Love, Joy, Feminism
This week I want to start with some more history. Last week we talked about the knowledge the Roman aristocracy would have had of Christianity in the 70 AD. In that post I quoted at length from a scholar who argued not only that Nero very likely did not blame the Christians for the fire of 64 but also that at that time (and for some time afterwards) the term “Christian” would have been anachronistic, and most Romans were unlikely to have heard of not only the term but also the sect.
As I thought about all this I went to my bookshelves. I badly needed to brush up on my knowledge of early Christianity. I thought to pull a book by Bart Ehrman, but I found another book that I hadn’t read, but must have picked up at a used bookstore at some time—The Christians as the Romans Saw Them, by Robert L. Wilkes. I’m nearly finished with it now, and boy and I glad I picked it up! Seriously, I’d highly recommend it. It’s well worth the read.
The first mentions of Christians appeared in Roman writings in the early second century. Even these mentions are ancillary, and the authors (Roman aristocrats) often known little about the Christians. But, at the time of the early second century, these writers tend to use two terms when discussing Christians—association, and superstition.
At this time there were hundreds of associations in cities across the Roman empire. These were sometimes burial societies, where you paid dues and the society would give you a proper burial; sometimes craftsmen societies, where you could kick back with others in your same trade; and sometimes religious societies, devoted to the worship of a specific deity. All societies had communal meals, a common purse, and rituals that sometimes involved saying specific words, and all incorporated worship of a deity or deities (often in ways that involved wine or libations). They provided the mass of the people with a sense of belonging.
Associations were sometimes considered dangerous because they could become political or contribute to the creation of factions, and in some cases they had to be licensed or were governed by specific state rules. Sometimes they were temporarily banned, as we see in the writings of Pliny, where they were found to have been destabilizing the political situation in a city in the provinces.
It is not surprising that Romans would view early Christians through the framework of the association, given that they had communal meals, a common purse, specific rituals and words, and a practice of worship that included wine and bread (the eucharist). Of course, even those using the language of associations at times ascribed unspecified crimes or “hatred of mankind” to these groups.
While most individuals who belonged to associations also participated fully in society, Christians did not always do so. This holding of oneself apart from society is what Romans meant by “hatred of mankind.” In addition, by the mid second century there were rumors about that Christian rituals involved incest, the murder of babies, cannibalism, and other heinous crimes. In other words, while they were typically viewed through the framework of associations, this did not mean the early Christians were always accepted or tolerated on the same level as other associations. Rather, they could be seen as contrary to the public order and as prone to sewing discord.
And then there was the accusation of superstition.
What did Roman writers mean when they applied the term “superstition” to Christians in the early second century? Superstition was fanaticism, or an overly inflated fear of the gods and a belief that they could smite you at any minute. The term superstition was also frequently applied to non-Roman religions, especially to the Egyptian religion, which Romans considered strange and foreign. There was also fear that superstition could lead to atheism, as people might become disillusioned with their fanatical beliefs about the Gods and give up all belief in the gods rather than embracing piety, which stood between fanaticism (superstition) and atheism.
Given that Christianity was a new religion with beliefs and practices considered strange by the Romans, it is not surprising that Roman writers would view Christianity through this lens as well. Interestingly, by the late second century some Roman writers, who had learned that Jesus spent time in Egypt as a child, concluded that Jesus was a magician—he had learned magic while in Egypt, they said, which explains his miracles (things any Egyptian magician could do). Regardless, the accusation levied against the Christians in the early second century was that they were superstitious, meaning that they embraced strange beliefs and exhibited fanaticism.
But this is the early second century. What about 70 AD, when Rivers’ book is set? Given how little Pliny knew about the Romans forty years later, despite his long and successful tenure in the Roman aristocracy and Roman government, it appears to be unlikely that Roman aristocrats in 70 AD would have had any awareness of Christians at all. It is unclear how fully the sect had separated from Judaism at this time (something I need to find a way to read about further, as this will become relevant very quickly in Rivers’ telling of the story). If a Roman aristocrat did hear mention of the Christians, the sect would likely not register as special or worthy of additional attention—perhaps they would see it as just one more association, and a superstitious one at that.
Let me return to last week’s passage for a moment:
Patronus shifted his bulk on a couch nearby. “At least [the Jews] are more interesting than those cowardly Christians. Pit a Jew against anyone and you will see how fiercely he fights, but put a Christian in the arena and he’ll kneel and sing to his unseen god, dying without raising a finger to defend himself.” He took another delicacy from the silver platter. “They sicken me.”
During the second century Roman writers did reference Christians’ lack of care for their own lives, but they did not accuse them of cowardice, as Patronus does here. They also did not credit them with bravery. They generally accused them of obstinacy. Christians’ willingness to give up their lives struck the Romans as strange. This wasn’t about Christians’ actions in the arena (when they did end up there), however, which is what Patronus references. Rather, it was about Christians volunteering for martyrdom (a practice common enough that early Christian writers found the need to condemn it repeatedly). In this light, it’s not surprising that Christians were viewed as fanatics—but again, in 70 AD, all of this was yet to come.
Also in 70 AD, Christian beliefs were still in flux. It took several hundred years for Christians to nail down who they believed Jesus was. The doctrine of the trinity did not come easily. In Hadassah’s time most Christians would not have viewed Jesus as one with God. He was called “the son of God” at a time when many Roman deities began life on earth, born of mortal mothers and divine fathers, and only obtained godhood after performing many great feats. It will be interesting to watch for anachronisms as Hadassah explains more of what she believes.
Do you know what would have been interesting? A book about a Christian girl living in 70 AD that accurately reflects what the Romans knew of early Christians (and how they viewed them), what early Christians believed (and the disagreement among them), and the relationship between early Christians and Jews (which was still being worked out). Do you know what would actually be more interesting? A book written about early Christians in the second century, when we have more sources from and about them. But no, evangelical writers seem far more interested in the first century than in the second century.
And now I’ve written a book. I’m going to leave the topic here and return to Marcus and his girlfriend Arria next week, when we’ll learn more about what makes Marcus tick—and observe some warning signs in his behavior toward women.
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