Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

Have you ever wondered how the synchronicity of events impacted the history of the world? Everything that occurs sets a cascading series of reactions. One of the most intriguing questions historians often ask is, “What If?” One of my favorite books deals with this type of historical questioning. Robert Cowley’s remarkable book, “What If?: The World’s Foremost Military Historians Imagine What Might Have Been” raises some fascinating questions that will stretch the imagination to its limits.

Questions like:

• What if George Washington had never made his miraculous escape from the British on Long Island in the dawn of August 29, 1776?

• What if a Confederate aide hadn’t accidentally lost General Robert E. Lee’s plans for invading the North?

• What if Alexander the Great had been slain in battle, instead of saved at the last instant by a loyal bodyguard?

• What if the Allied invasion on D-Day had failed?

• What if the Mongols had succeeded in conquering Europe?

As you can see, the seemingly chaotic accidents of history transform the world we live in so many unexpected ways. Years ago, there was a great science fiction show, “Sliders,” which deals with similar themes, e.g., What if America had been conquered by the Soviet Union, if Britain had won the American War of Independence, if penicillin had not been invented, or if men were subservient to women? These scenarios unfold in series of parallel worlds that earthly explorers discover and experience.

Well, I felt like looking up some details about Julian the Apostate’s life (332–63), ‘Flavius Claudius Julianus’, Roman Emperor from 361 and lasted only 19 months. This young Emperor’s name is probably not too familiar to most of our readers; yet, his brief life story very nearly changed the course of human history.

Unlike the Christian Emperors before him, who helped define Christianity as a religion of the Empire, Julian rejected Christianity on his 20^th birthday. On that day, he openly embraced paganism! Rome had a long history of worshiping the sun as the supreme god, and all other deities were considered to be mere aspects of the sun god. Here it is enough to remark that the worship of Sol was one of the principle cults in the fourth century; Constantine (prior to his conversion) and his father were alleged by some to be Solar monotheists and Emperor Julian carried on that venerated Roman religious tradition.

Julian had the qualities of a classical Roman leader; he had distinguished himself on the battlefield by defeating the powerful tribes of Gaul. This was no small accomplishment. Not only was he a capable military commander, he was also an able administrator and philosopher. These were qualities the Romans greatly missed since the reign of Marcus Aurelius (121-180 CE.), who was Roman Emperor from 161 to 180 CE.

Julian’s contempt for Christianity was well-known; he referred to the religion as a “disease,” and its followers were demented. By the time Julian became emperor, he was hostile to both Christianity, which he referred to as a “disease,” and Christians, whom he called “demented.”¹

After assuming the throne, one of the first official acts of business was the reopening of the pagan shrines the Christian emperors had put out of commission. In fact, the Christian churches had to return all confiscated properties that were previously used as churches. To make a long story short, Julian did everything to marginalize the influence of the Christian Church.

But wait!! Adding insult to injury, Julian revealed that he always had an admiration for the Jewish religion. On his agenda of things he was planning to accomplish, was the rebuilding of the Jerusalem Temple! We can just imagine the Church theologians gasping for air, saying to one another, “Tell me Theodosius, that it ain’t so!” Julian and his pagan cohorts must have partied through the night.

The early Church doctrine of supersessionism, also known as “replacement theology,” had long taught that the Church was the new Israel. Suddenly the theological dreams of priests and men were suddenly in dire jeopardy. Julian wished to strike a mortal blow to the theological heart of Christianity. But he also respected Judaism and felt that the monotheistic God of Israel was very similar to his understanding of Sol. Beyond that, Julian was also a huge fan of animal sacrifice-a practice the Church had done its best to eliminate.

Judging by the testimony of the early Christian theologians, the Jews of Jerusalem sounded the shofars and danced in the streets. Perhaps God had given them a new Cyrus.[1] Curiously, neither the Jerusalem or Babylonian Talmud, or Midrashic literature make any mention of Julian’s amazing plan. In one of his famous decrees, Julian declared:

To the Community of the Jews

• In times past, by far the most burdensome thing in the yoke of your slavery has been the fact that you were subjected to unauthorized ordinances and had to contribute an untold amount of money to the accounts of the treasury. Of this I used to see many instances with my own eyes, and I have learned of more, by finding the records which are preserved against you. Moreover, when a tax was about to be levied on you again I prevented it, and compelled the impiety of such obloquy to cease here; and I threw into the fire the records against you that were stored in my desks; so that it is no longer possible for anyone to aim at you such a reproach of impiety…No one is any longer to have the power to oppress the masses of your people by such exactions; so that everywhere, during my reign, you may have security of mind, and in the enjoyment of peace may offer more fervid prayers for my reign to the Most High God, the Creator, who has deigned to crown me with his own immaculate right hand…When I have successfully concluded the war with Persia, I may rebuild by my own efforts the sacred city of Jerusalem, which for so many years you have longed to see inhabited, and may bring settlers there, and together with you, may glorify the Most High God therein.[3]

And so the plot thickens . . .

While on a military expedition in Persia, Julian dies in battle. How exactly he dies, nobody really knows. Was he murdered by an enemy soldier? Or was he really killed by a Christian soldier acting in the best interest of the Church? Sounds like a plausible conspiracy theory.

Despite such auspicious beginnings, work on the Temple probably lasted only a few days. There are numerous reports, both pagan and Christian, attribute the work stoppage to a fire and, possibly even an earthquake. The Roman historian Ammianus Marcellinus reported that “terrifying balls of flame kept bursting forth near the foundations of the Temple,” burning some of the workers to death and putting a stop to the enterprise.[4]

In my opinion, this sounds an awful like “spin,” which was designed to prove that the Jews were indeed, “an accursed people,” as Augustine and other Early Church Fathers believed. Given how the Church doctored and reedited the writings of Josephus, the Church officials probably did the same thing with the writings of Ammianus Marcellinus after they returned to power. Heavenly signs and portends would certainly have an appeal to the unsophisticated Roman citizen.

Although he reigned for only 19 months, he enshrined his name in the annals of Roman history. One can only wonder how the world might have changed had Julian lived to a ripe old age. Would the Temple of Jerusalem have been rebuilt?

One further wonders: Would Christianity have ever grown to be a world class religion? How would history have changed if events were ever so slightly different? It is a pity the author Robert Cowley never discussed this possible scenario in his book.

By the way, kudos go to Menachem Mendel for bringing Julian’s birthday to my attention . . . BTW, Julian was actually born sometime between May and June.

Notes:

[1] Julian, Rescript on Christian Teachers, in W.C. Wright, trans., The Works of the Emperor Julian, vol. 3 (London: William Heinemann, 1913–1926), pp. 117–123.

[2] Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio V contra Julianum, 4, in C.W. King, trans., Julian the Emperor (London: George Bell and Sons, 1888). Ephraem of Syria, Hymni contra Julianum, 1.16 and 2.7, in Samuel N.C. Lieu, trans., The Emperor Julian: Panegyric and Polemic (Liverpool, England: Liverpool Univ. Press, 1986).

[3] Louis H. Feldman and Meyer Reinhold, “Jewish life and thought among Greeks and Romans: Primary Readings” (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fortress, 2009), 98-99.

[4] Ammianus Marcellinus, 23.1,3.