One of the major discoveries—it may be only a rediscovery—of recent theology has been the central place which analogy occupies in theological inquiry of all kinds. Our present task falls into three parts: (1) to indicate the different areas to which the problem of analogy seems to be relevant; (2) to discuss the origin of the interpretations of the nature of analogy which are gaining a certain acceptance today; and (3) finally, to estimate the use that may validly be made of the traditional analyses of analogy.

There is an old tradition which can be traced back to the Middle Ages that the moon is made of green cheese. If we are to take as authentic all the traditions in all the old inns of England to the effect that Queen Elizabeth I slept a night in them, then we shall have to envisage that queen as spending most of her reign in bed. In other words, the word tradition is today used very loosely and vaguely, and there is such a thing as unreliable tradition as well as authentic tradition. These facts apply to tradition in the early Church as well as to other sorts of tradition. Indeed, we are sometimes tempted to ask whether there was such a thing as a consistent tradition of doctrine in the early Christian centuries, for some evidence suggests that there was not, or at any rate that ‘the tradition of the Church’, is not an easy phenomenon to identify in the early centuries. Justin Martyr, for instance, says that all orthodox Christians believe in a literal Kingdom of Christ which is to last on this earth in a restored Jerusalem for a thousand years. Origen says that it was part of the Apostles' teaching that accounts of such a Kingdom should be allegorised. Which of them is reproducing the tradition of the Church? Or (as seems to me most likely) are they both either exaggerating or mistaken and is neither reproducing it? Again, both Clement of Alexandria and Origen claim that the necessity of allegorising the Scriptures is part of the rule of faith.

Baptism is confronted with evangelism in 1 Cor. 1.17: ‘Christ did not send me to baptise but to evangelise.’ This text seems to contradict the close connexion between both in Matt. 28.19: ‘Make all gentiles disciples, baptising … and teaching them.’ But certainly, both passages tend to say, like other baptism texts of the New Testament, that baptism is inferior to evangelism, serves evangelism, and will be performed wherever the Gospel is preached in obedience to Jesus Christ. Baptism is related to mission work and preaching as John the Baptist to Jesus Christ, or as the servant to the master. After Jesus Christ has come, the position of the servant is always and only behind and after the master. So baptism cannot rule, begin or replace evangelism, but it has a necessary function in its service.

The Orthodox Church within the Soviet Union has so far made no direct contribution to the ecumenical work which has been done in the World Council of Churches since its constitution in 1948 and before that in the ecumenical movement which led up to its constitution. The political situation has so far prevented this—just as the autocephalous Orthodox Churches of the Balkans, which shared in the ecumenical work before the Second World War, have found it impossible to do so since they have been in the Communist sphere of influence. There is, to be sure, a negative contribution from the Moscow Patriarchate, namely the ‘Resolution on the question of “The Ecumenical Movement and the Orthodox Church”’, passed in July 1948 in connexion with the jubilee celebrations of the Russian Orthodox Church on the occasion of the fifth centenary of its independence, and in accordance with this the refusal on 1st August 1948 of the invitation from the general secretariat of the World Council of Churches to participate in the Conference of Churches in Amsterdam. In this connexion, however, it must be borne in mind that at that time and as a result of many years of isolation it was hardly possible for the Russian Orthodox Church to take an objective view of the World Council, inasmuch as the Council's understanding of itself before the Amsterdam Conference could in fact only be discerned imperfectly from written documents alone, and in particular the important Toronto declaration clarifying this understanding was not made until 1949.

It has long been a matter of debate whether the prophetic strictures upon sacrifice implied total repudiation of the cult, or only condemnation of its abuses and perversions. An attempt will be made in this article to summarise the scholarly judgments on one aspect of this problem, and to assess their value. The thesis to be considered is that Deuteronomy preserves a true or reliable deposit of prophetic religion, and therefore a dependable interpretation of the prophetic attitude to sacrifice.

Four main arguments have been employed in defence of the argument that Deuteronomy demonstrates prophetic moderatism.

The first argument is to the effect that Deuteronomy did not regard the prophets as inflexibly opposed to the sacrifical cult. Piepenbring contends that prophecy before the exile ascribed some value to external worship.1 Guillaume argues that ‘Deuteronomy was promulagated to put the ideals of the prophets into practice…. It is all but incredible that the Deuteronomic generation should have so misunderstood the meaning of the prophets whose teaching they endeavoured to carry into effect.’2 Rowley writes: ‘If ex hypothesi the Book of Deuteronomy reflects the teachings of the eighth-century prophets, it might be supposed that its authors would have understood those teachings, and that therefore its recognition of the legitimate place of a purified and regulated sacrificial cultus … reflects the like recognition of the eighth-century prophets.’3

This claim, however, is not above suspicion.