In their new book, Kofsky, Ruzer, and Kiperwasser cover an impressive array of sources, including Greek, Syriac, and rabbinic, and offer a wide range of studies, from deep-dive investigations into different aspects of Theodore of Mopsuestia's Christology and hermeneutics to shared topoi between Syriac and rabbinic sources. Yet this range comes at the expense of unity. It is unclear, for example, what Theodore of Mopsuestia's ideas concerning anthropology and soteriology (chap. 3) have in common with topoi shared between Syriac Christian and rabbinic traveling stories (chap. 6). This disunity is emblematic of the fact that this is a collection of reissued essays; each chapter has already appeared in print at least once before (and sometimes twice). As a result, the authors tend to refer to earlier articles instead of the chapters in the book (e.g. 56n97, 81n1, 96n56, 103n1, 163n1, 170n15), and there are some examples of wholesale repetition (compare 66 with 108, 68–69 with 113–114). One wonders why the press did not market this as a collection of essays. (Also presumably the responsibility of the press are some typographical issues with Hebrew [e.g. 126 and 127] and Syriac [e.g. 62 and 200] and the name of one of the contributors is misspelled on the book cover.)

The book is divided into two sections. The first includes four chapters on Theodore of Mopsuestia's Christology, soteriology, and hermeneutics, primarily based on his commentary to the Gospel of John. The second includes three essays that examine shared narrative motifs between Syriac and rabbinic texts.

Chapter 1 studies how Theodore modified and augmented the “loose-union Christology” of his teacher Diodore of Tarsus. Chapter 2 studies Theodore's notion of “gradual revelation,” a central hermeneutical tool for him. According to Theodore, mortals—even his disciples—were incapable of fully grasping Jesus's message until his resurrection. Jesus, therefore, spoke in a manner that was understandable to his audience in the present but also captured the full significance of what was to come.

In chapter 3, the authors show how Theodore's Christology affected his notions of soteriology. The second half of the chapter investigates Theodore's understanding of the “spirit.” This chapter is not for the fainthearted as it is filled with theological jargon and offers no concessions to audiences not deeply steeped in the subject matter.

In chapter 4, the authors analyze Theodore's “mitigated supersessionist” approach to the Jews (107). According to Theodore, divine revelation to the Jews was an incomplete praeparatio evangelica. When the Jews speak in the Gospel of John, for example, Theodore acknowledges they “were in harmony with the words of the prophets” (111). The authors argue that the Jews here are not condemned; according to Theodore, Jesus himself never advocated full abrogation of the law, and Theodore keeps open the possibility of justification through the law, albeit “with great difficulty” (118). The picture presented here is compelling if perhaps a bit too rosy. Theodore did adopt common and decidedly negative tropes about Jews, but the authors downplay these by relegating them to a footnote (115n54). In general, the authors rarely discuss other scholarly treatments of Theodore's Christology and hermeneutics or situate their work within the larger scholarly discussion, making it difficult for the reader to fully appreciate the authors' contribution.

Chapter 5 investigates a story that appears in the Palestinian rabbinic text Ecclesiastes Rabbah, composed around the seventh century c.e., alongside a number of Christian stories from this period, in particular the Syriac martyrdom of Ishoʿsabran composed by the Catholicos Ishoʿyahb III. These stories are about a Persian or Zoroastrian who comes to study with either rabbis or a Christian. In both stories, the new disciples' studies begin with the alphabet, which quickly reveals some deep-seated cultural or ideological disparity between disciple and teacher. The authors argue that both the rabbinic and Christian stories contrast the importance of their written texts against the Zoroastrian emphasis on orality. According to this argument, the Jewish and Christian emphasis on writtenness confuses the disciple. To be sure, the motif of the study of the alphabet eliciting differences between disciple and teacher is found elsewhere, such as in the Greek and Syriac Infancy Gospel of Thomas and in rabbinic literature (Avot de-Rabbi Nathan A, 6). The authors argue that the rabbinic and Christian stories are not dependent on each other, but rather both rework an earlier theme for similar ends.

There are problems with this reconstruction. The story in Ecclesiastes Rabbah does not mention written texts. As opposed to alternative versions of the story, the letters of the alphabet are presented orally by the teacher, not in written form. Moreover, as opposed to the Syriac text, the rabbinic story does not explicitly call the character a Zoroastrian but instead uses the less clear “Persian,” which might refer to any denizen of the Sasanian Empire. Lastly, the authors argue that the Ecclesiastes Rabbah account preserves a more original version of a story that also appears in earlier rabbinic works. While it is certainly possible that an earlier version of a tradition is only preserved in a text redacted later, the authors do not supply incontrovertible evidence to this effect.

Chapter 6 examines shared tropes between rabbinic and Syriac Christian literature. Here the authors compare a number of stories related to risks attending travelers and seafarers, such as rickety walls and rough waters. The authors suggest that the former goes back to an earlier trope from “the ‘pagan,’ Babylonian/Mesopotamian” (179) background of these texts. The authors do not simply appeal to shared topoi; they attempt to reconstruct an ur-topos, though the motifs are often better explained as the recycling of folkloristic elements without any direct urtext. In fact, the authors themselves note (166n9) that their alleged shared “Mesopotamian” topos is found as well in John Chrysostom, who is certainly not “Mesopotamian,” which strengthens the impression that this is a more widespread folkloristic element.

Chapter 7 centers on the vita of the fifth-century miaphysite monk and pilgrim Barsauma, contextualizing specific events and tropes with rabbinic traditions and comparing Barsauma's itinerary to other late antique pilgrimage literature. It focuses in particular on Barsauma's encounters with various “others”—pagans, Jews, Samaritans, other Christians—to understand the identity claims made by the author and to assess the potential historical background of some of these narratives.

While there is no overarching thesis offered in the book, its individual essays are filled with exciting insights and ambitious scholarship. The authors' comparison of Syriac and rabbinic literature without resorting to claims of direct borrowing or influence, despite the shortcomings enumerated above, participates in the growing awareness of the shared contexts of Syriac and rabbinic texts in late antiquity.