Philippians 3:4b-14
Child actors don’t always make it very far into adulthood. For every Zendaya, there is a River Phoenix.
It seems to be especially bad for the boys, with overdoses and suicide taking the lives of so many. It is refreshing, then, to see Frankie Muniz driving around the track in Nascar’s D-league, and to see a heavily-bearded Haley Joel Osment still making a living acting.
Both appeared in a number of television series and films as boys, though it was Osment who was the most successful on the big screen, with his breakout role in M. Night Shyamalan’s “The Sixth Sense,” for which he received an Oscar nomination, and his turn as an android in Spielberg’s “A.I.” His co-stars over the years are a “who’s who” of the top actors at the turn of the century, Tom Hanks, Whoopi Goldberg, Bruce Willis, and of course, Chuck Norris.
Still, there is a whole other level when you are part of a leading trio that includes Michael Caine and Robert Duvall. Such was the case in 2003, with “Second Hand Lions,” about an awkward teen sent to live with eccentric and possibly rich uncles. I won’t offer any spoilers, but there is an actual lion involved, and the uncles do go to the “seed and feed” for bags of Lion Chow.
Now, I can’t find any reference to a real product called Lion Chow, but there are certainly stranger things in this world. Still, we know the preferred food for lions is Christians. Just spend ten minutes in the prevailing narrative about early Christianity, and there you are.
Sadly, Christians in America today are constantly persecuted. Can you imagine the horror of having someone say “Happy Holidays” right in your face? Or of having to use preferred pronouns?
So let’s spend a few minutes thinking about persecution and martyrs.
The first Christian martyr, someone killed for their faith in Jesus, was Stephen, as described in the Acts of the Apostles. But this was a mob egged on by Jewish factionalism, not an execution performed by the state.
The Roman Empire took in a vast number of cultures and religions. Everyone was expected to participate in the imperial cult, offering sacrifices to deified emperors. This was critical, because failure could result in divine wrath, crop failure and earthquakes. In fact, if there was an inexplicable disaster, and most disasters were inexplicable, there was always a search for the responsible party.
In addition to the imperial cult, there were a large number of other religions. The Romans tolerated these, as long as they were ancient. Most people practiced religious syncretism. They might sacrifice to a deified Augustus, then participate in the mysteries of Mithras, a major religion that had spread from the eastern end of the empire. Jews were an exception. They had a long history of refusing syncretism, of serving a God who demanded exclusivity. Their literature was filled with stories highlighting this fidelity, the faithful thrown into a furnace in Babylon. The authorities mostly tolerated this obstinancy.
Christians were originally just one more problematic group in the maelstrom of Jewish sectarianism. But after the First Jewish War in 70 C.E., it became clear that Christianity was a whole new and separate thing. Roman tolerance waned, and Christians often became scapegoats for ignorant mobs and prefects who were losing control of their jurisdiction.
One of the earliest documented persecution came before the Jewish War. Like despots in every age and place, Nero had plans to construct a massive complex in Rome, including a 30′ statue of himself. Inconveniently, people lived and did business where he wanted to build. On the night of July 18th in the year 64 C.E., a fire broke out in Rome. When we think of ancient Rome, we think of buildings like the Coliseum, the Pantheon, the remains of the Forum, but that is because those stone structures mostly survived. In reality, most of Rome was wood, and high winds drove the fire, which burned for seven days, then flared back up for three more. Ten of ancient Rome’s fourteen districts were damaged, and three were destroyed. People immediately began to suspect Nero, meaning he needed a scapegoat, and quick. He found that scapegoat in Rome’s Christians.
Persecution of Christians, sporadic and episodic, grew during the reign of Marcus Aurelius, better known for his “Meditations.” This was when Justin the Philosopher, a convert to Christianity, became Justin Martyr. The first widespread and systematic persecution did not begin until the reign of Decius in 250. The emperor had ordered everyone to offer a sacrifice to the Roman gods. Jews were exempted, as an ancient religio licita, or permitted religion, but Christians were not. Those who fulfilled the requirement received a certificate, called a libellus. We know that some Christians performed the sacrifice, some refused and were martyred, and some went into hiding. Persecution of Christians would continue for the next six decades, until Constantine issued the Edict of Milan, granting Christianity religio licitastatus.
A major schism would eventually develop as a result of this brief period of persecution. The Donatists argued that sacraments performed by those who had recanted under pressure did not count. In other words, the validity of sacramental grace depended on the purity of the priest. St. Augustine would be deeply involved in that theological conflict, and the Donatists eventually died out. Today, we recognize that the church, including the clergy, is a rag-tag band of saints and sinners, with some of us being a little bit of both.
Today, ancient texts embracing and even celebrating martyrdom might seem perverse. These were not folks dying heroically to save others, rushing into a burning building or fighting against an invading army.
Ignatius, Bishop of Antioch, writes to the Christians in Rome, insisting that they not intervene on his behalf, saying “Let me be fodder for wild beasts – that is how I can get to God.” In other words, Ignatius wants to be lion chow.
This all hinged on a series of beliefs. Remember, the gods sent that drought to punish someone. You just needed to figure out who that person was and punish them yourselves. This is the most primitive form of religion, purely transactional, with divine reward and punishment in this life, not unlike today’s Prosperity Gospel heresy. But folks started to notice it didn’t always work this way, that sometimes the good suffered and the wicked thrived. They decided that in order for the system to work, there must be some existence after death where ultimate reward and ultimate punishment would occur. This is what the martyrs believed. This is what Jesus believed. Ironically, the competing Jewish sect that shared this belief was the Pharisees.
Unfortunately, the promise of eternal reward and the threat of eternal punishment has all too often been misused by the powerful. The poor were to be content in their poverty, as they would be rich in heaven. We see this in Matthew’s version of the Beatitudes, in Luke’s story of poor Lazarus at the rich man’s gate, in the sale of indulgences by the medieval church, and in the lonely and elderly sending off for miracle water from some television charlatan.
But I’m agnostic about life after death, and I see neither spiritual nor evolutionary value in suffering purely for the sake of suffering. There are things I’d be willing to die for, but they better produce some real good, tangible effects, in this world, not some maybe next. I don’t need to find the holy and good in heaven when creation is already filled with holiness and goodness.
And if I believe that there is more than enough holiness and goodness in creation, then it is my job to share that holiness and goodness as widely as possible. Instead of Matthew’s Beatitude crowd hungering and thirsting for righteousness, I’ll focus on Luke’s folks who are just plain hungry.
And lest we think these are all obscure considerations from an ancient age, consider this: the moral complexity we experience around service members killed and wounded in disastrous and often misguided wars is an analog to this question. What did they die for? Justin Martyr. Ignatius of Antioch. Pat Tillman.
What will we live for?
Amen.