Faith in the Fire
Pray also for kings, and potentates, and princes, and for those that persecute and hate you, and for the enemies of the cross, that your fruit may be manifest to all, and that ye may be perfect in Him.
Polycarp, The Epistle of Polycarp to the Philippians
There are approximately eleven thousand stadiums in the world that host events ranging from soccer matches to baseball games to rock concerts.1 Gathering in stadiums is an ancient practice, with the oldest known stadium being the one in Olympia, Greece. Built nearly eight hundred years before Christ, the stadium held the first Olympic Games. Fifty thousand people could gather in one place to experience the excitement of athletic competition.
In ancient times however, stadiums were used for other, less pleasant events.
The man standing in the stadium on a fateful day in AD 155 was no athlete. His days of physical prowess were long gone. In his mid-eighties, Polycarp seemed a pathetic figure: aged, bent, gray-haired. Few in the first century lived as long as this bishop of Smyrna in western Turkey (now modern Izmir). Crowds filled the seating area of the local stadium and gazed upon this man, who was well-known to them. Polycarp had led the church in Smyrna for decades and he was known as a man of prayer and faithfulness, admirable qualities in another time and place. There, under Roman rule and with waves of persecution growing by the day, being a well-known Christian was unhealthy.
Later artists would depict this ancient church leader as thin, balding, and with narrow, sharp features. Sharpest of all were his wit and courage.
Ancient historian Eusebius gives the details of the story in his church history.2
Polycarp had been brought to the stadium for his refusal to sprinkle incense on a fire and say, “Caesar is Lord.” People did it all the time. Three short words that had no meaning to most of the day. These words, however, meant a great deal to the aged bishop and he refused to follow the law of the land.
Over the years, a belief had spread among the Romans, a belief that Caesar’s spirit was divine—that he was, on some level, a god. To polytheistic Greeks and Romans who were comfortable with the idea of many gods, one more made no difference. To Christians it made a great deal of difference. It was a line drawn in the sand they could not cross.
Eusebius wrote about the torture many early Christians endured in that part of Turkey, describing a type of scourging that stripped the flesh from the body, exposing nerves, blood vessels, and muscle tissue. Those who survived the whipping were forced to lay their raw flesh on broken sea shells. Many were thrown to starved, wild beasts. Polycarp was aware of what awaited those who defied the orders of Rome—what awaited him.
A Threshold Leader
Polycarp was a threshold man, one of the last church leaders who could say he had studied at the feet of the apostles, especially John, the only apostle to live into old age. His personal relationship with those who walked with Christ gave him a special standing in the Christian community, and rightly so. It is possible that Revelation 2:8–11 was written to the Church of Smyrna while Polycarp was bishop. The passage mentions coming persecutions and ends with, “Be faithful until death, and I will give you the crown of life.”
Word had reached Polycarp and his supporters that he was a wanted man. His followers convinced him, against his personal inclination, to hide. They moved him from his home to a farm outside the city. Perhaps they felt his death would discourage Christians throughout the region. Smyrna was one of the major cities of Christendom, and what happened there echoed throughout the community of believers.
Those searching for him arrived at his home and, learning he was gone, tortured one of the servants until they learned of the old man’s whereabouts. Word of the event reached Polycarp, and his friends tried again to persuade him to flee to another place. He refused. He had spent the last few days praying, and one night had a vision of his pillow bursting into flame. This he took as a sign of his impending death. “The will of God be done,” was his final word on the matter.
Those who searched for him came to the farm and were greeted by Polycarp, who called for a meal to be prepared. He entertained his captors as guests and asked only for an hour of prayer before leaving.
Back in the city, Herod son of Nicetes, the captain of the police, tried to convince Polycarp to give in this once. “What harm is there in saying ‘Lord Caesar,’ sacrificing, and saving your life?”
“I am not going to do what you advise me.” Polycarp refused to be intimidated.
In the arena, the pastor stood in front of the crowds and before the proconsul Asiarch Philip. According to eyewitnesses, as he entered he heard a voice from heaven, saying, “Be strong, Polycarp, and play the man.”
In the stands a few Christians stood in support, but in the arena Polycarp was alone.
“Are you Polycarp?” the proconsul asked.
“I am.”
“Consider your age. Swear by the spirit of Caesar, repent, and say, ‘Away with the atheists.’”
In one of history’s great ironies, Romans considered Christians and Jews atheists because they refused to acknowledge Caesar as a god. It didn’t matter that Christians believed in God, it only mattered that they didn’t believe in Caesar.
Polycarp complied, but not as expected. He motioned to those who sat in judgment of him, to the crowd, and said, “Away with the atheists.”
The proconsul gave him another chance. “Swear and I will release you; revile Christ.”
“Fourscore and six years have I been serving him, and he has done me no wrong. How can I blaspheme my king who saved me?”
The government leader wouldn’t let up and again ordered Polycarp to renounce Christ and swear by Caesar.
Polycarp wouldn’t consider the demand. “Let me make this plain. I am a Christian. If you desire to learn Christian doctrine, then set a date to listen.”
The official said, “I will throw you to wild beasts.” This was not an idle threat. Christians had been mauled to death as punishment and as entertainment for the crowds.
“Call them. Turning from the better to embrace the worse is a change we cannot make; but it is noble to turn from wickedness to righteousness.”
The proconsul was as determined to turn Polycarp as the pastor was to turn him. “If you disregard the wild beasts, then I will cause you to be consumed by fire. Repent.”
The vision Polycarp had received before his arrest must have come to mind. He knew this was coming.
“You threaten me with a fire that burns for an hour and then is quenched. You know not the fire of eternal punishment that is reserved for the ungodly.” If Polycarp felt fear, he didn’t show it. “Why do you delay? Do what you will.”
Finally, the proconsul had the elderly pastor’s crime heralded to the people in the stands. “Polycarp has confessed that he is a Christian.”
The crowd turned again, calling for the release of the wild animals. But Philip the proconsul chose to have Polycarp burned alive instead.
Wood was gathered; a pyre was built. The eighty-six-year-old man watched hate-filled enemies set up his place of execution. He waited for the work to be finished, then removed his clothing. Some wanted to nail him to the stake in the middle of the pile so the old man couldn’t flee. Polycarp promised them that such precautions were unnecessary. “Leave me as I am. He who has given me strength to endure the fire will also grant me the ability to remain in the fire.”
They bound his hands behind his back while Polycarp prayed, thanking God for the honor to die for Christ.
They lit the fire and the flames rose—but they didn’t touch his skin. Instead sheets of flame billowed around him like sails on the mast of a ship. Polycarp seemed to change. Instead of his skin becoming charred, he looked like metal in a refinery. It’s difficult to tell from Eusebius’ account just what that means, but the witness took it to be something miraculous.
Polycarp would die at last, not by fire but by a sword shoved through the flame and into the bishop’s body.
A Short Letter
All that remains of Polycarp and his ministry is his short letter to the Philippians and the eyewitness testimony of his courage and death. The Epistle of Polycarp to the Philippians is a short book filled with reminders of what the apostles who came before him had said. Scholars consider it a “simple” work, not inspired or filled with new revelation. It is more a reminder note, calling to mind things Christians of the day already knew.
Nonetheless, the book is important. First, it shows the mind and heart of early church leaders. It also reveals how widely read the books of the New Testament were, and at such an early date. The full New Testament wouldn’t be recognized (canonized) for another two centuries. Polycarp quotes sixty or so passages, over thirty of which are from Paul, showing his familiarity with him and the other apostles.
Polycarp shaped the church by his reliance on the writings of the apostles, by his insistence on doctrinal purity, and most of all by the powerful testimony of his martyrdom. When offered his freedom he turned it down, choosing to die a horrible death rather than say or do anything that might detract from Christ or stain the faith he spent his long life defending. He exemplifies Christian courage under fire. His death still instills courage in believers two thousand years later.