10
THE EARLY CHURCH IN A VIOLENT WORLD
WHY CARE ABOUT WHAT THE EARLY CHURCH DID?
One of the most sobering things about writing a book on violence is where I’m writing from. Here I am, locked up in the confines of a Southern Californian suburb with little real threat of violence, while millions of Christians around the globe suffer from daily perils. As I write this chapter, Palestinian militia have sent over a thousand rockets sailing across the Israeli hill country toward Jerusalem. Israel has retaliated by shelling the Gaza Strip, killing more than 150 people, mostly civilians. In Syria, a civil war wages on; nearly seventy thousand people have been killed, including over six thousand in the suburbs of Damascus. Thousands of Christians in Nigeria continue to be butchered by Muslim extremists. Nearly half a million women (and not a few men) have suffered sexual violence in the Democratic Republic of Congo, the so-called rape capital of the world. And here I sit in the suburb of Simi Valley, where I’ve never awoken to a hissing air-raid siren or a crazed militia busting down my door. As one of my friends joked, “It’s easy to be a pacifist in Indiana”—home of many Mennonite institutions. “Try living like that in Gaza.”
This is why the voice of the early church is so important. As we will see, the first Christians didn’t resort to violence, and they weren’t living in Indiana. The first three hundred years of the faith were stained with brutal persecution. Rome lacked no creativity when it came to torture: swords, torches, chains, and wild animals were unleashed upon stubborn Christians unwilling to give up their confession of faith. Crucifixion continued to be practiced, though disembowelment and dismemberment were popular too. From the second century onward, Christians were thrown into the ring with ferocious gladiators, who shed blood for an audience thirsty for violence. One Christian woman named Blandina was executed under Emperor Marcus Aurelius (the old guy who dies in the beginning of the movie Gladiator) and showed inexplicable zeal through the entire ordeal. After being nailed to a stake, she was taken down and scourged, gnashed by wild animals, sent to the “roasting seat,” then finally stuffed into a net and thrown before a bull that toyed with her a bit before mauling her to death. According to the historian Eusebius, she felt “none of the things which were happening to her, on account of her hope and firm hold upon what had been entrusted to her, and her communion with Christ.”1 Such was the fate of many enemy-loving Christians.
These believers weren’t living in some monastery in a desert, nor were they shielded from violence by walls of Indianan cornfields. They were writing about warfare and violence from the terrifying trenches of the Roman world. And if they weren’t put to the sword, they witnessed many who were. The prolific theologian Tertullian saw his own family members and fellow Christians tortured and killed. Origen, perhaps the most prestigious writer, was nearly tortured to death on “the rack” and saw his own father executed. Ignatius, the bishop of Antioch, was thrown to wild beasts in Rome. The famed Christian apologist Justin Martyr, was, well … martyred. Yet while Justin lived, he instructed believers to “pray on behalf of your enemies, love those who hate you,” because “we who used to kill each other” now do “not fight our enemies.”2 Early Christians wrote about violence with a sword on their necks.
But some of you might wonder: Didn’t these early Christians have all sorts of weird beliefs about Christianity? Why does it matter what they thought about violence?
Yes, it’s true that we shouldn’t agree with early Christians in everything they say. The Bible is our authority, and where members of the early church depart from the Bible, we go with the Bible. However, it would be naive to think that our beliefs come straight from the text with no historical filter. Many foundational doctrines, such as the Trinity, the deity and humanity of Christ, and even the decision over which books would make it into the New Testament were all hammered out by early-church leaders. Few of us would have formulated the doctrine of the Trinity (“God is one in essence but three in persons”) by reading the Bible on a desert island. We got that from Tertullian. Christ’s 100 percent deity and 100 percent humanity—a mathematical conundrum—was shaped by Athanasius. It took nearly three hundred years for early-church leaders to put together an official list of which books belong in the New Testament. So while these leaders weren’t inspired and don’t carry the same authority as the Bible, they do offer us an important perspective on various issues, including violence, that we can’t ignore. They were ardent students of Scripture, living in a time and culture not far from the New Testament itself. Their opinions aren’t authoritative but do matter, especially—and this is important—when there is diverse, widespread agreement on particular issues.
Here’s what I mean by “diverse” and “widespread.” When the church expanded in the first three hundred years, it settled down in various pockets of the Roman Empire. The church sprouted in places like Egypt and North Africa. It grew in Caesarea (Israel) and in Asia Minor (modern-day Turkey). And, of course, it was well established early on in Rome. During the years of persecution, there wasn’t much dialogue across these regions. Later, after AD 313 when the church was no longer persecuted, it would hold church councils in which leaders from all over the empire would gather at cities like Nicaea or Constantinople to hammer out what would become orthodox Christian beliefs. But before AD 313, such dialogue was more difficult. Therefore, the different pockets of the church often formed their own distinct views on certain issues. The leaders in Caesarea, for instance, practiced a different set of interpretive principles than the leaders in Egypt did. Christians in Rome accepted the book of Revelation as Scripture, while believers in Syria rejected it.
While the opinions of the early church aren’t authoritative, where there is widespread agreement across different regions, we should pay special attention to what they’re saying. Such “widespread” and “diverse” agreement would more likely be the result of a raw reading of Scripture, rather than some influence or bias that’s unique to a particular region.
So let me go ahead and let the cat out of the bag. This chapter will show that whenever early-church leaders discussed the issue, there was widespread and diverse agreement that Christians should never use violence; in particular, they should never kill. Leaders from North Africa, Egypt, Israel, Asia Minor, and Rome. They all agree. Christians should never kill. Not in self-defense. Not as capital punishment for the guilty. Not in a just war. Never.
But first, let me explain one thing about how I’m going to approach this chapter. Some readers may not know much about the early church, including its writers. So whenever I mention a name, I’ll put the dates of that person’s life in parentheses along with the region or city where he lived. For the sake of space, I’m not going to give many details about the context of the individual writers. But since the subject matter of the early church is a delicate one, I’ve included extensive documentation in the endnotes. You should know that there have been over a hundred books written in the last hundred years on the subject of early Christians and military service!3 So no matter how thorough I try to be here, I’ll only scratch the surface. I trust that my documentation in the endnotes will satisfy the scrutiny of those few readers who may be well versed in this sprawling discussion.
Also, by “early church,” I’m referring primarily to those Christians who lived before AD 313. This is the year when Emperor Constantine ended the persecution of Christians. In the wake of Constantine, Christianity became intertwined with the governance of the Roman Empire, and in AD 380 it became the official state religion. Needless to say, going from a persecuted religion to the only legitimate state-sponsored religion changed the church’s perspective on many issues.4 The period we’re looking at (pre-Constantine) reflects a time when there was a separation of church and state.
We’ll begin with an overview of the church’s perspective on killing. Is killing ever okay? Then, we will dive into the specific question about Christians in the military, since this was a live issue in the early church.
IS KILLING EVER OKAY?
Early Christian writers were divided on many issues, such as the mode of baptism, the role of women in leadership, and whether Christians should observe the Sabbath. But when it came to killing, their voices seemed to be unanimous: believers are prohibited from taking human life.
Several writers said this explicitly. Origen (184–253, Alexandria and Caesarea), for instance, said that Christ “nowhere teaches that it is right for his own disciples to offer violence to anyone, however wicked. For he did not deem it in keeping with the laws such as His to allow killing of any individual whatever.”5 Tertullian (160–220, Carthage) agreed that God prohibits “every sort of man-killing.”6 Cyprian (202–258, Carthage) argued that persecuted Christians “do not in turn assail their assailants, since it is not lawful for the innocent even to kill the guilty.”7
Athenagoras (ca. 133–190, Athens) went even further by saying that “we cannot endure to see someone be put to death, even justly.”8 The mere witnessing of someone being killed, even if he or she deserves it, is prohibited, because killing is wrong for Christians in principle. This point is crucial. It would be one thing to condemn bad types of killing such as murder, suicide, and abortion. And early Christians certainly do speak out against these.9 But the statements cited above condemn every sort of killing—even of the guilty—on the principle that killing is always wrong. Or in the words of Lactantius (250–325, Asia Minor):
When God forbids killing, he doesn’t just ban murder, which is not permitted under the law even; he is also forbidding to us to do certain things which are treated as lawful among men. A just man may not be a soldier, nor may he put anyone on a capital charge: whether you kill a man with a sword or a speech makes no difference, since killing itself is banned. In this commandment of God no exception at all should be made: killing a human being is always wrong because it is God’s will for man to be a sacred creature.10
Lactantius summed up what seems to be a universal view among early Christian writers whenever they discuss the topic. All types of killing, not just murderous killing, are wrong for Christians.11
Many other early writers agreed that killing is wrong for Christians, though their statements are more implicit than explicit. Arnobius of Sicca (253–330, modern Tunisia), for instance, criticized Rome’s worship of war and explained Christianity in nonviolent terms. Now, it’s not clear that Arnobius wrestled with the issue of Christians in the military. But while discussing war, he characterized Christians as those who “have learned from His [Jesus’s] teachings and His laws that it is not right to repay evil for evil.” Christians, argued Arnobius, should rather “pour forth one’s own blood rather than to stain our hands and conscience with the blood of another.”12 The widely read treatise called the Didache (80–120, Syria) begins with a series of moral instructions to newcomers in the faith, and the emphasis is clearly on Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 5–7). Believers are commanded to bless those who hate them, pray for their enemies, fast for their persecutors, love those who hate them, turn the other cheek, go the extra mile, and abstain from “bodily passions,” which in the context refers to revenge.
We already saw that Justin Martyr (100–165, Rome) contrasted our former violent nature with our peaceful, enemy-loving posture as Christians.13 Jesus’s command to “love your enemies” (Matt. 5:44) was quoted by ten different writers in twenty-eight different passages, making it the most cited passage by early Christian writers before Constantine.14 Loving one’s enemies was the ethical heartbeat of early Christianity. It’s what separated Christians from everyone else, according to Tertullian.15
But what about military service? If Christians served in the military, which they did, were they allowed to kill?
CAN CHRISTIANS IN THE MILITARY KILL?
No. Or at least, not according to the Christian writings we possess. In fact, whenever military service was discussed, believers were never encouraged to join. There was not a single Christian writer in the first three hundred years of Christianity who said that Christians should serve in Rome’s military.16
Tertullian, for instance, wrote an entire treatise forbidding military service among Christians.17 Such sentiment is found throughout his other writings.18 Origen too condemned military service whenever he addressed the subject. And Lactantius agreed, as seen in the previous quote: “A just man may not be a soldier.” Now, to be clear, there were Christians in the military before Constantine, and I’ll deal with this later. But as far as the opinion of early Christian writers goes, historian Alan Kreider was correct that “no Christian theologian before Constantine justified Christian participation in warfare.”19
But this actually doesn’t tell us too much. The main question is not whether the theologians permit military service. This much is clear. They condemn it. The question, though, is why? On what grounds, in other words, are Christians forbidden to join the military?
One reason is idolatry. The Roman military was inseparable from Roman religion; to serve one meant serving the other. It would have been virtually impossible to be a Christian soldier and not participate in idolatry. For instance, before embarking on a military campaign, soldiers would take part in various pagan rituals, including sacrificing sheep, bulls, and pigs to purify the army. Similar rituals dominated the postwar celebration. Throughout the legions, soldiers regularly burned incense and offered grain to local deities, and idolatrous symbols everywhere pervaded the camps.
It’s not that Christian soldiers couldn’t worship Jesus alongside other Roman gods. Well and good. But no soldier could worship a single deity (such as Jesus) without honoring the others. “[T]he totality of Roman army religion was an impressive system,” wrote one historian. “[It] would be impossible for any Christian in the army to avoid dealing with it in one way or another.”20
Christians were clearly forbidden to join the military on account of idolatry. This is indisputable. But idolatry wasn’t the only reason military service was forbidden. Christians weren’t allowed to join because, as we saw above, killing is wrong in principle. And several writers made this plain.
Lactantius, in the quote we read, said that “a just man may not be a soldier” and not because of idolatry. His reason was that “killing itself is banned” and “killing a human being is always wrong.”21 Tertullian spoke out most frequently against Christians joining the military and often appealed to idolatry as the main reason. But killing was another reason. In arguing whether “a believer can become a soldier,” he unambiguously said no: “The Lord, by taking away Peter’s sword”—referring to the incident in Gethsemane—“disarmed every soldier thereafter.” Then, in the very next statement, Tertullian said: “We are not allowed to wear any uniform that symbolizes a sinful act.” That “act” refers back to wielding a sword that Jesus took away. Military service is wrong because killing is wrong.22 Origen also, in a lengthy treatise, said that Christians are not to participate in war, even if they are just wars.23 His entire argument was governed by a rigorous defense of the nonviolent character of the Christian faith. Again, as Origen said earlier, Christians are prohibited from killing even the guilty.
The issue of killing was prohibited in every mention by early-church writers. Whenever the issue of military service and warfare was discussed, Christians were prohibited from participating. Nowhere in the written record in the first three hundred years of Christianity is killing ever justified. Not even for soldiers.
But let’s revisit Origen’s statement above about “just wars.” It’s interesting that Origen believed that there is such a thing as a “just war,” and yet he still prohibited Christians from participating. In one of his many treatises, Origen dialogued with a pagan named Celsus, who chided Christians for not fighting alongside their Roman brothers to defend the empire. If everyone did what you Christians do, argued Celsus, the whole empire would collapse! I often hear the same logic today, only not from pagans but from Christians. In any case, Celsus’s statement is interesting in itself because it implies that Christians on the whole were refraining from military service. Origen, however, disagreed with Celsus’s argument. He said that Christians were indeed fighting for Rome, not with weapons of warfare but with spiritual armament: prayers, fasting, and acts of piety. Origen went on to show that Rome’s own pagan priests were exempt from fighting. According to their own standards, there was a place for religious intervention apart from violence. Origen argued that Christians were doing the same. “Christians also should be fighting as priests and worshippers of God, keeping their right hands pure,” wrote Origen. In fact, “we who by our prayers destroy all demons which stir up wars … are of more help to the emperors than those who seem to be doing the fighting.”24 The power of prayer is stronger than the power of the sword.
Several early writers agreed with Origen. They saw a difference between just and unjust wars and considered it inevitable that the state would violently punish evildoers.25 But at the same time, these writers didn’t say that Christians should participate. This may sound like a double standard, but it all depends on your perspective. Paul says the same thing in Romans, where Christians are not to take vengeance (Rom. 12) even though the state can (Rom. 13). A similar point can be seen today with military chaplains. Even though they serve in the military, they aren’t allowed to carry guns. As one chaplain friend of mine said with an ironic grin, “A man of the cloth has no business with an instrument of bloodshed. That’s for nonclergy, the soldiers.” The military itself doesn’t see a double standard.
Origen and others saw wars as inevitable, yet still forbade Christians from participating.26 Just because there may be such a thing as a “just war” does not give Christians a license to participate.27 And the church fathers didn’t see this as a contradiction. Irenaeus (125–202, modern France) argued that God uses the state to violently punish evil, yet the church is to remain nonviolent.28 The state can punish enemies; the church must love them.
AN IVORY-TOWER MINORITY?
But is this aversion to killing and warfare really the opinion of common Christians, or just a few ivory-tower theologians whose writings have been preserved?
That’s a good question, one that’s been raised by several scholars. Peter Leithart, for instance, wondered whether Tertullian, Origen, and others actually represent the views of “the majority of Christians.” “What were local pastors saying?” inquired Leithart. “We simply cannot know.”29 In fact, as we will see, there was a growing number of Christians serving in the military, especially in the late third century. Clearly some Christians found military service compatible with their faith.
But do we really have no evidence of what pastors were teaching their congregants, as Leithart suggested? At least one document suggests otherwise. The document is a “church order” known as the Apostolic Tradition (ca. 250–300, Rome),30 which was an authoritative instruction manual that was probably used to guide leaders in church organization, liturgy, and various practices for Christian communities. In other words, Apostolic Tradition gives us some insight into life “on the ground,” as it were. And in this document, the issues of killing and military service are clearly linked:
A soldier in the sovereign’s army should not kill or if he is ordered to kill he should refuse. If he stops, so be it; otherwise, he should be excluded [from the church]. … One who has the power of the sword or the head of a city and wears red, let him stop or be excluded. A catechumen or a believer, if they want to be soldiers, let them be excluded because they distance themselves from God.31
Several things should be noted here. First, as I mentioned, this opinion represents what at least some local pastors were teaching. It wasn’t just the opinion of a few isolated intellectuals. Second, this manual says that believers cannot join the army on the grounds that killing—not just idolatry—is wrong. And if someone gets saved while in the military, he is never again to kill, even if given an order. Across the board, killing is forbidden. Third, Apostolic Tradition represents the views of Christians across various regions for at least two hundred years. In other words, it wasn’t written from some Amish-like island of the empire. Rather, “it was copied repeatedly, and altered by local churches to adapt it to immediate needs” and “remains one of the most informative texts about the life and worship of early Christian communities,” as one expert noted.32 This widespread influence is exhibited by the fact that Apostolic Tradition was copied into three different languages (Arabic, Ethiopic, and Sahidic) and formed the basis of several other church manuals.33 Leithart didn’t mention the Apostolic Tradition, but it offers a direct answer to his question about “what local pastors were saying” about killing in war. Some, at least, condemned it.34
CHRISTIANS IN THE MILITARY
Even though some theologians prohibited military service on the grounds that killing is wrong, there were still some Christians in the military. In fact, we can reach all the way back to the New Testament to find soldiers who became Christians. Matthew 8 records a centurion coming to faith. Another centurion named Cornelius becomes a believer in Acts 10. A Philippian jailor comes to Christ through Paul’s preaching in Acts 16. And when soldiers ask John the Baptist what they must do, he tells them to stop embezzling money but doesn’t tell them to leave the military or stop acting violently (Luke 3:14). It seems then that the New Testament is quite comfortable with Christians in the military, and it doesn’t explicitly prohibit soldiers from killing.
For hundreds of years, these stories about soldiers getting saved have been the main biblical arguments for just war theory, or for a Christian’s right to serve in the military.35 And there may be something to this. Even Richard Hays, a pacifist, said that these soldier passages “provide one possible legitimate basis for arguing that Christian discipleship does not necessarily preclude the exercise of violence in defense of social order or justice.”36
But we need to be careful not to force these stories to say more than they actually do. They tell us that the gospel reaches unlikely candidates: Gentile military men, who symbolize Roman oppression. But they don’t tell us what these converts did with their careers thereafter. Maybe they stayed in the military, or maybe they left. Maybe they continued to act violently, or maybe they didn’t. Either way, nothing in these passages suggests that Cornelius and others are exempt from loving their enemies and turning the other cheek simply because they are in the military. Such a view must be read into, not out of, the text.
In fact, as we saw above, serving in Rome’s military entails partaking in various idolatrous practices, and yet Peter doesn’t address the issue of idolatry when Cornelius gets converted. And as a centurion, Cornelius (as well as the centurion in Matt. 8) would not only be pressured to worship foreign gods, but also be responsible for leading various ceremonies on behalf of his cohort. As a centurion, Cornelius would essentially function as a pagan priest! True, Peter doesn’t forbid Cornelius to use violence. But neither does he forbid him to perform pagan duties. Because that’s not the point of the story. Acts 10 and other soldier-salvation passages highlight one basic point: the gospel pierces the hearts of unlikely people—even Roman military leaders.37 These passages simply don’t give us all the details about what these soldiers did after they got saved.
After the New Testament, we don’t have any record of Christians in the military until AD 173. This is the year that the so-called Thundering Legion was on the brink of dehydration until a group of Christian soldiers prayed for rain—a prayer that was miraculously answered. We’re not sure how many Christians there were, why they were in the military, or what specific military functions they served,38 but this incident marks the first time we hear of Christians in the military after the New Testament.
We are aware of a growing number of Christians serving in the military between AD 173 and 313 (Constantine’s edict to end persecution). Many of the authors who prohibited Christians from joining the military acknowledged at the same time that there were Christian soldiers. Tertullian, Origen, and others such as Clement of Alexandria (150–215, Egypt) and Dionysus of Alexandria (ca. 200–265, Egypt) all acknowledged that there were Christians in the military.39 We’re not sure how many there were, but by AD 303 there must have been a substantial number. That was the year when Emperor Diocletian initiated a persecution of Christians and began with those in the military. This only makes sense if there were quite a few Christian soldiers.
So how do we reconcile the widespread belief that killing and military service is wrong with the fact that there were Christians who served in the military?
Let me make three observations. First, clearly the opinion of the Christians writers (Tertullian, Origen, etc.) wasn’t shared by all Christians. In fact, since these writers had to argue that Christians shouldn’t join the military, this tells us that there were some who disagreed. (They must have been arguing against somebody!) So not every Christian held the same view of killing, even though all the theologians—as far as we can tell—did. The same disconnect exists in every age. Christian writers may condemn things like materialism and divorce, and yet common Christians often indulge in both.40 It’s interesting that during World War II, 30 percent of Mennonite men went off to war as both combatants and noncombatants—despite their thick pacifistic tradition.41 Christian theologians will say one thing, but this doesn’t necessarily mean that Christians in the pew will follow.
Second, even though we read about Christians in the military, we often don’t know if they were believers prior to joining or whether, like Cornelius, they got saved while in the military. Neither do we know how many Christians who got saved in the military ended up leaving, though we do read about several who did.42 We also don’t know whether Christian soldiers struggled with their occupation, or whether they had no problem with wielding the sword, let alone offering incense in pagan ceremonies. In other words, the same silence that surrounds soldiers getting saved in the New Testament also surrounds many early-church references to Christians in the military. We just don’t know why, or how, or how long, they served.
Third, and somewhat related, we don’t know whether Christians in the military were forced to use violence. Clearly some did. Julius “the Veteran” (d. AD 304, modern Bulgaria), for instance, boasted of serving in the army for twenty-seven years, which included “seven military campaigns.” By his own confession: “[I] never hid behind anyone nor was I the inferior of any man in battle.” No doubt, he must have shed some blood. Julius ended up leaving the military on the grounds that he wouldn’t offer sacrifices to the gods; killing doesn’t seem to have been the issue. And it’s likely that there were other Christians soldiers like Julius, who didn’t see a problem with killing for Rome.
However, even though Julius wielded the sword throughout his service, not everyone in Rome’s military did. In fact, one expert historian said that a Roman soldier could have spent his entire career without striking a blow, except perhaps in a bar fight with his peers!43 Another historian noted that “once the soldier had been trained, he could look forward to a life which would be spent mainly in conditions of peace.” He went on to say, “Many soldiers may never have been called upon to take part in a campaign.”44 Some military personnel served in what amounted to an office job.45 Although every soldier had to be willing to fight, many never needed to. If a Christian served in the heart of the empire, for instance, he was much less likely to wield violence, compared to a soldier stationed on the edge of the empire.
Now, we have no clear evidence that Christians took only office jobs in the military. I’m showing only that Christians could have served without having to kill. Clearly some did kill. But perhaps others didn’t. Maybe this is why in the Apostolic Tradition (that early-church manual) Christians were allowed to be soldiers as long as they didn’t kill. Such allowance makes sense only if one could actually serve without killing.46 Put simply, the presence of Christians in the military doesn’t mean that they all disagreed with Tertullian that God prohibits “every sort of man-killing.”
Despite the presence of Christians in the military, it is clear that no single Christian writer before Constantine sanctioned the use of violence, not even toward bad guys. Christian soldiers were not exempt (though not everyone listened). Whenever the issue of violence, killing, warfare, or joining the military was discussed, the voices of all extant early Christian writings were in agreement: Christians are never to kill.
So what happened after Constantine? Did a largely nonviolent church turn violent?
AFTER CONSTANTINE
We won’t go into all the details, but it is true that Augustine (354–430, North Africa), Ambrose (330–397, Italy), and many other post-Constantinian theologians said that Christians may participate in just wars and kill under certain circumstances. However, even this position, though dominant, was not universal. Basil of Caesarea (330–379, Caesarea), for instance, said that Christians who killed in war should be excluded from taking Communion for three years.47 Clearly, he had reservations toward bloodshed. Two different church manuals, the Canons of Hippolytus (336–340, Egypt) and Testament of Our Lord (400s, various regions), both prohibit Christian soldiers from killing—and they were used long after Constantine. Another fifth-century church order prohibits a soldier from becoming a Christian unless he “leaves his robbery and violence … otherwise, he shall be rejected.”48
Two other leaders, Sulpicius Severus (363–425, modern France) and Paulinus of Nola (354–431, Italy), expressed “certain hostility to military service,” and they did this “long after the danger of idolatry had been removed.”49 In a letter to Boniface (Roman general and governor), Augustine had to persuade him that Christians could be soldiers: “Do not think that it is impossible for anyone to please God while engaged in active military service.”50 If Augustine’s views were universally acknowledged, there would be no need to argue it. Augustine himself, the so-called father of just war theory, showed less zeal toward warfare and violence in his later years than in his earlier writings. Whereas he used to celebrate it as part of a well-ordered society, he later saw it as an unfortunate, though necessary, evil.51
Much more could be said about the post-Constantinian years. Clearly, the dominant view among Christian writers after AD 313 was that Christians could be soldiers and that killing was allowed under certain circumstances. But this certainly wasn’t the only position. There were at least some who were much more reluctant, maintaining the widespread pre-Constantinian position that Christians should not kill under any circumstances.
THE BOTTOM LINE
Early-church writers, living in various parts of the empire, all agreed: Christians should not kill. These writers didn’t just condemn immoral killing (abortion, murder, etc.), but all types of killing. Most of these same writers didn’t think Christians should serve in the military. But even those who allowed converted soldiers to remain in the service instructed them not to kill. This is because early Christians believed that enemy-love is the hallmark of Christianity. You can mock us. You can torture us. You can even throw us to wild beasts. But we will still love our enemies and pray for our persecutors.
And the church increased. Without the sword, the church spread. With no religious freedom, the church grew—like a mustard seed—shouldered by the stiff, persistent enemy-love of martyred saints.
The early church’s view on this issue is not authoritative. Only the Bible is. Perhaps the widespread, diverse view of early Christian writers is wrong. All of them wrong. But their view should cause us to think about, perhaps question, why we believe what we believe about warfare and violence. When early Christian writers lived with a clear separation between church and state—the kingdom of Christ and the kingdom of Caesar—they didn’t see killing for Rome (or killing for any reason) as compatible with enemy-love. “I do not recognize the empire of this world,” said one early Christian named Speratus. “I acknowledge my Lord who is the emperor of kings and of all nations.”52 There are two kingdoms: the kingdom of Rome and the kingdom of Christ. Early Christians, like Speratus, chose the kingdom of Christ. Speratus refused to give his allegiance to Rome.
But when church and state became one, and the wars of Rome were waged under the banner of the cross, nonviolence became a minority view. I cannot help but think that this shift in perspective was due in part to the radical political and religious changes in the wake of Constantine’s ascension—when nationalism became entangled with the Christian faith.
Speratus, by the way, “conquered” Rome in AD 180. That’s the year he was martyred.
NOTES
1. Eusebius, Hist. Eccl. V.1.41–55. For a general description of Roman torture practices in the first century, see Seneca, Ep. 14.4–6, and the brief overview in George Kalantzis, Caesar and the Lamb (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2012), 25–34.
2. Justin Martyr, First Apology 1.14.3; 1.39; Kalantzis, Caesar and the Lamb, 54–55.
3. Some of the most extensive works on the subject include C. J. Cadoux, Early Christian Attitudes to War (London: Headley, 1919; reprint, New York: Seabury, 1982); Adolf von Harnack, Militia Christi, trans. David M. Gracie (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1981); Louis J. Swift, The Early Fathers on War and Military Service (Wilmington, DE: Michael Glazier, 1983). For this chapter, I’ll interact with the more recent works by John Helgeland, “Christians and the Roman Army A.D. 173–337,” Church History 43.2 (1974): 149–63, 200; Peter J. Leithart, Defending Constantine (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2010); Ronald J. Sider (ed.), The Early Church on Killing (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2012); Kalantzis, Caesar and the Lamb.
4. Exactly how much changed is debated. And I agree with Peter Leithart, who in his fine book Defending Constantine argued that there is a lot of misunderstanding about this “Constantinian shift.”
5. Origen, Against Celsus 3.7 (from Sider).
6. Tertullian, Spec. 2.
7. Cyprian, Letter 56.
8. Plea on behalf of Christians (or Legatio), 35. He defended himself against the charge of cannibalism by saying that to cannibalize they would have to first kill.
9. See Sider, Early Church on Killing.
10. Lactantius, Divine Institutes, 6.20.15–17, quoted in Kalantzis, Caesar and the Lamb, 53.
11. After Constantine’s conversion, Lactantius seemed to change his view considerably.
12. Arnobius, Against the Pagans, 1.6.
13. See especially Justin Martyr, First Apology 1.14.3; 1.15.9; 1.16.4; 1.39.3.
14. Didache 1.2; Second Clement 13; Justin Martyr, First Apology 14–16, Trypho 85, 96; Irenaeus, Against Heresies 2.32, 3.18, 4.13; Athenagoras, Plea 1, 11; Clement of Alexandria, Educator 3.12, Exhortation 10, Miscellanies 4.8; Tertullian, Apology 31, 37, Spectacles 16, Patience 6, 8, Marcion 4.16, Scapula 1; Origen, Celsus 7.58–61, 8.35, Commentary on John; Cyprian, Jews 3.49, Patience 16; Lactantius, Divine Institutes 5.10.
15. Tertullian, Scap. 1.3.
16. There are some disputed passages, however. Tertullian, for instance, acknowledged that there were Christians everywhere in the empire, including the “fortresses” and “the very camps,” pointing to Christians in the military (Apol. 37). But does this mean that he was okay with this? Not necessarily. In the same passage, Tertullian argued that Christians love their enemies, don’t retaliate, and “willingly yield ourselves to the sword.” And elsewhere in his writings, Tertullian condemned “every sort of man-killing,” as we have seen. So it seems that Tertullian was here acknowledging the presence of Christians in the military without necessarily sanctioning violence. The same goes for his statement in Apol. 42: “We sail with you, and fight with you, and till the ground with you.” While some see this as Tertullian’s support of Christians in the military (e.g., Helgeland, “Christians and the Roman Army,” 151), this seems to go beyond what Tertullian said. He acknowledged only that there were Christians in the military, but was silent on whether he approved or disapproved of this. Elsewhere, he clearly condemned it. The same went for Clement of Alexandria, who in several treatises acknowledged that Christians are in the military (Exhortation to the Greeks, 10; cf. Educator, 2.12–13). In his Exhortation to the Greeks, 10, he even told Christians in the military to “listen to the commander, who orders what is right.” But who did he refer to as “the commander”? This could refer to the military commander, or it could refer to Christ—the Commander—as he wrote elsewhere (cf. Educator, 1.8). Either way, Clement went on to remind these Christians to obey God’s commandments: “‘Thou shalt not kill’ and ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself; to him who strikes thee on the cheek, present also the other’” (Exhortation, 10). In one treatise, Clement distinguished between just and unjust killing in war (Resurrection, 16). But he was not talking about Christians here. Finally, some have taken Origen’s distinction between just and unjust wars as proof that Christians can fight in just wars. But as seen in other authors above, whenever Origen made this distinction, he was talking about non-Christians, not Christians (Celsus, 2.30; 4.9; 7.26; see David Hunter, “Decade of Research on Early Christians and Military Service,” Religious Studies Review 18, no. 2 (1992): 87–94, [88]). Origen never said that it was okay for Christians to fight in Rome’s wars, no matter how just they may be.
17. Tertullian, The Crown.
18. Tertullian, On Idolatry.
19. Alan Kreider, “Military Service in the Church Orders,” Journal of Religious Ethics 31 (2003): 415–42 (431).
20. John Helgeland, Robert J. Daly, and J. Patout Burns, Christians and the Military (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1985), 54, cited in Kalantzis, Caesar and the Lamb, 50–51.
21. Lactantius, Divine Institutes, 6.20.15–17, quoted in Kalantzis, Caesar and the Lamb, 53.
22. David Hunter, who is not a pacifist, says that “it seems likely that aversion to killing was included in Tertullian’s comment” (“Decade of Research on Early Christians and Military Service,” 88).
23. Origen, Against Celsum 8.73; see also 4.82; 7.26; similarly, Arnobius, Pagans 1.6; 2.1. Origen even said that it’s okay to kill a tyrant but didn’t allow Christians to do the killing (Against Celsum, 1.1).
24. Origen, Against Celsum 8.73.
25. E.g., Cyprian, Mort. 2; Ireneus Adv. Hers. 5.24; Adamantius, Dialogue on the True Faith 1.10.
26. See the discussion in Hunter, “Decade of Research on Early Christians and Military Service,” 88; Kalantzis, Caesar and the Lamb, 42–43, 54–55.
27. In Against Celsus 2.30, Origen affirmed that some wars are necessary, yet explicitly forbade Christians from participating, since Jesus did not permit them “to take vengeance even upon their enemies.”
28. Irenaeus, Adv. Hers. 5.24; cf. 2.32; 4.34.
29. Leithart, Defending Constantine, 261.
30. For more information about this document, see Paul F. Bradshaw et al. The Apostolic Tradition (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2002).
31. Apos. Trad. c 16. I’ve quoted from the Arabic version. The Sahidic version is similar, and the Ethiopic version is even stricter, banning not just soldiers who kill, but all soldiers in the military: “They are not to accept soldiers of an official.” All three versions prohibit a Christian from joining the military. For the different versions, see Bradshaw et al., Apostolic Tradition, 88–90; cf. Kreider, “Military Service in the Church Orders,” 419.
32. Kreider, “Military Service in the Church Orders,” 20.
33. Canons of Hippolytus, Testament of Our Lord, and Apostolic Constitutions. The first two reflect the nonviolent teaching of Apostolic Tradition, while the latter document diverges from it.
34. See Kreider, “Military Service in the Church Orders,” 431.
35. This argument can be seen as early as Augustine.
36. Richard Hays, The Moral Vision of the New Testament, 335–336; however, he went on to say that “their military background is no more commended by these stories than are the occupations of other converts, such as tax collectors and prostitutes” (340).
37. Kalantzis, Caesar and the Lamb, 66–68.
38. “In fact, much of Roman military service consisted of what might be called police and civil service functions—firefighting, mail delivery, accounting, messenger services, general administration, custody of prisoners, public transport and road maintenance, and so forth” (Daniel M. Bell Jr., Just War as Christian Discipleship [Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos, 2009], 25).
39. Clement of Alexandria, Exhortation 10; Educator 2.12; Miscellanies 4.14; Tertullian, Apology 42; esp. Apology 37; Crown 1.11; Dionysius of Alexandria, quoted in Eusebius’s Ecclesiastical History, 7.11; Origen, Commentary on 1 Corinthians on 1 Cor. 9:11.
40. Sider, Early Church on Killing, 194.
41. Kreider, “Military Service,” 433.
42. Herbert Musurillo, ed. and trans., Acts of Christian Martyrs, Oxford Early Christian Texts (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972).
43. Ramsay MacMullen, Enemies of the Roman Order (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1966), 255–68; idem., Solder, p. v.
44. G. R. Watson, The Roman Soldier (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1985), 143.
45. See note 38 above.
46. Tertullian seemed to assume this when he instructed converted soldiers to refrain from killing, to love their neighbor, and to turn the other cheek (Exhortation to the Greeks, 10.100; 10.108).
47. Basil of Caesarea, Ep. 188.13.
48. From a variant of the Apostolic Constitution known as the Alexandrine Sinodos, quoted in Kreider, “Military Service in the Church Orders,” 429.
49. Hunter, “A Decade of Research on Early Christians and Military Service,” 89; Swift, The Early Fathers on War and Military Service, 149–54.
50. Augustine, Letter 189, http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/1102189.htm.
51. Augustine still advocated for the need for just wars throughout all his writings. But in his later writings, he saw war as a horrible necessity, rather than something to be celebrated. See R. A. Markus, “Saint Augustine’s Views on the ‘Just War,’” in The Church and War, vol. 20., ed. W. J. Sheils, Studies in Church History (Oxford: Published for the Ecclesiastical History Society by Basil Blackwell, 1983), 1–13.
52. This story can be found in “The Passion of the Scillitan Martyrs,” Early Christian Writings, http://www.earlychristianwritings.com/scillitan.html.