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The following story comes from the book The Making of the Magdalen by Katherine Ludwig Jansen (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2000), pp. 204-05. [The only thing you have to know is that Mary Magdalen (the women who cried at Christ’s feet and wiped his feet with her hair) was the most common example of a repentant sinner in medieval preaching].
There was some danger, however, in using penitents as models of comportment. Ludovicus, a Franciscan preacher, seems to have encountered such a difficulty. In the text of his Mary Magdalen sermon, he reports that there was always the possibility that obstinate parishioners, when asked why they had fallen into sin, would retort, “Don’t the saints sin?” But the good friar anticipated the reply and circumvented the difficulty by citing an exemplum [example of their penitence]. Saint Ambrose, it seems, had rebuked a certain emperor for having asked, “Didn’t David sin?” “If you have followed him erring,” replied the saint, “also follow him practicing penance.” The emperor was duly impressed: “Pricked by conscience, he converted immediately to penance.”
Forgotten Empire: The World of Ancient Persia, eds. John Curtis and Nigel Tallis. Berkeley Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2005.
**The following material comes from pages 14-17 of the above cited work.
Artaexerxes II (below): “A plaque from Achaemenid times depicting … Artaxerxes II (404-359 BC ) being faced with the figure of goddess Anahita who is dpeicted as riding a lion – in the background (of Anahita) is the clear depiction of the sun.” (HT: KavehFarrokh.com)
Artaxerxes II’s reign is the last stable reign that did not end in an assassination. Between civil wars, assassinations of kings, and alliances among the Greeks, the tide of Persian dominance over the Mediterranean would begin to subside. Although Artaxerxes II would overcome the civil war that marked the beginning of his reign as well as the strap revolts toward the end of his reign, and would go on to have the forty six years of power as the sole ruler of the largest Empire in the world, he would be the last of the ancient Persian kings to enjoy such stability.
His son, Artaxerxes III (359/8—338 BC), would control the Empire for a considerable twenty years, even gaining back control of Egypt and putting down a revolt at Sidon in Phoenicia. A little over ten years after this accomplishment, however, he would suffer the fate of assassination by a eunuch named Bagoas who at first appointed one of Artaxerxes III’s sons to the throne (Artaxerxes IV, 338—336 BC). After a meager two short years on the throne, however, Bagoas changed his mind, removed him from power, and promoted Artashata under the respected name Darius (Darius III, 336 BC—330 BC).
If Artaxerxes III’s reign was less than half that of his father (who enjoyed the longest reign of all the Ancient Kings in Persia), his son suffered a much worse fate, and illustrates the point I made in my last post about how fragile these dynasties became during times of power transition. Whoever controlled the armed forces controlled the Empire, and dynastic successions only worked when those succeeding the throne were successful in military relations and battle.
Darius III did not fair much better than Artaxerxes IV. Egypt revolted again during his reign. He was assassinated after only six years on the throne (330 BC) by his close relations. Considering that Alexander took control of Egypt just two years later (332 BC) it has been commonplace to assume that the Persian Empire was by that time in full decline, but in reality the situation was much more complicated. When Darius III’s imperial military reserves faced the Macedonian army at Granicus their navy was undeniably superior—even though, for some strange reason, they did not oppose the Macedonian landings.
Finally, however, in 333 B.C., Alexander defeated the Persians at Issus and in 331 B.C. the Macedonians defeated the King’s troops in Upper Mesopotamia (Gaugamela). The conflict appears to betray the reality that although the Persian empire had almost an inexauhstable amount of reserves of soldiers and funds for war, the Macedonians were better at military tactics and war strategy. It was only after Alexander won the loyalty of the satraps in the Western empire that Darius III’s chances of maintaining control were hindered. Defections only occurred little by little as Alexander won the loyalty of the satraps whose lands he conquered one by one (first the governor of Sardis, then the governor of Damascus). When the satrap Mazaeus struck a deal with Alexander in exchange for the post of satrap of Babylon his example was followed by the satrap of Susa, then by the commanders of Persepolis and Pasargadae.
Through this kind of political maneuvering, Alexander was able to finally put the Persian rule on the defense. Even then, however, the Persian king Darius III had an impressive amount of satraps and strategists all ready to serve him and many of the places Alexander conquered put up stubborn resistance in loyalty to the Persian king (e.g. Tyre & Gaza).
Whilst the Greek and Latin texts like to testify to the triumphal entry of Alexander into Egypt and Babylon, and to explain that the populations were delighted to be rid of their Persian oppressors, the situation was not like this in reality. In the course of his conquests, Alexander faithfully adopted the strategy followed by the Achaemenid kings since Cyrus: to make alliances with the local elites, to recognize the position and the privileges which they enjoyed in their own countries, and to respect their sanctuaries, gods and local cults. … In other words, the reception which Alexander received in various cities does not reflect how the people felt about Achaemenid domination. … Alexander decided very early (from the capture of Sardis in 334 B.C.) to propose to the Iranian nobility that they work with him and in collaboration with the Greeks and the Macedonians. (17)
After 330 B.C. when Darius III was assassinated, Alexander presented himself as the avenger of Darius and re-established the borders of the Persians at Syr Darya in the north and the Indus in the east before imposing imperial domination on the Persian gulf.
With this in mind, the true end of the Achaemenid imperial ideal should be dated not to 330 B.C. but to 323 B.C. when Alexander died: after this fighting broke out between the Diadochi (the Successors), which eventually led to the creation of competing and hostile kingdoms (the Hellenistic kingdoms), instead of the united empire created by Cyrus and his successors, and then revived by Alexander. (17)
Dale T. Irvin & Scott W. Sunquist, History of the World Christian Movement, Vol 1: Earliest Christianity to 1453. Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 2006, pp. 234-41.
Muhammad (570-632 C.E.)
Born into the ruling tribe of Quraysh in Arabia (a tribe that claimed to trace its lineage to Ishmael) and after traveling with his uncle Abu Talib on caravans and being exposed to various forms of paganism and idolatry (while his business was prospering), Muhammad began to receive direct revelations from the angel Gabriel in 610 C.E. that he would begin to preach and that would also eventually become the content of the Qur’an. The basic message was a call to turn away from paganism and idolatry and begin to worship the one true God of Abraham, who was Allah.
When his message was seen as a threat, he fled Mecca (once seeking refuge in Ethiopia, and once in Medina) and gathered political and military support to defend the Muslim religion, a move that culminated in a new monotheistic political state that would spread far beyond the Arabian desert over the next century. Since the revelations Muhammad received instructed him to exterminate polytheism and idolatry, he forced the people to either worship the one true God or face extinction (his policy, however was to spare monotheistic Jews, Christians, Zoroastrians and Sabeans).
In addition to the five pillars of Islam (reciting the shahada, seven prayers a day facing Mecca instead of Jerusalem, almsgiving, fasting from sunup to sundown in the month of Ramadan, and making a pilgrimage to Mecca during one’s lifetime), Muhammad also engaged in polemics against the central Christian beliefs about God (that Jesus was God, that Jesus was crucified, that God has a son, that God is three persons, etc.). Therefore, although Muhammad did not execute Christians automatically but granted them the status of dhimmi (“protected people”) and let them practice their religion, he forced a heavy tax on Christian communities, forbid them from proselytizing (sharing their faith), and began the slow process of taking over much of the previously Christian “worship space” (e.g. building mosques that dominated the cultural landscape in previously Christian dominated areas).
Muhammad’s aggressive promotion of Islam and his political success enabled him to unite Arabia and set a precedence of expansion that would lead to the first ever great historical decline of Christianity.
Dale T. Irvin & Scott W. Sunquist, History of the World Christian Movement, Vol 1: Earliest Christianity to 1453. Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 2006, pp. 234-41.
Charlemagne (reigned from 768-814 C.E.)
Forcing entire peoples to either undergo Christian baptism or face execution and establishing capital punishment for worship of any traditional gods, failing to baptize one’s children, cremating the dead, or even eating meat during Lent, Charlemagne’s rule was excessively brutal (at one point he had four thousand Saxon prisoners of war executed) and was the first full-scale use of military force and violence to compel peoples to convert to Christianity.
Ruling from his capital Aachen (in modern Belgium), at the height of Charlemagne’s power, he ruled the majority of modern France, Germany, Austria, and Hungary (all the way to the Balkans) and eventually took on many of the trappings of Roman imperial identity. Even the Islamic caliph Harun al-Rashid (best remembered for his role in “1001 Arabian Nights”) responded to news of Charlemagne’s enthronement by sending a gift!
The rule of Charlemagne ushered a period known as the Carolingian Renaissance in the West in which Charlemagne encouraged schools and a steady flow of Latin texts into his capital, invited the best theologians in the West to come to his capital, and issued a series of General Directives intended to address a number of social reforms (for example, the legal status of marriage put an end to polygamy even in the aristocracy and forbade priests to marry, he enforced the exclusive use of the Rule of Benedict, secured the caliph’s permission to build a monastery in Jerusalem, endorsed and forced the filioque phrase to be used in the Latin versions of the Nicene Creed recited in the churches to the displeasure of the Pope Leo III, etc.).
Charlemagne’s legacy lived on beyond his kingdom and long after the Carolingian line of kings (which came to an end in 911 C.E.) and set a precedent, one that Christian rulers would emulate in the centuries to come.
64 C.E.—The Burning of Rome—When Nero blamed Christians for the burning of Rome in 64 C.E., he incited the first imperial persecution of Christians and set the tone for imperial relations with Christians for future Roman Emperors. The Neronian Persecutions were followed by four major waves of imperial persecution (under Septimius Severus’s reign from 193-211 C.E., under the reign of Decius beginning in 250 C.E., under the emperor Valerian beginning in 258 C.E., and under the reign of Diocletian beginning in 303 C.E). Ironically, such persecution aided church growth after the waves died down because of the courage that Christians showed in the face of violence.
70 C.E.—The Fall of Jerusalem—The fall of Jerusalem—especially the destruction of the Jewish Temple—that ended the First Jewish-Roman War would drastically alter Judaism by removing one of its two pillars (Temple & Torah). This event would be seen as a vindication for Christians because many of them interpreted the event as punishment on the Jews for rejecting Jesus as their Messiah in according with prophecies attributed to Jesus by early gospel writers.
313 C.E.—The Edict of Milan—Following Constantine’s vision before the decisive battle of his campaign in 312 C.E. against Maxentius (who controlled Italy and North Africa after the division of the empire by Diocletian known as the tetrarchy or “rule of four”), Constantine decided to join forces with Licinius (the emperor in the east). Together they issued the Edict of Milan in 313 C.E., granting freedom of religious practice to Christians and ending the early waves of imperial persecution but also marking the beginning of imperial intervention into the controversies of the Christian church.
325 C.E.—The Council of Nicaea—In response to Arian’s teaching that the Son was not eternal (a teaching received from Lucian, bishop of Antioch, who was executed under the emperor Constantine in 324 C.E.)—“there was a time when the Son was not”—a council was called to meet in Nicaea (a summer resort near the emperor’s court in Nicomedia) and presided over by the emperor Constantine. Arius’ teachings were decisively condemned and Constantine himself is credited for introducing the word homoousios (“same substance”) to describe the relationship between the Father and the Son, and followed Tertullian who first used the term trinitas for God and described it as three persons of one substance. The view of God endorsed by this council would be considered by many as the touchstone orthodox Christian doctrine and lead to centuries of persecutions between followers of Arius and followers of the Nicene Creed.
367 C.E.—Deciding the Canon—After Christians had over two hundred years to respond to the challenge of Marcion’s proposed canon (144 C.E.), Athanasius writes a letter in which he commends a certain list of books to be the authoritative body of literature for Christians. Not only was Athanasius’ letter the first time the word “canon” is applied to such a list, but his proposed list eventually became accepted by most Christians and remains today the widely accepted content of the Christian canon—the New Testament.
451 C.E.—The Council of Chalcedon—Questions left unanswered by the Council of Nicaea about how the human Jesus could also be considered God led to the condemnation of Apollinaris (forerunner of one-nature Monophysitism) by the Council of Constantinople in 381 and Nestorius (who supposedly separated the two natures of Christ) at the council of Ephesus in 431. This controversy culminated at the Council of Chalcedon in 451 C.E. where Eutyches (exponent of Monophysitism) was also condemned and the explanation of Leo’s Tome, which posited Christ’s having two united natures (divine and human, each of whose characteristics were distinct), was endorsed. The decision of the council would become known as “The Chalcedonian Definition,” and the relationship of Christ’s natures as delineated by this council would be called a hypostatic union. This decision would lead to centuries of persecution for non-Chalcedonian Christians.
589 C.E.—The Third Council of Toledo—After many years of pressure from Catholic Franks on the Arian Visigoth kings of Spain, when the Visigoth king, Reccared, converted to the Catholic faith in 587 C.E. he called together the Third Council of Toledo of 589 C.E. in which anathemas were pronounced against Arianism afresh. Unfortunately, however, while reaffirming the Nicene Creed, the council took the liberty to endorse the view that the Spirit proceeded from both the Father and the Son (a view later strongly endorsed by theologian Isidore of Seville in the Fourth Council of Toledo in 633 C.E.). Since by inserting this word filioque (“and the Son”) the Western church had tampered with the Nicene creed and endorsed a view not shared by the Eastern churches without an ecumenical council, this fueled the already existing tensions between the Eastern and Western churches culminating in The Great Schism of 1054.
610 C.E.—The Rise of Islam—610 C.E. would mark the year that Muhammad would begin to receive direct revelations from the angel Gabriel who told him to “recite” the very words (Qur’an means “to recite”) that would comprise the Qur’an. The result of Muhammad’s preaching a message of submission (Islam means “to submit”) to only one God (Allah means “God”), along with an organized military force that reduced Christians to the humble status of dhimmi communities, eventually led to a succession of Islamic Dynasties ruled by Caliph’s (“deputies” or “successors”) encompassing nearly half of the previously Christian world by the year 750 C.E., stretching from the Indus River in the East to Spain in the West.
800 C.E.—The Coronation of Charlemagne—Following the example of his grandfather Charles Martel and his father Pepin who formed alliances with the pope’s of Rome, by the time Charlemagne went to Rome to strengthen connections with the Pope he had (by his success against the Saxon’s to his north and east, the Spanish to his west, and the Lombards to his south) become the ruler of much of Europe. The crowning of Charlemagne as the new Augustus (evoking the majesty of the old Roman Empire) on Christmas day of 800 C.E. by Pope Leo III illustrates how the wake of the expansion of Islam turned the attention of the popes from the East to the North for political alliance (realizing that the emperor in the East could not necessarily secure Europe against Islam), signaled the papal willingness to give up on the ideals of a Mediterranean centered Empire and look for a similar Empire in the North, and helped lay the foundations for shaping the vitality of Christian existence in Europe for almost 800 years that would become known as “Christendom.”
1054 C.E.—The Great Schism —When the Normans took Leo IX captive for seeking alliance with the Eastern Emperor and Leo sent three envoys to Constantinople led by Cardinal Humbert to pursue negotiations, the fierce debate between these envoys and the Eastern theologians over longstanding political, cultural, and theological differences led Humbert to charge the Greeks with an assortment of heresies and draw up a bull of excommunication against Patriarch Cerularius. The patriarch responded by excommunicating the papal legates, illustrating the great distance that had developed in the Latin and Greek traditions over the past seven centuries that would be intensified by this mutual excommunication and even moreso by the sack of Constantinople by western crusaders in 1204.
Mark A. Noll, Turning Points: Decisive Moments in the History of Christianity, second ed. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Academic, 2007.
Dale T. Irvin & Scott W. Sunquist, History of the World Christian Movement, Vol. 1: Earliest Christianity to 1453. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2006.
Earle E. Cairns, Christianity Through the Centuries: A History of the Christian Church, 3rd ed. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan Publishing, 1996.
Justo L. Gonzalez, The Story of Christianity, Vol. 1: The Early Church to the Dawn of the Reformation. New York, NY: HarperCollins Publishers, 1984.
In my class at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary on Contemporary Theology, Dr. Wellum taught us that the Postliberal approach to theology, while trying to overcome the flaws of Classic Liberal Theology, unwittingly falls into the same “trap” of Liberal starting points and thus still basically undermines biblical authority. However, Father Barron’s critique of Classic Liberal Theology is much the same as Wellum’s. It is difficult to see exactly how Barron’s approach fits the critique of Dr. Wellum. Barron appears to accept the full weight of biblical authority in his quest for a Postliberal theology.
Robert Barron, The Priority of Christ: Toward a Postliberal Catholicism. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Brazos Press, 2007.
Barron’s argument for the epistemic priority of Jesus Christ consists largely in his claim that the characteristically modern approaches he considers in his book are inconsistent with what Paul says in Colossians 1:16,17: “in him all things in heaven and on earth were created … in him all things hold together” (133). For Barron, the implication of this verse has an epistemic dimension: “Jesus cannot be measured by a criterion outside of himself or viewed from a perspective higher than himself … as one object among many” (135). This argument seems to be his starting point for the development of all subsequent arguments in his book. It appears to carry the most weight because it virtually accuses all distinctly modern approaches of being impious—replacing the centrality of Christ with something else. I will refer to this aspect of his argument as “the charge of epistemic impiety.” This argument contains the theme after which his book is named—the “priority” of Christ turns out to be an “epistemic priority” (136).
A good example of how this argument plays out can be found in Barron’s critique of the method of knowing exemplified by Descartes. Rather than building his knowledge of the objective world based upon the epistemic ultimacy of Christ, Descartes built his knowledge upon the authority of the cogito, and thereby (according to Barron) “brought all claims to knowledge before the bar of the self-validating ego for adjudication” (137). This is not a mere intellectual mistake, as Barron’s charge of epistemic impiety implies, for in this way of knowing, “the subject’s humility in the presence of the perfect reality seems a bit strained, a false piety” (137). This argument carries more ethical weight because it goes beyond his arguments about the incoherency of foundationalism—that is, its incompatibility with itself and naïve presumption of neutrality (141). Barron’s criticism of Tillich is very similar. Although it might seem that the dialectic nature of Tillich’s method of correlation protects it from the charge of epistemic impiety since prima fascia it holds the two ends of the dialogue in a tension of equality, in the end, “it is still Christ who is fitted to the subject” because the subject is the one who “shapes the conversation” (143). Furthermore, because of the “debilitas of the human mind” (151), we tend to ask the wrong questions anyway (144).