The Triumph of Christianity (17 page)

Secondary conversions of husbands were very common in early Christianity. And the major reason was the great prevalence of mixed marriages due to the great surplus of Christian women in a world suffering from a considerable scarcity of pagan brides. Many Christian girls had to marry pagan men or remain single, and for many pagan men, it was either a Christian bride or bachelorhood.

Both Peter and Paul accepted intermarriage. Peter advised women with unconverted husbands: “be submissive to your husbands, so that some, though they do not obey the word, may be won without a word by the behavior of their wives, when they see your reverent and chaste behavior” (1 Pet. 3:1–2). Paul put it this way: “If any woman has a husband who is an unbeliever, and he consents to live with her, she should not divorce him. For the unbelieving husband is consecrated through his wife, and the unbelieving wife is consecrated through her husband” (1 Cor. 7:13–14). Although Paul addresses both Christian husbands and wives, as Harnack reported, instances “in which the husband was a Christian, while his wife was a pagan... must have been infrequent.”
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And, although both passages suggest marriages made before the conversion of a spouse, there is abundant evidence that “marriages between Christians and pagans were common.... The church did not at first discourage this practice, which had its advantages: it might bring others into the fold.”
⁶³

In fact, even if the spouse did not convert, there were the children! Even men who firmly remained unconverted seem usually to have agreed to having the children raised in the faith. The case of Pomponia Graecina, the aristocratic early convert mentioned in chapter 6, is instructive. It is uncertain whether her husband Plautius (who served as the first Roman governor of Britain) ever became a Christian, although he carefully shielded her from gossip, but there is no doubt that her children were raised as Christians. According to Marta Sordi, “in the second century [her family] were practicing Christians (a member of the family is buried in the catacomb of St. Callistus).”
⁶⁴

Had the church opposed mixed marriages it risked either a substantial rate of defection by women willing to give up their religion in order to marry, or accumulating a substantial number of unwed, childless Christian women who could contribute nothing to church growth. Moreover, everyone involved seems to have been very confident that the secondary conversions would be to Christianity, not to paganism. This confidence seems justified on the basis of plentiful evidence of Christian steadfastness even in the face of martyrdom. It also is consistent with modern evidence on the consequences of mixed marriages involving a spouse belonging to an intense religious group. For example, female Jehovah’s Witnesses frequently marry outside their faith, but rarely does this involve their defection and often it results in the conversion of the spouse.
⁶⁵
In fact, because there is so much religious intermarriage in the United States, Andrew Greeley has proposed the rule that in the case of mixed marriages, most often the less religious person will become a secondary convert by joining the faith of the more religious person.
⁶⁶
The same rule applies even more fully to the religious upbringing of the children—that they will be raised in the faith of the more religious parent.

It would require extremely complex calculations to project the rise of Christianity solely on the basis of superior fertility, but the outcome of such a projection is easily seen: everything else staying the same, eventually, but inevitably, Christianity would have become the majority faith.

Conclusion

T
HE RISE OF
C
HRISTIANITY
depended upon women. In response to the special appeal that the faith had for women, the early church drew substantially more female than male converts, and this in a world where women were in short supply. Having an excess of women gave the church a remarkable advantage because it resulted in disproportionate Christian fertility and in a considerable number of secondary conversions.

Chapter Eight
Persecution and Commitment

D
URING THE SUMMER OF THE
year 64, the emperor Nero sometimes lit up his garden at night by setting fire to a few fully conscious Christians who had been covered with wax and then impaled high on poles forced up their rectums. Nero also had Christians killed by wild animals in the arena, and he even crucified a few. According to the Roman historian Tacitus, Nero did these atrocities to escape blame for the great fire that had destroyed parts of the city of Rome: “Nero fastened the guilt and inflicted the most exquisite tortures on a class hated for their abominations, called Christians by the populace.”
¹
Among the victims may have been the apostle Peter and his wife,
²
as well as the apostle Paul.

This chapter begins with brief descriptions of the major persecutions and explains why they occurred. Then it considers why so many Christians knowingly and willingly accepted brutal martyrdom rather than deny their faith. Finally, attention is given to why and how, rather than destroy the church or even retard its growth, Roman persecutions probably sped the rise of Christianity as the fortitude of the martyrs amazed and deeply impressed many wavering Christians as well as pagans.

Episodic Persecutions

N
ERO’S PERSECUTION OF
C
HRISTIANS
lasted for several years and may have extended to other parts of the empire.
³
In the end it might have resulted in nearly a thousand deaths,
⁴
although Marta Sordi thought there were only “a few hundred”
⁵
victims, which seems more consistent with the very small total number of Christians at that time (see chapter 9). In any case, it was but the first episode of intermittent Roman attacks on Christians that continued to erupt in various places—“between 64 and 250 there were only isolated, local persecutions.”
⁶

A generation after Nero’s excesses it is believed that the emperor Domitian (ruled: 81–96) murdered a number of Christians, including several members of his own family. Under the emperor Trajan (ruled: 98–117) Christianity was regarded as illicit, and we know that at least some provincial governors engaged in persecutions. Thus in 112, Pliny the Younger, governor of Bithynia, wrote to Trajan:

For the moment, this is the line I have taken with all persons brought before me on charges of being Christians. I have asked them in person if they are Christians, and if they admit it, I repeat the question a second and third time, with a warning of punishment awaiting them. If they persist, I order them to be led away for execution; for, whatever the nature of their admission, I am convinced that their stubbornness and unshakeable obstinacy ought not go unpunished.... Now that I have begun to deal with the problem, as so often happens, the charges are becoming more widespread... for a great many individuals of every age and class, both men and women, are being brought to trial, and this is likely to continue.
⁷

The emperor responded that Pliny had followed the right course, but that Christians “must not be hunted out; if they are brought before you and the charge against them is proved, they must be punished,” but anonymous accusations should be ignored.
⁸

Obviously, when Pliny wrote to Trajan, the complaint against Christians was not that they merely violated the law against unlicensed organizations. Rather, Pliny took it for granted that there was a specific law, or at least an imperial policy, that defined simply being a Christian as a capital offense—and Trajan concurred. Clearly this rule remained in force until it was repealed in about 260 by Gallienus, but nothing is known about when it was first promulgated. We do know it already was in force in about 95, when Domitian attacked Christians. The distinguished Harold Mattingly (1884–1964) thought it likely that the ban on Christianity originated with Nero and remained in force because “Romans of character and position continued to speak of Christianity as a horrible superstition and have no doubt that mere persistence in it merit[ed] death.”
⁹
The equally admired G. E. M. de Ste. Croix (1910–2000) agreed, but suggested there never actually was a law against being a Christian, merely a precedent begun under Nero, which would have carried nearly as much weight as a specific law.
¹⁰

Some admirers of the philosopher-emperor Marcus Aurelius (ruled: 161–180) deny that he was directly involved in persecutions of Christians.
¹¹
In fact, he personally directed executions of Christians when consulted by provincial officials. Of course, it ought to be noted that during his reign a devastating plague swept through the Empire killing millions (see chapter 6). Searching for an explanation, the emperor came to agree with those who advocated that the plague was sent by the gods or at least condoned by them because they had been affronted and neglected. It was a very bad time to belong to a group notorious for refusing to sacrifice to the gods.

Thus in 177 a vicious persecution broke out in Lyons. Some historians think it may have been prompted in part by officials seeking to cut costs in obtaining victims for death in the arena.
¹²
In any event, mob attacks on Christians broke out and a number were beaten and then dragged before the magistrate. Since some of the accused were Roman citizens and therefore exempt from being killed by animals in the arena, the local officials wrote to Marcus Aurelius for guidance. He responded that those who persisted in their Christianity were to be executed—the Roman citizens should be beheaded, the rest delivered to the wild beasts in the arena.
¹³
Thus did the “martyrs of Lyons” die, including the celebrated young woman Blandina. Initially she was “suspended from a stake, exposed as food to wild beasts.” When the beasts ignored her she was taken down and subsequently subjected to “every torture, again and again.” Then, “after the scourging... after the frying pan, she was at last thrown into a basket and presented to a bull.... Then she too was sacrificed, and even the heathen themselves acknowledged that never in their experience had a woman endured so many and terrible sufferings.”
¹⁴

In 202, a twenty-two-year-old Carthaginian noblewoman with a nursing infant fell victim to an edict by Emperor Septimus Severus (ruled: 192–211) that no new conversions to Christianity or Judaism would be tolerated, under pain of death. Along with four others, Perpetua was taken to the arena and scourged, then set upon by wild animals, and, when she still survived, was put to the sword.

These were sideshows compared with the bloody anti-Christian riot that broke out in Alexandria in 248. Over the previous several centuries, riots had resulted in the death of many Jews, and this was at least the third riot in the city’s history during which pagan mobs “rampaged through the streets looting, burning, and destroying property belonging to Christians.”
¹⁵
This seems to have gone on “for some time; whenever Christians appeared in public, night or day, they were liable to seizure, torture, and death.”
¹⁶
Apparently the Roman officials did nothing to prevent the disorder.

Finally, the stage was set for empire-wide persecutions.

Imperial Persecutions

T
OO OFTEN, HISTORIANS HAVE
ignored the sincerity of pagans, misreading their casual forms of worship for indifference. But Rome was far more religious than other societies in the ancient world, and large numbers of Romans, especially those making up the political elite, sincerely believed that the gods had made Rome the great empire that it had become. That being the case, Christianity was an obvious affront to the gods, given that the church denied the existence of the gods and charged that to worship them was blasphemy. It was entirely logical to assume that for Rome to tolerate Christianity was to risk bringing down the displeasure of the gods upon its affairs. This might not have been an urgent matter during the heyday of the empire (except during a disaster such as a plague), but as Rome began to experience lasting bad times—economic recessions, political instability, and military misfortunes—it became a matter that no conscientious emperor could ignore. Even so, when the first major, empire-wide, Roman persecution of Christianity erupted in the middle of the third century, the initial concern did not merely reflect intolerance of Christianity, but a perceived need for a universal expression of pagan piety.

Persecution by Decius and Valerian

I
N 249
G
AIUS
M
ESSIUS
Decius was hailed as emperor of Rome by his army and, after he defeated his predecessor Philip in battle (in which Philip died), the Senate ratified Decius’s claim to the crown. It could hardly have been a worse time to take the throne.
¹⁷
Invaders were making inroads all along the European frontiers, and the army, no longer manned by citizen soldiers, was becoming increasingly expensive and less effective.
¹⁸
The Roman army had never had superiority in terms of weapons or armor, but triumphed due to far superior training and discipline in battle.
¹⁹
This advantage had largely disappeared with the recruitment of “barbarian” troops. In addition, the economy was falling apart. Trade had collapsed and the prices of basic commodities were high and rising rapidly.
²⁰
Taxes were soaring.
²¹
What was wrong and how could it be fixed?

Decius came to the conclusion that all Rome’s troubles were of religious origin. His reasoning was as follows. For centuries the gods had smiled on and sustained an expansive and invincible Rome. But with the arrival of the many new religions, the traditional gods had been considerably neglected, and consequently they had in turn been neglecting Rome. The solution was obvious: a religious revival to regain the favor of the gods who had made Rome great!

The method was equally obvious: stage an unprecedented display of piety. So the famous edict was issued requiring that “all inhabitants of the Empire sacrifice to the gods, taste the sacrificial meat, and swear that they had always sacrificed”
²²
—or that they regretted past neglect and promised future observance. In addition to seeking divine aid, Decius hoped that by returning to the traditional gods he also could reestablish a religious basis for a renewal of patriotism and civic-mindedness, persuading the people to be more willing to pay taxes and otherwise support the state.

Decius was not content to send a message to the Senate or even to circulate an edict to the appropriate provincial governors. In a remarkable break with custom, he directed his edict to all the people of the empire. Nor was he content with expressing his wishes; he demanded proof of fulfillment by requiring local magistrates to issue certificates to all persons and households verifying that the required sacrifice had been accomplished in their presence. Notice that Decius did not ask the people to pray, or to fast, or to confess, or to attend a praise meeting. In keeping with traditional Roman religious conceptions, his idea of a revival involved nothing but a quick, unemotional, ritual—as is obvious when one reads this certificate of compliance, typical of the dozens that have survived from Roman Egypt:
²³

To the Superintendents of Sacrifices, from Aurelius Akis, from the village of Theadelphia, with his children Aion and Heras, all being of the village of Theadelphia. It was always our practice to sacrifice to the gods and now in your presence, in accordance with the regulations, we have sacrificed, have made libations, and have tasted the offerings, and we request you certify this.

[Below]

We, Aurelius Serenus and Aurelius Hermas, saw you sacrificing.

[Signed and dated]

Although the ban on Christianity was still in force, it would seem that initially Decius did not intend to persecute Christians. He did not seize church property. He did not ban worship services. He even allowed Christians to perform their religious rites while in prison awaiting trial. He simply “failed to understand why Christians could not offer a normal sacrifice in addition to worshipping their god in their own fashion.”
²⁴
It was only when Christians refused this “simple” request, and did so very loudly and in public, that the persecution began. At that point, Decius may well have come to hate Christians. Following the execution of Pope Fabian, Decius is quoted as saying, “I would far rather receive news of a rival to the throne, than another bishop in Rome.”
²⁵

It should be noted that apparently the Jews were not persecuted although they surely did not comply with the edict either. Romans believed that one was forever obligated to honor the religion of one’s ancestors, hence Jews were usually given an exemption from actions in violation with their ancestral faith. But the Romans were contemptuous of all who had abandoned their ancestral faith as, of course, all Christians had done, making their refusal to comply with the edict doubly offensive. So the round-ups began.

Clearly, the Roman prosecutors paid primary attention to church leaders.
²⁶
The bishops of Rome and Antioch were tortured and executed almost at once. The bishops of Jerusalem and of Antioch died in prison. Efforts to arrest Dionysius in Alexandria and Cyprian in Carthage failed when both went underground. But some ordinary Christians also were seized, including harmless elderly women such as Apolonia of Alexandria, who had all of her remaining teeth smashed out before being burned alive.
²⁷