Paul N. Anderson, ed., Archaeology, Jesus, and the Gospel of John: What Recent Discoveries Show Us (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2026)

This work is the fruit of years of discussion among the members of the John, Jesus, and History Group at Society of Biblical Literature and is a collection of essays, the first one of its kind, that Paul N. Anderson edits on the topic of St. John’s Gospel, Jesus, and archaeology. Archaeology consists of an introduction, essays divided into four parts with an introduction to each one by Anderson, and a list of contributors, works cited as well as three appendices.

In the introduction (“Introduction: Archaeology, John, and Jesus–a First in Johannine and Historical Jesus Studies,” 1–11), Anderson places this work in its scholarly context, the first such work of its kind, explores its origins, and summarizes its contents. The first part (“General Overviews,” 13–16) focuses on general treatments of features of the Johannine narrative associated with topography and Jesus’s itinerary and consists of three chapters. In chapter 1 (“John, the ‘Mundane’ Gospel, and Its Archaeology-Related Features,” 17–32), Anderson chronicles the resistance of modern scholarship to the historicity of St. John’s Gospel. Chapter 2 (“The Quest for the Historical Jesus and the Historical Galilee,” 33–48) by R. Alan Culpepper surveys the political and religious setting of Jesus’s ministry in the Fourth Gospel. In chapter 3 (“John and the Geography of Palestine,” 49–66), James Riley Strange outlines the geographical setting of Jesus’s ministry with an eye to his itinerary. 

Part 2 (“The Ministry of Jesus in Galilee, Samaria, and the Judean Countryside,” 67–69) concentrates on Jesus’s ministry in these areas of the Holy Land. In chapters 4 and 5 (“The Fourth Gospel Versus the Synoptics on John the Baptist’s Geographical Arena,” 71–95 and “John the Baptist, the River Jordan, and the Historical Significance of Locations in the Fourth Gospel,” 96–124), Rivka Nir and Joan E. Taylor each explore the places the canonical Gospels—Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John—testify that John the Baptizer lived and performed his baptizing ministry. Nir argues that St. John’s placement of John the Baptist in the Transjordan may be an authentic historical memory, and Taylor emphasizes the theological reasons for John the Baptizer baptizing in the River Jordan. Chapters 6 and 7 (“The Case of a Fallen Grain of Wheat,” 125–34 and “The Fourth Gospel and the Archaeological Search for Bethsaida,” 135–49) by Rami Arav and Mordechai Aviam and R. Steven Notley respectively explore some archaeological discoveries of Bethsaida as they relate to St. John’s Gospel. 

In chapters 8 and 9 (“Uncovering Cana of Galilee: The Archaeological Excavations at Khirbet Qana and the References to Cana in the Gospel of John,” 150–62 and “The Stone Jars of Cana (John 2:6) and Recent Archaeological Developments,” 163–91). C. Thomas McCollough and Roland Deines each survey the latest material findings from Cana: the former the site of Khirbet Qana and the latter the stone vessels that Jesus uses in his first sign in the gospel (John 2:6). Chapter 10 (“The Worship Site on Mount Gerazim,” 192–202) by Robert Bull, Jane Evans, and Anderson outlines the latest discoveries on Mount Gerazim. In chapter 11 (“High Noon at Jacob’s Well–Jesus at Sychar in John 4:4–6,” 203–19), Jürgen Zangenberg describes the relationship between Jews and Samaritans. Chapter 12 (“Capernaum in the Fourth Gospel in Light of Archaeology and Synagogue Studies,” 220–42) by Jordan Ryan explores the role of Capernaum in the canonical Gospels. Chapter 13 (“The Decorated Stone from the Magdala Synagogue and Judean Connections with Jesus’s Galilean Mission in the Fourth Gospel,” 243–67) by Wally Ciragesi suggests that Jewish priests may have been active in the synagogues of Capernaum and Magdala. In chapter 14 (“Jesus, Fishing, and the Sea of Galilee in the Gospel of John,” 268–75), K. C. Hanson presents the socioeconomic realities of the fishing industry in and around the Sea of Galilee. Chapter 15 (“Jerome Murphy-O’Connor’s Place Names in John Revisited,” 276–83) by Scott Stripling interacts with Jerome Murphy-O’Connor’s work of exploring some of the sites mentioned in the Madaba Map (a sixth century AD map on a mosaic from a church in Madaba, Jordan) and locating them at some place names mentioned in St. John’s Gospel. Stripling accepts Murphy-O’Connor’s identification of Bethany as Bethabara but rejects his identification of Ephraim as Taybeh. 

Part 3 (“The Ministry of Jesus in Bethany and Jerusalem,” 285–93) explores aspects of Jesus’s ministry in Jerusalem and its environs in St. John’s Gospel. In chapter 16 (“Sleeping Lazarus Resurrection–the Relation Between the Intratextual and Extratextual Worlds of the Lazarus Story of John 13,” 295–315), Zangenberg surveys the latest discoveries associated with the death of Lazarus. Chapter 17 (“The Archaeology of Bethesda and Interpretation of Jesus Healing at the Pool (John 5:1–16),” 316–38) by Craig Koester discusses the latest archaeological evidence for the pool of Bethesda. In chapter 18 (“The Pool of Siloam, Ritual Purification, and John 9,” 339–54), Gary Burge examines the second pool of Siloam, which was discovered in 2004. Chapter 19 (“John, Josephus, and the Way of the Cross,” 355–64) by Steven Notley investigates the final days of Jesus from St. John’s Gospel with reference to Josephus’s writings and the Via Dolorosa. In chapter 20 (“Food and Clothing in the Gospel of John,” 366–74), Jodi Magness explores the historical aspects of food and clothing in the Fourth Evangelist. Chapter 21 (“Historical and Archaeological Evidence for Crucifragium in John 19:31–37,” 375–87) by Brian Johnson is devoted to the ankle bone of a crucified man that was discovered in 1968. In chapters 22 and 23 (“Golgotha in the Gospel of John, the Tomb of Jesus, and the Underlying Topography of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher,” 388–422 and “Golgotha, the Tomb of Jesus, and the Gospel of John,” 423–41), Shimon Gibson and Urban von Wahlde respectively focus on the location of Golgotha.

Part 4 (“Responses and Implications,” 443) contains two chapters that survey the previous chapters for their significance. In chapter 24 (“Recent Discoveries, John, and the Future of Historical Jesus Studies,” 445–65), Craig Evans evaluates the contributions of these chapters and their implications for the study of the so-called historical Jesus. Chapter 25 (“Archaeology and Its Implications for the Quests of John, Jesus, and History,” 466–83) by Anderson reflects on the role that this work will play in future inquiries in the study of St. John’s Gospel and the so-called historical Jesus. 

This work is an amazing collection that brings together a diverse group of international Biblical scholars and archaeologists, some of whom excavate at the sites on which they contributed essays. It is crammed full of so much information that an essay-by-essay review of it is not possible (one would need a monograph for that!). In short, Archaeology is an indispensable volume for anyone working on St. John’s Gospel and we should thank Anderson for putting together this splendid collection of essays! Pick up your copy now directly from Eerdmans. 

I am grateful to Eerdmans for the gratis copy of this work, which in no way influenced my review of it. 

John J. Collins, Apocalypticism as a Worldview in Ancient Judaism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2026)

The goal of this work is to provide an overview of the apocalyptic worldview of ancient Judaism gleaned from early Jewish apocalypses such as Daniel, 1 Enoch, and the Dead Sea Scrolls. To accomplish this end, Collins divides his work into six chapters with an introduction, an epilogue, an acknowledgment, a bibliography, and three appendices.  

In the introduction (“Critical Issues in the Contemporary Debate,” 1–5), Collins introduces the volume, setting out his above-mentioned purpose and the ancient sources he uses to achieve it. Chapter 1 (“Genres, Constellations, and Worldviews,” 6–28) relates the history of the study of apocalyptic literature as an academic discipline; discusses the definition of an “apocalypse,” which Collins defines as “a genre of revelatory literature with a narrative framework, in which a revelation is mediated  by an otherworldly being  to a human recipient, disclosing a transcendent reality which is both temporal, insofar as it envisages eschatological salvation, and spatial insofar as it involves another, supernatural world” (12);^[1] and introduces the concept of worldview, which relates to epistemological assumptions about the world, including space, time, and human existence and has implications for “human values and conduct” (25). 

In chapter 2 (“Changing Views of History,” 29–51), Collins explores a distinctive feature of the apocalyptic literature, which undergirds the ancient Jewish apocalyptic worldview: long reviews of history, often the rise and fall historical empires, that tend to be presented as prophecy already fulfilled with an unfulfilled pending act of God in the near future, which will bring about some kind of restoration. This end, however, is not final and one of the notable elements of apocalyptic eschatology is the desire for “another kind of life” not “subject to death and decay” that is “beyond human experience” (51).   

Chapter 3 (“Mythic Frameworks,” 52–74) examines the myths and symbols, often of superhuman evil in the world, in the ancient Jewish apocalyptic worldview that are drawn from other cultures around Second Temple Jews. For apocalypticists, the world is under the control of malign non-human forces and these myths and symbols help to communicate that. 

In chapter 4 (“The Open Heaven,” 75–98), Collins discusses one of the main concerns of the ancient Jewish apocalyptic worldview: the current cosmic context in which humans live and the desire for God’s people to be transformed in the near future and to live in his presence everlastingly. Much of this cosmic context remains hidden from humans and consists of a cosmic war with angels and demons, good and evil. 

Chapter 5 (“The Pursuit of the Millennium,” 99–116) looks at two concerns of the present world in the ancient Jewish apocalyptic worldview: the fact that the locus of many apocalyptic visions is some kind of distress and that the ultimate hope for this world is its transformation.

In chapter 6 (“Apocalyptic Literature Transmitted by Christians,” 117–32), Collins reviews apocalyptic literature that Slavonic, Syrian, and Ethiopic Christians transmitted but probably did not compose, 1 Enoch, 2 Enoch, 3 Baruch, for example, which revolutionized our understanding of ancient Judaism and its theological diversity. 

The epilogue (Epilogue: “The Legacy of Apocalypticism,” 133–37) explores the legacy of apocalypticism in the modern West in two areas: in fundamentalism and in secularism. Collins observes that “fundamentalist Christians continue to expect that the prophecies of Daniel and especially of Revelation will be fulfilled in the near future” (133). In the process, he discusses postmillennialism, which was prominent in the 18th century, and premillennialism, which arose in the late 19th and early 20th century, in the United States. On the other hand, secular apocalypticism, which goes back to the 18th century, is the belief that there is the end of the world is imminent and cataclysmic, but it rejects a belief in angels and demons. 

The final portions of Apocalypticism contains an “Acknowledgements” (139–40), a “Bibliography” (141–68), and three indices: “Index of Authors” (169–74), “Index of Subjects” (175–76), and “Index of Scripture and Other Ancient Sources” (177–82). 

This work is pure John J. Collins and thus it is excellent. Apocalypticism is clear, concise, and well informed (especially among non-English speaking scholarship). For this reason, this volume is and probably will remain definitive. One particular strength, which is also found in all of Collins’s voluminous scholarship, is that he takes nothing-for-granted in his discussions. Rather, he always begins with the basics of any argument or thesis and from those basics, he makes his well-reasoned and thoughtful arguments. Consequently, I encourage everyone to pick up their copy from Eerdmans!  

I am grateful to Eerdmans for the gratis copy of this work, which in no way influenced my review of it. 

^[1] Collins derives this definition from his work, “Introduction: Towards the Morphology of a Genre,” Semeia 14 (1979): 9.

C. S. Lewis, Letters on Living the Faith, ed. David C. Downing (New York: HarperOne, 2026)

The unstated goal of this work that David C. Downing has edited is to provide the reader with a sampling of advice via responses to theological questions that C. S. Lewis’s letter-correspondents put to him from the years 1941 to 1963. In the process, Downing structures the volume as follows: an introduction on Lewis as a mentor via letters (“C. S. Lewis as A Mentor by Mail,” ix–xiii), Lewis’s responses grouped into twelve topics (see below), and two small chapters, one about Lewis (“About C. S. Lewis,” 235) and another about Downing (“About the Editor at Large,” 237–38). 

In the introduction, Downing notes that the number of Lewis’s surviving private letters span three volumes and 3,500 pages and include letters to friends, acquaintances, and complete strangers who admired Lewis and asked him for advice. He has culled through them and grouped this advice around the following twelve topics:

• “On Prayer” (1–12)
• “Meditations on Love” (13–24)
• “Letters to Spiritual Seekers” (25–60)
• “On Christian Formation” (61–78)
• “Putting Faith into Practice” (79–120)
• “Questions About Christian Theology and Morality” (121–58)
• “Questions about the Bible” (159–74)
• “Psychology and Spirituality” (175–84)
• “Letters to Roman Catholics and About Catholic Doctrines” (185–200)
• “Confessions About His Own Struggles” (201–12)
• “Questions about Narnia” (213–18)
• “On Sorrow and Death, Consolation and Courage” (219–34) 

To give the reader an idea of each section, I will quote from one (sometimes more than one) or part of one of Lewis’s bits of advice for each topic. In response to the advantages of liturgical prayer, Lewis said, “The advantage of a fixed form of service is that we know what is coming. Ex tempore public prayer has this difficulty: we don’t know whether we can mentally join in it until we’ve heard it—it might be phony or heretical. We are therefore called upon to carry on a critical and a devotional activity at the same moment: two things hardly compatible” (7)

In a letter to Lewis’s brother about loving one’s enemies, he noted that “I pray every night for the people I am most tempted to hate or despise (the present list is Stalin, Hitler Mussolini . . .)” (15). 

To a woman who had recently become a Christian, which pushes back against the heightened emotionalism of some strains of Christianity, Lewis adviced that she does not “count on any remarkable sensations, either at this or your first (or fifty-first) Communion. God gives these or not as He pleases. Their presence does not prove that things are especially well, nor their absence that things are wrong. The intention, the obedience, is what matters” (32–33). 

To one correspondent, Lewis observed the following paradox that is at the heart of the Christian faith: “the whole point is that you can keep forever only what you give up” (64). 

In response to the state of the world in December 1946 and the proliferation of news stories about it, which still applies to our world today, especially to social media, Lewis said, “It is one of the evils of rapid diffusion of news that the sorrows of all the world come to us every morning. I think each village was meant to feel pity for its own sick and poor whom it can help and I doubt if it is the duty of any private person to fix his mind on ills which he cannot help. (This may even become an escape from the works of charity we really can do to those we know)” (86). 

Lewis evidently abominated the commercial aspects of Christmas, confessing “Christmas cards in general and the whole vast commercial drive called ‘Xmas’ are one of my pet abominations: I wish they could die away and leave the Christian feast unentangled. Not of course that even secular festivities are, on their own level, an evil: but the labored and organized jollity of this—the spurious childlikeness—the half-hearted and sometimes rather profane attempts to keep up some superficial connection with the Nativity—are disgusting” (86–87). 

There seems to be nothing on which Lewis would not comment, for he noted in one letter the following about masturbation: “For me the real evil of masturbation would be that it takes an appetite which, in lawful use, leads the individual out of himself to complete (and correct) his own personality in that of another (and finally in children and grandchildren) and turns it back: sends the man back into the prison of himself, there to keep a harem of imaginary brides” (110). 

Lewis noted the following about seeing the nature through the lens of the supernatural: “You don’t see Nature till you believe in the Supernatural: don’t get the full, hot, salty tang of her except by contrast with the pure water from beyond the world” (129). 

Concerning the Inspiration of Scripture, Lewis wrote: “I myself think of [Inspiration] as analogous to the Incarnation—that, as in Christ a human soul-and-body are taken up and made the vehicle of Deity, so in Scripture, a mass of human legend, history, moral teaching etc. are taken up and made the vehicle of God’s Word” (167). 

Concerning the constancy of faith despite one’s feelings, Lewis observed, “It is a great joy to be able to ‘feel’ God’s love as a reality, and one must give thanks for it and use it. But you must be prepared for the feeling dying away again, for feelings are by nature impermanent. The great thing is to continue to believe when the feeling is absent: and these periods do quite as much for one as those when the feeling is present” (183–84). 

In response to a question why Lewis was not a Roman Catholic, he said: “The whole setup of modern Romanism [with its dogma of the Blessed Virgin Mary, papalism, and Transubstantiation] seems to me to be as much a provincial or local variation from the central, ancient tradition as any particular Protestant sect is. I must therefore reject their claim: though this does not mean rejecting particular things they say” (188).

Lewis was transparent about the difficulty in believing in an afterlife, noting that it was also difficult not to believe in it: “Yes, people do find it hard to keep on feeling as if you believed in the next life: but then it is just as hard to keep on feeling as if you believed you were going to be nothing after death. I know this because in the old days before I was a Christian I used to try” (210).

To a mother who was concerned that her child loved Aslan more than Jesus, Lewis advised her to have her son pray the following prayer: “Dear God, if the things I’ve been thinking and feeling about those books are things You don’t like and are bad for me, please take way those feelings and thoughts. But if they are not bad, then please stop me from worrying about them” (216). 

In response to his being awakened from a coma close to the time of his death in 1963, Lewis said, “I was unexpectedly revived from a long coma . . . but it would have been a luxuriously easy passage and one almost . . . regrets having the door shut in one’s face. Ought we to honor Lazarus rather than Stephen as the protomartyr?” (233–340. 

This work is compact, unique, enjoyable, and reads as if it were almost like you were sitting down with Lewis and asking him the questions that you always wanted him to answer. It was a delight to read and I encourage you to pick up your copy from HarperOne today! 

I am grateful for my gratis copy of this work from HarperOne, which in no way influenced my reading of it.