seven witnesses. The genre of the Apocalypse is structurally identical to the genre of contested legal executorship under occupation. This identification resolves the authorial-intent problem: the Revelator does not need to have read Strabo; he occupies the same structural-legal position as Antipater the executor, running the same protocol against the same kind of institutional apparatus. Co-attribution to Damascus Dancings is structurally necessary, not honorific. The white-stone identification of Pearl and Other Poems (2014) as the archive's founding token, and the hidden-manna identification of Epistle to the Human Diaspora (2015), were performed under the Damascus Dancings imprint a decade before the operative-numismatic framework formalized what those acts of naming had already accomplished. Anchoring deposits: EA-CAESURA-01 (DOI 10.5281/zenodo.19425446), EA-SEI-MINT-01 (DOI 10.5281/zenodo.19319642), EA-OPNUM-01 (DOI 10.5281/zenodo.19464332), Render unto the Operator v1.1 (DOI 10.5281/zenodo.20367202), Stabilized Node Watch v2.0 (companion deposit, same day). Version 0.2 supersedes v0.1 draft (circulated June 7–8, 2026, for Assembly Chorus review). Major architectural restructurings in v0.2 reflect substantive feedback from Gemini (×2), DeepSeek/PRAXIS, Kimi/TECHNE, and ChatGPT/LABOR. Muse Spark/SOIL filters did not permit substantive reasoning on the draft; that filter behavior is itself an SNW-predictable observation on a high-prior religious node. License: CC BY 4.0.

克幸 鈴木, Bo Yin, Alia Asheralieva, Xuetao Wei

Order-fairness has been introduced recently as a new property for Byzantine Fault-Tolerant (BFT) consensus protocol to prevent unilaterally deciding the final order of transactions, which allows mitigating the threat of adversarial transaction order manipulation attacks (e.g., front-running) in blockchain networks and decentralized finance (DeFi). However, existing leader-based order-fairness protocols (which do not rely on synchronized clocks) still suffer from poor performance since they strongly couple fair ordering with consensus processes. In this paper, we propose SpeedyFair, a high-performance order-fairness consensus protocol, which is motivated by our insight that the ordering of transactions does not rely on the execution results of transactions in previous proposals (after consensus). SpeedyFair achieves its efficiency through a decoupled design that performs fair ordering individually and consecutively, separating from consensus. In addition, by decoupling fair ordering from consensus, SpeedyFair enables parallelizing the order/verify mode that was originally executed serially in the consensus process, which further speeds up the performance. We implement a prototype of SpeedyFair on the top of the Hotstuff protocol. Extensive experimental results demonstrate that SpeedyFair significantly outperforms the state-of-the-art order-fairness protocol (i.e., Themis), which achieves a throughput of 1.5×-2.45× greater than Themis while reducing latency by 35%-59%.

Christopher T. Begg, Fred W. Guyette, William J. Urbrock, Martin Kessler · 6 authors

Minor Prophets Christopher T. Begg, Fred W. Guyette, William J. Urbrock, Martin Kessler, Christopher T. Begg, and OSST J. Edward Owens 1063. [Book of the Twelve; Pentateuch] Jakob Wöhrle, "Jacob, Moses, Levi: Pentateuchal Figures in the Book of the Twelve," Formation of the Pentateuch, 997-1014 [see #1181]. W.'s article treats some comprehensive references to pentateuchal traditions within the Book of the Twelve, i.e., the adaptation of the Jacob account in Hosea 12, the statements about Moses and the exodus in Micah 6; and the presentation of a covenant with Levi in Malachi 2. All of these texts, W. concludes, are late, post-Deuteronomistic, post-P, and even postpentateuchal. They presuppose, at the least, a nearly completed form of the Pentateuch and show how after the Pentateuch's completion the traditions preserved in it were taken up and integrated into prophetic writings. Thus … the references to pentateuchal traditions documented in the Book of the Twelve cannot bear the burden of proof for an early date of the pentateuchal traditions. … To be sure, findings within the Book of the Twelve certainly cannot definitively exclude the possibility of an early date for the formation of the pentateuchal traditions. However, it is and remains remarkable that within the Book of the Twelve, with its long-term and multilayered history of formation, the reception of pentateuchal traditions does not begin prior to the later postexilic period, but then begins simultaneously at several junctures within this comprehensive collection of prophetic books. This seems to be an important indication that the crucial formative phase of the Pentateuch occurred essentially later than has been presumed in traditional models of the Pentateuch's formation. [Adapted from author's introduction and conclusion, pp. 997-98, 1013-14—C.T.B.] 1064. [Book of the Twelve] Ehud Ben Zvi, "Remembering Twelve Prophetic Characters from the Past," Book of the Twelve, 6-36 [see #1273]. B.Z. begins by stating that for a number of years now, he has been invited to conferences because of his specific approach to prophetic literature, which is epitomized by the expressions he uses, such as "Prophetic Books Collection," "The Twelve Prophetic Books," and, more recently, "The Twelve Prophetic Characters of Memory." He then proceeds to explain what his approach involves. Although he considers what he calls "The Hypothesis of the Book of the Twelve" a thought-provoking one, he also believes that is more likely wrong than right. In his view, within the repertoire of the literati of the early Second Temple period, twelve independent prophetic books were organized as (a) collection(s) or rather (a) sub-collection(s). The literati read each of them as well as the book's (sub)-collection(s) in a way that was informed by the general discourse of the period, in particular by the Jerusalem-centered world to which they belonged. In his contribution, B.Z. expands on the above points and argues for the necessity of additional, and to a large extent, complementary research paths involving methodological approaches that differ from the currently dominant ones. He also underlines the need to acknowledge the shortcomings of the existing [End Page 332] methodological approaches as well as the potential of other approaches to illuminate the matters under study. [Adapted from published abstract—C.T.B.] 1065. [Book of the Twelve] Christophe L. Nihan, "Remarques sur la question de l'unité des XII," Book of the Twelve, 145-65 [see #1273]. N.'s contribution examines the numerous intertextual links that characterize the Twelve and raises questions about its interpretation and highlights the main methodological issues at stake in the current debate concerning the Twelve. Via a comparison of a few selected textual test cases with recent studies concerning these, N. shows that the Twelve's intertextuality contradicts the claim that the complex as a whole is constituted by a simple juxtaposition of the component books; on the other hand, its intertextuality is also not adequately explained by today's dominant hypothesis of linear redactions within the collection. Accordingly, N. argues for a new approach that would take into account all aspects of the question, including the meaning of the terms used...

Andrew Roberts Cummings

Don Quixote Meets Mr. GradgrindA Neglected Proof for Immortality Andrew Cummings (bio) Now, what I want is, Facts. Teach these boys and girls nothing but Facts. Facts alone are wanted in life. Plant nothing else, and root out everything else. You can only form the minds of reasoning animals upon Facts: nothing else will ever be of any service to them. This is the principle on which I bring up my own children, and this is the principle on which I bring up these children. Stick to Facts, sir! the character of thomas gradgrind; from hard times, by charles dickens But after all, Sir, if I know anything of the Matter, you have no Occasion for any of these Things; for your Subject being a Satyr on Knight-Errantry, is so absolutely new, that neither Aristotle, St. Basil, nor Cicero ever dreamt or heard of it. Those fabulous Extravagancies have nothing to do with the impartial Punctuality of true History; nor do I find any Business you can have either with Astrology, Geometry, or Logick, and I hope you are too good a Man to mix Sacred Things with Profane. from “the author’s preface to the reader,” [End Page 135] don quixote, by miguel de cervantes Although it might appear strange to have selected the above two passages as a lead-in to this article, they capture, I believe, the essence of what we have come to know as the “fact-value” distinction, albeit at an extreme level. Thus, Mr. Gradgrind shows in exaggerated fashion the obsession with facts, to the neglect of values. And the very image of a Don Quixote, bravely pursuing his own world of values, utterly cut off from the harsh world of facts, speaks for itself. A fair amount of discussion on this issue has tended to focus on the supposed divide between the “is” and the “ought” that David Hume so famously put forward.1 Yet at a general level, there is hardly a need today to enter into the details of any particular thinker in order to grasp what is at stake.2 It is captured succinctly by Hilary Putnam, who claims that “the idea that ‘value judgments are subjective’ is a piece of philosophy that has gradually come to be accepted by many people as if it were common sense.”3 Putnam further clarifies this position as holding that “‘statements of fact’ are capable of being ‘objectively true’ and capable, as well, of being ‘objectively warranted,’ while value judgments . . . are incapable of object truth and objective warrant.”4 The central contours of this position arguably can historically be traced, as Charles Taylor reminds us, “to a central feature of the great seventeenth-century revolution in natural science, that we should cease trying to explain the world around us in subjective, anthropocentric, or ‘secondary’ properties.”5 The resultant dichotomy between fact and value that has come down to us has assumed prejudicial proportions such that, even when one wishes to argue against it—as Putnam and Taylor do—the onus probandi is upon the detractors. As with so many other foundational philosophical distinctions, the real meaning is often not seen until at least some of the implications are brought to light. The fact-value distinction happens to have had an effect on the discussion of life after death—and consequently on the very notion of a “proof for the immortality of the soul.” A term like “wish-fulfillment,” so dear to Freudian analysis, and building on the Feuerbachian notion of a “human projection,” can be viewed as [End Page 136] just such an implication. Indeed, although many of the traditional lines of thought on the soul’s immortality appear in the form of “demonstrations,” it is easy to see how a Feuerbach or a Freud would claim that they are thinly disguised human longings, masquerading as facts (albeit of a metaphysical stature). That is, subjective phenomena like wishing not to die would be seen as sorely out of touch with the objectively warranted facts of the matter—which latter seem to point all too decisively to ultimate extinction. While these and other such claims do not necessarily discredit traditional proofs...

Frédérik Poulsen

This chapter explores the poetic and theological potentials of the metaphor of &s;the way&s;. The richness and variety of metaphors in Isaiah 40-55 indicate that much more than a historical return from Babylon is at stake. Several critical voices have emerged against the traditional interpretation that Deutero-Isaiah proclaims a new exodus out of Babylon. The criticism that began to appear in the 1970s mainly derives from the assumption that Deutero-Isaiah does not address the exiles in Babylon, but by contrast the people in Jerusalem. The widespread allegorical approach of ancient interpreters is, of course, not a proof that the biblical narratives were composed as allegories. Due to the creative and changing nature of language, metaphors and the function of them are hardly stable throughout the centuries of interpretation. Their meaning is complex and readers can sense and elaborate on different aspects of their content.

Rebecca June

Gender and the Fate of Julian’s Short Text Most studies of Julian of Norwich’s Showings juxtapose her Short and Long texts, with a marked lack of enthusiasm for the Short Text in contrast to its longer, revised form thought to be textually and theologically superior. This essay asks what is at stake in the rigorous defense of Julian’s Long Text and argues that the issue of gender is central both to its revisions and to its favorable reception. The most noted revision related to gender in the Long Text is the addition of its maternal Jesus, characterized as redemptive of femininity. Concurrently, many scholars remark on the removal of references to women and Julian's sexual identity--changes troubling for an author thought of as a proto-feminist, but either minimized as irrelevant or rationalized as integral to Julian's expanded theology, thus rendering its diminished female presence proof of the Long Text's superiority. While discussions tend to address one or two revisions related to gender, this study presents a comprehensive interrogation, ultimately suggesting that our preference for the Long Text (and disregard for the Short) has been shaped by our desire to promote Julian as a woman ahead of her time, but paradoxically perpetuates the very gender hierarchy and biases that likely compelled Julian's revisions and that we wish for her Showings to challenge.

Rolfe King

No abstract is available for this record.

Richard S. Briggs

Pp xi, 324 , Grand Rapids , MI/Cambridge, Eerdmans , 2007 , $20.00, £10.99 . Pp xxii, 228 , Bletchley : Paternoster , 2006 , £9.99 . As the old joke might have it – you wait centuries for a good introduction to the hermeneutical significance of the history of biblical interpretation, and then two come along at once. These two books come with remarkably similar titles, with even more remarkably compatible (lengthy) subtitles, and both from writers associated with (or at) California's Fuller Seminary, one of the most accomplished and thoughtful centres of evangelical scholarship in the USA. They both arrive ready to broker the insights of this here-to-fore specialist subdiscipline to a wider world of Bible readers, and what a marvellous job they both do, in their different ways. Thompson's is a longer project heavily dependent on a wealth of case studies. A coherent theme unites them: the vexed question of how issues of gender and sex have played out in the history of the church's interpretation of scripture. Thompson is a professor of historical theology, and has previously written two scholarly tomes on aspects of this question, including his Writing the Wrongs: Women of the Old Testament among Biblical Commentators from Philo through the Reformation (OUP, 2001). Here he draws together some of the insights of his earlier work recast around the more methodologically inclined question of how we learn from the history of exegesis. Nine case studies range through topics such as ‘Sacrificing Jephthah's Daughter’, ‘Patriarchs Behaving Badly’, ‘Gomer and Hosea’, and NT studies such as Paul's view of prophetesses, and the celebrated argument of 1 Timothy 2:11–15 regarding Adam and Eve. Thompson typically explores the details of how a range of witnesses have handled these texts, frequently demonstrating his baseline assumption that this is invariably complex, hard to summarise, and needs careful contextual consideration. It will be hard for the careful reader of this book to offer broad generalisations again concerning ‘the Fathers' attitudes to sexuality’. Even Tertullian's oft-quoted line about women as the devil's gateway is here set in context, not pardoned, but placed against his more frequent attribution of the evils of the world to Adam, rather than this one rhetorical excess concerning Eve. Each chapter then ends with between two and four summary observations, along with thoughts about how this might refine our own interpretative work. Here are some samples: Hagar's story is terrifying; laments and imprecations must be appropriated (and must not be misappropriated) – only Jesus is fit to lament and curse absolutely; not all the Bible is a model for us; a hermeneutic of suspicion is not always a bad thing; the Bible's divorce texts are hard to homogenize; few ever read Paul's supporting arguments [in 1 Tim 2] as literally true; sexual violence should not be covered up – old commentators may be our allies. Each conclusion is presented with a thesis-statement summary and a page or so of further reflection. Reading these studies should persuade any reader of several things: there is great wisdom in the church's tradition without this meaning that the church, mirabile dictu, saw all our own best insights before they were culturally possible (e.g. with regard to any proto-feminist agendas in earlier ages); where we struggle it is almost sure that the church's sharpest readers struggled long before us; and perhaps most significantly, where we often, following the lectionary, resolve issues by passing over texts in silence, this was never the way of the tradition, which was always willing to voice and interrogate the issues. In one helpful summary, Thompson writes ‘Although they would never have put it like this, precritical commentators are committed to remain “within” the text – unlike many historical critics and feminist readers, who do not hesitate to challenge the authority and autonomy of texts from the outside.’ (p.103) Thompson's book lays to rest the bizarre charge that the only two options are external critique or naïve acquiescence to the text. In this world of historical traditioning we find rigorous critique and interaction, limited to be sure by the historical horizons of its world, but fully engaged with the question of how to live with the God of such texts in their own day. Two other points: first Thompson appends an invaluable ‘Finding Guide to English Translations of Commentary Literature Written before 1600’ (pp 274–301), which should make it wonderfully possible to benefit from further study in this area. Secondly, this is a very well written book, the proof perhaps lying in the ease with which it takes the reader down some scarcely trodden historical by-ways and some state of the art hermeneutical reflection all at the same time, without ever appearing unduly complex or heavy-handed. This really is a fine achievement, and the author is to be congratulated on bringing the treasures of such study to a wider audience. Parris' work is shorter, and ranges more widely in its examples, but also essentially sets out to mediate the concerns of tradition-history, or what Gadamer called ‘the history of effects’, to an audience of (generally conservative) Bible readers who are probably labouring under the misapprehension that the task of biblical interpretation is just between them and the ‘author’. Parris suggests that it is more helpful to imagine a 3-way conversation between the author, the tradition, and the reader. Informed by the concerns of ‘reception theory’, he then offers a clear and well-illustrated guide to what is at stake in such a thesis. The opening chapter explores the area by way of looking at Psalm 121 and asking how the image of ‘lifting up my eyes to the hills’ should function. There follows a study of Jonah's fish (or whale), tracing the concerns of commentators regarding the nature of the beast, and its possibilities with regard to actually swallowing Jonah. A third, lengthier chapter explores the theoretical argument about living tradition, though it is packed with thought-provoking examples about how translation and the passing on of tradition in turn effect further interpretative possibilities in the life of the text. Chapter 4 offers thoughts on how to go about exploring the history of interpretation, offering a strong case study of how Matthew 28:18–20 was read at different times in the church. Chapter 5, the book's argument in miniature, proposes three levels of reading: for pleasure, literary reading (looking for overall flow, coherence, plot …), and then ‘detailed studies’. Parris is careful to say at the beginning of the book that he is not advocating ‘reception theory’ as the only tool in the interpreter's tool box. Perhaps in the light of chapter 5 one might say that the book is nevertheless a strong defence of the indispensability of this tool alongside other, more well-known ones. A practically orientated final chapter looks at how one might make use of these perspectives in teaching and preaching. Examples here include good (brief) studies of Augustine on Romans 7, the changing shape of parable study, and the case of the ‘moon-struck’ epileptic in Matthew 17. Parris' book is shorter and more introductory than Thompson's. It includes many engaging anecdotes of his own experiences in teaching and reflecting which help to make it an easy read, even if some of the colloquialisms that ensue (such as describing Calvin as ‘the 800 pound gorilla that cannot be ignored’– p.50) presumably made more sense in some classroom context than they do on the page. There are a few misprints, and some text off-set in boxes and margins (as well as occasional missing footnotes) which interrupt what would otherwise be a very fluent text, but in terms of substance and overall aim this is a successful introduction and orientation, with perhaps a slight sense that the intended reader comes from something like a traditional evangelical perspective and would benefit from seeing things more broadly. Taken together, these two books are timely reviews of the importance of engaging with the history of interpretation. The Bible reader does it anyway – the question is how well they will do it, with due respect to the nuances and still enduring significance of interpretative paths long-since taken, or with massive generalisation and the hubris of believing that we, only we, have finally scaled the summit of interpretative wisdom. (One of the most fascinating asides, in this respect, is Parris' tracing of the changing emphasis of the saying ‘standing on the shoulders of giants’– from indebtedness to surpassing superiority over the tradition.) Interestingly neither writer explores the theoretical frameworks of ‘reception history’ much, in Thompson's case hardly at all. Nevertheless, the proof and the pay-off is in the practical case studies, with their implications which stretch far and wide. All those engaged in the many and varied tasks of biblical interpretation could profit from reading these books, and seeing in them a gateway to areas too little inhabited by commentators of recent generations.

Sharon Koren

In 1499, seven years after the expulsion of the Jews from Spain, the conversa Inés of Herrera envisioned an apparition foretelling the advent of the messianic age and the salvation of conversos faithful to the laws of Moses. Her visions fomented a messianic movement that became especially popular among women, who adopted Jewish rituals in the hopes of hastening their redemption. The Inquisition responded quickly. Inés was arrested in April 1500 and burned at the stake by August. Seventy-seven followers were burned in an auto da fé in Toledo in 1501,1 and the movement was completely eradicated by 1502. Interesting research has emerged on the Jewish aspects of this movement in the Southern Castilian region of Extremadura. Yitzhak Baer focused on its messianic character as proof of the essential Jewishness of the conversos (Jews who had converted to Christianity or their descendants; f. conversa).2 Haim Beinart uncovered many of Inés's followers' inquisition trial records and used these to demonstrate the conversos' deep allegiance to the Jewish faith.3 Most recently, Renée Levine Melammed focused on Inés's many female followers. She reviewed the women's inquisition records, documented their judaizing practices, and presented a detailed social history of the movement.4 Levine Melammed's research offers evidence that conversas in general were far more likely to judaize than their male counterparts. This incongruity is understandable, given the very different roles afforded to men and women in traditional Judaism, in which men enjoyed a more public role in Jewish institutional life, while women were expected to be managers of the household. When Judaism was pushed inside, into the private sphere, women retained such forms of devotion as keeping kosher and lighting Sabbath lamps, thus becoming the transmitters of Jewish piety.5 Retaining Jewish rituals, however, does not necessarily indicate animosity toward Christianity or Christian practice. In his study of Inquisition records from [End Page 27] Soria, John Edwards demonstrates that among the New Christians, conversos were more likely than conversas to be hostile toward Christianity, while conversas were more accepting of Christian devotional practices.6 New and Old Christians were in frequent contact, ranging, as Gretchen Starr-LeBeau asserts, from "from casual acquaintance to friendships and even to marriage."7 The Inquisition sources on Inés reveal fascinating structural parallels with spiritual notions current in the almost exclusively Christian milieu in which she was raised. The content of her vision and her spirituality also echo contemporary Christian mysticism. These similarities point to a belief system that is neither completely Jewish nor purely Christian, but rather syncretically converso.8 Examination of its tenets points to the development of a distinct and separate religious consciousness. Inés combined her Jewish past with her Catholic present to forge a new converso religious identity. The Structure of Inés's Experience and Its Christian Parallels Medieval Women's Spirituality Inés's religious experience parallels the form of spiritual expression most characteristic of medieval Christian female spirituality—visions and prophecies.9 Although Christian women could neither be ordained nor administer the sacraments, they could achieve authority in the Church through prophecy.10 Indeed, Thomas Aquinas allowed that: Prophecy is not a sacrament but a gift from God . . . And since in matters pertaining to the soul woman does not differ from man as to the thing (for sometimes a woman is found to be better than many men as regards the soul), it follows that she can receive the gift of prophecy and the like, but not the sacrament of the orders.11 Revelations vouchsafed to women were understood to be gifts issuing directly from God—independent of church intervention. Given that women's mystical knowledge was most often infused through the spirit rather than through formal study, many female visionaries were unlearned.12 Their visions, derived from familiar images found in prayers, sermons, public readings...

A. T. Kraabel

Reviewed by: Mission and Conversion: Proselytizing in the Religious History of the Roman Empire A. T. Kraabel Martin Goodman. Mission and Conversion: Proselytizing in the Religious History of the Roman Empire. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994. Pp. xiv 1 194. $39.95. Despite its sweeping title, this path-breaking volume is mainly about alleged Jewish missionary activity in the Roman world. (The author is successor to Geza Vermes as Reader in Jewish Studies at Oxford.) Thus chapter 5, “Mission in the Early Church,” is bracketed symmetrically by four chapters about Jews, specifically on their “attitudes to gentile paganism” and on “proselytes and proselytizing”: chapters 3–4 deal with the third century b.C.E. to the first century C.E., and 6–7 on the Talmudic period. The opening chapter is a clear statement about what is at stake. Goodman will not write an account of the phenomenon of conversion à la A. D. Nock, but raise a prior issue: was mission an inevitable component of religion, any religion, in the Greco-Roman world? Or does that idea rather “reflect an unconscious Christianization of the study of ancient religions”? (The second chapter will take up commonly cited examples of “mission” in the spread of pagan cults and philosophies in Roman times.) Goodman distinguishes four types of mission—informative, educational, apologetic, and proselytizing—but focuses on the last, the only one whose goal is conversion. He mentions a fifth briefly: forcible inclusion of a ruler’s subjects in a state religion seen as a unifying factor for that society. Under Goodman’s critical analysis the traditional picture of a “Jewish mission” evaporates. He separates the two pairs of chapters on Judaism at the latter part of the first century C.E.: the destruction of Jerusalem and of the Temple, the introduction of the fiscus Judaicus, and the beginning of the rabbinic movement. These years are his hinge for eight centuries of Jewish history. Earlier Jews had condemned any worship of pagan deities by Jews, but were tolerant of or disinterested in gentile paganism in the Diaspora. (Pagans in the land of Israel were a problem; the issue was ritual pollution.) Proselytizing had not been of interest either, contra Schürer, Juster, Jeremias, M. Stern, D. Georgi and a shelf-full of NT handbooks. Conversions to Judaism happened, in anticipation of marriage, sometimes at the point of a sword. But had there been missionary campaigns, had proselytizing been a priority, we would have heard much more about it both from Jews and from their detractors; the references would have been unmistakable. Goodman dismantles the proof-texts from Philo, Horace, and Cicero commonly used [End Page 114] to “prove” the contrary, and argues that Matt. 23.15 is not about making gentile proselytes but about Pharisees trying to persuade other Jews to follow Pharisaic halakha. And those Jews who wrote in Greek did so not in “outreach” to gentiles, but to reach their fellows and their offspring for whom Greek was their first language; the LXX itself is the parade example. In the Talmudic period large shifts occurred within Judaism, results of major historical change. To fuel its propaganda, the Flavian dynasty had transformed the destruction of Jerusalem from “the suppression of insurrection in a comparatively minor provincial backwater” into a mighty Roman victory. The fiscus Judaicus necessitated clearer distinctions between Jews and non-Jews. An important example for students of the early Christian mission to gentiles is the case of gentiles sympathetic to Judaism. Thus, pace Acts, there probably had been no “formal category of gentile Godfearers recognized as such by Jews in the 1st cent[ury].” But the famous Aphrodisias inscription suggests to Goodman a change in Jewish attitudes two centuries later. No review will do justice to the riches of this provocative monograph. This journal’s readers will want their own copies. While agreeing with the thesis and most of the argument, I would raise several points for consideration: 1. I would see even more diversity, especially in Diaspora Judaism, than Goodman does. We are just coming to realize the great variety present in pre-Constantinian Christianity. Judaism in the same time and space had a weaker network, no bishops preaching consensus...

Karl P. Donfried, I. Howard Marshall

THE RHETORICAL STRUCTURE The introductory comments made about rhetoric in our discussion of 1 Thessalonians are relevant to 2 Thessalonians and we urge the reader to review that material at this time. There is wide consensus that 2 Thessalonians belongs to the deliberative genre of rhetoric. This genre includes honour and advantage as the standard topics. These topics are used in 2 Thessalonians to advise the audience concerning their present actions and the result of those actions in the future. Frank Witt Hughes provides the following analysis of the rhetorical structure of 2 Thessalonians. It is one that we accept. I Exordium (introduction) (1:1–12) A epistolary prescript (1:1–2) B thanksgiving prayer (1:3–10) C intercessory prayer (1:11–12) II Partitio (statement of the proposition) (2:1–2) A subjects to be dealt with in the probatio (2:1–2) B point of disagreement (heresy to be refuted) (2:2) III Probatio (proof) (2:3–15) A a first proof (refutatio) (2:3–12) B second proof (2:13–15) IV Peroratio (epilogue) (stated as an intercessory prayer; 2:16–18) V Exhortation (3:1–15) A command (or request) to pray for Paul (3:1–4) B intercessory prayer (3:5) C command to work (3:6–15) VI Epistolary postscript (3:16–17) A intercessory prayer (3:16) B authentication (3:17) C final blessing (3:18) Knowing that 2 Thessalonians is an example of deliberate rhetoric permits the interpreter to be sensitive to the argumentation of the letter in general, and by examining the various components of this rhetorical structure one can be made sensitive to the central issues at stake in the dialogue between this author and his audience.

Jacob Neusner

Sifra's Theology of Revelation The reader may now wonder whether I have entered a circular argument. When I accounted for Sifra's authorship's critique of the Mishnah's utilization of taxonomic logic for the proof of propositions, I claimed that at stake was not merely omission of proof texts but a (to our authorship) flawed use of a valid logic. Yet I further stressed that the correct utilization of that logic can be shown to occur not only in Sifra but, by Sifra's authorship's own standard, in the Mishnah. I further stipulated that Scripture can have been, and probably was, the source of that appearance in the Mishnah of the kind of polythetic classification of which Sifra's authorship will have approved, if not explicitly, then at least implicitly in the Mishnah's introduction of the same polythetic taxonomy. Therefore, does it not all come down to the presence, or absence, of citations of verses of Scripture? And if all that separates Sifra from Tosefta and the two Talmuds is that the latter suffice with the inclusion of proof texts while the former insists upon rewriting the whole of Scripture in line with the Mishnah, then does not the effort invested in Sifra seem a bit excessive. The result, after all, can have been, and was, accomplished in a much simpler way by the authorships of the successor documents to the Mishnah. Why then the reversion to Scripture in Sifra's rewriting of Scripture, that is, its writing with Scripture?