The Miracle of Freedom

by Ted Stewart

  “It is difficult. And important. It must be right.”

  She looked away, her dark eyes half closed, then turned back to him. “May I ask you something, Father?”

  Josephus nodded wearily. It was getting close to sundown. He would have to work by candlelight tonight, something he hardly could afford, for candles were expensive.

  “Constantine is fighting through the northern Italian mountains. Is that a good thing for us, Father? Or is his approaching army something that we should fear?”

  Josephus stared at the narrow slit in the mortar wall that was the only window on their one-room home. He wanted to tell her something that would give her a reason to be optimistic, but the truth was, he didn’t know. After three hundred years of hatred in the good years and deadly persecution in the worst, he didn’t want to say anything that would disappoint her if he were wrong.

  “There is always hope,” he finally answered.

  Ruth stared at him with frightened eyes. “Will it be dangerous for us, Father?”

  For a long time, he only thought.

  For centuries, the Romans had persecuted the Christians as the hounds of hell. Any of them could be taken at any time, for any reason, without any explanation, without breaking any law. He had ancestors who had died in the Roman Colosseum, torn to pieces for no reason other than to provide a good show. Their children lived in terror, afraid to admit to anyone what they were. Having lived this way for generations, it was hard for Christians to believe that the future would somehow change.

  Still, they had to hope. What else did they have? What else could they give their children? For what other reason did they live?

  Making a gesture to the north, he motioned toward the approaching army and the leader that rode before it, a man they called Constantine. The emperor of Gaul was a stranger from the West and unknown to the people in this part of the Empire. Would he conquer or be conquered? What kind of ruler would he be?

  “We render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s,” he finally answered. “We have always been faithful citizens. There is no reason for Constantine to hate us.”

  Ruth shook her head, sadness in her eyes. In an age and place that disregarded the value of a man, where compassion was scoffed at and reason ignored, the fact that Christians were good citizens had never been enough to save them from Roman rage or persecution.

  Her father waited for her to answer. When she was silent, he went on. “At worst, things will remain as they have always been. But it is my hope, and we have been commanded to always hope . . .” he lifted an instructive eyebrow toward her, “ . . . that things will get better. I really believe that. Someday they will.”

  Though only thirteen, adversity had forged Ruth into an extremely perceptive girl, much more a woman than a child, and she seemed unconvinced. “We’ve been talking of hope for almost three hundred years!” she answered angrily. “How many generations! How many lives lost in hate and dread? Emperors come and go. Cities rise and fall. But one thing is always constant: Christians are hated and persecuted. That seems always sure.

  “So, no, Father, although I wish I could share your optimism, I don’t believe anything is going to change just because a new emperor might fight his way to Rome to claim the throne.”

  A Religion Is Born

  There are two reasons why Christianity’s emergence among the Jews in the Roman-dominated area of Palestine was so important.

  First, it was only among the Jewish community that this extraordinary new religion could have survived. Christianity was founded upon the teachings and mission of Jesus Christ, who was a Jew. He ministered and taught almost exclusively among the community of Jews. His first converts were all Jews. The faith was nurtured among a Jewish population that was receptive to its message because they had always looked forward to a Messiah. (It is interesting to note, relative to previous chapters, that had the Jews been dispersed among the Assyrian Empire as their cousins in the kingdom of Israel had been, the birth of a new world religion would likely have been impossible.) Then, in his final instructions to his followers, Christ told them to take the faith to all the world.

  Second (in trying to comply with this command), the spread of the new religion was possible because of the infrastructure that the Roman Empire could provide.

  It has been observed, with truth as well as propriety, that the conquests of Rome prepared and facilitated those of Christianity. . . . The public highways, which had been constructed for the use of the legions, opened an easy passage for the Christian missionaries from Damascus to Corinth, and from Italy to the extremity of Spain or Britain. . . . There is the strongest reason to believe that before the reigns of Diocletian and Constantine, the faith of Christ had been preached in every province and in all the great cities of the empire.25

  Christianity’s growth in the early decades (in fact, some argue, in the first centuries) was primarily among the Jewish population that was to be found scattered throughout the Roman Empire.26 However, its acceptance among the gentile population accelerated as the second and third centuries unfolded.

  Though it was first and foremost a religion of Asia and then Africa, eventually it established a presence in Europe. Once there, its membership drew from all walks of life and classes of people. It has long been accepted that Christianity appealed primarily to the poor and the downtrodden, but more recent scholarship indicates that it also had great appeal among the middle and upper classes of Roman society. By the second half of the first century, prominent Christians were found in the aristocracy of Rome. And as its numbers increased, its presence also grew among the more privileged classes throughout other regions within the empire.27

  As to its rate of growth, in the year AD 40, there were an estimated 1,000 Christian converts. By the end of the first century, there may have been around 7,000. At the end of the next century, the number was in the neighborhood of 217,000. At the time of Constantine, AD 312, there were more than six million Christians in the Roman Empire, which itself had an estimated population of sixty million. Less than forty years later, the Christian population had exploded to an estimated thirty-four million, making Christians the majority in the empire.28

  The appeal of Christianity depends upon one’s perspective, and secular opinions vary widely. Eighteenth-century historian Edward Gibbon, who was not a fan of Christianity, asserts that its growth was due to the “intolerant zeal of the Christians,” its appealing doctrine of a future life, the miraculous powers that early Christians claimed to possess, the “pure and austere morals” of the Christians, and the discipline and unity of the Christians and their community.29

  A modern secular view asserts that Christian doctrine was particularly appealing to the Jewish community, the upper classes of society, and women. Also, its rejection of abortion and infanticide, so common with the pagan population, resulted in a higher birthrate among the Christian faithful than among their neighbors. Finally, its doctrines of charity, community, and hope made it particularly appealing to a people who had to deal with the upheavals wrought by nearly constant natural and man-made disasters—deadly epidemics, revolution, and war—not to mention the everyday horrors of urban life that the vast majority of the population endured during this era in the Roman Empire.30

  Those of a more pious and Christian-oriented viewpoint would argue that Christianity spread because it represented the truth.

  Regardless of the explanation, Christianity spread.

  But it did not spread without opposition. Beginning with Stephen, the first of many martyrs,31 succeeding decades would see periods of intense opposition to this new faith. In fact, not long after the death of Christ, persecution and repression of Christianity became the official state policy of Rome. From that time forward, the empire expended blood and treasure to destroy the Christians and their new philosophies that taught about equality and the inherent worth of man.

 
Rome, Italy AD 312

  The little group of believers gathered in the narrow courtyard behind Josephus’s small home. Old bricks and mud made a high wall around the rock-covered patio, tall enough to hide the meeting from prying eyes. The sun was just going down, and the narrow streets around the slum were crowded with peddlers, soldiers, horses, donkeys, a few goats, a few more craftsmen, shopping mothers, and shouting children—the regular evening crowd. Rome was a vast city, considered the largest and most powerful in the world, and it was always crowded and noisy, especially in the slums. Though it was early evening on the Christian Sabbath, it was just another day of work in Rome.

  The handful of Christian believers gathered in near silence. They all knew each other, and although their meetings were often tense, and always guarded, there was a sense of happiness in being with each other once again. It would have surprised an outsider to see the children and young people in the group, for the Christians worshipped as families rather than as comrades. Before the first prayers were offered, Ruth and another child, a boy two years younger, were posted to guard the front door. From where they sat, huddled in the shadows of the narrow window, they could see up and down the crowded street just a few feet outside the door.

  They watched carefully, their dark eyes wide and sober. Though they were young, they had been given a great responsibility and they took it very seriously. Ruth kept her eyes moving up and down the street, but she felt that in one way it was a useless gesture. What were they to do if the Roman soldiers came? Run? Fight? None of them had any idea what they would do.

  No, that wasn’t true. They knew. They would keep silent. They would pray. They would bow and grovel. And hope the Roman soldiers didn’t take any of them away.

  The Christian voices were just rising in a muffled song when two Roman soldiers dressed in full armor came stalking down the narrow road. These two were new to their local post; Ruth had seen them in the market and commons area only a couple of times before. The crowd scattered like dry leaves before the soldiers, some of the more timid pressing against the brick walls and jumping into doorways to get out of their way. The two men walked together but didn’t speak, metal shields slung over their armor-protected shoulders, swords hanging from their sides. They were looking for something, that was obvious, as they paused to check each house and shop.

  Ruth pulled back into the shadows. Behind her, the young boy ran to tell the others. Ruth listened for the clang of armor and heavy footsteps of the soldiers drawing near. The house was dark and empty. A puff of night air blew down the smelly street and through her window. She cocked her head and listened.

  The Romans stopped right outside the house!

  In the courtyard, the Christians stopped their singing. Dead silence filled the air.

  A sudden knock of a metal-covered fist upon her door!

  She glanced back, terrified. Her father was standing there.

  The soldier knocked again, this time more slowly.

  Ruth watched in terror as her father walked resolutely toward the entrance. Turning, he shooed her back, gesturing toward the courtyard. “Get back there!” he commanded. The young girl didn’t move. “Back! Hide!” her father hissed. Again she didn’t move. The soldier slammed his fist a final time upon the door. Her father took a breath, unlocked the bolt, and pulled the door open.

  The Romans filled the entire door frame, strong and resolute.

  The first soldier leaned into the room. “We have been told there are . . .” He paused, his voice falling. “We heard reports of Christians meeting here!” His face was hard but there was also . . . what was it Ruth saw in his eyes? Uncertainty? Maybe fear? Glancing over his shoulder, the second soldier seemed to slump. No one moved past them on the street. The evening stood still.

  The first soldier pushed into the room. The other Roman followed. Ruth’s father tried to block them, but, seeing it was futile, he stood aside and let them in.

  “Brother?” the first soldier whispered. “Are there Christians meeting here?”

  Her father didn’t answer.

  The other soldier stepped forward. “We want to worship with you, brother. We wish to join your service, for we are Christians too.”

  Opposition on the Rise

  The fact that zealous persecution of the Christians would take place in the Roman Empire is a bit puzzling. For one thing, because of the size of the empire, it included an enormous number of cultures and peoples. Each had their own religion. They worshipped their own gods. Even the Romans worshipped a full array of different deities. All of these various gods, beliefs, and religions were tolerated:

  The policy of the emperors and the senate, as far as it concerned religion, was happily seconded by the reflections of the enlightened, and by the habits of the superstitious, part of their subjects. 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.32

  Yet, despite the fact that dozens of religions and literally hundreds of gods were worshipped throughout the Empire, Christianity was singled out for persecution. Why Roman emperors, those who had “beheld without concern a thousand forms of religion subsisting in peace under their gentle sway,”33 would turn murderous against the Christians was a mystery, especially in light of the fact that the Christian faith resulted in members who were almost uniformly passive and obedient and known for superior morals.

  Perhaps the best explanation is the Romans concluded that the Roman Christians had turned against their own. After all, these Christians weren’t foreigners worshipping a foreign god; no, they were “one of us,” Romans who had turned their backs on their own history and traditions, their forefathers, their society’s religion. They were essentially a group of apostates.

  Making matters even more uncomfortable was the fact that, unlike the Roman pagan religions that involved public sacrifices, community festivals, and elaborate celebrations, the Christians preferred to have private little meetings. What took place in those secret meetings? their neighbors had to wonder. Rumors of hideous human sacrifices and sexual orgies were widespread.34

  Regardless of the reason for their hatred of the Christians, beginning approximately thirty years after the death of Jesus Christ, martyrdom became a tool of the state that was used against the fledgling religion.

  In AD 64, a colossal fire swept Rome. It was rumored that the Emperor Nero, murderer of his own wife and mother, had set fire to the city and then entertained himself while observing the horrible spectacle by playing his lyre and singing.

  Nero needed a scapegoat for the burning. The Christians were conveniently selected to serve that role. Under horrible torture, the names of fellow Christians were extracted. A great multitude were subject to crucifixion, some sewn up in the skins of wild beasts and delivered up to dogs to be torn asunder, others used as human torches. Nero offered up his gardens for the location of this mass murder. Tradition says that both Peter and Paul were executed in Rome as part of Nero’s assault on Christianity.

  After this time of brutal persecution, things improved, at least a little. In the following years, there were a few Caesars who tolerated Christianity; in some cases, members of the royal household were even converted. There was no widely enforced government policy of Christian oppression, a fact that at least minimized the systematic Christian persecution that had been so common during the earlier century.

  The Christians were, after all, a tiny minority of apostates beset by irrational beliefs, an irrelevant group who posed no real threat to the mighty Roman Empire. Why should the Romans get too worked up over such a hopeless group of outcasts? They had to be kept in their place, that was sure, but having done that, it was better to ignore them than to make martyrs of them all.

&
nbsp; But things were never easy for the unpopular religion, and even during the best of times, private Roman citizens were free to persecute Christians at their will. There were multiple accounts of Christian faithful being killed in Gaul, Carthage, and elsewhere throughout the empire, and in certain areas, pagan citizens would demand that local officials harass the Christian fools.

  So it was that generations passed with the Christians living in constant fear, their future always uncertain. Depending upon the Caesar, Christian leaders might be left alone or they might be arrested and sentenced to death.

  Darkness Before Light

  Then, during the third century, things took a sudden turn for the worse.

  In AD 250, Emperor Decius ascended to the Roman throne. Feeling it was necessary to purify the empire of the “superstition” known as Christianity, he ordered the death or exile of the bishops of most of the major cities. Another emperor, Valerian, followed suit a few years later.

  The turning point was reached in AD 303, when Roman leaders suddenly awoke to a frightening realization: Christians were increasing in both numbers and influence. As previously noted, by this time there may have been as many as six million Christians, or ten percent of the Roman population. Under the Emperors Maximian and Galerus, an all-out assault on Christianity began. Members of the sect were no longer entitled to protection of the Roman law. Orders were issued that all Christian churches in the empire were to be destroyed; death was ordered for those who met in secret meetings; all of their sacred books were to be burned. Christian citizens were deprived of honors or employment; Christian slaves lost all hope of ever becoming free.

  A few years later, Emperor Diocletian set about to eliminate utterly the Christian name. Edicts were sent to local officials to arrest all religious leaders. Mass arrests occurred. A number of bishops and other leaders were tortured and executed.

  Worse, and with much more far-reaching implications for the Christians, the brutal edicts issued by Roman officials energized the citizenry. Cruel and spontaneous outbreaks of “violent and general persecution” became heartbreakingly common.35