“Tell the king, on earth has fallen the glorious dwelling, and the water springs that spoke are quenched and dead. Not a cell is left the god, no roof, no cover. In his hand the prophet laurel flowers no more.” - from Julian: vol 111, by Wilmer Wright.
It was suggested by a religious pundit that we should ask, while at church, for some words given by the Holy Spirit. I try to do this but surprisingly often forget, but I did not forget last Sunday morning. It is hard to hear this voice at first, as it has to go through the filters of wishful thinking as well as counter-voices of cynical disruption (maybe my own particular curse), but at last I got through to what always feels like the calm in the eye of the storm. It was there where I rested my mind seeking advice, but what I got instead of words was a clear and beautiful picture of sand being washed around by low ocean waves on a beach. I could sense the meaning, which was incredibly deep, suggesting that all acts of nature were God’s voice to us, but I wanted the words; I wanted the words now! Every few minutes I tried to go back to that space for the words, but still got this picture that was both beautiful and filled with portent. After several times the spirit apparently relented, for I finally got a one word answer, mentally shouted at me. It was “Patience!” It was not as full of meaning as the picture, of course, but with it I did finally understand better what was being said. It was that God is in all things, timeless, and that all things will work eventually to the satisfaction of God. Like the ocean and waves and sand, however, God’s time stretches into eons and eons, way beyond our time. Things will come around, but often not when we want them to. God will not be rushed. All things right and beautiful will come when the time is ripe.
So I read the message from the Oracle of Delphi (written above), to Julian the Apostate, ruler of the Roman Empire out of Constantinople, in 362 AD. These were the last words ever recorded of the oracle, who chewed on laurel leaves and inhaled their smoke to go into a trance to reach the gods. Julian had just traveled to Antioch to winter-over his army before attacking the Persians and was looking for oracular advice. Instead he got this message that told him that the gods no longer spoke to the oracle because the age of the gods had passed. This was a bitter blow to Julian, not for the lack of advice on Persia but because of the news that the classical gods of the Romans and Greeks were now effectively dead.
I suppose he could blame much of this on his uncle, who had been the emperor before him. It is complicated, but it boils down to this: the emperor before Constantine, Diocletian, had avidly persecuted the Christians, who had become an overwhelming threat to the old Roman system of belief, before retiring, leaving the empire to two chosen “caesars,” both of whom had very ambitious sons, Maxentius and Constantine. Constantine had a Christian mother, Helena, but was not a Christian himself when he met Maxentius for battle at the Milvian Bridge by Rome in 312 AD. It was there that he saw a cross brazened in the sky inscribed with the words, “In Hoc Signo Vinces - conquer by this sign” – which he did. In gratitude, he legalized Christianity, then became Christian himself. In the 320’s he moved to the solidly Christian east and built his new Eternal City at the Bosporus, called Constantinople (now Istanbul). There he prospered, did some good and some awful things (for instance, he killed his oldest son and boiled his wife alive in her bathtub), and died, leaving the Empire in a mess once again. After killing his brothers, his son Constantius II reigned briefly before dying young, leaving the empire to his nephew Julian.
Up to that time, Julian had been a scholar of classical literature, in love with the glory of the pagan past. He despised Christians for being so dewy-eyed and meek and forgiving, preferring instead the virtues of courage, honor and duty of old Rome. Much to his disappointment, however, he could not persuade the bulk of the people in his eastern kingdom to turn back to the old days, not even with carrots and harsh sticks. Even as he waited for war in Antioch, the people there despised him, so much so that he left as soon as possible. He had recently tried to cause the collapse of Christianity by rebuilding the Jewish temple in Jerusalem, thereby mocking the prediction of the second coming after the rebuilding, but an earthquake had destroyed his efforts and no one would dare try it again. And then in the midst of a hateful populace at Antioch and his other failures at pagan conversion, the Oracle of Delphi had told him that she was out of business. There were no more gods.
An emperor cannot simply turn away from a war, and Julian believed that by defeating the Persians he could bring back the loyalty of the people to his rule and to the pagan gods. Alas, the campaign was a fiasco. He was forced to retreat, was picked apart by guerrilla-like tactics along the way, then was met by the full force of the Persians, where he was killed in battle by a spear through the side. It is claimed that his dying words were “Vicisti, Galilaee – Thou hast conquered, Galilean.”
-----------------------------
The sands are not just the “sands of time” but an ordering of the universe over vast periods of time. Certain things will come to pass, but only as they fit with everything else in exquisite divine harmony. For the Roman/Byzantine Empire of Julian’s reign, the time had simply come for Christianity and there was nothing that the all-powerful emperor could do about it. It is interesting to note that since then, Christianity’s time in the Mideast has also waned, its near-demise beginning with the conquest of Constantinople by Muslims in 1453, and extending into the present, as radical Muslim leaders, as well as the state of Israel, marginalize, exorcise, or simply eradicate Christians to this very day. Yet, less than 40 years after the fall of Christian Byzantium, Christopher Columbus began a new epic for Christianity in the New World. Now we find Christianity in decline in the very states and colonies where it had once thrived. The sands of time are endlessly shifting. If the New Testament has been interpreted correctly, few of the “elect” will be around at the Second Coming. Is it this, then, what the moving sands are pointing to in human history?
It is the same with us. We simply don’t know our fate, or when or if our prayers will be answered, at least as we might understand it. The puzzle of our universe has an infinite number of parts, and the time limit for assembly extends farther than we can understand. I must constantly remind myself that it is not my puzzle, and that I am only a small part of it. I might enjoy my part by acknowledging the ability and wisdom of the maker, or I might fret and fume that life stinks because I do not always get my way when I want it, or anytime at all. I simply cannot understand how it all fits together, but must have faith that it does fit together. This even the Oracle at Delphi understood.
“Vicisti, Galilaee” could also be, “viscisti Deus - you have won, God.” Of course He has. When one makes the rules and is the only one who knows them, what else should we expect? Wonder and joy would be an appropriate response for us in life, not bitterness and antagonism. We must not try to rebuild the Temple before its time, and, of course, I should not try to get my way with anything without patience. No matter how powerful the gods, whether I include Zeus or myself among them, we are still just shifting sands flowing in the infinite, churning sea.
“Tell the king, on earth has fallen the glorious dwelling, and the water springs that spoke are quenched and dead. Not a cell is left the god, no roof, no cover. In his hand the prophet laurel flowers no more.” - from Julian: vol 111, by Wilmer Wright.
It was suggested by a religious pundit that we should ask, while at church, for some words given by the Holy Spirit. I try to do this but surprisingly often forget, but I did not forget last Sunday morning. It is hard to hear this voice at first, as it has to go through the filters of wishful thinking as well as counter-voices of cynical disruption (maybe my own particular curse), but at last I got through to what always feels like the calm in the eye of the storm. It was there where I rested my mind seeking advice, but what I got instead of words was a clear and beautiful picture of sand being washed around by low ocean waves on a beach. I could sense the meaning, which was incredibly deep, suggesting that all acts of nature were God’s voice to us, but I wanted the words; I wanted the words now! Every few minutes I tried to go back to that space for the words, but still got this picture that was both beautiful and filled with portent. After several times the spirit apparently relented, for I finally got a one word answer, mentally shouted at me. It was “Patience!” It was not as full of meaning as the picture, of course, but with it I did finally understand better what was being said. It was that God is in all things, timeless, and that all things will work eventually to the satisfaction of God. Like the ocean and waves and sand, however, God’s time stretches into eons and eons, way beyond our time. Things will come around, but often not when we want them to. God will not be rushed. All things right and beautiful will come when the time is ripe.
So I read the message from the Oracle of Delphi (written above), to Julian the Apostate, ruler of the Roman Empire out of Constantinople, in 362 AD. These were the last words ever recorded of the oracle, who chewed on laurel leaves and inhaled their smoke to go into a trance to reach the gods. Julian had just traveled to Antioch to winter-over his army before attacking the Persians and was looking for oracular advice. Instead he got this message that told him that the gods no longer spoke to the oracle because the age of the gods had passed. This was a bitter blow to Julian, not for the lack of advice on Persia but because of the news that the classical gods of the Romans and Greeks were now effectively dead.
I suppose he could blame much of this on his uncle, who had been the emperor before him. It is complicated, but it boils down to this: the emperor before Constantine, Diocletian, had avidly persecuted the Christians, who had become an overwhelming threat to the old Roman system of belief, before retiring, leaving the empire to two chosen “caesars,” both of whom had very ambitious sons, Maxentius and Constantine. Constantine had a Christian mother, Helena, but was not a Christian himself when he met Maxentius for battle at the Milvian Bridge by Rome in 312 AD. It was there that he saw a cross brazened in the sky inscribed with the words, “In Hoc Signo Vinces - conquer by this sign” – which he did. In gratitude, he legalized Christianity, then became Christian himself. In the 320’s he moved to the solidly Christian east and built his new Eternal City at the Bosporus, called Constantinople (now Istanbul). There he prospered, did some good and some awful things (for instance, he killed his oldest son and boiled his wife alive in her bathtub), and died, leaving the Empire in a mess once again. After killing his brothers, his son Constantius II reigned briefly before dying young, leaving the empire to his nephew Julian.
Up to that time, Julian had been a scholar of classical literature, in love with the glory of the pagan past. He despised Christians for being so dewy-eyed and meek and forgiving, preferring instead the virtues of courage, honor and duty of old Rome. Much to his disappointment, however, he could not persuade the bulk of the people in his eastern kingdom to turn back to the old days, not even with carrots and harsh sticks. Even as he waited for war in Antioch, the people there despised him, so much so that he left as soon as possible. He had recently tried to cause the collapse of Christianity by rebuilding the Jewish temple in Jerusalem, thereby mocking the prediction of the second coming after the rebuilding, but an earthquake had destroyed his efforts and no one would dare try it again. And then in the midst of a hateful populace at Antioch and his other failures at pagan conversion, the Oracle of Delphi had told him that she was out of business. There were no more gods.
An emperor cannot simply turn away from a war, and Julian believed that by defeating the Persians he could bring back the loyalty of the people to his rule and to the pagan gods. Alas, the campaign was a fiasco. He was forced to retreat, was picked apart by guerrilla-like tactics along the way, then was met by the full force of the Persians, where he was killed in battle by a spear through the side. It is claimed that his dying words were “Vicisti, Galilaee – Thou hast conquered, Galilean.”
-----------------------------
The sands are not just the “sands of time” but an ordering of the universe over vast periods of time. Certain things will come to pass, but only as they fit with everything else in exquisite divine harmony. For the Roman/Byzantine Empire of Julian’s reign, the time had simply come for Christianity and there was nothing that the all-powerful emperor could do about it. It is interesting to note that since then, Christianity’s time in the Mideast has also waned, its near-demise beginning with the conquest of Constantinople by Muslims in 1453, and extending into the present, as radical Muslim leaders, as well as the state of Israel, marginalize, exorcise, or simply eradicate Christians to this very day. Yet, less than 40 years after the fall of Christian Byzantium, Christopher Columbus began a new epic for Christianity in the New World. Now we find Christianity in decline in the very states and colonies where it had once thrived. The sands of time are endlessly shifting. If the New Testament has been interpreted correctly, few of the “elect” will be around at the Second Coming. Is it this, then, what the moving sands are pointing to in human history?
It is the same with us. We simply don’t know our fate, or when or if our prayers will be answered, at least as we might understand it. The puzzle of our universe has an infinite number of parts, and the time limit for assembly extends farther than we can understand. I must constantly remind myself that it is not my puzzle, and that I am only a small part of it. I might enjoy my part by acknowledging the ability and wisdom of the maker, or I might fret and fume that life stinks because I do not always get my way when I want it, or anytime at all. I simply cannot understand how it all fits together, but must have faith that it does fit together. This even the Oracle at Delphi understood.
“Vicisti, Galilaee” could also be, “viscisti Deus - you have won, God.” Of course He has. When one makes the rules and is the only one who knows them, what else should we expect? Wonder and joy would be an appropriate response for us in life, not bitterness and antagonism. We must not try to rebuild the Temple before its time, and, of course, I should not try to get my way with anything without patience. No matter how powerful the gods, whether I include Zeus or myself among them, we are still just shifting sands flowing in the infinite, churning sea.
RSS Feed