Читать книгу The Second-Century Apologists - Alvyn Pettersen - Страница 8

This book looks at the writings of six Christian Apologists of the mid-to-late second century as they responded to some of the charges levelled against their Christian contemporaries. Then the faith of Christ­ians was accused of being novel and, since truth was then generally associated with antiquity, of being merely a recent human invention. Meanwhile Christ­ians themselves were then charged with being atheists, cannibals, and partakers in incest,1 charges based upon misunderstandings of Christian practices. The charge of atheism arose from the refusal by Christ­ians to acknowledge the deities of the Greco-Roman world and to share in its cults. That of cannibalism originated in people’s wrongly thinking that they had found in what little they knew of Christ­ians celebrating the eucharist, with its dominical invitation to eat of the body and drink of the blood of Christ, echoes of the feast in which, according to the myths, Thyestes, entertained by his brother Atreus, unknowingly ate of the flesh of one of his own sons. The third charge was based in the wider public’s misinterpreting the Christ­ians both obeying the dominical injunction to “love one another” and sharing, in the course of the rite of the eucharist, the kiss of peace as evidence of the occurrence in real life of the mythical account of Oedipus’s sexual intercourse with his mother Jocasta.

These several charges had been made against Christ­ians over many years. Dio Cassius, writing about the Domitian persecutions of AD 96, recorded that “Domitian slew, amongst many others, Flavius Clemens . . . and Flavia Domitilla, against both [of whom] was brought a charge of atheism.”2 Pliny the Younger, writing in AD 112 to the emperor Trajan, reported that those who had been accused of being Christ­ians and who then had denied their being Christ­ians confirmed their denials by reciting a prayer to the gods of the empire, by making supplications, accompanied by offerings of incense and wine, to the emperor Trajan’s statue, and by cursing Christ, each and all incontrovertible proof that they had abandoned their monotheistic faith.3 These various practices, once enacted, proved to Greco-Roman minds that a person was not an atheist. For though they denied the Christ, they yet affirmed their readiness both to venerate the gods of the empire and to honor the imperial cult. Meanwhile, by not enacting such practices, which “those who really are Christ­ians [could] not be made to do,”4 people proved that they were indeed atheists, people who would not acknowledge the gods of the imperial cult. In the same letter, Pliny further reported to Trajan that Christ­ians bound themselves with an oath not to commit, inter alia, adultery,5 a particular wrong perhaps mentioned as something to which members of the public believed that Christ­ians were prone. Yet further, again in the self-same letter, Pliny recorded that Christ­ians met in the evening “to take food”, “ordinary and harmless food” Pliny added,6 as though wishing to assure Trajan that Christ­ians did not engage in cannibalistic customs. In Smyrna in 156 the crowds that called on the governor to slaughter some Christ­ians who had been arrested, cried out, “away with these atheists”;7 and the same governor, trying to persuade the arrested Bishop Polycarp to recant his Christian faith, said to Polycarp, “swear by the genius of the emperor, . . . Say, away with the atheists [sc. Christ­ians].”8 Some four to five years later, but this time in Rome, a Christian of the name of Lucius questioned why a certain Urbicus had punished another Christian of the name of Ptolemy, and asked, “why have you punished this man, not as an adulterer, nor fornicator, . . . but simply as one who has only confessed that he is called by the name of Christian?”9 Other crimes, those of murder and theft, were also mentioned by the questioning Lucius. The mention, however, of adultery, indeed, the mention of adultery as the first in the list of possible misdemeanors, may again not be unrelated to the common charge of incest frequently levelled against Christ­ians. Yet another five years later, again in Rome, Justin and his companions were brought before Rusticus, the prefect of Rome. To Rusticus’s demand that they should “sacrifice to the imperial gods,” Justin and those arrested with him asserted that they would offer no sacrifices to “idols.”10 The replacement here of Rusticus’s imperial “gods” with Justin’s “idols” tallies with such thinking as that which lies behind Justin’s earlier statement that non-Christ­ians “called [sc. evil demons] gods,”11 which “gods” the Christ­ians denied and because of which the Christ­ians were called “atheists,” a title that Justin confessed that Christ­ians accepted “so far as gods of this sort [were] concerned, but not with respect to the most true God.”12 In Lyons in 177 there was further anti-Christian activity. There an arrested Christian of the name of Vettius Epagathus unsuccessfully sought to be granted a public hearing where he might put the case that Christ­ians were innocent of the charges of atheism and impiety.13 Another arrested Christian, Attalus, burning as he was fastening to the brazen seat of the amphitheater’s pyre, in effect, roasted as a piece of meat on the grill of a barbecue, cried out to the watching crowds, “Look. What you are doing [sc. to me] is cannibalism. We Christ­ians are not cannibals, nor do we perform any other sinful act.”14 Also arrested were some non-Christ­ians servants of certain Christian households. Terrified lest they themselves might be subjected to the very torture that they saw their Christian owners suffering, and acting at the instigation of some soldiers, they “falsely accused the Christ­ians of Oedipean marriages and of being those who dined in the manner of Thyestes.”15

It would therefore seem that the charges, both of atheism and of being partakers in Thyestean feasts and Oedipean intercourse, were levelled—in the former case, explicitly, and in the latter two cases, at least implicitly—against Christ­ians over much of the second century who lived as far afield as in the provinces of Asia and of Bithynia, and of Pontus in the East, in Rome, and in the province of Gaul in the West. Of these charges that of atheism seems to be the most frequently mentioned. This may be because the references to this charge, the penalty for which was death, appear mainly in Christian literature, for whose readers, to use the later language of Tertullian, the blood of the martyrs was the seed of the church.16 It may also be because, in comparison with any punishment inflicted by the empire on those found guilty of acts of cannibalism and adultery, the penalty imposed on those found guilty of denying the gods of the imperial cults was savage and irrevocable. All the charges falsely levelled against Christ­ians, if not fairly and properly addressed, led, Christ­ians noted, to miscarriages of justice. However, of all these charges, the charge of atheism, when not fairly and properly addressed, led to an irreversible miscarriage of injustice. It, of all the charges, therefore especially cried out for an apology.

That said, it is yet understandable why the second-century Apologists did attend to the, in some sense, less serious charges of cannibalism and incest. Not to state that Christ­ians did not engage in cannibalism would have allowed people to think that the violent killing of another person—of which not just cannibalism but also the exposure of unwanted infants and the trading in humans for gladiatorial shows were examples—was of little or no concern; and not to maintain that Christ­ians did not participate in incest would have permitted people to believe that vows of fidelity, in this particular case those between family members, and, by extension, those between a married couple and the one God who had instituted the honorable estate of marriage, were but matters of indifference. Indeed, the issue of indifference was then an important issue. For Christ­ians then were being challenged to define and justify their commitment to the contingent world of time and matter, a challenge that, in relation to such matters as cannibalism and incest, called for a clear understanding of how to behave daily, in a godly way, in relation to one’s neighbor and relative. That challenge, indeed, came from not only wider society but also certain gnostic Christ­ians who were not without teachers who “taught that to taste meat offered to idols and to renounce without reservation the [Christian] faith in times of persecution were matters of indifference.”17 It therefore followed that for the Apologists not to defend Christ­ians against the charges of being cannibals and of participating in incest potentially would not only have allowed for the misrepresenting what was, in fact, the case when it came to Christian behavior, but also have given ground to those who would have been morally lax in their treatment of fellow creatures and casual in their relationship with the Creator of all. What then seems to have been, in the eyes of some gnostic Christ­ians, matters of indifference were, in the eyes of the mid-to-late second-century Apologists, anything but such. A robust apology therefore was not an option; it was demanded, even as a robust definition and justification of a proper and godly commitment to the contingent world of time and matter were.

More often than not the thinking of these second-century Apologists has been examined in terms of tracing the gradual development—or, for some, the evolution—over the early centuries of the doctrine of God. So, for example, J. N. D. Kelly treated the Apologists’s thinking regarding “the Word” and “the Trinity” under the general title of The divine triad;18 and A. Grillmeier explored the Logos doctrine of the Apologists in his book, Christ in Christ­ian Tradition,19 in a section entitled “The Foundation of Christology as Speculative Theology and the Emergence of Hellenism.” More recently, Helen Rhee, in her book Early Christian Literature: Christ and Culture in the Second and Third Centuries,20 has examined the many literary forms that early Christ­ians used to confirm their self-identity within a wider and, at times, hostile Greco-Roman society. In comparison with the works of such scholars as Kelly, Grillmeier, and Rhee, this book concentrates on exploring the early Apologists’s various responses to the charges often brought against the mid-to-late second-century Christ­ians. It examines the theological and moral themes that inhabit the arguments of the several Apologies. It assumes that any absence of uniformity in the arguments of the Apologists is consequential upon both the different contexts in which the several Apologists found themselves and the variety of the arguments that they felt appropriate to advance. So, this book notes, for example, that the Letter to Diognetus was written less as a defense of Christianity and more as a response to questions raised by Diognetus regarding the Christian faith. It recognizes that Tatian, a convert from a mystery cult to Christianity, writing with all the vehemence of a convert, highlighted the errors of the world that he had forsaken. It acknowledges that a person like Athenagoras found himself writing in a quasi-forensic manner. Having named three specific charges brought against Christ­ians, namely, those of atheism, cannibalism, and incest, Athenagoras then proceeded to “meet each charge separately.”21 Alongside such variety this book points out that there is also a variety of ways in which the several Apologists then sought to persuade their different audiences. Theophilos, for example, to suit the Hellenistic and Jewish roots of his reader, the bookish Autolycus, drew his defense almost exclusively from texts from the Decalogue and the Gospel according to Matthew. Justin, in dialogue with the Jew Trypho, relied heavily on the Hebrew Scriptures. Yet, when Justin engaged with the wider audience of mid-to-late second-century Rome, for whom texts from the Hebrew Scriptures were not authoritative, he drew the attention of his readers both to descriptions of how Christ­ians lived righteously and to examples of how the moral codes of different Hellenistic cities were inconsistent, and so mutually undermining. Athenagoras, meanwhile, drew widely on the resources of Hellenistic poets and philosophers to expose the errors of his critics and to highlight the truth of Christian beliefs and the innocence of a Christian lifestyle.

Given this variegation between the several writers, their contexts, audiences, and arguments, this book then further assumes that making comparisons between this and that Apologist and building a sense of theological development or evolution in thought from one Apologist to another is hazardous.

This book further aims to draw the reader’s attention to any missional aspects in the writings of the different Apologists. It is argued that, in addition to (i) mounting defenses against what the Apologists saw as false charges and to (ii) maintaining that Christ­ians were a help, and not a hindrance, to establishing and preserving the empire’s peace and well-being, the Apologists were also concerned that (iii) their writings might be instruments by which those who as yet did not trust fully and wholly in the One whom they believed to be the only, true God might be brought to such a trust. So, descriptions of the Christian lifestyle were penned, not just to allow the readers to conclude that Christ­ians were innocent of charges of immorality but also to allow reflective non-Christ­ians to turn from all ungodly practices and to turn to walking in the ways of the one and only holy God. For some of these Apologists, such was their urgent sense of the need to prompt the conversion of Christianity’s critics that they did not flinch from warning of the dire and eternal punishment to be meted out in the End-time to those who were still inimical towards both God and God’s creatures. Indeed, not to issue such warnings was considered “beyond the pale.” In short, the concern of a number of these mid-to-late second-century Apologists was the well-being of not only Christ­ians falsely accused but also those who falsely accused Christ­ians.

1. Athenagoras, Plea, 1.3.

2. Dio Cassius, Epitome, 67.14. This literary evidence does not, however, prove that Flavius Clemens was a Christian, and, although Christian tradition counted Flavia Domitilla a Christian, the evidence for her being so is not clear. What is clear is that, from c.150 onwards, Christ­ians built a cemetery on land that once had belonged to Flavia Domitilla.

3. Pliny, Letters, 10.96. See also Letters, 10.97.

4. Pliny, Letters, 10.96.

5. Pliny, Letters, 10.96.7.

6. Pliny, Letters, 10.96.7.

7. The Martyrdom of Polycarp, 3.2.

8. The Martyrdom of Polycarp, 9.2.

9. Justin, Apology, 2.2.

10. Martyrdom of Justin and His Companions, 4.

11. Justin, Apology, 1.5.

12. Justin, Apology, 1.6.

13. The Letter of the Churches of Lyons and Vienne, 9.

14. The Letter of the Churches of Lyons and Vienne, 52.

15. The Letter of the Churches of Lyons and Vienne, 14.

16. Tertullian, Apology, 50.

17. So Basilides, fl.140, taught. See Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History 4.7.7.

18. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrine, 95.

19. Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition, 106.

20. Rhee focuses on Apologies, Apocryphal Acts, and Martyr Acts.

21. Athenagoras, Plea, 3.1—4.1.