New year, new pile....

As promised, and carrying on the (recently established) tradition of detailing some of my reading for 2026 (who knows what tangents and byways await), here are some of my thoughts on the pile of books that has appeared, as if by magic, in my study. And yes, I know I’m repeating myself, but at the bottom (and serving as a foundation) is my Greek New Testament. I will spare you the details of what and why (mainly because I’ve mentioned them before). I see no need to be shy about my commitment to what God has said (though note that He says it just as clearly in English as in koine Greek) and to its being foundational. And to it providing the necessary framework for my other thinking. “How quaint” some might say. Or perhaps “how closed minded”. But we all think within a framework, and we all (to use a metaphor beloved of both Calvin and N.T. Wright) look at the world through spectacles. The spectacles themselves, because they are not usually observed but the means of observation, don’t often attract attention - until they do. At least I am explicit about my framework.

As in previous years I have a major theological reading project in mind for 2026 that is next up in the pile. I first encountered Herman Bavinck, Dutch reformed theologian, educator, politician and polymath, at the very outset of my MTh studies at Union. Bob Latham introduced us to Bavinck’s “organic” view of Scripture, and I plumped for the assessment essay comparing this view with Warfield’s view of Scripture. James Eglinton’s (excellent) biography of Bavinck had just appeared, so I obtained a copy to get a more rounded view of the man. Proved to be a good move on my part, and ever since, Bavinck has been on my radar. Last year I read his “Christianity and Science” and began obtaining the four volumes of “Reformed Dogmatics” from various second-hand sources. Volume 1 sounds dry (it’s his preamble discussing dogmatics and its history), but it has been (I'm 100+ in) an excellent historical introduction not just to dogmatics but also to theology, philosophy and various points in between. I’m looking forward to Bavinck’s company throughout 2026.

Last year much of my reading was related to the paper I was writing on neuroscience and theology. But that hadn't really been the topic at the front of my mind (until it was!). My MTh dissertation was about the Biblical basis of human friendships. The general topic of friendship is again being revisited from multiple perspectives partly because its retrieval is seen as vital in a culture now so marked by chronic loneliness and its deleterious consequences. The starting point for many are the ancient accounts of friendship to be found in Plato, but particularly Aristotle. Now Aristotle was a bright chap who said many interesting and helpful things, and who still exercises a profound influence over Western thought (and for all I know much more widely too). His thinking on friendship was mediated to the Roman/Latin world by Cicero, who in turn was a major influence on Augustine, who is one of the towering figures in Western theology. Long story short, if friendship is important for us, then we should  find a basis for it not so much in Aristotle but revealed in Scripture. Now, this might not seem like a bold claim. But there have been those who have suggested that there isn’t much in Scripture about friendship, and indeed that it might actually be in conflict with Christian teaching. So because friendship always has voluntary and exclusive aspects it conflicts with the commandment to love even my enemies (etc, etc). I won't reproduce my dissertation here (because you can actually find it here), but I aim is to edit it down and tart it up and submit it in article form somewhere or other. Hence the need to update and extend my reading on the topic and the books on the pile relating to friendship.

In addition to theological accounts (Summers and Bequette), I thought I’d dip into some of Robin Dunbar’s work. Our paths crossed briefly in the University of Liverpool, prior to his move to Oxford. His is a scientific, evolutionary account of human relationships. He is perhaps best known for coining “Dunbar’s number” – the expected average number of stable relationships a human being can maintain (with various caveats). My reason for wanting to read such an account is simple. If relationships (including friendship) are fundamental to our humanity, then a completely naturalistic account of them should be possible. Their qualities, the effects of their absence, what makes for their flourishing, what causes their breakdown and so on, all of these are observable, and I’m assuming have been observed. Among other things it will be interesting to see if Dunbar’s stance is that once a naturalistic account has been given, there is nothing more to say. But as ever the science (as opposed to the smuggled metaphysics) will be fascinating. Whether any of this will be relevant to what I eventually write, we will see.

Given my background, I need to continue my education in the humanities and there are lots of classics that I have never touched. I have read a bit of ethics in my time, although usually secondary accounts for apologetic purposes. So I decided to continue my education with Macintyre's “After Virtue”. It so happened that N.T. Wright, in discussing the importance of ethics in Paul’s theology (although Paul would not have thought about it in our siloed terms) quoted his own “Virtue Reborn”. I decided these would make a nice pair to read back-to-back. Whether they in any way complement each other again, we will see.

So far, so good. But I might need some light relief. I decided to turn to a comedian for it. Marcus Brigstocke is both funny and clever (the two often seem to go together). I admit I came across “God Collar” in a charity shop, but it wasn’t just the bargain price the attracted me to this particular read. I spend relatively little time among atheists, certainly less than I spend with their writings. But I could perhaps be accused of holding the views I hold because I know little of the alternatives and rarely expose what I hold dear to scrutiny, even ridicule. As it turns out, this would be unjust. I often find the opposite to be the case. Many who think they have rejected God have never actually seriously encountered Him or sought to. In part this is because people like me are rarely who or what we should be, given what we claim to believe; we are terrifically bad adverts for those beliefs. But fundamentally we are not (or should not be) recommending ourselves as paragons or examples. I see nothing that indicates that any group of other human beings or the institutions they have built are worthy of worship (although some may have other important reasons for their existence and uses). It is God Himself who is worth listening to. And fortunately for us, God thinks so too. It turns out that the speaking God speaks! The problem is that He is often not heard, or even when heard, heeded. Anyway, we’ll see if Marcus is alive to such distinctions.

But finally to more trusted friends and allies. I have encountered some of the earliest Christian writers (after the Apostles themselves) in the writings of others. But (just as with God Himself) I can hear from the “men” themselves (or at least a few of them). So I picked up the Penguin Classics edition of “Early Christian Writings” (including writings of Clement, Ignatius and Polycarp). I have encountered Polycarp before thanks to reading Irenaeus’ “Against Heresies” (worth it for the riff on vegetables as names for the various Gnostic entities; 1:11:4). Context is everything though. So I decided I’d better read a bit about the context of the second century, hence Grant on the second century “apologists”.

This should be enough to get me going.

Reading for 2025 (no further)

The title of this post is, I admit, a bit cryptic. You’ll have look back at this January post to get it. But having tee’d up my reading for the year, all neatly piled up, I thought it was only fair to say something in retrospect about it. Then next year (i.e. next week) I’ll say something about my plans for 2026. Only one item will appear in both piles and it is foundational metaphorically and physically. My Greek New Testament has been well used (if not the “Intermediate Greek Grammar” that also appeared with it). I’ve carried on trying to read part of my daily Bible reading in Greek (2025 was a New Testament year), before switching to English, as well as with my weekly reading group in which we’ve mostly been reading John’s writings. Again, because it’s the Tyndale reader’s edition, I’ve benefitted from the help given on each page, which saves me reaching too often for my copy of BDAG (if you know, you know), which was a 2025 birthday present. Currently Tyndale House in Cambridge, whose efforts produced this version of the Greek NT, are expanding and upgrading their library facilities. More power to their elbow. They do vital work that is of continuing benefit to the wider church.

My big “theological reading project” for the year was N. T. Wright’s “Christian Origins and the Question of God”. As before, the idea was to read a little bit every day and knock off the whole thing over the year. And very useful it has been too. Even when the material is hard, and the language a bit convoluted, Wright is always an educational, and even occasionally an entertaining, read. The early volumes have been a really helpful in understanding the intellectual background (not to say ferment) of second temple Judaism which is the wider context into which Jesus steps and Paul later appears. The main thrust of much of this is that this is (unsurprisingly) a Jewish context, something that some Christians (or at least some theologians) have at various points attempted to extinguish from the reality that is the history. Right at the centre of it all is the middle volume (“The Resurrection of the Son of God”), which must stand as one of the best explorations of the resurrection ever written (at least in English) and quite a lot else besides. Some of this material even turned out to be relevant to my other big project of the year (of which more below). The final volumes focus on Paul and his theology; although what theology, his or anyone else’s, actually is turns out to be a tricky question). One of the main themes is again that Paul doesn’t suddenly stop being Jewish and then determines to set up some rival “religion” (although what constitutes a religion also turns out to be quite tricky). Rather, he comes to the startling conclusion that Jesus, albeit the crucified Jesus, has been demonstrated to be the promised Messiah (by the resurrection), has fulfilled one set of promises long made to Israel by their covenant making, covenant keeping, creator God, and has inaugurated the fulfilment of anther set. And to stop uppity Gentiles like me becoming too cocky, I should just remember that I’m the odd branch that has been grafted into a Jewish rootstock. Interesting to read against the background of the recent antisemitic atrocities in Manchester and Bondi Beach. Having succeeded in reading through to the end, I’m going to miss my daily dose of N.T.!

I did plan some “lighter” reading in the form of Hillary Mantell’s “Wolf Hall” trilogy. This was inspired by the BBC adaption of course. It turns out to be a sort of mixture of history and theology. Alas, it turned out no to be “light” enough. I did get to the end of the first book in the trilogy but then I gave up. Mantell is of course a Booker Prize winner; that should have warned me. History I like, and theology I’m committed to. Historical theology (which I suppose you could argue is what N.T. was writing and what I enjoyed reading in the form of Calvin’s Institutes last year) I have enjoyed. There is some historical fiction I’ve enjoyed (I learned all about the Napoleonic wars from Denis Wheatly’s “Roger Brook” stories) but not so much this. I might have another go at Cromwell in 2026, but no promises.

At the top of my 2025 pile was some of the reading that was necessary for a paper I was writing on neuroscience (my former interest) and theology. Some of this was to do with basic philosophical problems that arise when we consider what we are as persons (eg are we made of one kind of stuff which is only physical or is it more complicated than that?), and some were taken up with previous theological responses to what assumed to be the inescapable philosophical consequences of the advances in neuroscience over the last fifty years. Some of those responses left a lot to be desired. It still astonishes me that some in theology fell for the line that the only valid questions are scientific questions and therefore only science can give valid answers. This is basically to make an a priori commitment to a particular form of materialism (only physical stuff exists) which makes explaining things like money and football scores inexplicable in any useful way. And of course it rules as invalid the question “does God exist?” assuming you take God to name an entity that is immaterial. You no longer have to prove He doesn’t exist, because you’ve already decided the issue. There are many supporters of such a position. What is interesting is that, however large that number used to be, it is almost certainly declining. This kind of view leaves unexplored lots of things that actually we are all very aware of including God Himself. You can only go on for so long telling people that questions about such things are invalid. Materialism is its various forms is increasingly viewed as being inadequate (see further here).

Having done lots of reading round the topic I wrote my paper and submitted it. One reviewer loved it, one hated it, and the third thought that what I had produced was good as far as it went, but that I had ignored the important topic of “neurotheology”. So, I had to do more reading, and a bit of writing, and submit a revision. Such exercises are always akin to a negotiation. Whether I’ve done enough for the editor remains to be seen.

Perhaps one day what I’ve written will be on someone else’s reading list. More on my 2026 reading pile shortly.

Reading for 2025 (so far...)

 

How long does it take for a tradition to become a tradition? I have no idea. But I think I'll stick with one that began only twelve months ago, and commence the blogging year by mentioning some of the books that it is my intention to read in 2025. Some are part of ongoing projects and there are two complete series in view. And no doubt that there will be other "one-offs" that I’ve yet to encounter.

At the bottom of the pile (and still foundational in more than the obvious sense) is my Tyndale House Greek New Testament. The acutely observant with longish memories will remember that this was also at the bottom of last year's pile, but it was there perhaps more in hope than expectation. I had embarked on learning NT Greek with the help of resources from Union. At the time I thought I might eventually embark on further, formal language study. But alas my progress was rather slower than I had hoped (and slower than was necessary to undertake the courses I had in mind). However, by last September I had made sufficient progress to join a local group that met online once a week to read and translate the NT. So, for an hour each Wednesday morning that’s what we’ve been doing. Reading our way through John’s Gospel, there have already been some lightbulb moments. I confess that some are a bit nerdy; a verb in a tense freighted with meaning that is missed in the English. Others have come as a result of feeling the full force of the language John reports Jesus as using (albeit in his translation from Aramaic to Greek). The clarity with which Jesus claims not merely to be a prophet but God Himself was not lost on His original hearers who, in John 8:59, are literally ready to stone Him to death (ie they’ve got to the stone picking-up stage). But while this is clear in English translation, Jesus constantly taking up the language of Exodus 3:14 (I am) comes through loud and clear in the Greek. In the same section at least one other person uses the same words (once), but the context and repetition on Jesus’ part emphasise His claim.

My strategy for our sessions is to try to do several verses of translation each day over the preceding week, allowing me to spot difficult vocabulary or grammar (of which there’s still a lot) ahead of time. I am still very much in the foothills, but the Tyndale “Reader’s Addition” helpfully lists less familiar words in footnotes at the bottom of each page, meaning that one doesn’t constantly have to refer to a separate lexicon or the interweb, thus saving lots of time. This year I’ve also been trying to read a couple of verses in Greek from my daily Bible reading schedule. And to keep moving forward I thought I’d better try and advance my understanding of the grammar beyond the basics covered last year. To some extent this develops from the reading, for it quickly becomes clear that basic rules are, well, basic. As with any language (and English must be a nightmare in this respect) such rules are often more broken than kept. So on my pile is Mathewson and Emig’s “Intermediate Greek Grammar”. While admittedly not what you would call “ a right riveting read” this is none-the-less useful for understanding some of the rule bending and breaking that actually occurs with the language “in the wild”. 

What I did have last year (although I didn’t discus it in the relevant post) was some serious theological reading - Calvin’s Institutes (edited by McNeill, expertly and entertainingly translated by Ford Lewis Battles). The “Institutes” represented some of the first “proper” theology I read when I began the MTh at Union. I had of course heard of the man before, and had enough reformed friends to have heard of the Institutes. But I had never actually read Calvin (and now I wonder if my friends ever had either). I initially approached the two substantial volumes of the McNeill edition with some trepidation. After all the Institutes were originally written in the 16^th century, within a particular context and with some fairly specific polemical targets. I had already been exposed to some of Barth’s “Church Dogmatics” which was not an entirely happy experience. I needn’t have worried. The combination of Calvin’s clarity of organisation and thought (and his wit) on the one hand, and Battle’s skill as a translator on the other, made it an intellectual and spiritual treat. Even for those not of a reformed disposition, there is much to learn and admire in Calvin’s efforts. But that was last year. I wanted to continue reading theology, but what next? Providentially I picked N.T. Wright’s five volume “Christian Origins and the Question of God”. I say providentially because, a bit like Calvin (or was it Battles?) Wright has a way with words. I managed to get started on Vol 1 early, and finished it last week. It is written with verve and wit, but without sacrificing depth and thoroughness (and providing plenty of footnotes and an extensive bibliography). There are those occasions when one encounters writing dealing with difficult or potentially dense issues, but the author does so in way that provides assurance that they “know their onions”. Having learned lots about the Judaism that provided a key element of the context for Jesus’ arrival, life, death and resurrection, I’m now enjoying the second volume which concentrates on Jesus Himself. The plan is to complete all five volumes this year. So far, I have no reason to believe this will be a chore.

To digress from the theology for a moment (but not as far as you might think), I also plan to read Hillary Mantell’s “Wolf Hall” trilogy. Now it is true that she won the 2009 Booker Prize for the fist book in the trilogy, and this would normally scare me off. The books that critics deem worthy of awards and the books that I enjoy reading usually fall into two distinct and mutually exclusive categories. Prize-winning prose is usually not my thing. But I was was impressed with the BBC’s adaptation of the books, and enjoyed Mark Rylance’s portrayal of the central character, Thomas Cromwell. So I took the plunge and made the trilogy one of my 2024 Christmas asks. Some kind relative duly obliged and this has been my bedtime reading throughout January. Bedtime it may be, but “light” it is not. I’ll spare you the review, but I will be persevering. And the story of Cromwell (if not the man himself) is growing on me. I have two and a bit books to make up my mind.

Towards the top of the pile is reading for another “project”. I completed my PhD at the end of the 1980’s, and spent a good part of the 90’s in the Centre for Neuroscience at the University of Edinburgh. These were heady days in what we’ll call the “neurosciences” (really a collection of fields and techniques all aimed at understanding the operations of the brain and nervous system). As a subject it was reaching maturity and new tools, particularly those for imaging the brain in awake human subjects (ie while they were doing things like thinking), were becoming routinely available. The new techniques and results had not gone unnoticed by philosophers, who were beginning to think that there might be light at the end of the very long, very dark mind/brain tunnel. It was around this time that “eliminative materialism” came into its own with loud and confident statements made, asserting that things like beliefs were the product of a soon-to-be-refuted and redundant “folk psychology”. Soon we would all get used to the (correct) idea that beliefs were the phlogiston of the neurosciences and they would be properly replaced by talk about brain states. “I” am merely my brain and have no more basis in reality than the immaterial God who has already been routed and driven from polite public discourse. What I didn’t know at the time was that this was (of course) only a very partial view of the state of the philosophical (never mind the theological) world.

So my aim is to now read some of the rejoinders I should have read then. To be fair I was doing other things at the time like making my own modest contribution to trying to understand vision and eye movement. This time round I’m also specifically interested in the serious theology as well as the philosophy involved, because it turns out there is quite a lot of it. Including (as can bee seen in my pile) Barth. Actually Cortez's "Embodied Souls, Ensouled Bodies" has been very helpful on that front. Suffice to say that already I’m discovering that time has not been kind to the eliminativists, and that’s even before one begins to take on board what Divine revelation has to say about the constitution of human beings, mental and otherwise.

It turns out God has much to say about us as well as Himself.