Download Associate Professor Tom Hillard - Centre for the History of Christian

Tom Hillard speaks on behalf of Rome at the launch of
Edwin Judge, Engaging Rome and Jerusalem. Historical Essays for Our Time,
selected and edited by Stuart Piggin (Melbourne, Australian Scholarly Publishing,
2014)
The opening illustration is confronting. A graffito from the Palatine hill, it is
seemingly one startling aspect of Rome’s confrontation with Christianity.
Oral tradition has it that the Judge clan ruled it should reside inside the covers rather
than decorate them. But oral tradition, passed from one set of lips to one ear and then
to another, can be faulty — as I’m sure Hiria, Edwin’s eldest daughter, will be ready
to tell us.
[Interjection from Hiria: “It’s not true!”]
What a great honour and a great privilege it is to have been asked to participate in
these proceedings.
Which was to have priority? Rome or Jerusalem? Which came first? Jerusalem, of
course. Which endured the longest? — and had/has the greatest impact? Ah!
The two are so inextricably linked in our western heritage. And that informs, or at
least prompts, so much of Edwin Judge’s stunning academic output. We’re familiar
with the celebrated dichotomy ‘Athens and Jerusalem’ — and a volume of Edwin’s
essays has been so aptly titled. But ROME plays a fundamental role in that historical
balancing act — not just a conduit — but a moulder and shaper.
Working in Bethlehem, in August AD 410, Jerome was shattered by news of the
terrifying sack of Rome. He had just finished his Commentary on Isaiah, and had just
begun one on Ezekiel. That went into mothballs. Jerome was benumbed by the
horror.
“For days and nights I could think of nothing but the universal safety .... When
the brightest light in the world was extinguished, when the very head of the
Roman empire was severed, the entire world perished in a single city”
—
Prologue to the Commentary on Ezekiel (CCL 75:79–80)
If I might re-jig —ever so slightly— Van Der Heyden and H.H. Scullard (in their
1959 Atlas of the Classical World):
Whenever the nations of Europe (and this must encompass the lands touched
by European settlement)
— Whenever the nations of Europe reflect upon the common link which
distinguishes their culture from that of other peoples, they find that it is the
teachings of Greece and Rome, together with Christianity (and its Hebrew
heritage) which have determined the fundamental differences in thought and
feeling. We are so steeped in the ideas of classical antiquity and in JudaeoChristian morality that many regard these foundations as so natural to us that
they tend to forget that they are inherited.1
Actually, Van Der Heyden and Scullard say that we tend to forget that these things
were “merely inherited”. I can see what they’re getting at (in the context) but there is
nothing mere about it.
It is with this complex inheritance that Edwin Judge has grappled for the entirety of
his academic life. The story is not one of a cosy melting pot. And there are still
unresolved tensions. These are explored in this book.
I mentioned a recent title Athens and Jerusalem. There has been a veritable flood of
offerings in the last seven years.
Thanks to David Scholer from the Fuller Theological Seminary in Pasadena, eight of
Edwin’s earlier papers that had had such an impact on the study of early Christianity
in the United States, were published under a title that made Edwin’s skin crawl at the
time:2 Social Distinctives of the Christians in the First Century. Pivotal Essays
(2008).
Then, in the same year, thanks to Jim Harrison (who put us all in so deep a debt) 44
papers were released in The First Christians in the Roman World (2008) — together
with a wonderful essay that traced Edwin’s path to academe, his education abroad (by
1
2
The Actual quotation:
Whenever the nations of Europe reflect upon the common link which
distinguishes their culture from that of other peoples, they find that it is the
teachings of Greece and Rome, together with Christianity which have
determined the fundamental differences in thought and feeling. We are so
steeped in the ideas of classical antiquity that many regard these foundations
as so natural to us that they tend to forget that they are merely inherited.
A.A.M. Van Der Heyden and H.H. Scullard (eds), Atlas of the Classical World
(1959), 176
You will see that I have chosen to make amends for Scullard and Van Der
Heyden choosing to overlook the Hebrew heritage. Their oversight seemed
inappropriate to the theme of our celebration.
He has now taken the term up (p.180)
no means conventional for an Antipodean student) and the impact of his engagement
with Antike und Christentum upon contemporary scholarship.
It wasn’t possible to read these essays without an almost physical thrill of memory
and nostalgia (for those of us who had been blessed by his personal teaching). That
was a selfish pleasure. But there were other dividends: the Augustan papers therein
have now begun to make their rightful mark on Augustan scholarship internationally.
A Canadian, Professor Greg Rowe, who has just published a new study of Augustus
in our field’s most prestigious journal, the Journal of Roman Studies, announced at an
international congress on Augustus that Edwin Judge’s Augustus made the most sense
to him of all modern attempts to understand this divisive enigmatic character. (That
came from reading The First Christians.)
And then Professor Alanna Nobbs released another 22 important papers in Athens and
Jerusalem 2010). She too provided a prefatory essay, taking up that theme of Edwin’s
engagement with Antike und Christentum and exploring with broad brush strokes the
way that interest that shaped the burgeoning study of Ancient History at Macquarie
University and celebrating that development.
Larry Hurtado, Professor of New Testament Studies at the University of Edinburgh,
came by a copy in 2011. He wrote:
“Judge is the sort of scholar who has produced a goodly number of important
essays over many decades now, rather than books, and perhaps partially
because of this his work may not be as well known as it ought to be.
But I have yet to read an essay by Judge that didn’t make me realize how
much there was to learn, and how impressively Judge is able to make incisive
analyses about anything he engages.”
“What then has Athens to do with Jerusalem, What has the Academy to do with the
Chuch?”— Tertullian (a Latin writer in Carthage) De praescritione haereticorum 7
(34). 9
Edwin takes this up in his 7th chapter.
He ends with an observation of the “ideals of behaviour” so much “at odds” — and a
startling observation — so surprisingly close to Gibbon in some ways — that “the
new order drained away the civic spirit that had sustained classical culture”
“Yet the Classics remain, and their legacy is deeply imprinted on our own
moral culture. The same goes for the Bible. The contradictions between them
are built into everyone’s make-up now, whatever an individual’s particular
commitments of behaviour.”
And that brings us to the present offering. ROME and Jerusalem
Is it possible that there was anything left?? Can you seriously ask?
Stuart Piggin offers a seemingly modest ten new chapters (a masterful arrangement
because they hold 40 papers of varying lengths)
= and again, like the other two editors, he has provided us with a moving and detailed
appreciation of Edwin Judge’s life and teaching. (You’ll find it in his Introduction —
pp. 11 to 33 — and in the thoughtful introductions to each paper.)
Way to go, Stuart. Thanks.
And what a brilliantly chosen title! (EAJ or Stuart ????)
— and the subtitle is spot on as well. ‘Historical Essays for our Time’
But I am SO glad to see the word ‘Rome’ turn up in the title of at least one of Edwin’s
books. ‘Roman’ has already made it — but now we have Rome front and centre.
Stuart has, in his title for Chapter 1 picked up on the closing words of one of Edwin’s
reviews — a reference to “the big city buried in the sub-conscious of us all”
For me, the special delight in his new collection is ‘the Mind of Tiberius Gracchus.’
I first heard the argument live (this psychoanalysis of the man who is seen by some as
kick-starting the Roman revolution — and, more to the point, a psychoanalysis of
Roman Republican elite culture) in the 1960s — it mesmerized me (I see that I am
quoted by Stuart as saying that I was mesmerized — and I don’t resile for that one
iota) — and it brought to life the things that I had been told by my own young and
ardent Ancient History teacher at Blakehurst High School who had heard a version
earlier in the 1960s!
The wider demographic of that phenomenon throughout NSW is mentioned by Stuart
in his Preface to the work (ix). A generation of Ancient History teachers was
entranced by the magic of probing the evidence that illuminates the Roman political
world (from the Gracchi to Augustus). This was a phenomenon of the 60s, 70s and
80s — and it is a measure of the man that it has not been replicated. There has been a
diffusion of teachers’ interests in the ancient world. Stuart was so kind as to introduce
me as an authority on Roman studies in my own right — but I could not replicate
Edwin’s ability to hold a generation of aspirant teachers in the thrall that he effected.
My respect for him and the awe in which I hold his singular achievement is so great
that I feel no sense of personal failure in this regard (even if there is an element of
regret there). Who could hope to equal Edwin?
Anyway, it inspired me.
The flashpoint of Gracchus’ tribunate in 133 BC represents a pivotal moment in
Roman history. I mentioned earlier the beginnings of the so-called Roman
Revolution. Notice how Edwin Judge is drawn to the watersheds in History: 133 BC,
the principate of Augustus — and the conversion of Rome in the fourth century AD.
These are used by modern historians to define periods. Watersheds are, in fact,
particularly prone to the perils of periodization. Analyses of these historical moments
are apt to be distorted by retrospective wisdom — by the retrojection onto historical
characters of prophetic insight and/or cunning— by the all-too-careless assumption
that people at the time knew what was going to happen.
Edwin Judge always insisted that we corral these historical players in their time
—that we free these individuals from such modern assumptions of their motives in the
light of subsequent developments. His work is the quintessence of hermeneutical
rigour.
(Tiberius Gracchus, for instance, is to be understood according to the contemporary,
highly competitive and deeply ingrained culture of the Roman nobility of his day.)
(It is one of the great lessons that I learned from Edwin — only one of them — but an
important one.)
THEN — and it is only then (when we have contextualized them in their own time) —
that we can draw the broader historical insights in which Stuart is so interested here.
And they are timeless.
Academic life has become fast and furious. And the internet has still further reduced
the luxury of distance —— and reflection. Are the insights forged in the 1960s still
valid? Do they still have force? — especially since Stuart warns us at the outset that
“no attempt has been made to update the early contributions” (x)
Are these half-century old insights still relevant?
(You must remember I am the son of a Butcher). As the son of a butcher I might
respond to that rhetorical question more colourfully, but I’ll stick with “Too right!”
What is remarkable about this essay on Tiberius Gracchus — and that goes for all of
them— is its freshness. I have never found the insights dated —— or matched!
And just as I had imbibed so much of it from my own Judge-trained High School
teacher, I have for decades been telling my students “These insights I owe to the
Founding Father of Ancient History at Macquarie University — but they are
unpublished.” I have, with my partner Lea Beness, been referring in footnotes and
with regard to certain insights here (observations which I regard as fundamental to
any proper understanding the crisis of 133) to “the unpublished paper”.
— NOW I HAVE IT!
And these “Historical Essays” are — as the subtitle says — “for our Time”.
There is so much of a deep personal nature in this collection.
That is fitting and appropriate. That is fas — especially with regard to those of us who
have looked to Edwin for so many decades for inspiration, enlightenment and
guidance, personal and intellectual.
Those last chapters (which Stuart labels “Where is Truth in History?”) contain
gems:
— the essay on Herbert Butterfield is a humdinger — the very confident public
broadcast of a 31-year-old scholar (on 2BL on February 21st 1959) critiquing
the famous Christian historian —underlining the inadequacies of his work as
a Christian view of History
— fast forward to October 1993 to pronouncements made in the Great Hall of
Sydney University on ‘What Makes History Modern?’
— then a crystal clear analysis of the man whom some have judged the “most
important Roman historian of the second half of the twentieth century” —
Badian — a penetrative celebration of a man “free from ideology and
methodological pattern” (Edwin is so good at ‘channelling’ people — e.g.
Tiberius3 — does he make his own opinions and sympathies quietly obvious?
His work is too careful and subtle for that.
— and then a warm crystallization of the work of Paul Barnett (I’ll leave that
to the next speaker to appraise)
And then there is ‘My Philosophy of Life’ (p. 180)
Embedded in the centre of the collection —3 pages ——this son of Abraham (not of
his seed, but by faith — Romans 4:11, 16) and younger brother, by adoption and out
of time, of Saul of Tarsus, shows himself, to my mind, to be actually guided by what I
would call Roman officium — a sense of commitment to civic and personal duties —
— "the whole network of social convention, by which the community is secured
against the penchant for evil in all of us". (p. 183)
This essay will repay re-readings.
For those of us who call Edwin Magister (I could use another Latin term, but it might
offend), it is important that we have this essay in our hands.
[[I had in mind, of course, dominus — but then, as I spoke, I remembered that Stuart
had called Edwin ‘the Master’ [in the essay on Paul Barnett], so I decided it was OK
to go with that.]]
There are so many things which I might instinctively say in praise of Edwin Judge —
but I could not do better than Stuart has in his preface and Introduction. I commend
those observations to you.4
Stuart says at the end of his Preface:
“... what is remarkable has been Edwin Judge’s concern with the relevance of the
ancient Classical world to the values of the modern world. This has been a distinctive,
perennial interest of his. He has always grasped the profoundly formative influence of
I had in mind here: “The first point to note (agreed upon by everyone) is that
Tiberius was determined to be pushed into whatever it was that was ultimately to
happen.”
3
4
I also had in my notes that, if I still had time, I would deal with even more
offerings. Chief amongst them:
the programmatic statement of how Ancient History should be taught in a Modern
University— an almost fabled document ... spoken of — for so long — in revered
tones and with referential purpose — the letter submitted History in 1968 when
applying for a Chair of History (in the field of Ancient) .. but now in our hands. This
is an important historical document.
biblical and Classical thought on modern western society in general and of his
adopted country Australia in particular. The light of the ancient world illuminates our
world, and Judge has sharply focussed that light on many of the major issues of our
time.” (x)
Pertinence abides.