Readers Reply

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Of Lections and Lectionaries

In “Why the Book of Jonah Is Read on Yom Kippur” (sidebar to “Jonah and the Whale: Through the Eyes of Artists”, BR 06:04), Nahum Sarna uses “lectionary” as a synonym for “appointed reading” (e.g., “…Jonah as one of the day’s two prophetic lectionaries”). The word that means simply “reading” is “lection” (Latin, lectio, –onis). A lectionary is a book containing those readings, When Catholics speak of “the lectionary,” they’re referring to one of those books in the same way that we would speak of the “the handbook” or “the Bible,”

Why Did Ninevites Listen to Jonah?

Please add my voice to what I am sure will be a veritable deluge of letters questioning David Noel Freedman’s interpretation of part of the Jonah story (“Did God Play a Dirty Trick on Jonah at the End?” BR 06:04).

Dr. Freedman suggests that the Ninevites listened to Jonah and repented because Jonah had been swallowed and then vomited by a large fish. (“Can you imagine if you heard that a man was coming, one who had spent tree days and three nights in the belly of a fish, and that he had a message to deliver—wouldn’t you go to hear him? Who wouldn’t pay attention to his words? Even I would go to listen!”) The Ninevites knew this, Freedman tells us, because Jonah told the sailors on board of his predicament. So he did. But his story at that point (Jonah 1:8–9) did not include the fish, but only his call by God, his disobedience to that call and, perhaps, the subsequent storm.

As far as the story is concerned, when the sailors threw Jonah overboard he was dead. There is no evidence nor any reason to believe that the sailors knew anything about the fish and Jonah’s existence in it.

The Ninevites probably paid attention to Jonah because God’s word was so compelling.

I thoroughly enjoy your magazine

Professor David Noel Freedman replies:

Ms. Ridenour has made an excellent point. She is quite right about the sailors. While Jonah may have given them the relevant information about his past, and while they participated in the act of throwing him overboard, they could hardly have been aware of his subsequent experiences, especially if they continued on their voyage to Tarshish at the other end of the Mediterranean Sea. So the connection I suggested in the article is a little dubious.

Nevertheless, I believe that if ordinary rational human factors were involved, it would have helped Jonah considerably if the word got out that he had been swallowed by a fish and had then been regurgitated onto dry land. Clearly someone must have known about it, or we would not have it in the Book of Jonah today. The point I wanted to make, or should have made, about the sailors was that when Jonah was asked by someone about his past, he did not hesitate to provide the information. So we may readily suppose that when Jonah approached the city of Nineveh, he may well have been asked about himself and his antecedents and, as in the case of the sailors, he may well have provided not only the basic information about his nationality, but also about his recent experiences.

One way or another, I think the word of his miraculous deliverance may well have reached Nineveh before him, or upon his arrival. Otherwise, it is hard to see how a message containing five words, without further explanation or justification for the message or the messenger, could have had much impact on the local citizens, or anyone else for that matter. But in the end you may well be right, and God in his mysterious way may well have worked a greater miracle with the people of Nineveh than he did with Jonah.

Jonah and the Gentiles

In “Did God Play a Dirty Trick on Jonah at the End?” BR 06:04, David Noel Freedman seems to base his argument for a new theology in the Book of Jonah 006on his [Freedman’s] rejection of the idea that Jonah “didn’t want to go to Nineveh [because t]he gentiles might be saved.” He points out that Jonah is “thoroughly decent and polite to the sailors—all gentiles—on the ship with him.” More to the point, he adds that “he goes out of his way at great personal risk to save their lives,” and concludes, “This is not the act of someone who is narrow-minded about his fellow human beings.”

True enough. However, the fact that Jonah was not anti-gentile does not necessarily mean that he wasn’t anti-Ninevite. Nineveh was the (or a) capital of the Assyrian empire which, as the author of the book well knew, conquered the kingdom of Israel, carrying off a significant number of its people into captivity. It also ravaged the kingdom of Judah, destroying many of its towns and cities (such as Lachish), although it failed to capture Jerusalem. Thus, while Freedman is correct in saying, “That he didn’t want to go to Nineveh has nothing to do with the fact that the Ninevites were gentiles,” it may well be that Jonah wanted the Ninevites destroyed because they were Assyrians. These were the people who had shown themselves the cruelest of enemies to his people; he wanted revenge against this specific country without thereby showing a general anti-gentile bias.

The fact that Jonah seems to be depicted as living before the Assyrian attack on the Land of Israel should not, as Freedman points out, bother us. The author wrote after the captivity of the ten northern tribes, and Jonah, being a prophet, could well be aware of what was to come.

Professor David Noel Freedman replies:

Your suggestion that Jonah may have been more selective in his attitudes, and that he may have harbored a particular hostility to the Ninevites, rather than to gentiles in general, as he is often depicted, is a good one, and should be taken seriously. Similarly, your comment that his anti-Assyrian attitude may be based not on the known facts of the time in which he lived, but on his foreknowledge of what the Assyrians might or would do to his country and people, is intriguing, and it deserves a reply.

While speculation about possibilities, whether of attitude or of foreknowledge, is often interesting and certainly permissible, I think it is more important for readers and writers (about the story) to recognize that they are bound by the contents of the story itself and the stated objectives and interests of the author, if these can be determined. While we may wonder about Jonah’s attitude toward this people or that, the author of the Book of Jonah is only interested in telling us about Jonah’s attitude toward this people or that, the author of the Book of Jonah is only interested in telling us about Jonah’s attitude toward and responses to people like the sailors (aside from his proclamation to Nineveh, he never speaks to anyone there and no one speaks to him) and, for example, his supreme joy at having the bush spring up to shade his head.

So it would be unwise to go beyond the author and say that Jonah disliked the Ninevites. The reason for Jonah’s proclamation is that the Ninevites have been branded as wicked and guilty by God, and certainly that is good enough for Jonah. Whether Jonah hates only the sin and not the sinner remains to be seen, but as to the wickedness and guilt of the Ninevites (and in the story, those charges and crimes are restricted to the internal situation, definitely not the well-known Assyrian propensity to wreak havoc on their neighbors), that is quite enough to justify Jonah in giving the message or, because he suspects what God is 008up to, in refusing to give the message. In short, the guilt of the Ninevites is a given in the story, established at the very beginning, and what Jonah does or does not think about them doesn’t really matter.

There is also no hint or suggestion that Jonah has foreknowledge of what is going to happen to Israel at the hands of the Ninevites, although the author may well know that, and, for the same reasons, the readers. If you want to explore the attitude of either author or readers, that would be a good presumption, but I think the author has specifically excluded Jonah from such considerations, precisely because he and the situation are placed in the early part of the eighth century B.C., before the Assyrians embarked on their campaign of conquest and destruction which ultimately engulfed Israel and most of Judah. Prophets don’t know everything, only what God is willing to show them.

Freedman’s Fresh Findings

David Noel Freedman’s articles are always the first ones I turn to. His most recent (“Did God Play a Dirty Trick on Jonah at the End?” BR 06:04) was as provocative and stimulating as ever.

I particularly admire Dr. Freedman for the risk he assumes in these popular treatments. He forgoes the technical custom of amassing all possible evidence for one’s position and merely sets forth his conclusions without a lot of fanfare.

At times this leaves him open to criticism. I, for one, remain unconvinced that God was prepared to pardon the Ninevites with or without their repentance.

Yet Dr. Freedman has helped me to read the Book of Jonah and obtain new insights into the Holy Scriptures. All of us who find joy in discovering fresh truth from the Bible can benefit from his suggestions, heretical or not!

Swan or Serpent; Prince of Peace or Prince of Darkness; Apples or Testicles?

In her article, “Self-Portraits as Christ,” BR 06:03), Kathleen Powers Erickson’s dislike of Gauguin’s personality seems to have affected her judgment of his art.

She announces that, “In his ‘Self-Portrait with a Halo,’ the hedonistic and egotistical Gauguin exploited the iconography of the Christ figure to emphasize his own sense of divinity and lordship over others.”

This painting, done on a cupboard door, is more comic than sacred. Gauguin is laughing at himself, perhaps ruefully (having been rebuffed by Mlle. Henri). What Ms. Erickson calls a swan is also a serpent with a slithery tail, while the apples, the fruit of Eden, hang from their branch like a pair of oversized testicles. Although Gauguin may have seen himself as the “Prince of Peace,” and also as the “Prince of Darkness,” in this painting it is his ironic view of his own grandeur that prevails.

To quote Francoise Cachin, in The Art of Paul Gauguin:

“Before we attempt to understand Gauguin’s statement about himself in this most provocative of his portraits, we should recall that the work was conceived, as was the picture of his colleague [Meyer de Haan], as a caricature. In short, he was having fun, playing with his own image.”

By upholding the myth of “the hedonistic and egotistical” Gauguin, in contrast to the “humble” Van Gogh, Ms. Erickson loses the truth of the man, and his art. Gauguin was neither saint nor demon. He was a human being, filled with conflict, brilliant as a painter, with a deeply religious sense of life that is clear in his paintings and that should not be discounted.

Kathleen Powers Erickson replies:

My characterization of Gauguin as hedonistic and egotistical, particularly when compared to van Gogh, is not only my own judgment, but that of Gauguin’s own contemporaries. Even a cursory reading of Gauguin’s Journal, Noa Noa, gives ample evidence of his unbridled hedonism. With regard to his ego, Henry Moret, who worked with Gauguin both at Pont-Aven and Le Pouldu, in describing Gauguin’s personality wrote, “The basis of his character was a ferocious egoism, the egoism of a genius who considers the whole world his prey, devoted to the glorification of his power, and as raw material for his creations. Not the least charity, pity, tenderness or altruism.”

This aspect of his character is attested by Gauguin’s wife, children, friends and fellow artists, as well as his own words, which I quoted in the article. If Mr. Morgan possesses documentation that Paul Gauguin was a warm, sensitive, modest individual, I would like to see it. There is certainly a wealth of evidence to the contrary.

In contrast, the artist, Emile Bernard, who was one of Van Gogh’s closest friends, described him as “the noblest human being one could encounter—frank, open, with a touch of humorous malice—excellent friend, inexorable judge, completely free of egoism and ambition.”

Even in acknowledging Gauguin’s unbounded egoism, however, Moret did not deny his genius, nor did I. This should have been evident in my description of Gauguin as the “undisputed master” of the symbolists. Neither do I deny that Gauguin was a “human being, filled with conflict,” though I would debate the issue of his “deeply religious sense of life.” If Mr. Morgan means that Gauguin possessed a primitive spiritualism which permeated his art, we are in complete agreement. I also agree that the vine in Gauguin’s hand can be read as either a serpent or a swan, perhaps both.

Since I wrote that Gauguin’s concern in his “Self-Portrait with Halo” was to underscore his sense of dominance over his artist disciples, his position as Lord of the Earthly Paradise, I would also agree with the statement that “it is his ironic view of his own grandeur that prevails.”

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As Mr. Morgan is clearly familiar with Francoise Cachin’s critique of Gauguin’s “Self-Portrait with Halo,” I will quote the conclusion of that critique:

“The painting, despite its irony, is evidence of Gauguin’s invincible ego cult, morally underpinned by Carlyle’s definition of the artist as hero. The work is a kind of emblem of his phenomenal—and justified—confidence in what he had become in so short a time. Gauguin had always known what he ought to do; now he realized what he could do. This, no doubt, is what he is telling us so proudly, so humorously, and so ferociously in the portrait.”

I fail to see Mr. Morgan’s “oversized testicles” in Gauguin’s dangling apples.

Christ or Satan or Sexual Libertine?

Where is the “black swan” in Gauguin’s “Self-Portrait” (Kathleen Powers Erickson, “Self-Portraits as Christ,” BR 06:03)? What Gauguin is holding between his fingers is clearly a serpent.

Moreover, Erickson’s interpretation that Gauguin has depicted himself as Christ is plausible but questionable. Gauguin’s imagery scarcely suggests Christ, but readily suggests Satan. The serpent and the apples connote temptation and sin; Gauguin’s dour, skewed-eye countenance looks demonic, not Christ-like.

Is he Christ? Or is he Satan? Maybe he is neither! It could well be that Gauguin was doing nothing more profound than humorously depicting himself as an unrepressed sexual libertine—a far more desirable alternative for Marie Henry (misspelled as Marie Henri in the article) than that twisted gnome hunched over his books, Meyer de Haan.

At any rate, the “Self-Portrait with Halo”—like many of Gauguin’s artworks—is ambiguous, subject to multiple interpretations. In other paintings—such as “Christ on the Mount of Olives”—Gauguin explicitly and in full seriousness presented himself as Christ. It is not so clear in that strange portrait on Marie Henry’s cupboard.

Kathleen Powers Erickson replies:

The misspelling of Marie Henry’s name was a simple typographical error that was then picked up and repeated in the manuscript.

Mr. Johnson is incorrect in stating that the vine in the painting “is clearly a serpent.” It is not clearly a serpent, but can be read as either a serpent or a swan, or both. Like much of the symbolist’s iconography, it is clearly ambiguous. Concerning the interpretation of the vine, I originally footnoted Katherine van Hook’s classic critique of Gauguin’s “Self-Portrait with Halo” in the Gazette des Beaux Arts, but it was edited by BR. Also, John Rewald, “the reliable standard,” in his Post-Impressionism refers to the vine as “the stylized image of a snake or swan.”

In the most recent critique of Gauguin’s “Self-Portrait with Halo,” Francoise Cachin wrote:

“The stylized papyrus-shaped plants in the foreground are the same as those in the painting of a girl spinning—perhaps erroneously referred to as Joan of Arc—on the facing wall, whom an angel is supplying with revelations. This motif may also point to some kind of association between legendary heroes and redeemers. As to the background red, this may refer not to hell, but to the imaginary universe. Gauguin himself postulated this meaning for red in his painting of Jacob wrestling with the angel. Hence he would be representing himself against the symbolic backdrop of a new aesthetic order, of which he obviously claimed the status of hero.”

My conclusion that Gauguin’s intent in his symbolic references to both Christ and Satan was to depict himself as Lord of the Earthly Paradise, Master of his artist disciples at Le Pouldu, thus concurs with Francoise Cachin’s critique.

Mr. Johnson’s suggestion that Gauguin did not intend to depict himself as either Christ or Satan, but that he “was doing nothing more profound than humorously depicting himself as an unrepressed sexual libertine—a far more desirable alternative for Marie Henry … than that twisted gnome hunched over his books, Meyer de Haan,” I would have to reject out of hand. It is a completely subjective imposition of what Mr. Johnson assumes Gauguin must have felt toward his friend and patron, Meyer de Haan, when Gauguin painted their adjoining portraits. As a secondary concern, it is possible, but it ignores all of the references to Eden, i.e., the apples, the wisdom literature, the lamp in front of Meyer de Haan, Gauguin’s halo, etc. If an interpretation is to be at all reliable, it must at least be internally coherent. The various elements in Gauguin’s “Self-Portrait with Halo” make it obvious that Gauguin, ironically or otherwise, is here proclaiming himself as Master and Lord.

The point of my article, which Mr. Johnson seems to have missed entirely, was to demonstrate the different ways in Gauguin and Van Gogh employed the artistic device of the iconography of the Christ-figure in these two self-portraits. The paradox of Christ as both Master and servant is here employed in Gauguin’s “Self-Portrait with Halo” and Van Gogh’s “Pieta” In keeping with the very different Personalities of the two artists, Van Gogh would never have presumed to represent himself as Lord, and Gauguin could never have conceived of himself as servant.

A Twisted Cross

I want to let you know of a very practical pastoral application of an article in the June issue, “Self-Portraits as Christ,” BR 06:03, by Kathleen Powers Erickson. I am a supervisor of Clinical Pastoral Education. This summer I supervised a Korean-American woman, newly ordained in the United Methodist Church. Miyoung Paik was a professional illustrator before entering seminary and wished to integrate her artistic creativity with her pastoral skills. Miyoung had been hospitalized at the age of four for surgery to correct a degenerative bone in her neck. As a result of the surgery, she was left with a permanently curved neck and spine, and short stature. I had encouraged Miyoung to use art to integrate her physical situation with her ministry; I showed Ms. Erickson’s article.

The following Sunday Miyoung preached a sermon in which she told the story of her physical problems, asserted that if Christ lived in her (Galatians 2:20: “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me”) he would have to die differently shaped cross than that usually depicted. She showed her listeners a twisted cross she had made from tree branches that echoed her own shape. She concluded by asking the congregation to discover for themselves the shape of the cross on which Jesus would die to a part of their lives.

The account of Gauguin and van Gogh using their own portraits in paintings of Christ helped Miyoung to integrate her artistic abilities and her personal history with her theology. She and I both thank you and Ms. Erickson for her article.

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Eve Is the Heroine—For Having Eaten the Forbidden Fruit

After reading Ross S. Kraemer’s review of Carol Meyers’ Discovering Eve: Ancient Israelite Women in Context (Bible Books, BR 06:04), I reread Pamela J. Milne’s article “Eve & Adam: Is a Feminist Reading Possible?” BR 04:03. It seems to me that the feminists are going to unnecessary extremes. They could more easily use the Eden story with a simpler approach. The early audiences for whom the Eden story was intended were simple, common folk who knew for a fact that farming was difficult work, that serpents crawled on their bellies and that women suffered pain in childbirth and were subservient to men. Such an audience would wonder why such burdensome conditions existed and would want easy-to-understand explanations regarding their origins. The Eden text accomplishes this with simple logic. They are punishments for wrongdoings. It then goes on to relate the events that led up to the punishments.

The “punishment” passage (Genesis 3:14–19) is of special interest because it reveals a bias of its author. It has three sections, one for each of the three recipients of punishment. The serpent’s sentence consists of 12 lines (in the New Jewish Publication Society translation), and it is introduced with God saying “ ‘Because you did this.’ ” Adam’s 13-line sentence is more elaborately introduced, “ ‘Because you did as your wife said and ate of the tree about which I commanded you, “You shall not eat of It.” ’ ” In sharp contrast, Eve’s sentence is only 5 lines and is not preceded by any reason.

This is astonishing! Why does the text minimize Eve’s role in the wrongdoing and instead portray the serpent and Adam as the major villains? After all, Eve was the frontline soldier in the rebellion against God.

Whoever wrote this story was obviously blatantly biased in favor of Eve (and women) and was in no way trying to hide that fact. Keeping this in mind, traditional interpretations which denigrate woman are just not in tune with the intent of the final editor of the story.

The Garden of Eden story explains how humans attained their present condition. It compares two characteristics—knowledgeability / unknowledgeability and mortality / immortality—in God, animals and humans. God is knowledgeable and immortal. Animals are unknowledgeable (dumb animals) and mortal. Humans occupy an in-between position; they resemble God in one characteristic but animals in the other.

Originally, God’s plan was to make humans unknowledgeable (animal-like) and immortal (God-like): Humans were forbidden to eat of the tree of knowledge but not of the tree of life (Genesis 2:9, 16–17). But the humans rebelled against this animal-like status. They ate the forbidden fruit and gained (God-like) knowledgeability (Genesis 3:22). If they had also then eaten of the tree of life they would also have become immortal (God-like) and thus be God-like in both knowledgeability and immortality. To prevent this, God banned them from the garden and the tree of life (from immortality) (Genesis 3:24).

Thus, humans, whom God originally intended to be unknowledgeable (dumb, animal-like) and immortal, instead ended up in the reverse condition—knowledgeable and mortal.

Would it have been better for humans if God’s original plan had prevailed? Would an immortal, dumb-animal existence be preferable to our mortal, but knowledgeable life? If the answer is no then our concept of Eve should be revised. We should be grateful to her for 048having eaten the forbidden fruit, thereby having moved humankind away from an animal-like existence.

Thus, while from God’s perspective Eve was disobedient and had to be punished, from our perspective she should be considered one of mankind’s greatest benefactors. Furthermore, Eve should serve as an inspiration for woman to rebel against other undesirable decrees of God.

Honoring Father and Mother—Human and Divine

David Noel Freedman’s article “The Nine Commandments—The Secret Progress of Israel’s Sins,” BR 05:06, and your own helpful letter based upon it (Readers Reply, BR 06:04) have occupied my thoughts frequently in the past months; in fact, I’ve even use this as the basis for a series of talks at a youth camp. [See also now, Freedman’s letter, Readers Reply, BR 06:05.—Ed.]

I too have some proposals to refine Professor Freedman’s excellent observations. I believe Deuteronomy 32 is a better candidate for the violation of the fifth commandment (honoring father and mother) than Freedman’s choice of Deuteronomy 21:18–21.

Professor Freedman himself has observed that. the passage in Deuteronomy he relies on differs from the passages in the other books of the Primary History on which he relies, because his passage in Deuteronomy is hypothetical: “If a man has a stubborn and rebellious son … then ….” The other books involve narrated violations of the other commandments.

This narrative form seems important to the pattern. Note that the narrative in Leviticus 24:10–23 on which Freedman relies is (except for the pericopes in chapters 8–10) the only narrative part in the whole Book of Leviticus. This suggests that another possibility in Deuteronomy should be considered. And I suggest Deuteronomy 32.

Although the fifth commandment demands honor for father and mother, it is not obvious that only human parents are referred to in the commandment.

In Malachi 1:6, God issues the challenge: “If I am a father, where is the honor due me?” This imagery is taken up in Deuteronomy 32: “They are no longer his children” (verse 5); “Is he not your Father, your Creator” (verse 6); “He was angered by his sons and daughters” (verse 19); “They are unfaithful children” (verse 20).

In Deuteronomy 32:18, God is pictured as father and mother: “The Rock who fathered you, the God who gave you birth,” and, in Deuteronomy 32:11–12, God is pictured as an eagle brooding over her young and aiding in their first attempts at flight.

Nor are human parents out of the picture; Deuteronomy 32:7 reminds the vagrant Israelites to remember the old days, the former generations, to “ask [their] fathers” about God’s provision and faithfulness to them. Likewise, verse 17, where Israel is accused of worshipping “gods [their] fathers did not fear.” So Israel has failed to honor both its human and divine parents.

The most explicit clue, however, comes at the conclusion to Deuteronomy 32. Verses 44–47 implore the people to obey “all the words of the law” so that “you will live long in the land.” This is an explicit reference to the fifth commandment, where the specific reward for obedience to this commandment is that “you will live long in the land.”

Questioning Underlying Assumptions

Allow me to congratulate you on your fine magazine. I look forward to each issue, and I am rarely disappointed.

I greatly enjoyed the recent article “The Gospel of Thomas—Does It Contain Authentic Sayings of Jesus?” BR 06:02, by Helmut Koester and Stephen J. Patterson. Although I disagree with the conclusions of the authors, I found the article to be very stimulating. However, it, like modern scholarship, relied on several unstated interpretive assumptions. For example: Of any two possible alternative versions of the same statement, the shortest is presumed to be the most original, all other things being equal. Here’s another example: An anti-supernatural bias is an indicator of authenticity (supernatural images are automatically assumed to be later accretions to the original text). A final example: The absence of an advanced Christology is proof of uncontaminated, primitive witness.

One author I recently read—Edward Schillebeeckx—is able, he thinks, to separate different levels of development in Q based on nothing more than the absence or presence of the Son of Man motif. Uncanny.

Why do we see so little discussion of these assumptions and their attendant philosophies? I do not mean to be unkind, but are these sacred cows that are beyond the realm of public debate? Are there no opposing views? I wonder if there is any real substance underlying these hermeneutical principles. I encourage you to use the format provided by your magazine for some scholarly debate concerning these issues.

Finally, let me say that the only criticism that I would make of your otherwise excellent magazine is the undeniable preponderance of liberal scholarship that you publish. I am not a biblical literalist, but I do have a concern for scholarly balance. I feel that you have an excellent opportunity to remedy this situation. Nothing but good scholarship can result.

Professor Stephen J. Patterson replies:

Everyone engaged in research brings to his/her work both assumptions and presuppositions; Professor Koester and I are not excepted. Unchallenged and unexamined assumptions may in fact be devastating to scholarly work. We must always be on the lookout for such, and attempt to bring them to consciousness so that they might be debated.

Presuppositions, however, are another matter. All research must attempt to proceed on the basis of previous work, provided it is sound and convincing. Progress in scholarship could otherwise scarcely be achieved. All three of the issues Mr. Roth raises are, more or less, presuppositions (not assumptions) firmly grounded in the history of New Testament scholarship. They are born of years of careful analysis of the texts involved, not a philosophical or ideological position.

Much of the critical study of the Gospels since the turn of the century has been devoted to the question of how the Jesus tradition gradually developed. I would refer the reader to two landmarks in that history: Rudolf Bultmann’s History of the Synoptic Tradition and Joachim Jeremias’ The Parables of Jesus. A brief discussion of its results is to be found in Marcus Borg’s article entitled “What Did Jesus Really Say?” BR 05:05.

[See also, “My View: Bridging the Gulf Between Bible Scholarship and Religious Faith” for Professor Patterson’s additional thoughts on the questions raised by Mr. Roth’s letter.—Ed.]

Of Lections and Lectionaries