Popular Posts

Sunday, March 31, 2019

The Peripatetic Philosopher shares a piece of DEVLIN:


DEVLIN


DOWNTOWN CHICAGO LOOP – Friday, June 13, 1969

The tall blond young American walked with the cocky self-assurance of an athlete.  Dressed in a deep blue Hickey Freeman vested pinstripe suit, white shirt with monogram cufflinks, burgundy tie with a Phi Beta Kappa clasp, his highly polished Florsheim shoes clicking like happy feet as he strolled down Chicago’s Michigan Avenue.  

His head moved like a periscope with flat eyes above the early evening crowd.  Everyone was in a hurry going nowhere.  The crowd was unaware of him but he was conscious of it.  He ran his hand through his short military clipped hair and over his chiseled features.  He could pass for a Nordic European except for the scornful assurance of an American.  
The wind off Lake Michigan forced his head down into his chest.  He cut his way through the midtown shoppers as he once did through the line for Crescent High as a fullback.  He avoided eye contact, as if someone might recognize him.  Why?  He didn’t know.  Was it because people believed he could see through them?  It was nonsense, but it worked for him.  His long quick strides were a force of habit as he had no special place to go.   
Earlier in the day, he was standing by the door of the El waiting to step off at the loop, when two young toughs came down the aisle rolling their shoulders menacingly.  He felt his body tense, a delicious sensation coursed through him, his steel blue eyes taking measure of the lads like bionic lasers.  

“You got a problem, pretty boy?” one asked.  He waited for the slightest hint of aggression.  The tough’s accent was from the projects on the lower south side, where his da had been born in the Irish ghetto.  They were dressed like clones of some wannabe gang, baseball caps on backward, Chicago Cubs’ jackets, cigarettes dangling from thin lips, baggy jeans, US Army surplus boots, acne complexions, bad teeth, soldiers without a cause.  They passed giving him a wide berth. 

If that was intimidation, he smiled, it beat putting them in the hospital.  They were too young to understand rage.  You have to suffer real pain, real loss to have a fire in your belly.  Theirs was an imitation brand.

His intensity inward, his amused expression masking his outward malevolence.  Why should he be surprised?  He lived an accidental life, here today gone tomorrow.  The young toughs hadn’t a clue.  The fact they act tough to control their fear differed little with his dressing up to control his.  He doubted seriously if they had ever been east of Evanston. 

He had worked everywhere, seen everything, but was he not equally anxious?  They hid their angst in bravado; he hid his in a well-tailored suit.  Life is up for grabs and nothing works out as you expect.  Most people stay close to home, do nothing, go nowhere, just fester like boils, then explode and die.  Others like him, do everything, go everywhere, and die just the same.  You would think doers would be happier, but they aren’t.  He’s proof.  We’re here a little while to fool around and then die.  Happiness is a myth.  The toughs seem to sense this.  Perhaps that is their real beef.    
*     *     *
Life was a puzzle to Seamus “Dirk” Devlin.  Its perplexities found him wandering the streets wherever he was. Tonight it found him at the door of old St. Patrick’s Catholic Church off Michigan Avenue and Randolph Street.  He pushed open the large wooden door of the vestibule immediately smelling the incense and age of the place.  His hope was to find some quiet to placate his demons who had been riled up earlier in the day by the company brass.  Like spiteful children, they took pleasure in firing colleagues unable to fathom a colleague firing the company as he had done.   

The Friday Novena was just ending with people lining up to go to confession.  He made his way to the center aisle genuflected making the Sign of the Cross.   Except for those going to confession the church quickly emptied.  He moved down the aisle looking at the bas-relief statues of the Stations of the Cross on the side walls of the clerestory with secondary altars framing the main nave with the Blessed Virgin Mary’s on the left and St. Joseph’s on the right flanking the main altar.  He glanced back at the line of confessors at the confessional, wondering if any were as lost as he was.  

Devlin lit a candle at the foot of the statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary, knelt down at the white marble altar rail and made a wish instead of saying a prayer, as this was his first visit to the church, then remained there until the last person left the confessional.  

Before the priest could leave the confessional, he rushed to the confessor’s door, inhaling the scented rosemary wood, knelt on the cushioned kneeler, breathing hard waiting for the priest to slide the lattice window open, separating the priest from the confessor, feeling a bit frantic and winded after escaping the world that controlled him only to enter the world that owned him.  

The priest mumbled his greeting in a few automatic Latin words, then paused for the confessor to fill the void.  Devlin cleared his throat, then in a distinct stentorian voice said, “Bless me Father for I am bored.  I am sorry for this and all my past boredom.  It has been about a week since my last Confession.”

“Pardon me, my son?  What did you say?”

“I said, ‘I am bored’, Father,” his voice rising to a shrill.

“You don’t need to shout, my son.  Do you understand this is a confessional and that I’m a Catholic priest?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Are you a Catholic?"

“Yes, Father, of the worst kind, Irish Roman Catholic.”

Silence.

“It has been a week since my last Confession.”

“You’ve already said that, my son, but I don’t understand.”

“Father, you mean you’ve never heard a person confess to being bored to death; that life is meaningless, empty; and that that person feels utterly useless, robotic, disengaged?”

“Well, yes, I suppose I have.  But what are your sins, my son?”

“What are my sins?” Devlin laughed nervously.  “Pardon me for that, Father, but first of all, I am not your son, and secondly, you are not my father; you are my confessor, my priest.”

“Yes.  I hear anger in your voice.”

“It is not anger, Father, it is boredom!  My sins, Father, are that of being bored.  I feel powerless to go forward or to be able to do anything about it.”

“Why are you bored?”

Devlin sighed.  “Why am I bored?  Well, now that is a story.”

“Well, this is not the place to tell stories, my son, you should know that.  This is the place to expiate your guilt, confess your sins, and ask for absolution.”

“Those are good but meaningless words, Father, especially expiation and absolution.  You’re going to expiate my boredom and grant me absolution?” 

Before the priest could answer, he continued.  “May I be candid?”  Devlin didn’t wait for a reply.  

“I’m weary, just turned 31, what you might call an educated man with a degree in chemical engineering, a master’s in industrial chemistry, earning $60,000 this past year not counting perks and privileges and paying no American income taxes.”  He took a deep breath surprised at his candor but muddled on.  “I have everything and nothing at all.  I am reduced to a dichotomy.”

“You earn what?”

“$60,000, and as I said, and paid no taxes.  I am what you call an ex-patriot doing my bidding for an American company abroad.”

“Are you speaking in American dollars?”

“Indeed I am.  If it were in Kruger Rand, it would be R84,000.”

 “You must be very successful.”

  “Not anymore. I’ve retired.”

“You’ve retired?  But you said you were only 31.”

 “Yes.”

Silence.  “What is your explanation for this?”

“Absolute, unequivocal, unmitigated boredom.”
 
Silence.

Devlin filled the void.  “That is why I’m here, Father.”

Pause.  “You mentioned the Kruger Rand.  You work in South Africa?”

“Worked, Father, past tense.  I no longer work there.  Yes, the Rand is the monetary currency equivalent to 1.4 American dollars.”  

“I see.  I still do not see what sins are troubling you, my son.”

“Cannot boredom be a sin, Father?  I am drowning in boredom.  I am unable to shake it, I have no idea what the next chapter of my life will be.”

Father Anthony Dressler sighed deeply.  It had been a long day: two masses in the morning, light breakfast, off to Cook County Hospital for sick call, no lunch, quick drink at O’Hara’s on Halsted with a priest friend from St. Mark’s, back to St. Patrick’s for dinner with Monsignor Donovan, Novena at 7 p.m., then confessions, knowing he still had to say his Office.  He craved a cigarette and three-fingers of scotch.  How to get rid of this impertinent young man?  The seven deadly sins came to mind.  He took a deep breath, and asked, “Have you committed adultery, my son?”  

“Have I committed adultery?”  Devlin laughed heartily causing his confessor to involuntarily wince.  

“Oh, yes, Father, adultery and I are old friends.”

“But that’s a mortal sin, my son.”

“Yes, indeed, it is.”

“Have you committed adultery recently?”

“Indeed, I have.”

 “Are you sorry for that sin?”

“Well, yes and no.”

“You cannot be ambivalent about mortal sin, my son, surely you know that.”

“I’m ambivalent about everything, Father, which is the reason I’m here if that is at all helpful.”

The priest crossed himself to hide his exasperation.  “Do you have a family?”

“Yes, Father, a wife and four children.”

 “Can’t you see where you’ve compromised them?”

 “Yes.”

 “Are you sorry?”

“Yes and no.”
 
“I don’t understand, my son.”

“Yes, Father, I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused my children.  They are innocent in this affair, but no, I’m not sorry for the pain I’ve caused my wife.  You see I have no sense of guilt or remorse, only anxiety and boredom.”  

“This is a most unusual Confession.”

“Well, it’s a most unusual situation.  I just came back from South Africa and . . .”

“You’ve already told me that.”

Devlin ignored the interruption. “I was imagining while I was waiting for you, what if apartheid was practiced here in Chicago; what if Mayor Richard Daley was its architect.  What would the policy of Cardinal John Cody of the Archdiocese of Chicago be towards this racial betrayal?  Would the good Cardinal fight it?  Or would the diocese collapse to the whim of the mayor’s authority and be a puppet to the government?  That is the case of the Roman Catholic Church of South Africa: blind, deaf and dumb to the basic freedoms denied the Bantu peoples.”

“That is a libelous view, my son, I think on reflection you would see that.  The church is puppet to no one except the Mystical Body of Christ and Holy Mother Church.”

The silence was like a heavy syrup suffocating the breathing on both sides of the confessional.  After nearly a minute, the priest said, “Well?”

“Father, it may sound dubious,” Devlin uttered in a somewhat more conciliatory voice, not wanting the priest to bolt, “but my pastor in South Africa, a missionary from Ireland, was as much a tool of the Afrikaner Government’s apartheid policy as any man could be.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit harsh?”

“I only wish that it were. I kept a notebook of the number of times I attempted to have a conversation with my pastor about this practice without success.  I was rebuked, ignored, cut off at the pass by an assistant priest, and finally threatened with deportation.”

“Perhaps that could be traced to your ill-mannered hostility.”  

“Not at first, Father, but yes, that is a fair assumption.  I became increasingly angry the more I witnessed abuses to the Bantu peoples.  I needed to talk to someone; attempted the subject in confession only to have my pastor shut the window on me without granting me absolution, can you believe that?  

“Corporate people such as myself have a vested interest in apartheid.  I thought my pastor the exception.  I was wrong.  I think it hostile when people are murdered and nothing is done about it; when land is taken without redress to its owners; when families are split up as a matter of State and not of the will of the people; when people are forced to live in the most deplorable conditions; when the 20 percent white minority have the vote, and the 80 percent black majority do not; when the rule of law and order stops at color. Yes, I think hostility is an accurate assessment of my angst.”

“This is all very interesting, my son, but of course subjective, possibly irrational.  It is what you assume to be the case, am I correct?”

“Father, my gardener was murdered on my estate.  When I attempted to find out why and by whom, the police treated the matter as if a dog had been killed.  He was my friend, a good man, an honorable man, and he was twenty-seven-years-old.  That is concrete, not speculative.  When events keep crashing against your values, your frustration blunted by disgust, what other purchase can there be?

“Was the murder the cause of your depression?”

“Father, now you’re being patronizing.”

“I don’t mean to be but I sense you’re feeling helpless.”

Devlin gave a deep sigh, “You have no idea.”  

“I’m listening.”  Father saw fire in the eyes of the young man through the lattice curtain that separated them.  He had seen it before.  He forgot about his cigarette and drink.  

“My anchors” Devlin made a sweep of the confessional with his hands in its narrow confines, “have been my company, country, government and church, and they now are all gone.  They have been swept out to sea.  I have been treading water, Father, in a foreign land buttressed by disturbing news about the United States from secondary sources, and I’m drowning.  Do you understand what I’m saying?  America is coming apart at the seams.  Not just me.  Meanwhile, South Africa is lock stepping to apartheid that I see every day.  It leaves me disconnected.  I have had no other option than to sink into boredom.”

“You’re a most disturbed young man.”

“I think that is an accurate if patronizing assessment.  Yes, I am disturbed, but from my perspective, with reason. But words hide resolve, Father.  I know.  I am good with words.  

“If I’m disturbed, Father, and I think I am, what does that make of my rational ordering society to which I have returned?   If I’m disturbed, what does that say about Roman Catholicism and Christian morality?  No one is more Christian than Afrikaners.  If I’m disturbed, what does that say about my country, which appears at war with itself?  Am I to take it I’m disturbed and everything else is under control?  I find that ironic. Pathetic.”

“If you insist.”

“Father, I’m not trying to win debating points.  Can’t you see the bases of my boredom?”

“Again, if you insist.”

“I do, Father, for everything has lapsed into contradiction: everything real is not acknowledged as such, while everything that is not real is celebrated as real.”

The priest smiled, but not unkindly.  “So, now you’re a psychologist.”  

“No.  Nor am I a philosopher, Father.  This has been my experience in a pivotal year for me, but it seems a pivotal year for my country as well.  If I live a long life I’m certain I will look back on this as a defining moment.” 

He laughed self-consciously wondering if the priest was still listening.  He could feel him breathing.  

“If I’m having a nervous breakdown, Father, it seems so is my country.  1968 was a traumatic year for us both.  Our country’s leadership is in shambles; our infrastructure is in chaos; our institutions a mockery of ineptitude; our value systems as porous as a sieve.  I have no anchor, Father, nor apparently does my country.  We are both seemingly detached from reality.  We wander off into space or explore the ocean’s depths; we make fancy new things, but our crumbling spirit is ignored which is the engine of everything.  

“You mentioned psychology and philosophy.  We have them both in spades, but what good are they?  
These disciplines play word games only to blight our spirits.  Obviously, I’m disturbed.  Why wouldn’t I be, having seen what I’ve seen, done what I’ve done?  Am I wearing the mask of sanity in an insane world, or insanity’s mask in a sane one?  Father, which is it?”

The priest furrowed his brow cupped his hands under his chin and bowed his head in prayer.  Was this why I became a priest, or was it to escape this?  This young man is disturbed, quite so, but what he says, had I not thought it as well?  For the first time, the priest felt some empathy for the young man.  Confused?  Angry?  Yes, but what to do? 

The priest said finally, “It is clear you are in pain, my son, however, I wonder if this is the place to continue this.”

“Father, I am the last one in this church.  I am the last one having my confession heard.  I have traveled more than 12,000 miles in the last 36 hours.  I’ve been drilled all day by a bunch of pompous asses who sit on mahogany row mesmerized by numbers oblivious to the real world.  They have no idea what I am about.  Each time I see them, I marvel.  They never change; they stay the same; they miss the changes; and wonder why the future is always such a surprise to them.  I would like you to indulge me a bit longer.  I’d like to tell you a story.  Then perhaps you can advise me whether it is I or my world that is mad.”

“A story?”

“Yes, it is a story about sins of omission and commission; about the multinational corporation and how it views indigenous peoples as disposable symbols of profit and loss; about a church more interested in its survival than its mission; about a time obsessed with the products of the mind at the expense of those of the heart; about not being able to truly love a woman or hate a man.  It’s about the present panic of now; about the greatest sin of all, which is waste; and about not being able to live a useful life.  In the absence of love in a universe of hate and betrayal, everything is reduced to the common denominator of boredom.”

“Is it a true story?”
 
“I only wish it wasn’t.”

 “Then, my son, please continue.”  Devlin does.


Note

This is the introduction to Devlin, A Psychological Novel, available at Amazon.com, Kindle Library









Monday, March 25, 2019

The Peripatetic Philosopher shares a piece POSTMODERN WORKER:




THE ROMAN EMPIRE ENTERS THE BREACH


“Search for the Real Parents of My Soul”


James R. Fisher, Jr., Ph.D.

© November 14, 2014


Was this the way it was for most people?  The time they lived in was an open invitation to a cocktail of self-denial and self-glorification. And if you didn’t like the situation you were stuck in, there was always the option of running away from yourself; running away from your opinions; your marriage; from your country; from old values; from trends that had otherwise meant so much yesterday.  The problem was just that out there, among all the new; you found nothing of what you were looking for deep down inside; because tomorrow it would all be meaningless again.  It had become an eternal and fruitless hunt for your own shadow and that was pitiful.   


Jussi Adler-Olsen, Denmark novelist in “The Hanging Girl” (2014)



Three thousand years before Christ, people worshiped Horus, who stood for light, and Seth for darkness with the good god of light winning the battle against the evil god of darkness, Seth. 

The hieroglyphs recount similar stories 1500 years before Christ and almost every figure in the Old Testament.  Moses in the bulrush basket was known as Mises in Egypt, Manou in India, and Minos in Crete. 

The hieroglyphs also reproduced the story of Noah and the flood.  The Jewish faith may proclaim exclusive rights to these stories, but many of the New and Old Testament stories are found in the hieroglyphs.   

Horus was born on December 25th by a virgin named Merci with the stepfather named Seb accompanying her.  The birth was predicted by a Star in the East and announced by an angel, who heralded shepherds on the hillside to attend.  Horus was born in a cave and worship by three kings who followed the Star from their homelands in the East.  Horus became a teacher at twelve, was baptized at thirty, and then joined by twelve followers or disciples with whom he traveled about performing miracles.  He was betrayed by Typhon, crucified, and resurrected after three days.

When you look at prominent religions throughout history, there appear a number of generic characteristics similar to the story of “Horus and Christ,” including the prominence of celestial bodies to the beliefs of these religions (see J. Warner, “Is Jesus Simply a Retelling of the Horus Mythology?” November 6, 2017, Atheism Writings).  

Whatever your perspective, we now move out of the Old Testament and Edward Gibbon’s assessment, along with others, into the New Testament and this new religion, Christianity.  For whatever the reader may think or believe, historians agree, Jesus did in fact live and has an authentic if sketchy history.

That said, the irony were it not for the efficacy of the Roman Empire a popular theory holds that Christianity might never have gained its prominence.  Keep this in mind as we move forward. 

*     *     *


There is a thread that goes through Western civilization that is so fine that, while it knits the past with the present and the future, it is so easy to miss how it has been weaved into a single fabric, which is today commonly called “the West.” 


As we have seen thus far, the Hellenistic tradition of Greece greatly influenced the Judaic culture, especially as it relates to the Pharisees, and that influence continued with the Rise of Rome, making Rome the world’s greatest empire (Everitt 2012).

The best estimates of the beginning of the Roman Empire are with the accession of Augustus as the first emperor in 27 B.C.  Others say the date of Rome’s foundation was sometime in the eighth century, possibly 753 B.C. (Everitt, 2012)

Rome is the discernible connection between the Old and New Testament as we are now introduced to the "clash of cultures" between the pagan polytheism of Rome with the monotheism of Judaism, and the cult of Jesus, which will become Christianity as we move into the New Testament. 

*     *     *

During the Reigns of Augustus and Tiberius, Judea had several Roman Prefects according to Jewish historian Josephus: Coponius (6 A.D.), Marcus Ambibulus (7 A.D.), Annius Rufus (14-17 A.D.), “Valerius Gratus (17-27 A.D.), and Pontius Pilate (27-36 A.D.), who ultimately ruled on the crucifixion of Jesus.


Scholars have provided estimates for the year of the crucifixion in the range 30–33 AD, with the majority of modern scholars favoring the date April 7, 30 AD. Another popular date is Friday, April 3, 33 AD.




The march of Homo Sapiens from his theoretical origin into the postmodern era.


The crucifixion of Jesus is recorded in the New Testament with Christians believing Him to be the Son of God as well as the Messiah.  He was arrested, tried, and sentenced by Pontius Pilate to be scourged, and finally crucified. 

Collectively, this is referred to as the Passion of Jesus' suffering and death by crucifixion followed by his resurrection, central tenets of Christian theology concerning the doctrines of atonement and salvation. 

His crucifixion is described in the four synoptic canonical gospels, and referred to generally in the New Testament Epistles as well as attested to by other ancient historical sources and confirmed by non-Christian sources (Eddy & Boyd, 2007).

*     *     *

This sets the stage for the appearance of an irascible figure of no apparent consequence, a figure that will clash with Jesus’ disciple, Peter, and Jesus’ brother, James, over the direction of the new sect, throwing the modest movement off course to split from Judaism and become a new religion, challenging the Roman Empire.  This nondescript man was Saul from Tarsus (Ruden 2010). 


Saul, a Hellenistic Pharisee and tent maker who some say witnessed the stoning to death of St. Stephen, as he is alleged to have held the garments of the stoners, his associates, whose job was to search out and persecute members of the Jesus cult.  Witnessing this stoning, which author Sarah Ruden shows is a slow miserable death, proved shattering to this sensitive and conflicting young man (Ruden 2010). 

Later, on his way to Damascus, Saul was confronted by the full horror of his human limitations.  “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” the voice asked (Acts 9:4). 

Known to be epileptic, the shock of this voice put him into an immediate swoon for he lived in humanity, and came to realize the hurt done to the Jesus followers, like that done to Jesus in human form, now registered as an assault on God.  

Saul was instantly converted and changed his name from Saul to Paul, and became “the greatest theological genius of all time,” and arguably the lone architect of the new religion, Christianity, as Christian doctrine came not from Jesus, nor from any of Jesus’ “twelve apostles,” but from the pen of Paul of Tarsus (Ruden 2010).

*     *     *

The Roman Empire fell into this breach, an empire that rose modestly gaining momentum over time into the colossus that it became. 

Although Rome began as a republic, the period from the legendary founding of the city of Rome in 753 B.C. through the fall of what became known as the Western Empire in A.D. 476 represents a continuous history of a culture we call the Roman Empire.

That said, starting in 19 B.C., Augustus ushered in a conservative revolution that focused on moral renewal of the Roman state in part by bringing back customs from the past.  He enacted reforms concerning religion and social and sexual behavior that directly affected personal freedom as well as what it meant to be a citizen under the empire.

Augustus interpreted the period of civil war prior to his reign as immoral in which Romans had neglected the gods in deference to their personal luxury and pleasure.  This aside, his achievements rested with his popularity with the army, securing the borders, improving empire administration, and developing a well-planned method of succession.

The defeat of Mark Antony at the “Battle of Actium” (31 B.C.) secured Augustus's power.  Augustus then cut the size of the army, but retained the goodwill of his disbanded troops by granting them full citizenship, the ability to vote, immunity from tribute, opportunities to relocate throughout the empire, and retirement bonuses for 20 years of service.

After his death in 14 A.D., his stepson Tiberius was easily accepted as emperor being keen to rule much as his father had, continuing the Augustus tradition, while encouraging Romans to move eastward quietly expanding the Roman influence.

This swelled the Roman presence in Judea during the reign of Tiberius (14-37 A.D.,), Caligula (37-41 A.D.), Claudius (41-54 A.D.), and Nero (54-68 A.D.), a period historians claim of emperor eccentric steadiness.  

Although each had strengths, none would recreate the golden age of the first emperor’s reign.  Instead, they are remembered for their faults and oddities, from madness to stuttering, from tyranny to Nero's suicide.

“Pax Romana” (27 B.C. to A.D. 180) represents two centuries of peace that commenced with the reign of Augustus (27 B.C.) and the death 207 years later (180 A.D.) of Marcus Aurelius.   It was a period of internal order and indisputable dominance abroad, similar to the “American Century.”  Historian Anthony Everitt, however, finds that comparison between Rome and the United States ludicrous if not dangerous (Everitt 2012).

Rome had its “New Age,” as well, ushered in by Augustus in 19 B.C. in what proved to be a conservative revolution.  He focused on the moral renewal of the Roman state in part by bringing back customs from the past.  He also enacted reforms concerning religion and social and sexual behavior that directly affected personal freedom as well as the definition of what constituted a Roman citizen. 

At the same time, there were mounting delusions of grandeur.  This included a sense of invincibility and destiny, as well as a preoccupation with empire showing little alarm at increasing dysfunction of Rome at home. 

Rome failed to recognize emerging socioeconomic problems such as immigration as diverse ethnic groups which were pouring into Rome, foreigners who resisted assimilation into the Roman culture, instead becoming wards of the state contributing little to the majesty of Rome’s already established greatness. 

In retrospect, the seeds of the decline were planted in the birth of the Christian Empire (National Geographic 2014).  By the fourth century A.D., Christians were integrated into all facets of Roman society, including the military, judicial, and educational establishments, while comprising only 8 percent of the population.

Troubled by this mounting influence, in 303 A.D., Emperor Diocletian ordered that all Christians renounce their beliefs and sacrifice to Roman gods, starting the final Roman persecution of the church.  

A decade later, following the “Edict of Milan,” the practice of Christianity was as accepted as that of any other religion.  Rome, however, would not become a fully Christian empire until after the fall of the Second Tetrarchy (i.e., four rulers), and Constantine’s reign (National Geographic 2014). 

*     *     *

Emperor Constantine, after a battle field conversion, made Christianity the state religion and prohibited the worshiping of all Roman gods in 313 A.D. 


Once established, few could have foreseen that this act, with the death of Constantine in 337 A.D., would mark the beginning of the end of the Roman Empire (Womersley 1994).

A series of forces were at work, some familiar, some new, which combined to make Rome’s downfall almost inevitable.

Without new territory, the empire lost revenue, burdening an economy that was already straining under the enormous cost of maintaining a vast army, a welfare system at home, saddled with bureaucratic lethargy, and a series of emperors without the force of personality to lead, who instead were likely to be entrenched within their imperial palaces, often located outside of Rome, along with corruption in the Senate, leaving the government marginalized in the day-to-day conduct of business. 

The tension between the East and West segments of the Roman Empire had become increasingly destructive as emperors no longer cooperated and instead undermined each other.  

Barbarian tribes from the north administered the coup de grace, as some traditional tribal nemeses migrated into the empire when the Huns invaded Europe, while Visigoths and Germanic tribes took advantage of the power vacuums and attacked Rome itself.

Rome’s empire had grown so large that its borders became harder to defend. Meanwhile, in the east, a new empire, the Sassanids, overran Rome’s traditional enemy the Parthians. Tribes such as the Goths from the Baltic regions and Alamanni from the upper Rhine invaded from the north.  Rebels within and without the empire annexed territory and broke away from Rome (National Geographic 2014).  The western empire started to unravel with the death of Constantine in 337 A.D. with Rome giving way completely to Byzantium in the east in 476 A.D., which marked the end of the Roman Empire.

*     *     *

Edward Gibbon devoted more than a decade to his magisterial History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (1776-1789), which opens with this famous sentence:


In the second century of the Christian era, the empire of Rome comprehended the fairest part of the earth, and the most civilized portion of mankind.

The empire was at its peak, thanks to the spirit of moderation with which Augustus had imbued it.  Gibbon praised Augustus’ moderation who was content to rest with the republic’s conquests, having no inclination to subdue the entire world.  Gibbon continues:

Inclined to peace by his temper and situation, it was easy for him to discover, that Rome, in her present exalted situation, had much less to hope than to fear from the chance of arms (Womersley 1994).
             

Gibbon asked the questions: 


What caused the empire to fall from those heights?  The barbarian invasions?  The rise of Christianity to the status of a state religion?  

Yes, he concludes, but that was only the most important aspect of a more encompassing cause.  He put his views in a section titled, “General Observations on the Fall of the Roman Empire in the West”:

The decline of Rome was the natural and inevitable effect of immoderate greatness. (Gibbon 2007)

Too much ambition, too much prosperity, too much power in the hands of the Praetorian guards, too many provincials bearing the name of “Roman,” who knew nothing of the Roman spirit.  These were the causes, he concludes, of the Rome's destruction.

Chapter 15 and 16 of Gibbon’s work are immoderate, as the historian makes no attempt to express himself in politically correct terms.  The early Christians, he assessed, were simple and mild folks, but from the first they preached and practiced an intolerant exclusivity.  

Whereas the pagans stood ready to add another god to the pantheon, the followers of Christ insisted that theirs was the true and only God.  

Gibbon, a nonbeliever, viewed religion of any kind the sanctuary for the ignorant and superstitious masses only.  At the same time, he recognized the social usefulness of religion, but only when it was polytheistic, tolerant, moderate in its enthusiasm and modest in its claims.

Thanks to Paul, the Apostle, Christianity was none of these things.  Christians were immoderately passive.  They discouraged active virtues and buried the last remnants of the military spirit in the cloister.  Gibbon held a special grievance for the sacred indolence of the monks who he claimed embraced a servile and effeminate age (Womersley 1994).

Yet, he viewed Christians as also immoderately pugnacious, even within their own camp, zealotry could not be held in check.  Between the bishops in Rome and the bishops in the provinces, there was a continuing cold war.

Bishops, like almost all Christians, Gibbon observes, were fanatics who for a variety of reasons, zeal, the promise of another world, miraculous claims, rigid virtue, or church organization, were able to transform themselves from a persecuted minority into an intolerant majority. 

Christians had been persecuted, Gibbon admits, but the pagan treatment was less intolerable than many believed.  He concedes that Nero may have carried things too far.  But he reminds the reader that once Christians came to power they were “no less diligently employed in displaying the cruelty in imitating the conduct of their pagan adversaries.” (Womersley 1994)

Nero’s antagonism to Christian doctrine spilled over into the Jewish faith, leading to charges of anti-Semitism:

From the reign of Nero to that of Antoninus Pius, the Jews discovered a fierce impatience of the dominion of Rome, which repeatedly broke out in the most furious massacres and insurrections. Humanity is shocked at the recital of the horrid cruelties which they committed in the cities of Egypt, of Cyprus, and of Cyrene, where they dwelt in treacherous friendship with the unsuspecting natives; and we are tempted to applaud the severe retaliation which was exercised by the arms of legions against a race of fanatics, whose dire and credulous superstition seemed to render them the implacable enemies not only of the Roman government, but also of humankind. (Womersley 1994) 

Emperor Julian attempted in vain to restore polytheistic paganism from the monotheism of Christianity and Judaism.  Julian was also known as Julian the Philosopher, and was emperor from 361-363 A.D. with strong Hellenistic leanings.  

A member of the Constantinian dynasty, Julian became Caesar over the western provinces by order of Constantius II in 355 and in this role campaigned successfully against the Alamanni and Franks. Most notable was his crushing victory over the Alamanni in 357 at the Battle of Argentoratum despite being outnumbered.

In 360 in Lutetia (Paris), he was acclaimed Augustus by his soldiers, sparking a civil war between Julian and Constantius. Before the two could face each other in battle, however, Constantius died, after naming Julian as his rightful successor. 

In 363, Julian embarked on an ambitious campaign against the Sassanid Empire in the east. Though initially successful, Julian was mortally wounded in battle and died shortly thereafter.

Julian was a man of unusually complex character: he was "the military commander, the theosophist, the social reformer, and the man of letters"  He was the last non-Christian ruler of the Roman Empire, and it was his desire to bring the Empire back to its ancient Roman values in order to save it from dissolution.  

He purged the top-heavy state bureaucracy and attempted to revive traditional Roman religious practices at the cost of Christianity. His rejection of Christianity in favor of Neoplatonic paganism caused him to be called Julian the Apostate, or "a person who has abandoned the religion and principles" of the (Christian) church.  He was the last emperor of the Constantinian dynasty.

Unlike Constantine, Julian was moderate and tolerant, “the only hardship,” according to Gibbon, “which he inflicted on the Christians, was to deprive them of the power of tormenting their fellow subjects, whom they stigmatized with the odious titles of idolaters and heretics” (General Observations 2007).

Julian was a true believer in the pagan gods and not a philosophic skeptic concerning all religions.  In Gibbon’s view, he should have emulated those who had allowed philosophy to purify “their minds from the prejudices of the popular superstitions” and who therefore rejected Christianity.  

Julian was speaking of Seneca, the elder, and younger Pliny, Tacitus, Plutarch, Galen, Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius, whose death in 207 A.D. marked the end of Rome’s golden period.

As point of reference, Gibbon is considered to be a son of the European Enlightenment and this is reflected in his famous verdict on the history of the Middle Ages: 

"I have described the triumph of barbarism and religion." 

However, politically, he aligned himself with the conservative Edmund Burke's rejection of the democratic movements of the time as well as with Burke's dismissal of the "rights of man."

Gibbon's work has been praised for its style, his piquant epigrams and its effective irony.  Unusually for the 18th century, Gibbon was never content with secondhand accounts when the primary sources were accessible.  With reference to primary sources, Gibbon is considered by many to be one of the first modern historians.

In accuracy, thoroughness, lucidity, and a comprehensive grasp of a vast subject, his history is considered incomparable; an English history that may be regarded as definitive. Whatever its shortcomings, "The Decline & Fall of the Roman Empire" is artistically imposing as well as historically unimpeachable as a vast panorama of a great period.

Having recounted his melancholy tale of Rome’ decline and fall, Gibbon asked if it contained a warning to the present.  Might Europe one day suffer a similar fate?  Incredibly, he thought not:

The abuses of tyranny are restrained by the mutual influence of fear and shame; republics have acquired order and stability; monarchies have imbibed the principles of freedom, or, at least, of indoctrination; and some sense of honor and justice is introduced into the most defective constitutions by the general manner of the times.  In peace, the progress of knowledge and industry is accelerated by the emulation of so many active rivals in war, the European forces are exercised by temperate and indecisive contests (Gibbon, General Observations 2007).


The crucifixion of Jesus is recorded in the New Testament, Christians believing Him to be the Son of God as well as the Messiah.  He was arrested, tried, and sentenced by Pontius Pilate to be scourged, and finally crucified. Collectively, this is referred to as Jesus Passion, Suffering, Death by Crucifixion, and His Redemption as the central tenets of Christian theology concerning the Christian doctrines of atonement and salvation. 

His crucifixion is described in the four synoptic canonical gospels, referred to in the New Testament Epistles, attested to by other ancient sources, and is established as a historical event confirmed by non-Christian sources (Eddy & Boyd, 2007).
*     *     *

This sets the stage for the appearance of an irascible figure of no apparent consequence, a figure that will clash with Jesus’ disciple, Peter, and Jesus’ brother, James, over the direction of the new sect, throwing the modest movement off course to split from Judaism and become a new religion, challenging the Roman Empire.  This nondescript man was Saul from Tarsus (Ruden 2010). 


Saul, a Hellenistic Pharisee and tentmaker who some say witnessed the stoning to death of St. Stephen, as he is alleged to have held the garments of the stoners, his associates, whose job was to search out and persecute members of the Jesus cult.  Witnessing this stoning, which author Sarah Ruden shows is a slow miserable death, proved shattering to this sensitive and conflicting young man (Ruden 2010). 


Later, on his way to Damascus, Saul was confronted by the full horror of his human limitations.  “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” the voice asked (Acts 9:4). 


A man who lived in humanity, he came to realize the hurt done to the Jesus followers, like that done to Jesus in human form, which now registered as an assault on God.  He was instantly converted and changed his name from Saul to Paul, and became “the greatest theological genius of all time,” and arguably the lone architect of the new religion, Christianity, as Christian doctrine came not from Jesus, nor from any of Jesus’ “twelve apostles,” but from the pen of Paul of Tarsus (Ruden 2010).


*     *     *

The Roman Empire fell into this breach, an empire that rose modestly gaining momentum over time into the colossus that it became. 


Some historians regard the Roman Empire as beginning with the accession of Augustus as the first emperor in 27 B.C.  Others recognized that although Rome began as a republic, the period from the legendary founding of the city of Rome in 753 B.C. through the fall of what became known as the Western Empire in A.D. 476 represents a continuous history of a culture we call the Roman Empire.


That said, starting in 19 B.C., Augustus ushered in a conservative revolution that focused on moral renewal of the Roman state in part by bringing back customs from the past.  He enacted reforms concerning religion and social and sexual behavior that directly affected personal freedom as well as what it meant to be a citizen under the empire.


Augustus interpreted the civil war prior to his reign as immoral in which Romans had neglected the gods in deference to their personal luxury and pleasure.  This aside, his achievements rested with his popularity with the army, securing the borders, improving empire administration, and developing a well-planned method of succession.


The defeat of Mark Antony at the “Battle of Actium” (31 B.C.) secured his power.  Augustus then cut the size of the army, but retained the goodwill of his disbanded troops by granting them full citizenship, the ability to vote, immunity from tribute, opportunities to relocate throughout the empire, and retirement bonuses for 20 years of service.


After his death in 14 A.D., his stepson Tiberius was easily accepted as emperor being keen to rule much as his father had, continuing the Augustus tradition, while encouraging Romans to move eastward quietly expanding the Roman influence.


This swelled the Roman presence in Judea during the reign of Tiberius (14-37 A.D.), Caligula (37-41 A.D.), Claudius (41-54 A.D.), and Nero (54-68 A.D.), a period historians claim of emperor eccentric steadiness.  Although each had strengths, none would recreate the golden age of the first emperor’s reign.  Instead, they are remembered for their faults and oddities, from madness to stuttering, from tyranny to Nero’s suicide.


“Pax Romana” (27 B.C. to A.D. 180) represented two centuries of peace that commenced with the reign of Augustus (27 B.C.) and the death 207 years later (180 A.D.) of Marcus Aurelius.   It was a period of internal order and indisputable dominance abroad, similar to the “American Century.”  Historian Anthony Everitt, however, finds that comparison between Rome and the United States ludicrous if not dangerous (Everitt 2012).


Rome had its “New Age,” as well, ushered in by Augustus in 19 B.C. in what proved to be a conservative revolution.  He focused on the moral renewal of the Roman state in part by bringing back customs from the past.  He also enacted reforms concerning religion and social and sexual behavior that directly affected personal freedom as well as the definition of what constituted a Roman citizen. 


At the same time, there were mounting delusions of grandeur.  This included a sense of invincibility and destiny, as well as a preoccupation with empire showing little alarm at increasing dysfunction of Rome at home. 


Rome failed to recognize emerging socioeconomic problems such as immigration as diverse ethnic groups poured into Rome, resisting assimilation into the Roman culture, instead becoming wards of the state contributing little to the majesty of Rome’s established greatness. 


In retrospect, the seeds of the decline were planted in the birth of the Christian Empire (National Geographic 2014).  By the fourth century A.D., Christians were integrated into all facets of Roman society, including the military, judicial, and educational establishments, while comprising only 8 percent of the population.


Troubled by this mounting influence, in 303 A.D., Emperor Diocletian ordered that all Christians renounce their beliefs and sacrifice to Roman gods, starting the final Roman persecution of the church.  


A decade later, following the “Edict of Milan,” the practice of Christianity was as accepted as that of any other religion.  Rome, however, would not become a fully Christian empire until after the fall of the Second Tetrarchy (i.e., four rulers), and Constantine’s reign (National Geographic 2014). 


*     *     *

Emperor Constantine, after a battle field conversion, made Christianity the state religion and prohibited the worshiping of all Roman gods in 313 A.D.  Once established, few could have foreseen that this act, with the death of Constantine in 337 A.D., would mark the beginning of the end of the Roman Empire (Womersley 1994).


A series of forces were at work, some familiar, some new, which combined to make Rome’s downfall almost inevitable.


Without new territory, the empire lost revenue, burdening an economy that was already straining under the enormous cost of maintaining a vast army, a welfare system at home, saddled with bureaucratic lethargy, and a series of emperors without the force of personality to lead, who instead were likely to be entrenched within their imperial palaces, often located outside of Rome, along with corruption in the Senate, leaving the government marginalized in the day-to-day conduct of business. 


The tension between the East and West segments of the Roman Empire had become increasingly destructive as emperors no longer cooperated and instead undermined each other.  


Barbarian tribes from the north administered the coup de grace as some traditional tribal nemeses migrated into the empire when the Huns invaded Europe, while Visigoths and Germanic tribes took advantage of the power vacuums and attacked Rome itself.


Rome’s empire had grown so large that its borders became harder to defend.  Meanwhile, in the east, a new empire, the Sassanids, overran Rome’s traditional enemy the Parthians. Tribes such as the Goths from the Baltic regions and Alamanni from the upper Rhine invaded from the north.  Rebels within and without the empire annexed territory and broke away from Rome (National Geographic 2014).  The western empire started to unravel with the death of Constantine in 337 A.D. with Rome giving way completely to Byzantium in the east in 476 A.D., which marked the end of the Roman Empire.


*     *     *

Edward Gibbon devoted more than a decade to his magisterial History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (1776-1789), which opens with this famous sentence:


In the second century of the Christian era, the empire of Rome comprehended the fairest part of the earth, and the most civilized portion of mankind.


The empire was at its peak, thanks to the spirit of moderation with which Augustus had imbued it.  Gibbon praised Augustus’ moderation who was content to rest with the republic’s conquests, having no inclination to subdue the entire world.  Gibbon continues:


Inclined to peace by his temper and situation, it was easy for him to discover, that Rome, in her present exalted situation, had much less to hope than to fear from the chance of arms (Womersley 1994).

             

Gibbon asked the questions: 


What caused the empire to fall from those heights?  The barbarian invasions?  The rise of Christianity to the status of a state religion?  


Yes, he concludes, but that was only the most important aspect of a more encompassing cause.  He put his views in a section titled, “General Observations on the Fall of the Roman Empire in the West”:


The decline of Rome was the natural and inevitable effect of immoderate greatness. (Gibbon 2007)


Too much ambition, too much prosperity, too much power in the hands of the Praetorian guards, too many provincials bearing the name of “Roman,” who knew nothing of the Roman spirit.  These were the causes, he concludes, of the destruction.


Chapter 15 and 16 of Gibbon’s work are immoderate, as the historian makes no attempt to express himself in politically correct terms.  The early Christians, he assessed, were simple and mild folks, but from the first they preached and practiced an intolerant exclusivity.  


Whereas the pagans stood ready to add another god to the pantheon, the followers of Christ insisted that theirs was the true and only God.  


Gibbon, a nonbeliever, viewed religion of any kind the sanctuary for the ignorant and superstitious masses only.  At the same time, he recognized the social usefulness of religion, but only when it was polytheistic, tolerant, moderate in its enthusiasm and modest in its claims.


Thanks to Paul, the Apostle, Christianity was none of these things.  Christians were immoderately passive.  They discouraged active virtues and buried the last remnants of the military spirit in the cloister.  Gibbon held a special grievance for the sacred indolence of the monks who he claimed embraced a servile and effeminate age (Womersley 1994).


Yet, he viewed Christians as profligately pugnacious, even within their own camp, zealotry could not be held in check.  Between the bishops in Rome and the bishops in the provinces, there was a continuing cold war.


The bishops, like almost all Christians, Gibbon observes, were fanatics who for a variety of reasons, including zeal, the promise of another world, miraculous claims, rigid virtue, or the church organization itself, were able to transform themselves from a persecuted minority into an intolerant majority. 


Christians had been persecuted, Gibbon admits, but the pagan treatment was less intolerable than many believed.  He concedes that Nero may have carried things too far.  But he reminds the reader that once Christians came to power they were “no less diligently employed in displaying cruelty, than their pagan adversaries.” (Womersley 1994)


Nero’s antagonism to Christian doctrine spilled over into the Jewish faith, leading to charges of anti-Semitism:


From the reign of Nero to that of Antoninus Pius, the Jews discovered a fierce impatience of the dominion of Rome, which repeatedly broke out in the most furious massacres and insurrections. Humanity is shocked at the recital of the horrid cruelties which they committed in the cities of Egypt, of Cyprus, and of Cyrene, where they dwelt in treacherous friendship with the unsuspecting natives; and we are tempted to applaud the severe retaliation which was exercised by the arms of legions against a race of fanatics, whose dire and credulous superstition seemed to render them the implacable enemies not only of the Roman government, but also of humankind. (Womersley 1994) 


Emperor Julian attempted in vain to restore polytheistic paganism from the monotheism of Christianity and Judaism.  Julian was also known as Julian the Philosopher, and was emperor from 361-363 A.D. with strong Hellenistic leanings.  


A member of the Constantinian dynasty, Julian became Caesar over the western provinces by order of Constantius II in 355 and in this role campaigned successfully against the Alamanni and Franks. Most notable was his crushing victory over the Alamanni in 357 at the Battle of Argentoratum despite being outnumbered.


In 360 in Lutetia (Paris), he was acclaimed Augustus by his soldiers, sparking a civil war between Julian and Constantius. Before the two could face each other in battle, however, Constantius died, after naming Julian as his rightful successor. 


In 363, Julian embarked on an ambitious campaign against the Sassanid Empire in the east. Though initially successful, Julian was mortally wounded in battle and died shortly thereafter.


Julian was a man of unusually complex character: he was "the military commander, the theosophist, the social reformer, and the man of letters"  He was the last non-Christian ruler of the Roman Empire, and it was his desire to bring the Empire back to its ancient Roman values in order to save it from dissolution.  


He purged the top-heavy state bureaucracy and attempted to revive traditional Roman religious practices at the cost of Christianity. His rejection of Christianity in favor of Neoplatonic paganism caused him to be called Julian the Apostate, or "a person who has abandoned the religion and principles" of the (Christian) church.  He was the last emperor of the Constantinian dynasty.


Unlike Constantine, Julian was moderate and tolerant, “the only hardship,” according to Gibbon, “which he inflicted on the Christians, was to deprive them of the power of tormenting their fellow subjects, whom they stigmatized with the odious titles of idolaters and heretics” (General Observations 2007).


Julian was a true believer in the pagan gods and not a philosophic skeptic concerning all religions.  In Gibbon’s view, he should have emulated those who had allowed philosophy to purify “their minds from the prejudices of the popular superstitions” and who therefore rejected Christianity.  He was speaking of Seneca, the elder, and younger Pliny, Tacitus, Plutarch, Galen, Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius, whose death in 207 A.D. marked the end of Rome’s golden period.


As point of reference, Gibbon is considered to be a son of the European Enlightenment and this is reflected in his famous verdict on the history of the Middle Ages: 


"I have described the triumph of barbarism and religion." 


However, politically, he aligned himself with the conservative Edmund Burke's rejection of the democratic movements of the time as well as with Burke's dismissal of the "rights of man."


Gibbon's work has been praised for its style, his piquant epigrams and its effective irony.  Unusually for the 18th century, Gibbon was never content with secondhand accounts when the primary sources were accessible.  With reference to primary sources, Gibbon is considered by many to be one of the first modern historians.


In accuracy, thoroughness, lucidity, and a comprehensive grasp of a vast subject, his history is considered incomparable in English history that may be regarded as definitive. Whatever its shortcomings, "The Decline & Fall of the Roman Empire" is artistically imposing as well as historically unimpeachable as a vast panorama of a great period.


Having recounted his melancholy tale of Rome’ decline and fall, Gibbon asked if it contained a warning to the present.  Might Europe one day suffer a similar fate?  Incredibly, he thought not:


The abuses of tyranny are restrained by the mutual influence of fear and shame; republics have acquired order and stability; monarchies have imbibed the principles of freedom, or, at least, of indoctrination; and some sense of honor and justice is introduced into the most defective constitutions by the general manner of the times.  In peace, the progress of knowledge and industry is accelerated by the emulation of so many active rivals in war, the European forces are exercised by temperate and indecisive contests (Gibbon, General Observations 2007).


NOTE

This is in part an excerpt from an unpublished manuscript, “In Search of the Real Parents of My Soul.”