| |
; |
|
I never saw, heard, nor read that
the clergy were beloved in any nation where Christianity
was the religion of the Country. Nothing can render
them popular but some degree of persecution.
|
|
Jonathan Swift (1667-1745), Thoughts
on Religion
|
Anyone who has benefited from a conventional Western education
will be familiar with the dreadful persecutions endured by untold
numbers of early Christians. According to the conventional story
these early Christians were meek and innocent, and invariably
went to the lions with extraordinary bravery inspired by their
great faith. For their part, the Roman oppressors were brutal
and merciless, and killed the unfortunate Christians for no
better reason than that they chose a new and harmless faith.
Yet even these heartless pagans could not help but be impressed
by the fortitude of their victims.
Enjoyable as it is, the story is flawed in almost every respect,
a fact that has been known to scholars for many centuries, and
to the educated classes at least since the publication of The
Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire in the last quarter
of the eighteenth century. Religious persecution was virtually
unknown in the ancient world. The Romans especially were universally
tolerant. Their principal reactions to the religions of others
were interest and occasional amusement. Their toleration did
not extend to cults that acted merely as a cover for sedition
or criminality, but all genuine faiths were respected and protected.
As far as we know, no one in the classical world hit upon the
idea of exterminating others because of the god they chose to
worship*. As Gibbon put
it: "The various modes of worship which prevailed in the
Roman world, were all considered by the people as equally true,
by the philosopher as equally false, and by the magistrate as
equally useful. And thus toleration produced not only mutual
indulgence, but even religious concord"*.
How strict this principle was is illustrated by the Roman attitude
to the Jews, the sole dissenters from the religious harmony
of the ancient world. Gibbon noted of Jewish beliefs that "according
to the maxims of universal toleration, the Romans protected
a superstition which they despised"*.
Soldiers were transferred or executed for offending Jewish sensibilities.
Legions by-passed Judæa to avoid offence by carrying the
imperial portraits on their standards across Jewish soil. The
Judæan coinage was unique within the Roman provinces in
that it did not bear the Emperor's face, again because
of Jewish sensibilities. In place of emperor worship, the Jews
were permitted to show their respect for the State by offering
sacrifices on behalf of the Emperor. Jews could become full
Roman citizens — Paul of Tarsus was one of many. All in
all, the Romans were flexible and tolerant.
There was no obvious reason why Christians should not have
been tolerated as the Jews were, and yet they were not. Christians
seem to have provoked a great deal of hostility and to have
made themselves outstandingly unpopular. Tacitus wrote around
AD 110 that they were "notoriously depraved". Nero,
he noted, had arrested Christians in Rome for arson and for
other antisocial behaviour*.
Suetonius (AD 70-160) recorded that Claudius expelled them from
Rome for causing continual disturbances*.
Because of widespread misgivings about them, Pliny the Younger
made enquiries but found only squalid superstition carried to
great length*.
One way or another Christians made enemies everywhere. Some
Christian leaders, like Cyprian, Bishop of Carthage, noted that
Christians deserved the treatment they were getting*.
The philosopher Celsus disapproved of their intolerance. In
248 Origen noted that hostility to the Church was increasing
rapidly. Soon the citizens of Antioch were asking that Christians
be forbidden from living in their city*.
The citizens of Nicomedia made similar requests*,
and so did other cities.
In 312 the Emperor Maximin Daia was being petitioned to suppress
the disloyal Christians*.
Despite popular dislike of the Christians, the authorities were
generally still tolerant. In response to Pliny's requests
for guidance the Emperor Trajan advised moderation. There should
be no general inquisition. Anonymous accusers should be ignored,
and accusations made by responsible citizens should be properly
investigated.
Christians were sporadically investigated by the authorities,
mainly because they were believed to have been promoting sedition.
They seem to have been unnecessarily secretive and did little
or nothing to counter beliefs that they opposed the established
government, apparently because they did oppose the established
government. They reviled the Imperial capital, referring to
it as the Whore of Babylon. They looked forward to
its destruction (as in Revelation 14:8). They prayed for the
end of the world: "Let grace come and let this world pass
away"*. Indeed it
was widely believed that they tried a number of times to ignite
fires that would destroy the world and hasten the coming of
their new kingdom.
Christians were also accused of cannibalism and incest. The
charge that they ate human flesh might well have arisen through
misinterpretations of the Lord's Supper. Had not their
dead leader claimed that "Except ye eat the flesh of the
Son of man, and drink his blood, ye have no life in you"
(John 6:53)? If the charge was mistaken, then the mistake could
easily have been explained. Instead, accused Christians refused
to explain their practices or to refute stories that they ate
children at their ceremonies. Some declined to answer any questions
at all — even refusing to give their names or nationalities*.
Sometimes they lied, for example claiming to be Old Testament
characters like Elijah or Daniel. They also refused to take
oaths. No doubt the accusations of cannibalism were mistaken,
but Christians were certainly guilty of other crimes. Infused
with the truth of their own religion they were openly hostile
to the religions of others, in a manner frequently amounting
to criminal behaviour. They reviled the Roman and other gods,
razed temples, vandalised sacred sites, destroyed images, and
incited riots, especially in synagogues.
Christian crimes such as arson seem to have been motivated
by apocalyptic literature like the Book of Revelations. The
idea was that they could trigger not just the destruction of
Rome but the end of the world, and hence the promised day of
Judgement which would ensure their place in heaven. (If this
sounds improbable then it is worth bearing in mind that there
are many Christians today in the USA, including influential
politicians, who hold almost identical views. So called “End-Timers”
will freely admit that they seek to trigger a Third World War,
since this will, they believe, herald the End of the World,
and the consequently Day of Judgement.)
The Romans thought Christians were atheists. They denied the
gods and were known to revere a condemned criminal who had been
executed for his opposition to the state. They declined to acknowledge
the head of state, refusing to refer to Caesar by his honorific
Lord. For them Jesus was the only Lord and
the only ruling monarch*.
People believed that this sort of disrespect angered the gods.
The gods sent famines, droughts and plagues to punish the Empire
for allowing such blasphemy. By the fourth century the phenomenon
was proverbial: "no rain because of the Christians".
Christians were not only blasphemous atheists; they were also
treasonable army deserters. As Robin Fox Lane, a prominent Oxford
historian, notes of the supposed persecutions prompted by an
edict of the Emperor Gallienus:
We know of at least one martyrdom which followed its despatch,
but it occurred in a province which was not at first under
Gallienus's control: otherwise, we have no knowledge
of martyrdoms, as opposed to Christian fictions of them, between
260 and the 290s. When we find Christians being martyred,
they are soldiers in the army. The charge against them is
not their religion and their refusal to sacrifice, but their
refusal to serve in the ranks, an offence which was punishable
on other grounds*.
Christian leaders actively encouraged soldiers to desert from
the army. So all in all there was plenty of evidence that Christians
were seditious. They did little or nothing to counter the charge,
again apparently because it was true. Paul himself had been
accused not only of stirring up trouble but also of offending
against Caesar (Acts 25:8). The fact that Christians posed a
threat to public order is demonstrated by an imperial decree
that they might practise their faith unmolested as long as they
were not "scheming against the Roman Government" and
according to another decree "on condition that they do
nothing contrary to public order"*.
Christians were widely hated and became the victims of mob violence
throughout the Empire. It cannot have been surprising in view
of their open displays of disloyalty and hostility to the state,
their trouble making, their arson and vandalism, and their refusal
to refute a range of charges from sedition to baby-eating. There
must also be a suspicion that Christians were adept at murdering
their enemies. Time and time again surviving records boast of
the untimely deaths of these enemies. They died in agony with
their insides mysteriously eaten away, they unexpectedly committed
suicide in private, or they somehow toppled over cliffs. Invariably
these deaths are explicitly or implicitly attributed to God
by Christian chroniclers. Those who do not believe in murder-miracles
might suspect that God enjoyed the benefit of his followers"
assistance.
Despite all this, the persecution of Christians was slight,
intermittent, and limited geographically. Moreover it was political,
not religious. The authorities were invariably cautious about
proceeding against them. In the few cities where they were thought
to pose a threat only a few of those suspected were charged.
Not all of those were indicted. Of those indicted, not all were
convicted, while those who were convicted were generally imprisoned
or exiled, many subsequently being reprieved under the terms
of amnesties. Despite their crimes, ancient rights of sanctuary
were extended to the most guilty Christians. Under Roman law
all burial places were regarded as sacrosanct, so all Christian
criminals enjoyed inviolable sanctuary in the catacombs.
If we look at those who are generally held responsible for
the persecution of Christians we encounter another surprise.
Instead of bloodthirsty monsters we find men of culture and
moderation. The emperor most usually cited as a bloodthirsty
monster, Diocletian, turns out to have been a humane, prudent,
and magnanimous statesman, whose reign, as Gibbon pointed out,
was more illustrious than that of any of his predecessors*.
For most of his reign the Christians appear to have suffered
no persecution at all, and one cannot help but wonder what happened
towards the end of his reign to excite his displeasure. In his
most savage persecution Diocletian was responsible for perhaps
2,000 Christian deaths throughout the known world, though this
may be an overestimate. To put things in scale it might be noted
that in centuries to come Christian churchmen would be responsible
for the deaths of ten times as many Christians in a single city
in a single day*.
A major reason for the execution of Christians in Roman times
was that they actively sought their own deaths. They believed
that martyrdom guaranteed immediate and automatic admission
to Paradise. As Eusebius said, they despised this transient
life*. Many of them therefore
sought their complimentary ticket to the hereafter — "glorious
fulfilment" Eusebius called it*.
Christians spoke of winning the crown of martyrdom,
as though death was the ultimate prize. Ignatius of Antioch.,
a famous early martyr, who won his crown early in the second
century, would probably have been released if he had wanted
to be. He begged the church at Rome not to intervene with the
authorities on his behalf. In a letter to them he said "it
is going to be very hard to get to God unless you spare me your
intervention" (Ignatius's Letter to the Romans 1 ).
He was yearning for death with all the passion of a lover (Romans
7 ) and he wanted no more of what men call life (Romans 8 ).
He mentioned his yearning for death in another letter, and said
that he was praying for combat with the lions (Letters to the
Trallians 4 and 10). His death wish shines through all his surviving
letters. So does his delight at being bound in chains during
his journey to execution. He clearly sees himself as a sacrifice
(Romans 4), and in another letter considers himself invested
with a title worthy of a god (Letter to the Magnesians 1). We
do not know what he did to warrant his arrest, but we do know
that he wanted to die. Yet the modern Church regards him not
as a suicide, but as a saint.
Other Christians also committed public suicide, vying to kill
themselves before anyone else did. At Alexandria an old woman
called Apollonia voluntarily jumped into a fire and was burned
to ashes*. At Nicomedia
"men and women alike leapt on to the pyre with an inspired
and mystical fervour"*.
Fellow martyrs must have sought their deaths even more fervently,
for in the early centuries the Church criticised many of its
own number as suicides. So did non-Christians. For Romans, suicide
was generally an honourable death if carried out with discretion.
No one thought less of Seneca, for example, because he took
his own life. The Emperor Marcus Aurelius (AD 121-180) had no
objection to suicide in principle, but he found the Christian
examples vulgar and theatrical. The Roman authorities begged
accused Christians to spare themselves. Judges tried to find
reasons not to execute them. They were allowed to relent and
save their lives right up to the last moment. Some did. Possibly
most did. But a few fervent ones would be satisfied with nothing
short of their crown of martyrdom.
The death of Polycarp, a Bishop of Smyrna (modern Izmir) in
AD 155 or 156, is well known to modern Christians but the circumstances
are not quite so well known. His crimes, including the destruction
of sacred images, were sufficient to incite the "whole
mass of Smyrnaeans, gentiles and Jews alike" to boil with
anger. According to Eusebius he was burned alive in order to
fulfil a prophecy revealed to him in a dream. The Smyrnaeans
were sufficiently generous to play their part in its fulfilment*.
A little earlier a Christian called Germanicus had faced death
there. The governor urged him to have pity on his own youth,
but Germanicus desired a speedy release from this world. He
was faced with savage beasts, and when they failed to attack
him he dragged one of the animals towards him, and goaded it,
no doubt with the required result*.
Origen, destined to become a Church Father, craved martyrdom
as a boy. His fervour cannot have been as vigorous as that of
others, for it was frustrated by his mother's expedient
of hiding his clothes. Still, the young Origen played his part
and sent letters to his father encouraging him to face a martyr's death instead*. His father
did die, leaving a destitute widow and seven children, whereupon
the eldest child, the divinely inspired 17-year-old Origen,
now the head of the household, left home and got himself adopted
by a rich female heretic. After this, as a teacher, he inspired
a clutch of his pupils to embrace martyrdom as well Somehow
Origen never quite got round to winning his own crown of martyrdom.
Those who witnessed Christian martyrdoms/suicides were bewildered
and horrified by the Christian desire for death. Perpetua and
her pregnant slave Felicity were two Christian women driven
by this desire. Romans were too civilised to kill pregnant women,
so Felicity was obliged to live. She was delighted when she
gave birth prematurely, since the birth meant that she could
now win her crown of martyrdom*.
The two women succeeded in securing their deaths in Carthage
in AD 203, Felicity's breasts still wet with milk for her
new-born infant. Christians were impressed. Others were appalled.
A few years earlier a group of Christians had approached a proconsul
in Asia, asking him to have them killed. "Unhappy men!"
he said "if you are thus weary of your lives, is it so
difficult to find ropes and precipices"*?
Neither are these isolated incidents. There were numerous cases
of Christians, alone or in groups, explicitly asking to be martyred,
sometimes turning up with their hands already bound*.
Even including suicides the number of those executed was not
great. Reliable numbers are hard to come by, but where they
are available they are low. Eusebius described a mere 146 of
them in the whole Empire , and some of those sound rather fanciful
to modern ears. Polycarp, the episcopal vandal already mentioned
— "destroyer of our gods" — became the twelfth
martyr in Smyrna in the middle of the second century*.
This number included martyrs from nearby Philadelphia (modern-day
Alaşehir), and may well have included genuine criminals
as well as suicides. The Church Father Origen stated openly
that few Christians had died for their faith. They were he said
"easily counted"*.
The fact is that we do not know how many Christians died during
the persecutions of the first few centuries. In all probability
they numbered only a few thousand. If we discount those who
were genuinely guilty of sedition, those who chose not to mount
a defence, and those who actively sought their own deaths, we
may not have any real martyrs left at all. For centuries, Christian
suicides continued to be hailed as martyrs. Thomas Becket is
one of many examples*.
In any case it is certain that in total the number of Christians
who died at the hands of pagan persecutors can have been at
most only a tiny fraction of the number who later died at the
hands of their fellow Christians. From the reign of the first
Christian emperor onwards, Christians were persecuted far more
savagely by other Christians than they were by anyone else.
We still hear occasional stories of how Christians are viciously
persecuted for their beliefs. Such stories were told of the
treatment of Christians in the USSR before the thawing of relations
between East and West in the late 1980s. Strangely, they lost
their appeal when Soviet communism crumbled and it became possible
to investigate the allegations. A good example was provided
by Vasily Shipilov, a Christian Priest who had been imprisoned
in the Soviet Union for his religious convictions. The Reverend
Dick Rogers had led an international campaign for the release
of this persecuted Christian hero. In 1988 Shipilov was released.
When he visited Britain he turned out to have been imprisoned
not for his religious beliefs but for vagrancy. He was not a
priest and was uncertain whether he had ever been baptised*.
If religious propaganda can distort contemporary truth so wildly,
one must wonder how much it might have done over two millennia.
In the rest of this section we look at the other side of the
coin and review a few of the principal groups that have been
persecuted by Christians.
|
|
