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CHURCH HISTORY

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CHURCH HISTORY

The Last Convulsion of Paganism

13 minuten leestijd Arcering uitzetten

PAGANISM was brought under, but therewith it was not altogether conquered, and much less exterminated. In the West the heathens were still in the majority and especially the aristocracy was for the greater part attached to the old religion. Though in the East the mass of the people had gone over to Christianity, yet the men of refined culture and science held fast to paganism. The peculiar character of this age was, that Christianity developed too fast, but outwardly there were all sorts of paganism even in social life, which was only gradually displaced by Christian ideals.

Under Constantine, religious freedom was maintained, but after his death the selfish priests began to urge violent efforts to annihilate old paganism entirely. The three sons of the great Emperor, among whom the empire was divided, had to give too much attention to their mutual wars in the beginning of their reign to give heed to those voices, but as early as the year 341 the offering of sacrifices to the ancient idols was made punishable.

When upon the death of his brothers, Constantius became absolute ruler, these measures were greatly extended. At many places the images were demolished, the heathen temples were closed, or converted into Christian Churches. The temple goods were either stolen or assigned to the churches, and all who still adhered to paganism were obliged to hide their convictions, for the partaking of a heathen sacrifice, though done in secret, might cost such a one his life.

Though in the beginning the pagans were filled with terror, they soon closed their ranks, especially in the east, which was still the seat of heathen learning. With bitter spite these philosophers saw that the public sacrifices ceased, and that the temples of the idols were closed, and more fervently than ever they hoped that the triumph of Christendom would be only temporary. These men did not desire the return of their rude pagan religion, but the refined paganism, the Neo-Platonism, which in the eyes of these worldly wise stood infinitely higher than Christendom. The memory of the old glory of Greece and Rome made them fanatical, and they comforted each other with the assurance that the pagan civilization would in the end triumph over Christian faith.

In this circle Julian the Apostate arose, who made a desperate attempt to restore the power of paganism.

Julian was the son of a brother of Constantine the Great, and hence a cousin of the reigning Emperor, Constantius. When very young he had lost his mother, and in the bloody wars, which were waged after the great Emperor’s decease, his whole family was killed, and only because of his youth he was spared. Because of his great gifts he was soon suspected and feared, and for that reason Emperor Constantius banished the 14 year old youth to Marcella castle in Cappadocia where he was closely guarded, while he was being educated for the clergy. Unhappily, his teachers were men who sought to satisfy his thirst for knowledge by keeping him occupied with endless dogmatic controversies, which at that time were discussed. At the same time he had to mutter endless prayers, or do penance, but they did not teach him true Christianity nor the pure Gospel. Is it any wonder that a character of such a noble mind, such as Julian undoubtedly possessed could have no love toward a Christianity whose professors had killed his relatives, whose priests were his jailers, while his teachers, who he despised because of their ignorance, did everything to dull his mind and to prevent him from satisfying his desire after knowledge elsewhere?

Thus he became a hypocrite against his will: the role of dissembler to which he was opposed in his heart, was forced upon him.

He soon showed himself proficient in the art of dissembling: outwardly he appeared to be a zealous supporter of the Church, which deep in his heart he despised and hated. He could hide his feelings so well, that he was soon noted as being very pious. He was even appointed as reader or clerk in the church, while at night he secretly offered sacrifices to the idols. Having returned to Constantinople, he was soon in such favor at the court, that he was permitted to go to Nicomedia to continue his studies there. Now he had obtained just that which he desired, for here, in the schools of the heathen philosophers he could satisfy his thirst after knowledge. Before long he was either personally or by correspondence, acquainted with the most prominent men of this circle, and very soon they had gained the royal pupil for their ideals. He hung as it were upon the lips of his new teacher) when they sketched the fascinating beauty of the ancient world, as they saw it in their imagination, and with increasing enthusiasm he listened to the revelations of the Neoplatonic philsophy. He now thought to have found what he had in vain sought after for so long, and from this time forth, the year 351, he hoped fervently that Christianity would soon make room for that paganism which was modernized according to the demands of the age, and about which he was so fervently fanatical.

The Roman empire was in those days in a sad condition. Whilst the Persians threatened the empire from one side, the Germanians invaded the country from another direction, and soon had conquered a part of Gaul.

Emperor Constantius stood alone, for during the wretched family quarrels almost the whole Royal family had been exterminated either by poison or sword; only Julian was yet alive, and the Emperor decided to solicit his aid. He was appointed Caesar, and he was given the charge to push the Germanians back while the Emperor himself would lead the campaign against the Persians.

With wonderful speed the new Caesar developed his talents. Had studying been his only ambition thus far, he now proved to be an experienced commander, and an excellent governor. The Germanians were pushed back across the Rhine again, and in Gaul order was soon restored, while because of his excellent management, he was highly honored, whilst his soldiers almost idolized him. But just this aroused the old suspicion in Constantinople again. In the year 360 the Emperor recalled the best legions from Gaul, with the excuse that he needed them in the war against Persia. The soldiers refused flatly to obey the command of the Emperor, and acclaimed Julian as Emperor. He hesitated, and endeavored to appease his superior, but when he perceived that his life was in danger, he accepted the imperial dignity, and advanced with his army. They did not clash however, for the 3rd of November 361, Constantius was killed in battle with the Persians, and now throughout the whole empire, Julian was acknowledged as absolute monarch. As pagan he made his entry into Constantinople. On his journey thither he had publicly offered sacrifices to the idols. Rome had a pagan Emperor again.

At first there was joy everywhere, for Constantius was universally hated. Even the Christians were not dissatisfied with the exchange, for they considered a Pagan Emperor less dangerous than a so-called Christian one, who abused his power to decide in dogmatic disputes, and which party were the true believers.

Julian had no idea whatever, to exterminate Christendom with fire and sword: he proclaimed only freedom of religion and in this he was in earnest. He was a fanatic and fully convinced that paganism would triumph over Christendom. He believed in the inward power of paganism, and at the same time, that he had been appointed by the gods to restore the ancient religion. He urged the pagans to attend to their religious duties seriously, and to live a life which was pleasing to the gods, and to excell the Christians, which he always contempteously called Galileans, in love, sympathy and other virtues. Himself, the Emperor demonstrated that he was serious about his reformations. All luxuries which prevailed at the court were abolished; an army of unnecessary officials was discharged; life had to be entirely simple, modest and strict. Such an Emperor as Julian was, so simply dressed, so moderate, so active, so zealous in his worship of the gods, had never been known. Daily he brought his offerings and himself assisted by carrying wood and the killing of the sacrificial animals. The closed idol temples were everywhere reopened; and those temples which had been changed into Christian churches had to be restored to their former use, and the images were set up again at the street corners.

He did not cause the Christians to be persecuted violently; he even forbade this, but he aimed at their destruction nevertheless. All officers of high rank and all court officials, who would not deny their faith were replaced by pagans.

In an imperial decree of the 17th of July 362, the Christians were forbidden to function as teachers. The schools were not closed to them, but since all teachers were now pagans, education took on such a pagan character, that it was impossible for Christian youths to continue these lessons. By this decree the way to culture and education was closed to the Christians, and therewith at the same time, access to high state offices was denied them, for this a literary education was necessary. When the tormented professors of the Lord voiced their complaint about this systematic slight, the Emperor answered mockingly: “Be content with your faith; and moreover, the worshippers of the “Carpenter” have no claim upon civilization.” However, the restoration of paganism proved to be but a dream. Julian began to feel lonely, although he was now surrounded by pagans. Although the courtiers agreed to all that he said, they were in no way inclined to live as modestly and moderately as their Emperor. They rather went to the theatre than to the temple, and those daily offerings annoyed them as much as the penitential sermons, of their royal Master. A tolerant Christian Emperor was to be preferred to a fanatical pious heathen. The Emperor did the impossible to reshape old paganism. Letter after letter he wrote to the priests admonishing them to exhort the people to virtue and to be of a religious mind, but it was of no use, for, although he could endeavor to bind beautiful fruit to the tree of paganism, to bring about that that tree itself would be improved to bear good fruit—this was impossible to him. He offered himself up and although using every effort, it was all in vain. Even his former friends left him to his own fancies.

In such a frame of mind he departed to Antioch in Syria, to prepare for a new campaign against the Persians. New disappointments waited him there. The sanctuaries of the gods were deserted and dilapidated, and after he had the temple of Apollos beautifully restored, there appeared on the day of its impressive dedication, in addition to Julian and his retinue, only an old man, who offered a goose. It did not help that the Emperor gave a long lecture because of so much indifference: he himself became the object of the people’s mockery. Because of his long beard, he was called a bear, and alluding to his manifold sacrifices, the people said, “It is no wonder that meat is so expensive, since the Emperor himself is a butcher.”

Not long after, the newly erected temple of Apollos burned down, probably due to carelessness of the acting priest. However, the enraged Emperor put the blame on the Christians. He caused the main church in Antioch to be closed, and the church had its martyrs again. Shortly after that, a new imperial decree appeared in which was stipulated that preference would be given to pagans for all offices.

He also tantalized them with other things: daily he caused all foods that were sold in the markets, to be sprinkled with water, which had been consecrated to the gods. Here and there, the pagans looted the homes of Christians, or else killed the faithful believers, and to all complaints the Emperor replied: “What of that? Is it a crime if a Greek kills ten Galileans?”

And yet Julian was restless. He ran from one temple to another: for hours he lay, kneeling before the images of his gods and covered them with kisses. The nights he spent in his study room, and there he wrote his writings full of brilliant ingenuity, but also full of bitter hatred against the Galileans and the “Son of the carpenter.” And daily his restlessness and bitterness increased.

Finally the preparations for the expedition against the Persians were ready, and the Emperor departed at the head of his legions. The pagans were full of hope: if this expedition was successful, the victory of paganism was assured. The Christians were quiet; they had a premonition that a judgment of God was upon the world. When the famous philosopher Libanius at this time asked mockingly of a Christian priest: “What is the Carpenter’s Son doing now?” he replied, “He is making a coffin for your Emperor.”

In the beginning everything went prosperous. Julian maintained his old fame as general, and triumphantly his legions advanced. After more than one brilliant feat of arms, his thoughtful councellors advised him to be satisfied with the result, and to return as victor. But Julian wanted more. As a second Alexander the Great, he would go farther: everything should submit to his arms.

The Persians retreated and for days the Roman armies advanced over the burning hot sandy plains, without meeting a single enemy. The soldiers began to murmur and to demand the Emperor to return. In vain he used his eloquence to change the minds of his soldiers—-he had to submit to their demands. This was the moment, for which the Persians had waited. Their light cavalry attacked day and night, the exhausted Roman soldiers, who began to run short for food besides.

Julian could not deny the fact, that his position was most dangerous. All his visions of restoring the ancient to its full glory had vanished. One morning, while he and his priests sought for signs to read the future, the war cry of the Persians resounded. . Immediately the Emperor jumped in the saddle, and with death-defying courage his legions attacked the enemy. Once more the fortunes of war seemed to smile upon him, and he gained a brilliant victory. Jubilantly his soldiers accompanied him to his tent, but hardly had he taken off his armour, when the Persians repeated the attack from another direction. Without giving himself time to put on his armor, he hurried to the place of combat. Again a fierce fight developed: again the Persians were beaten back, but it was a costly victory. Hit by an arrow, Julian fell to the ground mortally wounded. After a couple of hours he died, while with clenched fist he cried out full of bitterness: “Galilean, Thou hast conquered.”

This was the end of Julian the Apostate. The words of his contemporary, the famous Church Father Athanasius, proved to be true, when, with an eye to the revival of Paganism he said, “It is_ but a little cloud: it will pass over.”

The vain efforts of Julian were the last convulsions of dying paganism. The cross had triumphed.

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