You are a cosmopolitan citizen of the Mediterranean world (winter apartment in Alexandria) during the middle of the first century B.C. Your interests go as far as religion—scientifically considered, of course—and philosophy. Last year, in partial fulfillment of your curiosity's requirement, you walked down Crocodile Street to the Temple Beth-El bazaar and bought a handsome copy of The Wisdom of Solomon. It is there on your shelf now, but you haven't read it. Only the reviews. You had to confess that they left you—uncorseted, shall we say. For one thing, you didn't understand what Riphath ben Gomer meant by ‘midrash’ (though you had been reading midrashic pieces all through your Hebrew Great Books course). Secondly, the last thing you needed was a kosher potpourri.