The Second-Century Apologists. Alvyn PettersenЧитать онлайн книгу.
the empire was particularly vulnerable to fragmentation. Such religious people seemed therefore to stand in marked contrast with those who practiced the cult of the empire; and their understandings of proper social engagement differed greatly.
Nor could these contrasts and differences be seen as easy bedfellows. Practicing the imperial cult involved the giving of gifts and the making of sacrifices, given and made in thanksgiving and for propitiation. As in daily life, so in the imperial cult, two themes dominated, that of personal honor and that of giving in order that one might receive in return. It was, therefore, thought, firstly, that deities, being not just important patrons but also powers of immense superiority, demanded the highest honors. Secondly, it was further believed that, if deities were not granted the highest honors, they might become angry. Thirdly, it was also thought that, although deities could be very generous givers, they were not committed givers, bound to giving regular gifts in return. For these reasons it was therefore necessary always to honor all gods (other people’s as well as one’s own), not to allow anyone to dishonor any gods through, for example, excluding themselves from the cults, and always to appease the gods, for fear lest they might, just possibly, be angry. For a person never knew if, when, or how a god might have been outraged; and if a god, by chance, had been outraged, that same person never knew whether the result would be that the god would then not support or would even punish that individual, his family or her city-state or empire. Such contrasted greatly with Christian beliefs, which insisted on monotheism, resisted the thought that people, mere creatures, could lay any claim upon God, the Creator of all, and maintained that God was ever faithful, always generous. God, Christians held, was to be honored, and the divine name was to be hallowed, simply and solely because God was God.
That people held that the gods of the empire needed appeasing is evidenced variously. A local leader might call upon his people to sacrifice to the local deities when he wished to win the favor of the gods in order to counter a local threat. A school teacher, introducing pupils to the Homeric myths, could not avoid those passages that spoke of gods being angered either by the absence or the dishonorable practice of sacrifice. Pausanias [c.110–180], given to rationalizing the more bizarre aspects of myths, nevertheless left untouched those that told of a god’s anger, to be discerned in earthquakes and famines and to be appeased by people performing appropriate religious rituals at local shrines. In a speech to the Roman Senate in c.203, Manilius Fuscus, a future governor of Asia, advocated all due worship and veneration of the immortal gods, so as to ensure the continuing security of the empire. Marcus Aurelius [121–180] may have dismissed as superstition belief in the anger of the gods, but many of his contemporaries did not. Faced with famine or threat, they still consulted oracles, heeded the god’s advice as to which rite would appease the divine wrath, and performed those commended, in order to persuade the heavens to end whatever evil had befallen them.
Alongside this worship of the gods there was also the cult of the emperor. For like the gods of the cult, emperors also were held to be powerful but unreliable benefactors, whom their subjects needed always to honor. In this “human” field the precept, “give to the giver that hopefully the giver may reciprocate, and not to the person who cannot reciprocate,” was also to be followed. The powerful always needed to be gratified.
Very clearly the cult was an aspect of every part of a person’s life. It was not simply a “leisure time” pursuit, the modern day equivalent of a “weekend” hobby. People of the second century “did god” in the temple and in civic life. They “did god” in education, in tradesmen’s guilds, and in clubs. Their painters, engravers, and carvers could scarcely survive without making images of the gods or creating designs containing cultic symbols. Their soldiers had to swear loyalty to the “divine” emperor as well as to the god Mithras. Their emperor needed ever to be “kept sweet.” In short, the cult was integral to daily life, and every citizen probably had a role in it. Further, people “did god” more indirectly. For the cult impacted upon local economies. At the most basic level, any meat bought in a market probably had been slaughtered as a sacrifice in a temple. The annual feasts of societies of tradesmen generally were held in the temple of their tutelary god, their meal previously having been offered to the gods. A cult often had its own funds, its gods receiving rents from lands, offerings from collection boxes, and taxes from sacrifices. Cults and their priesthoods were therefore financially valuable. Not surprisingly therefore Greek cities increasingly both multiplied their priesthoods and then put these up for sale. In first-century Miletus, for example, the authorities decreed the number of sacrifices to be offered annually to the god Asclepius and stipulated that the cult priests should receive the hides, the entrails, and the best cuts of all animals sacrificed. This financially attractive lot the city authorities then sold, to the benefit of three parties: (i) the city authorities who devised and then auctioned the lot would have gained financially; (ii) whoever was successful in bidding for the cult’s priesthood benefitted from the cult’s increased annual business; and (iii) local merchants and businesses found their services the more in demand, especially at the times of major festivals, when pilgrims required the services of not only the cult but also market traders and providers of accommodation. Anyone then who might oppose such a local cult could find themselves having to defend their position before, at the very least, the local cult, local businesses, and other interested parties. Witness the events in Ephesus where Demetrius, a silversmith who made silver shrines of Artemis, joined with others of the same trade, and rose up against the apostle Paul.9
Christianity in the empire
Within this world Christianity was viewed with caution, if not suspicion. In comparison with the imperial cults and with Judaism it was seen as new. Its profession and practice were as yet unauthorized. Its followers met, not publicly, but privately, in house groups. Its teaching was open to anyone who would be a catechumen, but attendance at the eucharistic mysteries was permitted only to the baptized. For many, the imperial authorities included, Christianity was therefore a religion about which they could discover little. There were rumors of “love feasts,” at which attendees were urged to love their brothers and sisters, greeting one another with a kiss. There was mention of gatherings at which worshippers met to eat another’s flesh and to drink his blood. Details of such also were scarce and explanations were vague. Cults such as those of Cybele and of Bacchus, when left unchecked, could encourage incest, ritual fornication, and cannibalism. In theory, at least, Christianity might be another such sect. Whatever the case, there were rumors, which, as Virgil’s Aeneid once reflected,10 could spread rapidly and could not so easily be extinguished.
Christianity in the second century, as noted, was as yet unauthorized. It was a religio illicita. Despite that, Christians generally were not pursued. In a letter of AD 112 to the emperor Trajan, Pliny, the emperor’s special imperial commissioner in Bithynia, recorded that, although he was a senator and lawyer and knew that Christianity was illegal, he did not know why.11 He further remarked that, although Christians could be obstinate and intransigent, they were no more so than, for example, the swindling town councilors of Nicea and Nicomedia.12 He then concluded that, with the emperor’s agreement, he would not pursue Christians as he would criminals. If, however, they were publicly denounced and then refused both to recant and to worship the Roman gods, he would punish them.13 If not denounced, it would then seem, Pliny was minded to leave Christians alone. Some twelve years later, in AD 124 or 125, Trajan’s successor, the emperor Hadrian (117–138), instructed Pliny both that people were not to seek out Christians and that the general practice of not admitting charges that were presented unsigned was to apply also in the case of Christians. He also mandated that a person, even when tried and then found guilty of having been a Christian, was yet to be pardoned, provided that the individual found guilty then demonstrated by engaging in a public act of worship of the imperial gods that he now no longer was a Christian. Further, Hadrian decreed that, if Christians were to be accused, Christians had to be accused in open court. Consequently, accusers were then required to bear the delay and any expenses of prosecution before a governor who generally attended a nearby assize perhaps once a year; and transparency and justice were seen to be promoted, any charges against an accused Christian now having to be heard before their accusers. Hadrian then added a significant rider: if the accusation failed, the accused, in accordance with the law of calumnia, which was especially aimed at preventing unwarranted persecutions,