A Publication of the ORTHODOX CHRISTIAN LAITY
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| Volume 6 Number 16 - Tuesday, April 20th, 2004 |
A Publication of the ORTHODOX CHRISTIAN LAITY |
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The Last Pogrom Against Christianity
In the year 302 A. D. Diocletian had been emperor for 18 years, fending off rivals and subduing hostile tribes on the borders of the empire. Realizing that the empire was much too large for one man to rule by himself, he had established a tetrarchy, a governing structure with two emperors (Augusti) with Maximian as his co-emperor and two junior emperors (Caesars). One of the two junior emperors was Constantius, the father of the man who would be known in history as Constantine the Great—the first Christian emperor. But this was still in the future. In 302, young Constantine was a 30-year-old officer in Diocletian’s personal guard. The other junior emperor was Galerius. He is a protagonist in our story, because he was the one who started the move to unleash another persecution of the Christians. In spite of occasional persecutions in the past, the Christian religion was thriving, attracting not only the poor or the uneducated, but also men and women of education and social standing. At the same time, they were attracting the attention of pagan intellectuals and philosophers. One of them, Celsus, in a serious and well-argued treatise had written that "by elevating the founder of their superstition to divine status, the Christians had set up a rival entity to the supreme Deity that watched over the prosperity of the empire and protected the emperor. Under those conditions," Celsus went on, "there is nothing to prevent the abandonment and the desertion of the emperor." Another philosopher, Porphyrius, writing during the reign of Diocletian, argued that the Christians’ total rejection of the traditional gods threatened to weaken everything that held the pagan society together. Arguments such as these could easily alarm superstitious men vested with imperial authority. Traditionally, the Roman Empire was tolerant of the different pagan religions. They even tolerated the Jewish religion because it was ancient. Christianity was not only a relatively new religion, but it was also one that rejected the pagan gods as demons. Beyond the religious aspect, what eventually turned Diocletian against the Christians was their insistence to stay spiritually apart from the rest of the people. This did not sit well with his idea of a well-run, centrally controlled state. Nevertheless, Diocletian was not eager to launch another persecution.
Christians were like a “poisonous weed” It was Galerius who first raised the issue in the summer of 302. The Christians, he argued, were offending all good citizens by treating the traditional gods with contempt. Even in the army, the Christians refused to participate in the traditional sacrifices to the gods, to the annoyance of the other soldiers. What was even worse and more dangerous was that disrespect to the gods was the first step toward disrespect to the emperor, which in turn was the gateway to treason. Diocletian listened to Galerius, but did not rush to action. As was his custom, he tested the waters. In September 302, he visited several garrisons and frontier towns in the Balkans on a inspection tour. He used the opportunity to ask military commanders, civilian administrators and local notables what they thought of the Christians. Many military commanders agreed that the Christians were good soldiers, obeying orders and keeping their religious beliefs to themselves. The only complaint they had against the Christians was that they stayed away from public sacrifices to the gods, and that this practice certainly bothered most of the other soldiers. Other officials told the emperor that the Christians were like a poisonous weed spreading across the empire. "Their numbers are growing," they said. "The army is full of them, and so is the civil list [bureaucracy]. Christian businessmen control commerce and are behind the constant rise of prices. Christian landowners "contribute from their wealth to the coffers of this sect, and with the money they collect their priests can be very dangerous because the Christians’ first loyalty is to a crucified Jew they address as Dominus [lord], claiming that he came back from the dead." The last argument seems to have made the strongest impression on Diocletian. For him, the first and foremost loyalty of every Roman citizen was to the emperor and to Rome. No other loyalty could be higher because then, a rival authority could emerge, more dangerous than the rivals he had to destroy in his path. Lactantius, certainly not a friend of Diocletian, writes that the emperor was still uncertain as to what to do. He asked for oracles, he consulted learned men like Porphyrius, he held meetings. In the end, Diocletian gave in, "but he remained firm on the point that all should be done without shedding blood," pointing out that "those people have the habit of marching voluntarily to their deaths. So the threat of punishment by death does not seem to scare them." The authorities should not help them become martyrs. Diocletian consulted the pagan priests "on the most favorable day to launch the projected action" and they suggested the feast of the Terminalia on the 23 of February. On that day, the prefect of Nicomedia accompanied by military officers and soldiers and officials of the Treasury [Fiscus} came early in the morning to the church the Christians had built in the main square, across from the imperial palace. While Diocletian and Galerius—who had come from Thessaloniki for the event— watched the scene from the palace, the soldiers broke down the main entrance and entered the church building where they found the holy books and other religious objects. They carried them outside to the middle of the square and set them on fire. Galerius wanted burn the church to the ground, but Diocletian prudently objected, saying that the fire might spread through the town and cause a catastrophe. Instead, a battering ram was brought by the soldiers, By the end of the day, all that remained of the church was a pile of broken beams, crashed benches, stones and tiles. The next day, the imperial decree was posted by soldiers on a pillar in the square, while copies were dispatched by couriers to all the cities in the eastern part of the empire. Maximian and Constantius had already been told about the projected action and were now asked to implement the decree within their domains. The persecution that many Christians feared but few believed would ever happen again was now an ugly reality. Under the decree, church buildings were to be demolished, the holy scriptures surrendered and publicly burned, the sacred vessels (many in gold) "seized by the Fiscus." The Christians were no longer allowed to gather and worship their God. Officials and dignitaries who refused to sacrifice to the traditional gods would be removed from their posts, deprived of all honors and distinctions. All Christians could face torture as punishment for their refusal to sacrifice. Besides, Christians no longer had the right to take someone to court and seek justice if they were the victim of assault or theft. At least, under the Edict no one would be condemned to death for refusing to sacrifice. Apparently, Diocletian hoped that these measures would be enough to break up the tentacles of the "poisonous weed" and convince the Christians "to come to their senses and abandon their silly superstitions." It was an empty hope. Since a Christian believed that dying for Christ would bring him eternal life, many would seek death, even insulting the emperor when taken to court, and being condemned as much for their religious beliefs as for their insolence. The next day, a young Christian by the name Euethius went to the square and tore down the parchment of the edict and trampled it on the ground shouting "Here are your Gothic and Sarmatian triumphs" referring sarcastically to Diocletian’s titles "Gothicus" and "Sarmaticus" bestowed on him for his military victories over those tribes. He was immediately arrested and taken to a judicial magistrate. "Is this all true?" the magistrate asked. "Yes," the young man replied. "You admit that you insulted the sacred person of the Augustus?" "For me, only the person of Christ is sacred." "If I condemn you, it will not be for your religion, it will be for your insolent act against the emperor." "I insulted the emperor only because he insulted my Lord and Savior. If you kill me, you will not give me death but life eternal. I pity you." "You are an idiot, but the law does not exempt idiots from just punishment... Take him away. Torture and then burn him on the stake." Diocletian was furious when the story was reported to him. He did not want any blood. All he wanted was to make life difficult for the Christians so that they would give up their beliefs. For the first weeks after the publication of the Edict, few were forced to sacrifice and no other Christian was put to death. Some churches were demolished and some priests were taken to prison for refusing to sacrifice or surrender their holy books and sacred vessels. Many were flogged as part of their punishment. The worst part was the incarceration in filthy, rat-infested dungeons. The situation changed a few weeks later when a fire broke out in the imperial palace. Diocletian, Galerius and their families they had to flee to safety in the middle of the night. It was daylight by the time the fire died out. The wing of the bedchamber and the family quarters was a mess of blackened walls, charred furniture, collapsed ceilings. Without any proof, Galerius accused the Christians of setting the fire. Whatever the real cause, the fire was the last straw for Diocletian. He had tried to be lenient and in return those fanatics had attempted to burn him and his family alive. In the next few weeks, he sent angry messages to the provincial governors ordering them to break up the Christian sect. Torture and executions were to be used without hesitation. "Burn the godless at the stake because once the body is consumed by the flames nothing will be left for resurrection and eternal life," he wrote on the advice of Hierocles, the rabid anti-Christian governor of Bithynia. A second Edict came out in June, less than four months after the first. The target now was the Christian clergy. All bishops, presbyters, and deacons were to be arrested and thrown into prison unless they surrendered their holy books and sacred vessels and offered sacrifice to the gods. The filthy dungeons that were built to hold murderers were now filled with Christian clergy. Conditions in the crowded cells were abominable. Rats were biting at the feet of prisoners, stealing the meager food the jailers were giving them. The stench of human excrement and urine was suffocating. There was hardly space for a man to sit, let alone lay down at night. And every day more were arrested. Before long, several governors sent urgent messages reporting to the emperor "we have no room for criminals any more. Murderers walk free..." Even Hierocles, the governor of Bithynia, wrote a report decrying the overcrowding of the prisons. In September, just before he left for Rome to celebrate his Vicennalia [twenty years on the throne]. Diocletian issued a third edict. He presented it as a gesture of clemency and benevolence, and the opening paragraphs seemed to order the release of the prisoners. But there was one condition. To walk out of the prison, all one had to do was sacrifice to the gods. Those who refused would be tortured until they either changed their minds or died. Either way the prisons would be emptied. It was a "clever" scheme, probably suggested by Hierocles. The stories we find in the ancient sources come mostly from Christian writers and may be over-dramatized. Still, the fact remains that many thousands met a horrible death. We have no reliable figures as to the number of those Christians who died during the last persecution. It is estimated that approximately five million out of the one hundred million inhabitants of the Roman Empire at the time of Diocletian were Christians. Most of them lived in the eastern part of the empire. Several thousands were clergymen. Of these many refused to obey and died under torture. Others, unable to stand the excruciating pain gave in and committed the cardinal sin of sacrificing to the pagan gods.
In the end, the
persecution solidified Christian conviction about
their religion. Constantine who witnessed the
persecution from the vantage point of an officer
of the imperial guard—and who had the rare
privilege of access to the emperor as the son of
Constantius—was deeply impressed by the devotion
of those Christians who faced torture and death
without fear. Even more important for his
political thinking, he realized that tens of
thousands of people throughout the empire were
united in a strong, elaborate organization, with a
common faith. Ten years later, at the Milvian
bridge on the Tiber river outside of Rome,
Constantine would embrace this "Christian sect"
and transform the "poisonous weed" Diocletian had
tried to eradicate into the connecting link of his
own imperial power—and in so doing, change the
course of human history. |
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