History

Beware the Ides of March

/ Dennis A. Gray / Leave a comment

“Beware the Ides of March”

This past Sunday was the 15th of March. As expected, my various social media feeds were inundated with Ides of March memes, some good, some not so good, some downright vicious. But they all got me thinking about betrayal, and not surprisingly I wound up going down a bit of an Ides of March rabbit hole. It’s now Thursday, and in an attempt to bring some closer to this exercise I’d like to share a few thoughts with you.

For the three of you out there who aren’t familiar in the phrase, if you were a citizen of Rome in the heyday of the Roman empire, the ‘ides’ was a fairly important day for you. The Romans didn’t number the days like we do; they relied on the various phases of the moon and counted forward or back from there. The ides marked the appearance of the full moon, regarded as the middle of the month, falling on the 15th in March, May, July, and October, and on the 13th the rest of the year. These days were dedicated to the worship of Jupiter, and the Ides of March, being the first full moon of the new year, held a great deal of spiritual, social, and even economic importance, not only being a sacred day for the worship of Jupiter, but also the annual feast of the goddess of the year – Anna Peranna, and the day on which rents were paid and debts were traditionally settled.

For us March 15th has become synonymous with misfortune and betrayal due to events which culminated in the assassination of Julius Ceasar by numerous members of the Roman Senate on that date in 44 B.C. It’s an event which would likely only be a footnote in history if it weren’t for William Shakespear, whose play “Julius Ceasar” was first performed 1,642 years later in 1599.

In that play the phrase “Beware the Ides of March” entered into popular culture along with “Et tu, Brute!” (You too, Brutus?) as Ceasar’s best friend joined the others in stabbing him twenty-three times. Historians aren’t sure these were actually Julius Ceasar’s last words, or if he said something else entirely, or even anything at all. Never-the-less it has become what is likely the second most famous act of betrayal in history.

Why did they kill him? Well for a number of reasons, but mostly they were fed up with the crazy things he kept doing, many of which seemed completely out to lunch, but listing them here would be a rabbit hole I’m going to avoid. However, one of their complaints has ramifications even today.

Julius Caesar’s support for the Jewish people is well-documented, primarily through the writings of the 1st-century historian Flavius Josephus, who recorded numerous decrees and letters issued by Caesar and the Roman Senate in 47–44 B.C. Among other things they were allowed to worship their own god, and had their own king, even if he was mostly a Roman puppet. These measures were largely a reward for the crucial military aid provided by Jewish forces, led by Antipater and supported by High Priest Hyrcanus II, during Caesar’s siege in Alexandria. 

Many grew to resent the Jews because of their special status and the fact that they refused to assimilate into Roman culture; not eating pork, not celebrating Roman holidays (such as the feast of Anna Peranna), and refusing to worship the emperor along with their own god. Some even suggest that this might be where the global Jewish conspiracy theories had their start, since they had it so good, they must have paid Ceasar for these privileges, etc. etc. etc.

Which brings me to Lent (really, stay with me a moment).

It has always been of some note to me that the Ides of March usually falls within Lent, the 40-day period leading up to Easter, during which much of the world remembers and contemplates the most famous act of betrayal in history, that of Jesus of Nazareth by one Judas Iscariot. I know, the purpose of Lent is to contemplate Jesus’ death and resurrection and what this means spiritually for all mankind, but can you really do that without at least considering Judas’ role in those events? I think not.

And so, I found myself looking once again into the various speculations about why exactly it was that Judas betrayed Jesus. Was it just for the money, for 30 pieces of silver? We aren’t sure exactly which silver coins it was but assuming they were shekels then this was likely about 4 months wages for the average labourer, or the average price of a slave at that time. Not a small amount of money, and John’s gospels tells us that Judas had a habit of dipping into the till (John 12:4-6) so it seems plausible.

Others point primarily to Luke 22:1-6, which some consider proof that possession by Satan was an overwhelming influence on him. John makes mention of this as well (John 13:27). Could Judas be held fully accountable if his actions were the result of demon possession, or is the phrase simply a reflection of what was in Judas’ heart from the very beginning given the testimony of his embezzlement?

However, there’s a third reason often cited for which there is no direct reference in the New Testament but seems to be the most popular in some circles. It is well known that the Jews at the time looked to the promised Messiah as their deliverer from the oppressive heal of the Romans. After Julius Caesar’s death the special status of the Jews was never fully withdrawn, but Roman pressure on them to conform increased substantially.

It has been suggested that when Jesus started making it clear that he wasn’t there to set up an earthly kingdom, but had more ethereal goals in mind, Judas, like many others, was deeply disappointed. Looking for a way to force Jesus’ hand he accepted the priests offer in the hope, that when Jesus was confronted with the soldiers of the High Priest and brought before the authorities, he would ditch the ‘meek and mild’ persona, call down the armies of heaven, and kick the Romans out of Palestine once and for all.

Of course, that didn’t happen. Rather than rally the heavenly troops, Jesus was fully submitted to his fate, and in that sense Judas’ betrayal was revealed, in a way, to be part of the plan. Eventually, remorse kicks in hard for Judas, he throws the money back in the priest’s faces, then goes out and hangs himself. His name is now forever a label for traitors of all stripes. That’s why you don’t see a lot of baby Judases out there any more.

And now the rabbit hole continues, because the story doesn’t end there, unfortunately.

All throughout the church’s history there have been those, like Judas, who have tried to force God to do things their way. Or at the very least tried to make it look like their way was God’s way and to oppose them was to oppose God himself. The Crusades of the 11th through 13th centuries are a prime example.

Motivated by a combination of religious fervor, a desire to aid the Byzantine Empire, and (surprise, surprise) economic pressures, Pope Urban II launched a series of military campaigns designed to recapture the Holy Land from the heathen hordes and fulfill the “will of God” for Jerusalem and the church. It was not an easy win, if a win at all, and the fight would last for centuries. In fact, it would be fair to say it continues still.

Which brings me to the events that started me down this betrayal rabbit hole and prompted this post.

The Military Religious Freedom Foundation (MRFF) has reported receiving over 200 complaints from members of the American military that their Christian Nationalist commanders are telling them “the Iran war is “part of God’s divine plan” to usher in the return of Jesus Christ.”

MRFF Founder and president Mikey Weinstein was quoted on CNN as saying,

“We look exactly like a ninth version of the eight prior crusades, from the 11th through the 13th century. To Boko Haram, ISIS, the Taliban, al Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula, whether they are Shia or Sunni, we’re just attacking a huge Muslim nation, and all this does is serve as an immeasurable propaganda bonanza for those that we are fighting.”

He makes a pretty good point.

History is replete with Christians who, tired of waiting for General Jesus and the glorious armies of heaven to arrive and drive out everyone they disagree with (which is pretty much everybody) and establish the “new heaven and new earth”, decide to try to force God’s hand and “hasten the day of his return.”

Now, I’m not saying that this is the primary, or even secondary, motivation of the current U.S. administration, frankly I doubt it. But the idea that some commanders in the armed forces with strong ties to certain sects of the Evangelical church are pushing this particular button is completely unacceptable to me, and borders on heresy.

Jesus himself makes it clear that manipulating God’s hand in this, or even predicting the time of Jesus’ return just isn’t an option (Matt. 24:36). And if Jesus can’t foretell the day, then it’s for certain that Pete Hegseth and his capitulating commanders can’t either. As with a whole string of Popes before them, it’s just a nice Biblical smoke screen for greed and power.

It’s hard to watch, because it is in itself a betrayal of what Christians should be about.

Jesus said, “They will know you are my disciples by your love” (John 13:35) not by your military might or your ability to rain righteous fervour down upon your enemies.

He also said, “go and learn what this means, I desire mercy not a sacrifice.” (Matt. 9:13) Far too many Christians spend their time sacrificing relationships, reputations, family members, and neighbours with very few displays of mercy.

If we wish to bring about the manifestation of the kingdom of heaven here on earth these two verses are, for me personally anyway, where we should begin. Feeding the poor, sheltering the homeless, clothing the naked, healing the sick, and visiting the prisoner; these are the things Jesus says will make the difference in this world that matters into the next. (Matt:41-45)

But then, history usually isn’t written by the merciful, is it?

Where Have All the Monarchs Gone?

/ Dennis A. Gray / Leave a comment

This morning, as I was walking through Margaret Greene Park with Roberta, we took note of all the little white butterflies that were fluttering around us. When I was a kid at Paisley Road School, we were told they are properly called Small Cabbage White Butterflies, but we all just called them Cabbage butterflies. As we walked, we admired them and enjoyed the cool of the shade along the path.
Then it hit me… those were the only butterflies I had seen all this year, anywhere!
At least in the city anyway. Again, when I was a kid (do I sound old yet) we regularly saw Dustywings (several varieties), Skippers, and, best of all, Monarchs! We used to catch them with homemade butterfly nets and put them in jars to take to school and to put in the terrarium. We’d grab the striped caterpillars as well and place them in a glass case with some milkweed, watch them pupate and form a chrysalis, then finally emerge as an adult, marveling at the transformation. It was pretty much a rite of passage for grade school kids in the 1960s.
Today however, I can’t remember the last time I saw a Monarch butterfly in the wild, adult or caterpillar. You know what else I haven’t seen? Milkweed.
Not a one. Used to see them all the time down at the Bullfrog Pond across from John F. Ross C.V.I. Of course, it’s the Bullfrog Plaza now, along with the Bullfrog Pond Park behind it with its concrete creek. The ponds at the top end (west) of Paisley Rd. are gone now too, filled in and paved over for condos and Costco.
No ponds, no milkweed. No milkweed, no Monarchs.
And no tadpoles, insect nymphs, or the hundreds of other tiny creatures we observed in our science lessons at Paisley Road. We collected all kinds of life at school and at home, examining them with our magnifying glasses and sometimes even microscopes. It was easy to do, what with the culvert at the bottom end of the playground, between the school and Knight Lumber. I first learned to really draw making sketches of what we saw in those simple microscopes.
But now the culverts are fenced off, where they haven’t been buried. (Did you know there’s a buried creek under downtown Guelph?) The ponds are filled in, paved over, or lined with concrete. It feels like we took the Biblical exhortation to take stewardship over Creation and, seeing the word “dominion” decided to focus on the dominate part.
And so we excavate it, clear-cut it, pound it, suck it dry, and bend it to our will despite generations of pollution, and the desperate cries of scientists, native elders, rangers of all kinds, and even Boy Scouts, trying to encourage us to follow a less destructive path.
When we do manage to section off a little belt of green across the landscape, others, more focused on reaping instead of sowing, undo it all with a wave of an administrative hand because, well, they have a “mandate” you know. Which is ironic because ‘mandate’ comes from the Latin root mandare which basically means “to give responsibility for” as in to care for and protect. But again, we chose to focus on the “rule over” aspect of the meaning because there’s more money in that.
Funny how meanings change when we want them to. God gave us a mandate to care for creation and to protect it, and all of creation is desperately waiting for us to fulfill that mandate before it’s too late.

A Very Vivid Childhood Memory

/ Dennis A. Gray / Leave a comment

Even when our family went through it’s toughest times I never saw my father scared other than when he was facing cancer. Worried? Yes.  Scared… no.

Except for November 22nd, 1963.

I will never forget watching my parents on the sofa in our house on Guelph Street watching the news on our television. My mother was clutching my father’s arm so hard at one point he had to ask her to let go because it was hurting him. When she started crying I asked what was wrong.

My father called me over by his side, lifted my onto the couch and tried his best to help a 9 year old understand the significance of the fact the president of the United States had been shot. He tried hard to explain assassination in terms I could understand, and further to explain communism, capitalism, and the whole gamut of world politics. He failed of course; I was only 9. But then again he didn’t fail… entirely.

No, the 9 year old Dennis took a few weeks to figure it out. His grade school teachers struggled almost as much as my father to explain it to us. As the drama unfolded on television and radio the full impact  of the event became clearer. We could hardly help it, it was all there was to watch a lot of the time. Even the other kids in my class talked back and forth about it at recess and on the way to and from school, mostly just echoing what we overheard or parents saying.

Kennedy

Official White House web site photo of America’s 35th President.

But there was one thing I understood right from the start. It was abundantly clear to me that this was a big deal. A very big deal; one that mattered more than I could possibly imagine. I understood how big it was because of my father.

It was the only time I ever saw him truly scared!

Who’s Macdonell and Why Does He Get a Street?

/ Dennis A. Gray / Leave a comment

It’s been a while since I have written a history post and with Canada Day upon us I figured it was a good time to do so; especially since today is an anniversary with a solid connection to my home town.

Bishop Macdonell (image courtesy Wikipedia Commons)

On this date, July 29th, in 1786 over 500 highlanders left the shores of Scotland for Upper Canada to establish a new settlement in Glengarry County. They were the remains of the Glengarry Fencibles, the last Catholic regiment in Britain at the time. When the regiment was disbanded after the Treaty of Amiens had been signed, their chaplain appealed to the government for a tract of land in Canada where they could settle. That chaplain was one Alexander Macdonell, who accompanied the group to their new home. The following year Macdonell would be ordained and made priest of the parish. It seemed for all the world that his military career was over;  but such was not exactly the case.

In December of 1811, when it became clear that war with the United States was pretty much a done deal, Sir George Prevost wrote to Lord Liverpool, the Colonial Secretary:

“I have sent Capt. Macdonell, of the King’s Regiment, into the townships where the Glengarry emigrants are settled in Upper Canada, to ascertain their ability to form a regiment of light infantry. Capt. Macdonell is selected for his zeal, ability and intelligence, with a name and national character acceptable to them, and the same religious persuasion, as they are all Roman Catholics.”1

That captain was not our friend Alexander, but rather bright young fellow named George. However, while George was in Glengarry County he collaborated with Father Macdonell, who proved to be a valuable ally in the formation of the regiment, once again referred to as the Glengarry Fencibles. In return for his efforts Macdonell was once again named the regimental chaplain with the understanding that he would never have to accompany them into battle.

After the war, in 1815, Alexander began his service as a Roman Catholic Bishop at St. Raphael’s Parish. In 1819 he was appointed Vicar Apostolic of Upper Canada, a position that was elevated to a bishopric in 1826, making Alexander Macdonell the first Bishop of Upper Canada.

It was during this time that the Bishop became involved in supporting the work of his friend John Galt, a novelist working for the Canada Company, in establishing new settlements throughout what is now southern Ontario. To express his gratitude for the Bishop’s assistance Galt chose a prime hilltop in the centre of the new settlement of Guelph which he “reserved for the Catholics, in compliment to my friend, Bishop Macdonell, for his advice in the formation of the Company.” It was Galt’s hope that his friend would move the seat of the bishopric to Guelph. The road leading up to the hill was named Macdonell Street and in the autumn of 1827 Bishop Macdonell was one of the first visitors to the “Royal City” (okay, at this point it was more like ‘Royal Village’). The monumental, gothic-style Church of Our Lady Immaculate would subsequently be erected on the hill where it still stands today; undeniably the most prominent landmark in the city.

To pay further tribute to the Bishop, in 1962, Notre Dame Catholic High School and the Loretto Academy for Girls, located on that same hill, were collectively renamed Bishop Macdonell Catholic High School (locally referred to as simply Bishop Mac). The two buildings were joined into one in 1967, and the school was moved to its new location in the south end of the city in 2004. The original building has been demolished.

Church of our Lady Immaculate

Looking up Macdonell Street at the Church of our Lady Immaculate in Guelph

So, there you have it. If you moved to Guelph recently and have wondered who Bishop Macdonell was and why he had a school and a street named after him, now you know.

Why so many people constantly mispronounce Macdonell Street as ‘MacDonald’ however, remains a mystery.

Till next time… Shalom.

——

1. From Glengarry Light Infantry web site (http://glengarrylightinfantry.ca/index.php)

The Truth about Knowledge

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“I think the Net generation is beginning to see knowledge in a way that is closer to the truth about knowledge — a truth we’ve long known but couldn’t instantiate. My generation, and the many generations before mine, have thought about knowledge as being the collected set of trusted content, typically expressed in libraries full of books. Our tradition has taken the trans-generational project of building this Library of Knowledge book by book as our God-given task as humans. Yet, for the coming generation, knowing looks less like capturing truths in books than engaging in never-settled networks of discussion and argument. That social activity — collaborative and contentious, often at the same time — is a more accurate reflection of our condition as imperfect social creatures trying to understand a world that is too big and too complex for even the biggest-headed expert.

“This new topology of knowledge reflects the topology of the Net. The Net (and especially the Web) is constructed quite literally out of links, each of which expresses some human interest. If I link to a site, it’s because I think it matters in some way, and I want it to matter that way to you. The result is a World Wide Web with billions of pages and probably trillions of links that is a direct reflection of what matters to us humans, for better or worse. The knowledge networks that live in this new ecosystem share in that property; they are built out of, and reflect, human interest. Like our collective interests, the Web and the knowledge that resides there is at odds and linked in conversation. That’s why the Internet, for all its weirdness, feels so familiar and comfortable to so many of us. And that’s the sense in which I think networked knowledge is more “natural.” ”

– “What the Internet Means for How We Think About the World” by Rebecca J. Rosen, January 5, 2012.

First published by The Atlantic.

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