Christianity from the first three centuries might be the most instructive about how to live out Christian faith today
“Any religion is, by definition, crazy to a non-believer.”
That aphorism was coined by Jeffrey Weiss,
formerly a religion reporter at the Dallas Morning News.
Dubbed Weiss’ law, it explains how weird other
religions can look to people who are not a part of those faiths—things that
people inside those belief systems view as completely normal.
I thought about Weiss’ law while perusing Larry
Hurtado’s most recent book, Destroyer
of the gods: Early Christian Distinctiveness in the Roman World.
Hurtado,
a professor at the University of Manitoba from 1978-96, writes in the book that
what we consider normal Christian belief and practice today was once viewed as strange
and subversive in the first three centuries—the time before Constantine made Christianity
legal and acceptable in the Roman Empire.
Or,
as he put it, it was a time when there were features of early Christianity “that made it
distinctive, odd, even dangerous in the eyes of some of that time.”
Back
then, the Romans considered the new Christian faith not only weird, but also repugnant.
“There
is a group, hated for their abominations, called Christians,” wrote the
historian Tacticus.
Added
another historian, Suetonius: “The Christians are a class of men given to a new
and wicked superstition.”
Said
a third, Lucian: “The poor wretches have convinced themselves they are going to
be immortal and live for all time.”
And
what were these superstitions and abominations? The idea that a man could die
and rise from the dead, of course.
The
practice of the Eucharist also caused concern—to the Romans, eating Christ’s flesh
and blood sounded like cannibalism.
But
there were other reasons, too. Christianity was seen as a threat to the state.
By refusing to acknowledge the primacy of the emperor, as adherents of other
religions did, Christians appeared disloyal and threatened the stability and
legitimacy of the Roman Empire.
The
new faith also upended behavioural norms. Christians were expected to live by
high moral standards—men, for example, were required to be faithful to their
wives at a time when it was widely accepted they could have one or more
mistresses.
Another
radical idea was how Christianity based its identity not on ethnicity or
nationality but on a shared religious belief. As well, the new faith elevated the role of women, and rejected the practice of child
brides and the killing of baby girls.
The
result was that life for the earliest Christians was very difficult—including
persecution and death. And even without that, “becoming a Christian held no social or economic
advantage,” writes Hurtado.
“Those who wanted to aspire for upward social mobility
would have been advised to give Christianity a pass,” he adds.
For Hurtado, Christians
today might do well to learn how the church before Constantine engaged the
world.
“Christianity
is no longer the socially dominant force that it once was,” he wrote. “Christians
are again one kind of religiousness among many others. So, actually, it
may well be those Christians and texts of the first three centuries that will
be the most instructive about how to live out Christian faith in these
circumstances.”
Sometimes I
wonder: What would it look like today if Christians around the world put their
faith first, before their nation?
What if they
all practiced unconditional and non-judgmental love for any and all who cross
their path?
If they lived
by the highest ethical norms?
If they actively
celebrated and promoted women as leaders?
If they were
once again considered dangerous and subversive by the state?
I don’t know
about you, but that would just be weird.
From the June 10 Winnipeg Free Press.
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