Few passages of Scripture intrigued Augustine as much as the first sentence of the book of Genesis. In the Confessions, in his treatises on Genesis, in the City of God, and elsewhere he dwells on it and recurs to it, as though he felt he could not exhaust its suggestions and implications. His reflections on this sentence are ample evidence of the acuteness, force, and fecundity of his mind.

Some years ago mysteries were a favorite subject of research in the religion of the Hellenistic and Roman age. Scholars were almost exclusively concerned with the mysteries originating in the Near East and Egypt and the mysteries of Dionysos were mentioned only in passing. This is understandable, for the literary sources are scarce and widely scattered, the monuments are, though numerous, dispersed and very often difficult to interpret. Father Festugière included in his paper on the Dionysiac mysteries a lengthy treatment of the later ones, especially their organization, and Cumont appended to the last edition of his book on the Oriental religions in Roman paganism a discussion of the Bacchic mysteries, in which his chief purpose was to show that they were influenced by the Orient.

Interpreters of Matthew 11:25–30 have fallen roughly into two classes. On the one hand, there are those who have been content to explain the passage solely in the light of the Old Testament, and, on the other, those who have traced in it a common pattern, ultimately deriving from Eastern theosophy, which emerges in Ecclesiasticus 51, and elsewhere, and reappears in Matthew 11:25–30, through the agency of certain primitive Christian thiasoi of a ‘mystical’ type. Not far removed from this is the view that, both on account of style and content, the passage is to be understood in the light of Hellenistic Gnosticism.

Christianity arose in an environment which was, on the one hand, still dependent upon the traditions of the Jewish Church but, on the other, wide open to Hellenistic civilization. There exists today a strong and in many respects very healthy tendency to test the Gospels for Aramaic origin, the results of which are at the same time stimulating and challenging. However, even if the view that major portions of the four canonical Gospels are translations from the Aramaic be accepted, we are still faced with the question where the ideas behind the words came from. For it is not only risky to assume that the translations themselves were uncritical, quasi-mechanical versions, especially in view of the fact that the contemporary Greek translations of the Old Testament as well as the early translations of the Greek New Testament into other languages show a fair amount of skill; but also the Aramaic original itself may have been influenced by Greek ideas and in this way may have determined the translator's method. The original Aramaic language does not also guarantee the Semitic origin of the thought expressed thereby.

It is a commonplace that the Biblical commentators of the earlier Middle Ages were traditionalists who copied or adapted the Fathers and rarely added much of their own. At the same time there was much variation in method; for there is a world of difference between the commentaries of Bede or Paschasius, carefully integrated works bearing the impress of the writer's own mind and personality, and compilations that are no more than collectanea of Patristic passages strung together but lacking inner cohesion. Between these two extremes are works like those of Hrabanus or even Alcuin. Most of the material in them is borrowed, but its arrangement has been carried out with some skill and the compiler, besides quoting his authorities verbally, gives some variety to his exposition by reproducing part of the traditional teaching in his own words. The commentators also differ greatly in the degree to which they acknowledge their sources. Bede and Hrabanus often indicated their indebtedness to others by specific statements in the text or by a more general reference in the margin to the author cited. Even so the reader needs to be on his guard, because the commentators, by quoting the ipsissima verba of their source, may completely mislead him. A palmary example of this occurs in Hrabanus' commentary on Genesis. He introduces (PL 107, 506B) a discussion of Lamech and his seventy-seven descendants who perished in the Flood with the words: “referebat quidam Hebraeus in apocryphis eorum libris.” This might easily be interpreted as an allusion to the mysterious Jewish scholar whom Hrabanus is supposed to have consulted and to whom we shall have to return.

Following the publication of S. Schechter's Fragments of a Zadokite Work in 1910, some scholars examined the possibility of an Essene origin. This idea was suggested by such points of contact as the stricter observance of the Sabbath, the emphasis on ritual purity, and the avoidance of oaths. One of the main objections to this identification was the recurrence in CDC of laws relating to animal sacrifice and the Temple at Jerusalem. For R. H. Charles this fact alone was decisive: “The Zadokites were not Essenes, since they inculcated the duty of animal sacrifice.” This judgment was based on the widespread belief that the Essenes were unalterably opposed to the sacrificial cult and the priestly tradition.

The Union of Lyons between the Greek and Latin churches was largely the result of the political aims of the Byzantine Emperor Michael VIII Palaeologus. It was he who initiated the negotiations and who almost single-handedly attempted to force the union upon his Empire. He was convinced, as both Greek and Western historians repeatedly observe, that union was the one effective means to avert the menace of an expedition against Constantinople by the powerful coalition of Charles of Anjou, then King of Sicily. Recently recovered from the Latins by Palaeologus, Constantinople was still relatively weak, and it was mainly the Emperor's flexible diplomacy that had hitherto been able to maintain it against the Latins. To Palaeologus' mind only the offer of union could induce the Holy See to restrain Charles from his plan of conquest.

The circumstances and the proceedings of the Council of Jerusalem, as they are presented in the Acts of the Apostles, will come readily to every reader's mind. Gentile converts at Antioch had been disturbed by Judaeo-Christians who insisted on the rite of circumcision; so that a delegation was sent from the Syrian community to consult the apostles and presbyters of the mother church. Paul and Barnabas, veteran missionaries now, were chosen to lead the band. The session in the Holy City opened with a general discussion, which subsided when St. Peter rose to speak:

Brethren, you know that in former days God made choice among you that the Gentiles should hear from my lips the word of the gospel, and believe. And God, the Knower of hearts, bore them witness, giving to them the Holy Spirit, just as to us; and He made no distinction between us and them, having purified their hearts with the faith.…

In an article published in this Review some years ago, the present writer called attention to a remarkable similarity between a certain clause occurring in some Demotic marriage contracts of the late Ptolemaic period and Mishnah, Ketubot, 9,5. The clause in question reads: “I shall not be able to require an oath from thee in the house of judgment on account of the right of thy woman's property above (named), saying ‘thou didst not bring them to my house in thy hand’” (Adler Dem. 14 and Ryl. 16). The pertinent part of Mishnah, Ketubot, 9,5, reads: “If he declared to her in writing, ‘I will require of thee neither vow nor oath,’ he may not exact of her an oath…” (Danby, The Mishnah, p. 258).

These six short papers should be taken as notes supplementary to my book The Monks of Athos; after each title I give the reference to the page of the book, except for the last paper, Learning on Mount Athos, as this stands rather apart. The material for it is drawn almost entirely from the published catalogues of the Athos libraries.

Recent discussion of the origin and status of the Christian ministry has focused attention on the shaliach in Rabbinical Judaism as a possible precursor of the apostle. The concept, we are told, was primarily a juristic one; the shaliach was delegate for another, he acted as an authorized person to whom a definite commission had been entrusted. As such a representative, he was invested with the authority of the person or group he was charged to represent, in accordance with the oft-quoted maxim: “A man's representative is as the man himself.” Thus, for example, under rabbinic law, marriage by proxy was possible. Again, a man might actually divorce his wife through such a representative, and even in a matter so personal as this, he could not subsequently undo what had been done in his name. On the other hand, the representative could not undertake independent action. It was assumed that he would keep within the commission given to him; his authority was derivative and therefore conditional upon obedience to his instructions.

The Rev. H. St. J. Hart has recently put forward the interesting suggestion that the crown of thorns in John 19, 2–5, was made from the long thorns (modified leaflets) that grow on the base of the rachis, or axis, of the date-palm frond. Such a crown, with its tall spines projecting upward from a headband, was intended as a caricature of the radiate crown worn, in numismatic and other representations, by kings and emperors of Hellenistic and Roman times. In the narrative of John it was not an instrument of torture, but merely a “property” used in mockery of Jesus' pretension to be King of the Jews. Mr. Hart provides two excellent plates, which show the radiate crown as it appears on coin types, and also two improvised radiate crowns, one made from the leaflets, the other from the thorns of the date-palm.

Professor N. Glueck has discovered a good deal of evidence for the existence of a large Byzantine settlement at Aila on the Gulf of ‘Aqabah. Some fragments of a marble screening belong to the remnants of a Byzantine church, which now lies hidden underneath the gardens on the shore of the gulf. Two Byzantine capitals which can now be seen in the police-station of ‘Aqabah also seem to belong to a Byzantine church of Aila. On the one, St. Theodore is represented in relief in his full armor and above him ΘΕΟΔΩΡ can be read. The other represents a saint, also in his full armor with breast-plate, shield, and spear, and above him the letters ΟΓΓΙΝΣ can be recognized. Professor Willoughby emphasizes that the martial character of the saints and of the archangels who are seen on the capitals is a sign of the military assistance of which this outlying frontier-post of Byzantine Christianity and the Empire stood in need.

I am indebted to Mr. Neil Ker for first drawing my attention to the presence of these small papyrus fragments in the Library of Magdalen College, Oxford, to the Librarian, Dr. C. T. Onions, for enabling me to study them, and to the President and Fellows of the College for permitting their publication.

The fragments were purchased by the Reverend Charles B. Huleatt in Luxor in 1901 and presented by him to his old College through the then Librarian, the Reverend H. A. Wilson. It is probable that there were further fragments of the same leaf since a letter by Mr. Huleatt to the Librarian refers to purchases of fragments from the same manuscript in successive years, but nothing beyond what is published below is now extant in the Library. The fragments were correctly identified by their purchaser, and assigned by him to the third century A.D.; a note in the Librarian's report for 1901 reads: “Mr. Huleatt supposes them to be of the third century; but Dr. Hunt who recently examined the fragments thinks they may be assigned with more probability to the fourth century.”

St. John Chrysostom came, according to Socrates (Hist. Eccl. VI, 3), of a good class Antiochene family (ἐξ ɛὐπατρίδων τῶν ἐκɛῖ). Palladius (Dialogus, 5) gives more specific information — υἱὸς γɛγονὼς τῶν διαπρɛψάντων ɛὐγɛνῶς παρὰ τῇ τάξɛι τοῦ στρατηλάτου τῆς Συρίας. In all commentaries and encyclopedias which I have been able to consult this is taken to mean that his father (Secundus, according to Socrates) had been magister militum per Orientem. The words, however, do mean that Secundus (and his forebears) had served with distinction in the officium of the magister militum per Orientem. The words, however, do mean that Secundus (and his forebears) had served with distinction in the officium of the magister militum per Orientem. Secundus, that is to say, was not a senator of the highest rank, later to be called illustris, but a high grade civil servant. This accords with what John says himself in the de Sacerdotio (I.2) of his fortune and birth, that he was not excessively rich or noble by comparison with his friend Basil. It also accords with the story which his mother tells in the same work (I.5) of the struggle which she had to give him a liberal education; her husband's estate was evidently moderate, since to avoid encroaching on its capital, she was obliged to spend her own dowry.

Various dates have been given for Tatian's Oration to the Greeks, ranging from 152 to 172. None of these dates is correct, since the treatise was written after the year 176, perhaps in 177 or 178.

In the spring of 175 the Roman empire was shaken by the almost accidental revolt of Avidius Cassius, governor of Syria. Acting on the rumor that Marcus Aurelius had died, the governor proclaimed himself emperor. Egypt joined Cilicia, Syria, and Judaea; but the revolt was crushed in little more than three months. The emperor promised clemency (coins of the following year mention Clementia Aug.) and kept his promise. He then made a journey to the east with the empress Faustina and their son Commodus, passing through Syria but avoiding Antioch, the center of the revolt. Early in 176, after wintering in Alexandria, they visited Antioch and went on to Cappadocia, where Faustina's sudden death was followed by a magnificent funeral.

Between 456 and 466, we are told by Cyril of Scythopolis (Vita S. Sabae, 9), S. Saba, sent on a mission from Palestine to Alexandria, was surprised to meet his father John, from whom he had been parted at the age of five in 444. In that year John had been conscripted and drafted into the numerus Isaurorum at Alexandria; now, under the name of Conon, he had risen to command of the unit. He was overjoyed at being reunited to his son, and suggested that he στρατεύεσθαι καὶ πρεσβύτερον τοῦ νουμέρου γενέσθαι.

The Pro Caelio is certainly, as an editor describes it, one of Cicero's most brilliant and entertaining orations. If separate editions have been few and if the Pro Caelio is less well known than some other speeches, the explanation lies not in the oration's merits but in the fact that the reading of teachers is to some extent determined by what has been thought proper for schoolboys. In antiquity, in any event, the oration seems to have been highly regarded; it is quoted by Petronius, Aulus Gellius, and Fronto, and a number of times by Quintilian. Moreover, writers of the fourth century and later, notably St. Augustine, also show some acquaintance with it.