The French scholar P. Veyne has recently classified a number of phenomena, which clearly prove that the person of the Roman emperor occupied a predominant position in the minds of the average Roman and Greek. He shows that the imperial ideology both reflected certain sentiments current among the people, and contributed toward the shaping of those sentiments.

During the last two decades there has been a considerable revival of interest in the Chronicler's history. A number of articles, as well as the appearance of several commentaries on the books of Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, bear impressive testimony to this fact. In the light of these concerted efforts, one might be tempted to think that we are well on our way to a consensus of opinion in regard to the basic problems of this segment of O. T. literature. Unfortunately, this is not the case at all. There still exists a wide divergence of opinion on such basic questions as date, authorship, and intent. This lack of agreement is graphically illustrated by two recent German commentaries which appeared within a year of each other, namely those of Wilhelm Rudolph and Kurt Galling. Whereas the latter considers the Chronicler's history to be the work of two successive editions, one dating from ca. 300 B.C., the other from ca. 190 B.C., Rudolph views it as essentially the work of one man writing during the early decades of the 4th century B.C. More recently, D. N. Freedman has argued for an even earlier date, placing it around 515 B.C., i.e., during the time of Haggai and Zechariah. It goes without saying that such differences in authorship and date would, of course, also lead to considerable differences in one's views regarding the purpose and theology of the Chronicler's history.

It was Solomon Schechter who (in accordance also with the emendation of many Commentators) first (1887) suggested in his important edition that the third chapter of Version A of Ἀbot de-Rabbi Natan begins with the quotation of the second clause in the saying of the Ἀnshe Keneset ha-Gedolah, “and raise many disciples,” and the comments of the Shammaites and Hillelites which follow: “For the School of Shammai says: One ought to teach only him who is talented and meek and of distinguished ancestry and rich. But the School of Hillel says: One ought to teach every man, for there were many in Israel who had been sinners and were drawn to the study of Torah, and from them descended righteous (ṣaddiqim), pious (hasidim), and worthy folk.”

Monopolar and dipolar are terms brought but comparatively recently into vogue in theological discussions by Charles Hartshorne, the American philosopher. The distinction intended by the two concepts has been made the basis for contrasting views of theism consequent upon man's rational reflection upon the divine Object in whom he finds satisfaction for his more fundamental emotional and practical needs and his primary worship of Him. According to certain modern philosophers of religion man has rightly interpreted the idea of God suggested by this satisfaction and this worship in theistic terms. The issue, however, concerns the correct statement of this implied theism. According to Hartshorne, historical theism has been altogether conditioned by Greek philosophy, and has become, as a result, definable exclusively according to its concepts. Classical theism, as it is called, has therefore its origin in the notions of Plato and Aristotle rather than in the Hebrew and Christian scriptures. “Not the Gospels and the Old Testament,” declares Hartshorne, “but Greek philosophy was the decisive source for the Classical idea of divine perfection.”

For over thirty years, Gilson and others have defended the thesis that “Christian philosophy” is not only a possibility, but also an actuality. This position has had many critics and the debate continues to this day. It appears, however, that Gilson has never been challenged on a subsidiary, but more radical, thesis. It is startling to find that, while the phrase “Christian philosophy” has been debated for decades, Gilson's peculiar and strained usage of the much more common phrase, “the Christian God,” has gone unchallenged, apparently even unnoticed. As the term is generally understood, the Christian God is the Triune, the Incarnate God, the Redeemer of mankind as well as the Creator of all things. Gilson, of course, would readily admit all of this. But it is his contention, perhaps a unique one, that we can speak of the Christian God of philosophy as well as of revealed theology. The former, the Christian God of metaphysics, is born of a recognition of the existential import of God's proper name as He revealed it to Moses.