The fruit of a decade’s research, this volume offers a new interpretation of the dense Christological narrative in Philippians 2:6–11, taking inspiration from recent advances in our understanding of the letter’s Greek and Roman setting and from insights made possible by recently created linguistic databases (such as TLG and PHI). The passage’s praise of Christ engages the language of Hellenistic ruler cults, Platonic metaphysics and moral philosophy, popular (Homeric) beliefs about the gods, and Greek love (eros), to articulate a scripturally grounded theology in which God is revealed to be one in two persons (God the Father and LORD Jesus Christ). The volume also explores hitherto unseen ways in which the central Christ Hymn is tightly connected to the rest of Paul’s argument. The hymn presents Christ as an epitome of the ideals of Greek (and Roman) virtue, to support Paul’s summoning his readers to a life of praiseworthy and exemplary civic conduct (in 1:27). New or recently proposed translations are advanced for numerous words and phrases (in, e.g., 1:8, 11, 27; 2:3, 4, 6, 11; 3:2, 4) and a new (non-Stendahlian) approach to Paul’s boasting in 3:4–6, that is Christological rather than biographical, is put forward.

Have you ever felt far away from God? Though many Christians are convinced they can't admit that, if you're feeling distant from God, you're not alone. In fact, honesty about divine distance is an important first step back to the presence of God. The truth is, we all go through seasons when prayers seem futile, worship feels empty, or we feel lonely, wondering if God cares or even knows what we're facing. When those seasons come and our familiar spiritual routines are no longer working, how can we recover the closeness with God that we crave? With transparency and a pastoral heart, Jamie Rasmussen reveals eight ways to navigate divine distance and experience the nearness of God again. After unpacking why God sometimes feels so far away, he mines the riches of the book of Esther for principles that are available to us today. The result is an intimate and practical guide to navigating seasons of divine distance so we can once again feel closer to God.

Most studies of the history of interpretation of Song of Songs focus on its interpretation from late antiquity to modernity. In My Perfect One, Jonathan Kaplan examines earlier rabbinic interpretation of this work by investigating an underappreciated collection of works of rabbinic literature from the first few centuries of the Common Era, known as the tannaitic midrashim. In a departure from earlier scholarship that too quickly classified rabbinic interpretation of Song of Songs as allegorical, Kaplan advocates a more nuanced reading of the approach of the early sages, who read Song of Songs through a mode of typological interpretation concerned with the correspondence between Scripture and ideal events in Israel's history. Throughout the book Kaplan explores ways in which this portrayal helped shape a model vision of rabbinic piety as well as of an idealized vision of their beloved, God, in the wake of the destruction, dislocation, and loss the Jewish community experienced in the first two centuries of the Common Era. The archetypal and idealized language of Song of Songs provided, as Kaplan argues, a textual landscape in which to imagine an idyllic construction of Israel's relationship to her beloved, marked by mutual devotion and fidelity. Through this approach to Song of Songs, the Tannaim helped lay the foundations for later Jewish thought of a robust theology of intimacy in God's relationship with the Jewish people.

Much of the drama, theological paradox, and interpretive interest in the Book of Samuel derives from instances of God's violence in the story. The beginnings of Israel's monarchy are interwoven with God's violent rejection of the houses of Eli and of Saul, deaths connected to the Ark of the Covenant, and the outworking of divine retribution after David's violent appropriation of Bathsheba as his wife. Whilst divine violence may act as a deterrent for violent transgression, it can also be used as a model or justification for human violence, whether in the early monarchic rule of Ancient Israel, or in crises of our contemporary age. In Divine Violence in the Book of Samuel, Rachelle Gilmour explores these narratives of divine violence from ethical, literary, and political perspectives, in dialogue with the thought of Immanuel Kant, Martha Nussbaum and Walter Benjamin. She addresses such questions as: Is the God of Samuel a capricious God with a troubling dark side? Is punishment for sin the only justifiable violence in these narratives? Why does God continue to punish those already declared forgiven? What is the role of God's emotions in acts of divine violence? In what political contexts might narratives of divine violence against God's own kings, and God's own people have arisen? The result is a fresh commentary on the dynamics of transgression, punishment, and their upheavals in the book of Samuel. Gilmour offers a sensitive portrayal of God's literary characterization, with a focus on divine emotion and its effects. By identifying possible political contexts in which the narratives arose, God's violence is further illumined through its relation to human violence, northern and southern monarchic ideology, and Judah's experience of the Babylonian exile.

In Sacred Plunder, David Perry argues that plundered relics, and narratives about them, played a central role in shaping the memorial legacy of the Fourth Crusade and the development of Venice’s civic identity in the thirteenth century. After the Fourth Crusade ended in 1204, the disputes over the memory and meaning of the conquest began. Many crusaders faced accusations of impiety, sacrilege, violence, and theft. In their own defense, they produced hagiographical narratives about the movement of relics—a medieval genre called translatio—that restated their own versions of events and shaped the memory of the crusade. The recipients of relics commissioned these unique texts in order to exempt both the objects and the people involved with their theft from broader scrutiny or criticism. Perry further demonstrates how these narratives became a focal point for cultural transformation and an argument for the creation of the new Venetian empire as the city moved from an era of mercantile expansion to one of imperial conquest in the thirteenth century.