Christians of all denominations maintain that the Early
Church was widely persecuted. They state that in the first few centuries after
the death of the Messiah, Christians were hunted, tortured and killed just for
following Christ. This persecution is believed to have begun with the deaths of
Stephen, the Apostles, and then the Christians persecuted under a long
succession of cruel and vindictive Roman emperors.
This history of early Christianity establishes Christianity
as a religion of innocent sufferers; as a church beleaguered and under attack.
In periods of crisis or perceived crisis Christians of all stripes have
returned to this stereotype of the early church in order to find themselves and
understand their experiences. This is true even today: during the debate over
the HHS mandate last year, a Catholic Bishop said that President Obama was
attacking Christians just like the Roman emperors, Hitler and Stalin had. In
August 2011 Republican presidential candidate Rick Santorum publicly complained
that the “gay community ... had gone out on a jihad” against him. In the course
of the last election, similar statements were made by Mitt Romney, Rush
Limbaugh, Glenn Beck and Bill O’Reilly, to name but a few.
This is not just a case of election-day banter or political nastiness. Just recently, Fox News host Todd Starnes accused NBC of persecuting Christians because of a skit that aired on Saturday Night Live. The accusation may appear flimsy, but the advertising boycott of NBC that resulted was not. The rhetorical power of persecution language is very real.
These evaluations of modern society and Christianity’s place
in it trace themselves back to the early Church. Christianity is responsible
for changing the way that we think about persecution. Were it not for the
belief that early Christians were persecuted, Christian identity would not be
so intimately linked to the experience of persecution. It is precisely for this
reason that understanding the history is so important.
Intriguingly, when we
look at the ancient evidence for the treatment of early Christians a very
different picture emerges. The vast majority of our ancient sources for
persecution in the first century were written in the second century and beyond.
The stories about the deaths of the apostles, for instance, were written as
late as a hundred years later and modeled on the fanciful genre of ancient
romance novels.
Even the earliest, most ostensibly trustworthy martyrdom
stories have been edited and reworked. The authors of these accounts borrowed
from ancient mythology, changed the details of events to make the martyrs
appear more like Jesus, and made the Roman antagonists increasingly venomous.
The motivations of these later authors and editors, who have gone unheralded by
history but who shaped our understanding of the world, are arguably more
fascinating than the martyrdom stories themselves. No doubt there are kernels
of truth at the heart of some of some of the stories, but we do not have
evidence of persecution.
The Roman evidence is also ambiguous. If Nero did target
Christians after the great fire of Rome in 64 C.E. — and the are good reasons
for thinking he did not — his treatment of them stemmed less from a desire to
harm Christians than it did from his need to deflect blame from himself.
Ancient Romans who spread the story about Nero saw his actions as contemptible
and unjust.
Archeological evidence reveals that on those occasions when
Christians did die en masse it was the result of general legislation intended
to defend and fortify the empire. Christians were not named directly in
imperial legislation until the second half of the third century, and it was
only from 303-305 C.E., in the reign of the Emperor Diocletian, that we see
anything resembling the brutal persecution of popular imagination. Christians
did die. And Christians were occasionally persecuted, but should two years of
persecution under Diocletian lead to nearly 2,000 years of Christian
persecution complex?
The idea that Christianity is persecuted and needs to defend
itself from external and internal attack comes from the victorious Church of
the fourth and fifth centuries and beyond. It is a story that has brought
comfort to the suffering, sick and oppressed, but it is a story that was used —
expanded, exaggerated and even invented — to exclude heretics, that legitimized
great violence and that continues to disrupt civil discourse. And it precisely
this — the effect that this inflated myth of persecution has had on modern
politics and discourse — that makes it imperative that we get our facts
straight.
When disagreement and dissent are conflated with
persecution, dialogue, collaboration and even compassion become impossible. You
cannot reason with your persecutors, you have to fight them. If persecution
becomes a badge of honor and a sign of moral superiority then what reason is
there to try and persuade others of one’s arguments? Framed by the myth that we
are persecuted, dialogue is not only impossible; it is undesirable. Moreover,
it overshadows actual persecution. Christians around the world endure violence
and oppression today. But those experiences are overshadowed by complaints that
conflate disputes over lawmaking with persecution. If persecution language is
not reserved for situations of actual persecution, then unspeakable violence
becomes indescribable. Disagreement becomes martyrdom and martyrdom becomes
disagreement.
Courtesy: Candida Moss (Professor of New Testament and Early
Christianity at the University of Notre Dame and the author of ‘The Myth of
Persecution’).
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