The heretics of America’s Christian Nationalist movement are quick to claim that they are being persecuted when they are not allowed to persecute others. Would that they knew real persecution!
Though actual persecution of early Christians in the Roman empire was sporadic before Constantine legalized the faith in 313 C.E., violent persecution was very real at times. So we have the seven surviving letters from Bishop Ignatius of Antioch, traditionally believed to have been a follower of the disciple John. The letters were written to supporters after his arrest in the year 110. Like Paul, a Roman citizen, Ignatius was sent to Rome to stand trial and face possible execution. Along the way, he discouraged any attempts to free him or to pursue his acquittal. In one letter, he writes: “I would rather that you fawn on the beasts so that they may be my tomb and no scrap of my body be left.” He goes on. “Come fire, cross, battling with wild beasts, wrenching of bones, mangling of limbs, crushing of my whole body, cruel tortures of the devil – only let me get to Jesus Christ!”
In a few short years, there has been a dramatic shift, from Paul’s belief that the Second Coming would take place at any moment, God’s just and caring realm initiated on earth, to this glorification of martyrdom, this belief that martyrs for the faith would receive a special place in heaven. This echoes the Revelation to John of Patmos, written about fifteen years earlier and three decades after the death of Paul. John of Patmos, like Ignatius of Antioch, lived through a spasm of anti-Christian persecution, for John under the Roman Emperor Domitian, while Ignatius died during the reign of the better known Emperor Trajan.
The desire for martyrdom can also be found in the story of St. Christopher. Most know the bucolic bit, the gentle giant carrying travelers across the river, the child traveler who gets heavier and heavier that turns out to be Jesus in disguise. Few will remember the deeper legend, Christopher with the head of a dog from a tribe of cannibals, his faith that leads others to convert, his survival of multiple attempts to execute him, and his eventual embrace of martyrdom, with a final death toll of 201 soldiers, two prostitutes, a thousand or so citizens converted then martyred, and Christopher himself.
Many of you will know my own small cadre of admired saints, Bonhoeffer, King, Milk, and Romero, will know that each of them was murdered, and assume that I have a thing for martyrs, a fetish for holy death. I do not. I have a thing for courage.
And honestly, two of the men, Bonhoeffer and Romero, were nerdy scholars who found themselves in moments of crisis, while a third, Milk, while not a Christian, displayed selfless courage as a gay man and elected official, so I have an affinity for all three, being a nerd if not a scholar, gay, and unexpectedly, an elected official.
That only leaves King, and I don’t think I need to make a case for him as a saint of the 20th century.
It would be easy to conclude that dying for the faith is a glorious thing, which might have some merit if you believe in either a post-mortem existence or a God that only saves a select few. But I am not so sure about either of those things, and certainly don’t believe in eternal torment, as much as I’d like to nominate some candidates for a modern re-casting of Dante’s Inferno.
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