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hO Logos as Purpose

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  • Jeffrey B. Gibson
    I have been challenged by Bill Ross to show that someone other than myself (and Goethe, BTW) has thought that purpose gets to the heart of what the author of
    Message 1 of 1 , May 10, 2005
      I have been challenged by Bill Ross to show that someone other than
      myself (and Goethe, BTW) has thought that "purpose" gets to the heart of
      what the author of the Gospel of John intended hO LOGOS to convey in the
      prologue of his Gospel.

      To do this, I present here George Caird's discussion of LOGOS and SOFIA
      as terms used for Jesus in the NT that appears on pp. 327-338 of
      George's (and L.D. Hurst's _New Testament Theology_ where the data and
      the argument for this understanding is set out.

      Apologies for the length of the piece. But one can only appreciate what
      George says about John's use of ho LOGOS if one sees it in its context.

      Please note that bracketed and indented and smaller fonted passages
      indicate what in the book are footnotes.




      8.3 .3. Bearer of the Divine Word/Wisdom

      Another qualification of Jesus explored by the New Testament writers is
      his role as the bearer of two divine attributes: logos and wisdom. Both
      have been dealt with extensively in recent literature, and both require
      careful handling.

      (a) Logos

      The term 'logos' continues to be a source of notorious ambiguity.

      [In addition to the standard commentaries and New Testament
      theologies, see Dodd, The Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel,
      263 ff., 318 ff.; B. Klappert, 'Word', NIDNTT iii. 1114ff.;
      J. A. T. Robinson, Twelve More New Testament Studies (London,
      1984), 65 ff., 171 ff. and The Priority of John (1985),
      passim; and R. Schnackenburg, 'LogosHymnus und johaneischer
      Prolog," BZ 1 (1057, 69ff.]

      Here much of the problem results from the curious phenomenon that for
      the Hebrews qualities or activities of God are often pictured as having
      an almost independent existence apart from Him. Human words, for
      instance, once uttered, are like messengers, sent out to perform the
      task of which they speak; and as messengers they may be of two kinds,
      according as their task is performed or neglected. On the one hand,
      there are words which are only wind (job 16: 3), words which cannot
      stand up (Isa. 8: io), but fall to the ground (i Sam. 3: 19). In all
      probability these are the idle words of which Jesus said that men and
      women must give account on the Day of judgement (Matt. 12: 36). They are
      idle, not because they are spoken in a thoughtless moment, but because
      they do not accomplish the things they talk about. On the other hand,
      there are words which produce results, which are established, verified,
      or performed, words which go out and do not return empty-handed.

      [For examples cf. Caird, Language and Imagery of the Bible, 20

      By contrast with human words the word of God is always active, always
      equally His utterance and His act, always perfonnative. But the same
      concreteness attaches to His word as to human words. His word is sent
      out as a messenger to perform His will (Isa. 9: 8; 45: 23; 55: ")

      Because of the concrete quality of the Hebrew language, which accorded
      to the uttered word something like independent existence, the word of
      God was always on the point of personification. The word which is sent
      against Jacob and alights upon Israel, the word which is like a fire and
      a hammer, the word which runs swiftly to do God's bidding, has every
      semblance of an angelic messenger. But the prophets never took the final
      step. It was the Wisdom tradition which eventually personified the
      creative and providential activity of God, and it naturally chose the
      title of Wisdom, not that of the Word (below, pp. 333 ff.).

      The phenomenon of giving attributes or activities of God an existence
      apart from Him should be understood as part of a wider and more
      typically Hebrew development of thought, which begins in the oldest
      Hebrew scriptures and comes to maturity in the intertestamental and
      rabbinic literature. This is the use of reverential evasions for the
      divine name. An extreme belief in the holiness of God made it
      undesirable that His name or person should be mentioned in too close
      proximity to human affairs, and writers therefore resorted to
      circumlocution as a form of linguistic insulation. Even in the early
      strands of the Pentateuch the belief that the divine presence was with
      Israel is expressed by means of such terms as the angel (Exod. 14: ig),
      the Name (Exod. 23: 21), and the face of God (Exod. 33: 14). Ezekiel
      carries the practice to an extreme when, in his determination to avoid
      saying that he saw God, he uses three such buffer terms: 'This was the
      appearance (mareh) of the likeness (demuth) of the glory (kabia) of the
      Lord' (Ezek. 1: 28; cf. i Sam. 15: 1; Zeph. 2: 5; 1 Kings 13: 18). But
      it is in the Targums that the full flowering comes, with the use of the
      terms memra (word), shekinta (presence), and yeqara (glory). Wherever
      the scriptures suggest that God came into close contact with human
      beings, the Targums insert one or more of these terms, often regardless
      of syntax. If the Hebrew says that God spoke, the Targum says 'the
      metnra of God spoke'; if the Hebrew says that God dwelt among Israel,
      the Targum says 'the shekinta dwelt'; and if the Hebrew says 'they saw
      God', the Targum says 'they saw the yeqara of God'.

      [Cf., e.g. Targ. jer. on Gen. 3: 9, Exod. 13: 18; Targ. Onk.
      on Gen. 20: 3; Exod. 17: 7; 24: 10; 29: 45; Deut. 31: 17; and
      for the combinations of the two terms Targ. Jon. on Isa. 6: 5;
      40: 22.]

      All four Gospel writers present the preaching of Jesus as a declaration
      of a new divine act, the act to which all the hopes of the prophets had
      been directed. Just as God spoke at one and the same time through the
      events of Hebrew history and in their interpretation by the prophets, so
      He spoke both in the events of the ministry of Jesus and in the
      interpretation of them by Jesus and his followers. But this was one of
      the major differences between Jesus and the prophets. The word which the
      prophets preached was given them from above, and the events were not of
      their own making; the word which Jesus preached was himself, and the
      event his own coming. He preached the sovereignty of God as much through
      his actions as through his words, and word and action were part of the
      redemptive activity of God. 'If by God's finger I cast out demons, that
      proves that the Kingdom of God has arrived among you' (Luke 11: 20).
      Like the prophets, he used symbolic acts, but his acts were, in a deeper
      sense than theirs, a part of what they symbolized.

      When Jesus reinterpreted the Law of Moses, his authority is not
      presented by any of the Gospel writers as the prophetic 'Thus says the
      Lord', but the personal 'I say to you'. The individuals called into
      allegiance to the gospel are called into allegiance to himself as its
      centre (Mark 8: 35; 10: 29). When he set out to seek and save the lost,
      people found in him the embodiment of the divine mercy. And when he
      abandoned his parabolic teaching and 'spoke the word openly', it was to
      speak of his own death (Mark 8: 32). For these writers, in Jesus the act
      of God and the prophetic word had become one. We have moved beyond

      [Synaesthetic metaphor, the transfer of one of the senses to
      another (e.g. 'the word that Isaiah the Son of Amos saw' ,
      Isa. 2: 1; cf. Gen. 15: 1; 1 Sam. 3: 1; 9: 27; jer. 2: 3 1;
      Ezek. 11: 2 5; Ps. 147: 19) is common to most languages (cf.
      Caird, Language and Imagery, 146 f).]

      when Luke claims to base his Gospel on the evidence of those 'who from
      the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the Word'.

      A similar view is to be found in the Pauline tradition, where the word
      of God is a newly revealed mystery, and the mystery is Christ (Col. 1:
      25 -7; Eph. 3: 1 -12). Where the word of Christ dwells richly in all
      wisdom, there Christ is himself present through faith (Col. 3: 16; Eph.
      3: 17). In i Peter, to be begotten again to new life by the resurrection
      of Jesus Christ is to be begotten by the living, abiding word of God (i:
      3, 23). Hebrews opens with the statement that Jesus is the final and
      complete utterance of God (i: 1 -4). In 1 John, the word of life is the
      gospel, but the gospel not only heard as a message, but seen and handled
      in the person of Jesus (1:1). And the victorious horseman of the
      Apocalypse bears the title 'the Word of God' (Rev. 19: 13).

      It is of course the Fourth Gospel to which most modem readers will turn
      as the primary New Testament text depicting Jesus as the incarnate Word.
      But is 'word' the only, or even the best, term with which to translate
      John's logos? How shall we render this all-important term? [Italics
      mine] Translators who know their Greek proficiently continue to produce
      learned arguments for various options.

      [The various possibilities are well canvassed by C.
      K. Barrett, The Gospel According to St John
      (Philadelphia, 1978), 127 ff.]

      But ultimately it is a question of conceptual background rather than
      that of simple word-for-word translation.

      One could for instance try to find the background in Greek philosophy,
      as so many early Christian apologists used to do. The term was
      introduced to philosophy by Heraclitus [Hippolytus, Haer. 9. 9] and
      taken up and given more general currency by the Stoics, who taught that
      logos was the active principle of form or rationality which entered into
      the passive principle of matter and gave it meaning and purpose. Of
      course nobody today supposes that the Fourth Evangelist had ever read
      Heraclitus or Chrysippus; but through popularizers such as Posidonius,
      Stoic terminology had, to a certain extent, become a part of everyday
      speech. [As W.F. Howard noted in _The Fourth Gospel in Recent Criticism
      and Interpretation_ (London 1955, 160], 'The term logos must have been
      as familiar in educated circles as "evolution" was a generation ago, or
      as "relativity" is today." It is possible also that through the work of
      Philo of Alexandria its use had spread throughout the synagogues of the
      Hellenistic world.

      [Philo in particular describes the logos as 'begotten by the
      Father of the universe', and calls him 'His eldest son and His
      first-born' (de Conf Ling. 63, 146; cf deag?ic. 51). Likewise
      the Father begat the logos and made him the unbreakable bond
      of the universe (de Plant. 8, 9). The logos is also said to be
      God's 'name' (de Conf Ling. 146), and the name of God is 'the
      interpreting logos' (Leg. All. 207). In de Cher. 36 the logos
      is regarded as 'the ruler and steers man of all'.]

      In his work On the Creation of the World Philo treats the two Creation
      stories in Genesis as accounts of two distinct acts, corresponding to
      the two Platonic worlds of ideas and matter. The first Creation in seven
      days is compared to the plan of a city which exists only in the mind of
      the architect; and this is identified with logos. The second Creation
      reproduced imperfectly in matter that which already existed in the mind
      of God; and into physical humanity God breathed logos as its spiritual
      nature. There is clearly some affinity here with Johannine thought.

      [In de Op. Mundi ig and 24 f, Philo argues that the logos was
      God's own perfect blueprint for the world which he planned
      before he actually made the world.]

      Which background, the Hebrew or the Greek, underlies the Johannine
      prologue is a source of debate which has no end in sight. Ultimately,
      however, the choice may not have to be an exclusive one. It was not
      beyond the capacity of the Fourth Evangelist to produce a synthesis
      between the logos of the Greeks, which gave meaning to the universe, and
      the prophetic dabar which gave purpose to human history.

      [Cf Barrett, St John, 32, for whom Hellenistic and Hebraic
      influences have been 'fused into a unitary presentation of the
      universal significance of Jesus'.]

      Standing at the crossroads of two worlds, it is possible that John was
      attempting to explain an idea which at its foundation was Jewish but in
      a way that would stimulate the intellectual ferment of the sophisticated
      Greek mind. But, as Sir Edwin Hoskyns has reminded us, the Evangelist
      also had behind him sixty years of Christian theology, and it is this
      Christian background that is probably decisive for the understanding of
      Johannine theology.

      [E. C. Hoskyns and F. N. Davey, The Fourth Gospel (London,
      1947'), 162 f.]

      In the main part of his Gospel John uses the term logos much as it is
      used in the rest of the New Testament. To abide in Jesus men and women
      must abide in his word (8: 31; cf 15:7). To keep his word is the
      equivalent of believing in him (6: 47; 8:51); and those who believe in
      him have God's word abiding in them (5:38). It is entirely consonant
      with the general practice of John to take into his vocabulary a word
      which has already won its place in the theological terminology of the
      Church, and in one instance, or two at the most, to use it as a title
      for Jesus.

      [John especially uses in this way words synonymous with the
      gospel or for Christianity, a point best appreciated if one
      considers other tides used for Jesus: 'the Bread of Life' (6:
      35); 'die Light of the World' (8: 12); 'the Door' (io: 9);
      'die Good Shepherd' (io: i i); 'the Resurrection and the Life'
      (I 1: 2 5); 'the Way, the Truth, and the Life' (14: 6). All
      these terms have a history of Christian usage, traceable
      through the Epistles and the Synoptic Gospels, not to mention
      the Fourth Gospel itself; and two of them, 'the l.ife' and
      'the way', had already been used as names for the Christian
      movement (Acts 5: 20; 9: 2; Ig: 9, 23; 22: 4; 24: 14, 22).]

      We have therefore a strong likelihood that logos, like the other
      Christological titles, grew out of language which the Church had already
      brought into use to describe Jesus and the gospel. In this usage God's
      word was always purposive, and His purpose was always ready to be
      spoken.[Italics mine]

      Thus we come to the central question: how is John 1:1 to be translated?
      And here one thing is certain: the idea that the logos and God are
      identical-gained only by taking the last clause in vacuo is ruled out by
      the second clause. In fact both may be held in logical tension by
      offering the solution that logos for John primarily means ‘purpose'. 'In
      the beginning was the purpose, the purpose in the mind of God, the
      purpose which was God's own being.' It is surely a conceivable thought
      that God is wholly identified with His purpose of love, and that this
      purpose took human form in Jesus of Nazareth.

      While all of this is significant, we should never be allowed to forget
      the uniqueness of John's contribution. He has taken the revolutionary
      step not only of personifying the logos but of saying that it is now
      permanently and fully with us. In Jesus God has taken the whole human
      race up into unity with the logos, in order that ultimately the human
      race should share the same purpose. The logos has come forth from God
      and has not returned to Him empty-handed. 'I have finished the work you
      gave me to do' (17: 4).

      (b) Wisdom

      Closely related to God's purpose is His Wisdom-

      [The best treatments of Wisdom remain those of J. L. Crenshaw
      (ed.), Studies in Ancient Israelite Wisdom (New York, 1976);
      W. D. Davies, Paul and Rabbinic Judaism (London, 1955), 147
      ff; M. Noth and D. W. Thomas (eds.), Wisdom in Israel and in
      the Ancient Near East (Leiden, 195 5); G. von Rad, Old
      Testament Theolog (New York, 1962), i. 418 ff. and Wisdom in
      Israel (Nashville, 1972); R. B. Y. Scott, The Way of Wisdom in
      the Old Testament (New York, 197 1); and R. E. Murphy, 'Wisdom
      in the Old Testament', in D. N. Freedman (ed.), The Anchor
      Bible Dictionary (New York, 199 2), vi. 930 ff.]

      To the Hebrews God alone is wise, and He therefore is the sole source of
      wisdom. Any human wisdom that is worthy of the name comes from Him. But
      this idea of the imparting of divine wisdom is a complex one which
      requires careful analysis. When we say of human teachers that they
      impart their 'wisdom' to their pupils, we may mean either or both of two
      things: that they train their pupils to think with the same sort of
      understanding and discernment as they do, or that they transn-dt to
      their pupils the content of their own thoughts. God's wisdom has the
      same dual aspect. When God imparts wisdom to human beings, He may be
      bestowing something of Himself, and in this sense the gift of wisdom is
      closely allied to the gift of God's Spirit. In the other sense the gift
      of wisdom may be a body of revealed truth. In later Judaism there was a
      strong tendency to emphasize the second aspect and to identify wisdom
      with the Law of Moses. And one of the interesting things that happens in
      the New Testament is that the proper balance between the two is

      Because human beings may record their wisdom in a book, it was easy for
      the Scribes to conceive of God's wisdom as something which bodies forth
      from him with a quasi-independent existence of its own. Thus it came
      about that they were able to personify Wisdom, both as a heavenly being,
      actively participating in Creation and Providence at God's side, and
      also as a mother figure presiding over the religious education of the
      human race (Prov. 8-9; Ecclus. 24: 23, 25; Wisd. 7:10). There is not the
      slightest justification for treating this as anything more than a figure
      of speech, a literary device which gave forceful expression to what God
      in His wisdom has done. Yet it is also true that Wisdom is more than a
      personification of a divine attribute. Wisdom is created by God, just as
      the wise mind may be said to create the wise thought.

      The LORD created me the beginning of His works
      before all else that He made, long ago.
      (Prov. 8: 22)

      Before time began He created me,
      and I shall remain for ever.
      (Ecclus. 24: 9)

      For the Hebrews Wisdom was the master plan or purpose of God which
      underlies the universe, giving it coherence and meaning.

      By a slight shift of imagery this cosmic figure becomes the Lady Wisdom
      of a more local scene, the hostess who presides over an academy of
      gracious living and who invites young patrons to take part in the
      educational talk of her salon. Hence for all her cosmic functions she
      stands fundamentally for a way of life, so that she can even be
      identified with the Torah, the Law of Moses (Ecclus. 24: 23).

      It may hardly be surprising therefore that Wisdom is also depicted as
      looking for a permanent home among human beings:

      Among them all I looked for a home: in whose territory was I to settle?
      Then the Creator of the universe laid a command upon me; my Creator
      decreed where I should dwell. He said, 'Make your home in Jacob; find
      your heritage in Israel.'
      (Ecclus. 24: 7-8)

      When we come to the New Testament, it should be even less surprising
      that the earliest Christian theologians should come to think of Jesus as
      Wisdom's embodiment. The author of Hebrews opens with an orotund
      acclamation of what God has said in His Son, which clearly echoes the
      portrait of the personified Wisdom from Wisdom 7: 26. The fact that the
      author does not consider it necessary to explain, elaborate, or even
      justify such language strongly suggests that this way of thinking about
      Jesus had long become traditional in the theology of the Church. It is
      therefore a plausible hypothesis, though hard to test, that the
      pre-existent Wisdom is closely allied to the idea of God's eternal
      purpose and consequently contributes as much to the cosmic functions of
      the logos in the Prologue to the Fourth Gospel as does the idea of God's
      word (Heb. 1: 10- 12).

      But the writer who makes the earliest and most comprehensive use of this
      concept is Paul. He begins by contrasting what the world falsely regards
      as wisdom with the true Wisdom of God, kept hidden from all eternity,
      but now disclosed and put into effect in Christ. This Wisdom is God's
      plan for the human race, and therefore for the whole universe of which
      men and women are intended to be the centre and crown. To know God's
      Wisdom is the same thing as knowing His mind, and this in turn is the
      same thing as knowing the mind of Christ (1 Cor.1:19-2:16). As a
      Pharisee, Paul had believed that God's whole Wisdom was enshrined in the
      Torah, and that ethical behaviour consisted in obeying its commandments.
      Paul the Christian gave to Christ the central position he had once
      accorded to the Law, and his one principle of human behaviour was to
      have the mind of Christ (cf. Phil. 2: 5). It will therefore be seen that
      Paul has tipped the balance away from Wisdom as a body of revealed truth
      into the direction of Wisdom as a divinely imparted attitude of mind.

      Paul's most distinctive contribution to this theme is in his letter to
      the Colossians, where he designates Christ 'the image of the invisible
      God, the first-born of all creation' (1: 15). What Paul's argument
      requires is that Christ should be accepted as the true image, and
      therefore the true revelation of the unseen God, precisely because he is
      'adam' as God had always intended 'adam' to be (Gen. 1: 26). He is the
      human race, in whom the divine Wisdom has taken up permanent residence.
      But here, as frequently elsewhere, Paul's mind leaps ahead of the
      argument. Where we should have expected him to say 'because in him the
      divine wisdom came to dwell', Paul actually says, 'because in him the
      complete being of God came to dwell' (1:19). Christ is himself God's
      whole secret plan; for 'in him lie hidden all God's treasures of wisdom
      and knowledge' (2: 2).

      [On Col. 1: 15 ff. see also above, p. 46]

      Two important riders to Colossians are added by Ephesians, which opens
      with an orotund benediction expounding God's cosmic purpose to gather
      the universe into unity in Christ. Not only is it true that Christians
      have been given the wisdom to understand this purpose; it is part of the
      purpose that they should be enabled intelligently to co-operate with it.
      Christ himself is both the revelation and the agent of God's plan, and
      those who are drawn into union with him find themselves sharing both his
      functions. The empirical ground for belief in God's universal purpose is
      found in the fact that in the Pauline churches the barrier of hatred
      between Jew and Gentile has been demolished and the two made into a
      single new humanity in union with Christ (2: 14 - 16). Where this most
      intransigent hostility has been overcome, there can be confidence in
      God's power to reduce all the warring forces of the universe to harmony.

      Since for Paul it is the duty of the Church to proclaim, not only by
      word of mouth but in the unity of its common life, the reconciling power
      of Christ, we come to the second idea peculiar to Ephesians. It is God's
      purpose that 'through the Church the wisdom of God in all its varied
      forms might be'made known to the rulers and authorities in the realms of
      heaven' (3: io). The variegated wisdom of God embraces in its redemptive
      purpose not only individual men and women, but the corporate life of
      humanity with all its principalities and powers, all those shadowy
      spiritual forces which preside over the structures of power and
      authority and regulate or constrict the social, economic, political, and
      religious life of organized humanity. They also are to be brought,
      through the agency of the Church, under the unifying influence of

      To this must be added a number of passages where Paul appears to make an
      arbitrary, allegorical use of the Old Testament, in so far as he is
      exploiting in the interest of his Christian theology a familiar rabbinic
      device of exegesis. In i Corinthians io: 1-4 we hear the echoes of a
      rabbinic legend that the well of Moses (Num. 2 1: 16 - 18) became a rock
      which rolled along with Israel through the wilderness, which made sense
      to the rabbis because to them the rock stood for God's wisdom, already
      identified with the Law of Moses. But for Paul it was not to the Law but
      to Christ that men and women were to turn to find the whole counsel of

      [Cf. Davies, Paul and Rabbinic Judaism, 148: 'Conformity to
      Christ, his teaching and his life, has taken the place for
      Paul of conformity to the Jewish Torah. Jesus himself -- in
      word and deed or fact -- is a new Torah.']

      In Hebrews by contrast the Law was only a shadowy pattern of the good
      things to come (8: 5; io: i); it prefigured those things which belong to
      the New Covenant. But here also the life and death ofjesus and his
      exaltation over the universe are something which God intended from the
      beginning. Christ is 'the image of the invisible God' and was 'appointed
      heir to the whole universe' (1: 2). Yet this rank is his, not in virtue
      of some pre-costnic divine existence, but as the pioneer of human
      salvation, destined to lead God's many children to glory. He has indeed
      his part in Creation and providence, but as the goal to which the whole
      process is directed. It used to be thought that the world-view of
      Hebrews was Platonism, mediated by the Hellenistic Judaism of Philo. But
      if its author was under any philosophical influence whatever (an
      exceedingly dubious assumption), it might as well be argued that there
      is something distinctly Aristotelian about a theology in which the final
      cause operates as efficient cause also.'

      [Aristotle's four causes were the following: (i) the efficient
      cause which brings things into being; (2) the formal cause
      which is their essential nature; (3) their final cause or
      purpose; and (4) the matter of which they consist. The first
      three are merely different ways of saying the same thing, and
      in Metaph. 12. 7. 1072 b 3 Aristotle can speak of Kinei his
      erdmenon: God as prime mover by reason of being the goal to
      which all things are drawn.]

      This role of Wisdom, as we have seen, also helps to explain one of the
      more vexatious passages in the Epistle. In Hebrews 1: 10- 12 the author
      is quoting Psalm 102: 2S-7 (101: 25-7 LXX) so as to make the human Jesus
      the bearer of the whole purpose of Creation. If this is difficult to
      accept today, it is probably because we tend to forget how easy it was
      for a Jewish theologian to combine the idea of a pre-existent Wisdom
      with a doctrine of simple humanity. For whatever cosmic functions Wisdom
      and Torah might acquire, each remained essentially a code of human
      conduct, a design for living which had the merit of being identical with
      the design of the whole universe. And if the same Wisdom which was with
      God in the beginning, which traversed the arc of the firmament and
      plumbed the recesses of the Abyss, had come to take up her residence in
      Israel (Ecclus. 24: 312), Israel, by obeying the Torah, was fulfilling
      not only God's purpose for the human race but for the whole creation. It
      was God's good pleasure that in human beings His wisdom should find a
      dwelling. This way of approaching New Testament theology has one great
      advantage: it disencumbers us from one of the more celebrated problems
      of classical Christology. In the debates which followed in succeeding
      centuries one of the major questions was, 'How could Jesus Christ be
      both human and divine without either a diminution of his Godhood or
      absorption of his humanity?' For the New Testament writers this question
      simply did not arise. The union of the human and the divine which had
      been achieved in Jesus was nothing less than that which God had intended
      from all eternity to be the destiny of the human race.

      Jeffrey B. Gibson, D.Phil. (Oxon)
      1500 W. Pratt Blvd.
      Chicago, Illinois
      e-mail jgibson000@...

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