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Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Assyria, a short story about Assyrian religion.

Recently did a paper on ancient Assyrian religion and had to write a short creative writing piece on it as well. Here's the creative writing bit:


The knife glinted in the sunlight as it hung suspended in space. The hand wrapped around the hilt was stained crimson, the fingers locked in an unshakable grip. Dirt and a few stray animal hairs clung to the skin held fast by the drying blood. Dormara brought the knife down with a tremendous force, burying it deep into the thick neck of the ox. The billowing of the beast fell on ears that were all too accustomed to the sound. At first the clamor had been eerie and more than a few new priests had their nerves shaken. However, years of the ritual sacrifices had dulled the impact. The ropes holding the animal quivered and stretched, threatening to break underneath the weight of their captive. Only twice in Dormara’s three years of service had an animal broken free from its bonds. Both times had resulted in a gruesomely violent affair as the bleeding animal limbered off in an attempt to escape the priest. The oxen never really got too far before they bled out. But instead of the blood being somewhat collected and confined to one space it was spattered around the stone temple walls and floor creating a macabre scene.
            Dormara finished the ox with a swift upward motion as he severed the spinal cord. The animal shook as it gave up the last ounces of strength before letting out one last breath. The whole process had taken less than a minute, but it was a minute that was painted in red droplets on the bottom of Dormara’s cloak, steadily becoming greater as they descended and finally pooling at his feet. In another matter of minutes he had swiftly gutted the animal and removed the entrails, placing the heap in a large clay bowl that was resting on the floor a few feet away. The first five minutes after death were vital to divination.
At Dormara’s command, one of the guards at the door left to bring the king to the sacrificial courtyard. Dormara closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. It wasn’t necessary for the priests to wait for the king’s presence before starting their ritualistic worship. His mind drained of thought, opening the door for the gods to enter. His hands lifted in an upward motion, palms up and open to offer up his sacrifice and receive instruction. His lips moved in a whispered prayer.
            “Oh, great Ninurta, hear our prayer. Show us the path and light the way for our feet. We need your direction”.
            He finished his prayer with an incantation that had been handed down through generations of priests. His eyes opened and he squinted at the bloody mass of bodily organs that lay before him. As he inspected the stomach he noticed a full belly of wheat and oats. This animal had been well fed and healthy. His probing hand shifted through the pile and his trained eyes darted about, seeking a sign. As he came across the intestine he noticed it had been stretched. Gluttony. This animal had dined well, truly the gods were smiling down. His hand dug deeper searching, searching, searching for another sign to present to the king. His fingers wrapped around something warm and firm. What was this? He lifted his treasure and his eyes widened in surprise. A fetus! This ox had been in the first month of pregnancy. It was rare that a sacrifice was pregnant, but it was an exceptional sign that the gods were favoring the nation.
            The king strode in, his long robes gently swishing along the sunbaked and bloody stone. His height made Dormara’s short stature seem even shorter. Two guards flanked each side, their swords concealed within the folds of their cloaks.
            “Greetings, Oh King Sennacherib. All praise and honor to you for your generous rule over the nation. You are worthy of worship,” Dormara spouted forth the typical Assyrian greeting.
            “Yes, well? What way do the gods direct us to go?”
            “Here, I will show you.” Dormara motioned for the king to approach the altar where he had set aside the full stomach and stretched intestine. Hoping to surprise and gain the favor of the king, he had kept the fetus hidden in the clay pot along with the rest of the discarded organs. Dormara gave him a rundown of his discoveries.
            “As you can see, oh king, we have a fine and full stomach here, albeit it doesn’t smell very appetizing. The oats and the vegetation that fill this animal’s stomach signify a blessing from the gods. They have given us permission to proceed with the conquest as planned.”
            “Mmm. Yes, I see. Very good, priest. Very good.” Sennacherib’s tan brow furrowed as his eyes roved over the altar.
            “Next, oh king, we have an intestine from this ox. Notice the stretching here and here,” Dormara pointed them out. “These signify success from the gods. The conflict will be one of success and all nations on earth will come to fear you through your military prowess.”
            “Good, good, yes, I see.” The king nodded his head and muttered agreement as the priest explained the importance of the two bits of entrails. For the past several months, Sennacherib had been planning an intensive and concentrated invasion of the nation of Israel. Israel controlled some of the best portions of the land, and Assyria had much to gain from eradicating the scum from their midst. Sennacherib knew that a meeting with his military advisors was due next. If the gods were smiling down on them, there was nothing that could stop the power of the Assyrian empire.
            “And this last piece, oh king, I think you’ll be especially pleased about,” Dormara continued. Sennacherib followed the short priest over to the clay bowl that held the mass of entrails that were left over from the sacrifice. A bean-shaped object lay on the top that immediately captured the king’s focus. He knew what it was and the meaning it held.
            “It seems that this sacrifice was unexpectedly pregnant, oh king. I’m sure you know what this means, sire,” Dormara spoke happily as he handed the fetus over to the king.
            “Marvelous! Riches beyond comparison will soon be mine as I wipe that Israelite infestation off of the face of the earth. Their puny Yahweh cannot stand a chance against the all-mighty power of our gods, priest.”
            The king handed the dripping object back to the priest before turning and walking out of the temple courtyard; his guards followed. He walked up the steps of his palace and threw open the door to his council chamber.
            “Call the military commanders and officers. I want them here right away; we have no time to lose.” The messenger standing at attention by the door bowed low and turned to exit.  
            “One more thing. Run by the temple and escort one of the temple prostitutes to my sleeping quarters. The gods need to be worshiped tonight.” The messenger once again bowed low and left the king alone.
            Sennacherib pored over the maps that were flattened on a wooden table. The map bore markings and troop movements of battles and conquests of olden days. His heart burned inside of him with a hatred for the Israelites. This conquest would be something the world had not seen up to this point. Even the acclaimed Israelite king Hezekiah would have no chance of standing up against the mighty power of Sennacherib.
            Pretty soon the military commanders, officials, and Sennacherib’s sons entered the room and amidst the planning and organization a military strategy was set forth that would turn out quite differently than Sennacherib expected.

Joppa, a short story about the city during the Second Temple period

For Old Testament Backgrounds class I had to write a paper researching the ancient city of Joppa. I also had to do a short creative writing exercise on daily life in Joppa, which I chose to take place during the second temple period. Here it is:


The sun was hovering over the waters as Jeriah made his way home.  Casting myriads of orange and purple hues on the shimmering coastal water of the Mediterranean, the sunsets of Joppa were a spectacular site. The clamor and bellows of dockhands began to fade with time as the workers all left their posts at one of the many docks on the water and began the daily travels home to be with their families. It was the end of another sweltering day, and Jeriah rubbed the life back into his sore, rough hands. He had the grizzled hands of a working man with scars and ridges that told stories of day after day of unloading crates and shipments of wheat and barley.  The toned muscles that snaked down his tan arms came from days of hard work and heavy lifting and made his 6’3” figure look even more threatening. A statue of him would fit right alongside a Greek god.
            Jeriah squinted out over the sea one last time as he turned inland down towards the market district of Joppa. His pace quickened as he saw shopkeepers packing up their wares and closing down wooden stalls before heading inside for the evening. The recent riots between several of the Jews and non-Jews were becoming more frequent and violent and an unfamiliar tension had settled over the city. The merchants felt the effects of the violence and had been packing up and going home earlier in the afternoon to escape the dangers lurking in the streets at night. Jeriah hurried up to one of the bread stalls that hadn’t completely closed down and picked up two of the elongated loaves.
“2 drachma. You’re lucky, I was just starting to close down,” the shopkeeper held out his hand to accept the coins.
“Thank you much. My family is thankful. Have a safe evening,” Jeriah took out two drachma from his small pouch of coins and dropped them into the merchant’s hand. The two loaves had lost the fresh scent of bread from sitting outside all day and felt stale. His son and wife would be grateful anyway.
Jeriah hurried through the rest of the small gathering of merchants and continued down a side street towards his home. A small group of men having a hushed discussion caught his eye, but as Jeriah neared, the conversation drifted into silence. He shifted the bread into his left hand, freeing his right hand in case he needed to show the small knife attached to his left hip. The group of men, clearly non-Jewish in dress, eyed him with contempt as he passed and Jeriah heard the discussion resume as he rounded the corner and opened the door to his modest home.
            “Abba!” Jeriah’s son Armon squealed with delight when his father walked through the door. Jeriah tussled his son’s curly brown hair and bent down to kiss the boy who was now wrapped around his leg in embrace. Abigail, Jeriah’s wife, glided smoothly up to her husband and sidled up to his right side, embracing him and pecking his cheek.
            “My husband, the bread-bearer,” she quipped as she grabbed the loaves out of his hands. She felt the rough texture of the stale bread and looked quizzically at Jeriah.    “These were baked this morning. Have the riots been scaring the bakers away early?”
            “Yes, everyone’s nervous about the violence. I barely made it to the shops before it was too late. I’m sure there have been robberies that have forced the bakers to close their ovens earlier and stay inside.”
            A mixture of concern and fear flashed across Abigail’s beautiful face. Maybe the tension was worse than she imagined. News of the Maccabean rebellion reached Joppa within the past month, and Jews had suddenly become targets of aggression. She trusted Yahweh’s protection over the family, but even good people like Job faced oppression and she couldn’t help but worry about the violence reaching their home.
            “Daddy, I’m hungry. Can we eat now?” Armon’s smile took over his tiny face as he stared up at his father. Jeriah laughed as he scooped his son up and carried him over to the mat on the floor. He set the boy down before returning his wife’s kiss and reclining at table.
            “Armon, can you say the prayer, please?”
            The four-year old clasped his hands together and squeezed his eyes shut as he began, “Yahweh is God. Yahweh alone…”
*****
            Jeriah’s eyes shot open as he awoke to screaming. He bolted upright in bed and looked out the window towards the street. Fire raged out of the house down the street as people frantically ran towards the docks.
            “Jeriah? What’s going on?” Abigail wrapped herself in her shawl and picked up Armon, who was still fast asleep, before joining her husband by his side.
            “Another riot. This one looks fairly bad, we need to go.”
            “What? Go where? What are you talking about?” Abigail searched her husband’s face with a fear she had never known. She told herself the riots wouldn’t escalate to this, but she knew it was only a matter of time.
            “Your family in Lydda. We need to leave Joppa and go to Lydda because it’s too dangerous here and Lydda will be much safer. Grab what you need for a few days of travel. We need to leave now.”
Frantic, Abigail silently set Armon back down and began hurrying around the house trying to think clearly enough to pack what their family would need. A scream from outside shattered her thinking and she lost her concentration as tears silently filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She ran around the small two-room house throwing things together and whispering prayers of deliverance and safety to Yahweh, who she was convinced had forgotten them. Armon had awoken to the scream and was sobbing as he ran to his mother’s legs and wrapped himself in the folds of her garment for protection.
“Momma, what’s happening?” His tear-stained face peeked out underneath her robe as she firmly pushed him aside and rushed past him.
“We’re leaving, baby. Get your blanket and your toy camel daddy carved for you.” Armon was scared to go back into the other room, but the sternness of Abigail’s voice told him it was better not to disobey.
“Abigail, now!” Jeriah had brought the donkey from the stable down the road and it stood outside the door braying and stamping in fright at the sight of the orange flames consuming the neighbor’s door. Jeriah ran into his house to grab his wife and son, but was suddenly shoved from behind and sprawled on the floor. Abigail screamed and ran to protect her son.
Jeriah rolled over and saw a brute of a man standing over him, raising a club ready to strike. His legs instantly shot out like a spring and thudded into the man’s chest knocking him backwards through the door and spilling him onto the street.
“Grab the donkey and go, I’ll be right behind you!” Jeriah yelled to Abigail who clutched a screaming Armon on one hip and traveling gear in a sack over her other shoulder. Jeriah ran outside and pounced on his attacker. He swung his elbow into the man’s chest knocking the wind out of him and dragged the man over to the door where Abigail had just untied the donkey.  The rope that had once tied the beast of burden had been haphazardly forgotten on the ground and Jeriah, seeing his opportunity, grabbed the rope and looped it through the window and back out the door before tying it around the dazed man’s hands.
            “I’ll kill you, Jew!” The man spat vehemently into Jeriah’s face as Jeriah finished his knot and stood to catch up to his terrified wife and son. As he ran down the street away from the docks and towards the desert he heard the man’s murderous threats.
            “I’ll kill you, scum! I’ll kill you!”
*****
            Jeriah and Abigail walked in silence as they left Joppa behind. They had made it two miles from the city before they finally slowed to a relaxed pace and let the donkey rest. Armon, who was sitting on the donkey along with the family’s belongings, was exhausted from crying and  had been rocked to sleep by the donkey’s gentle plodding in the sand. The stars filled the night sky as the moon cast their long, skinny shadows faintly across the tan landscape.
            Abigail was too shocked to speak and she walked alongside the donkey staring numbly straight ahead. All she had known of her life with Jeriah had been left behind and destroyed in the blink of an eye. The memories, the places, the names, and the faces—all of them—were gone. She glanced over to her husband who stared silently up at the night sky. He hadn’t said a word since they left the outskirts of the city.
            Jeriah was pensive as he looked up at the night sky. His life was shattered and a new life would have to be formed in Lydda with Abigail’s parents. Unanswered questions swirled around his head. Even if his questions had answers he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear them. What new life was waiting for them in Lydda? He sent silent prayers up to the heavens hoping they would reach the ears of a God he thought had disappeared.
            Yahweh, where are you? Where’s your promised Messiah? Have you forgotten your people? Send us your peace, Lord. Send us your peace.
            Little did he know that 160 years later a Savior would be born in Bethlehem that would forever change the course of human history.

Friday, April 19, 2013

Gunner, a short story



The last few drops of drink splashed on the cold, hard ground. I turned the cup over silently praying that a miracle would happen and the cup would suddenly be filled, but nothing happened. My mouth pleaded for more. The thick saliva that had been built up all day was only temporarily washed down with the cup of water. I knew it would only be a matter of time before it returned. My head pounded as dehydration racked my bones. I cursed as I threw the paper cup to the ground beside me. It bounced before rolling to a stop a few feet from where I was sitting. The clamor of the busy street passed by me as I despairingly let my head fall onto my knees as I pulled them closer to my chest. I wrapped my arms around me trying to keep the cold from warring against my body.

My name is Gunner, and I’m homeless. My story starts out normally, I was raised in downtown Chicago by a mother who did all she could to give me the world. My mom worked in a machine shop during the day. At night she was a whore, selling her body to satisfy men’s temporal pleasures that they think needed filled. That’s where I came from. And when my real father found out my mom was pregnant with me he split town. As in, he got scared so badly that he moved his real family out of Chicago. I never met him. When I was 13, I was introduced to Mary Jane. She gave me a high that no one could match. I soon found myself spending every waking minute with her, letting her lead me to all the places that I knew I shouldn’t go. Eventually, her friends Heroine and Meth became part of the picture. At 18, the four of us left my mother’s good graces and I took up the spot where I am now—on the street. I would give everything I have to go back to my mother, but I never wanted her to see me like this. I haven’t seen her in five years, and the grip my three friends have on my life has made me quite repulsive. I’ve come to accept this lifestyle. Until I break out of my addictions, there’s no way to get off the streets and into a normal life.

My thoughts were interrupted by a sound I wasn’t expecting to hear. The paper cup I had tossed haphazardly to the side had been set upright next to me. I quickly looked up to see who was trying to steal one of the few belongings I possessed. A man was bending over me, dropping a few bills in my cup. He looked at me and silently smiled. As I looked into his face, I could see the Middle Eastern descent in his tan skin. Some stubble proudly sprouted out from his chin and his shaggy dark hair was going berserk in the piercing Chicago wind. He couldn’t have been any more than 32. I looked up at him and smiled. “Oh, wow. Thank you so much, sir. That will go a long way.”
“You’re welcome, friend. One more thing…”
He pulled out a thermos from his messenger bag that was slung over his shoulder and opened it up. I saw the steam clouding his face as he looked into the thermos and smiled. He closed it back up tightly before bending down and setting it next to me.
“I hope you like coffee. I don’t really need it considering I can just grab some at the office. You can keep the thermos too, it might come in handy.” He patted me on the arm before standing back up and continuing his trek to work. I sat in silence staring at the $5 bill that lie folded in the bottom of my cup. I knew exactly who’s hands that piece of paper needed to pass through in order to get my fix. It had been days since I had a smoke and my slight shaking betrayed my cravings. Yet something about that man burned in my mind. He had to have known where that money was going. Surely he saw my shaking. Surely he saw the yellow film coating my teeth, and the black that was appearing on my fingernails. Yet he gave me money anyway. He wasn’t feeding my addiction, he was giving me a choice. That $5 could go towards my drug fund, or it could go towards a hot meal or shower. It was his way of saying that my lifestyle was my choice. He believed I would make the right choice and make something of myself. For once, someone believed in me, how could I let them down?

I crumpled up the bill and shoved it into my coat pocket.   

Monday, April 15, 2013

Through Struggle: Christian Growth In The Midst of Persecution



          During the time of the Roman Empire, the Roman government sought to eradicate the spreading movement of Christianity.  America’s relative religious freedom and the space of history separate American Christianity from the barbarous persecutions of anti-Christian Rome. This separation can cause a lack of appreciation towards the persecutions Christians experienced in Rome.  The study of church history and the circumstances that brought the church to its current point can inspire gratitude for Christianity’s rich heritage.  Rome was the first, and arguably one of the worst, oppressors of Christians.  Maltreatment began under Nero in 64 AD and continued under emperors such as Domitian, Trajan, Maximinus, and Decius. The last and worst Roman concentration against Christians began in 303 AD under Diocletian.  Diocletian’s reign was polar opposites with his successor Constantine’s, whose toleration and even favor of Christianity gave the church a much needed respite from persecution. During this time of peace under Constantine the church experienced growth and prosperity which laid the foundation for the modern church. God used the reign of Constantine to establish the Christian church throughout the world despite Diocletian’s best attempts to destroy Christianity (Sell “Study 9:  The Church in Persecution—The Roman Persecutions”).
Born in 245, Diocletian grew up in an Empire focused on military strength and economic conquest. When he was old enough, Diocletian joined the Roman military quickly climbed in authority and prestige, and eventually became commander of the imperial guard. After the murders of Emperor Numerian and successor Carinus, Rome  began searching for a new ruler. Diocletian’s military prowess gave him political acclaim that led him to the  throne in 284 (Mindeman 206). For the next several years, Diocletian remained active in military fronts and defended Roman borders against invasions in the East from Syria and what is now modern-day Iran (Knox, “Emperor Diocletian”).
            Diocletian’s rule changed the structure of Roman government. Rome had previously been run by one emperor who controlled the whole government and possessed total power. In 294 Diocletian divided the empire into halves—East and West—controlled by four rulers—two Augusti (emperors) and two Caesars who acted as the emperor’s helpers and successors (Mindeman 206).  This new government became known as the Tetrarchy (Grant 17).  Maximian was Diocletian’s associate Augustus in the West and he appointed Constantius I Chlorus as Caesar (who was the father of Constantine the Great). Galerius served Diocletian as Casesar (18). For most of the Tetrarchy’s reign, Christians experienced peace and even appeared in the lower realms of the government. Others spent their time building churches, preaching, and bringing in new believers (Sell “Study 9:  The Church in Persecution—The Roman Persecutions”).
            Starting in 303, the Christian church experienced what is arguably the most horrific and intensive persecution that it endured (Rusten 112).  Scholars have debated the numerous causes that led to the start of Diocletian’s persecution, but there are two worth noting.  First, the Roman government relied on divination and pagan rituals as part of their military conquest.  The Romans believed that sacrifices made to their gods would win them military and political favor.  During the sacrificial ceremony, the haruspices (pagan diviners) examined the entrails of the dead animal.  Depending on the condition of and the marks on the entrails, the diviners either affirmed the emperor’s military strategy or advised against it.  Christians present in the imperial government opposed this practice in 299 by making signs of the cross in the imperial house in an effort to keep the Roman gods (demons) away.  When demons no longer worked through the haruspices, Diocletian and Caesar Galerius knew the blame fell on the shoulders of the Christians.  Secondly, Christians once again were blamed for fires that broke out in Nicomedia—Diocletian’s capital (Grant 127).  This blame is reminiscent of the first Christian persecution by Nero in 64 AD (Judge 816). 
            These factors, and Diocletian’s desire for religious unity, sparked five imperial edicts that outlawed and opposed Christianity. The first of Diocletian’s edicts, passed on February 23rd, 303, ordered all Scripture and Christian churches to be destroyed and all Christian’s property confiscated.  Passed a day later, the second edict denied legal resources and privileges of governmental office to all Christians.  A third edict ordered the arrest of all Christian clergy.  Since Roman prisons became overpopulated, a fourth edict granted release from incarceration to Christians who performed sacrifices to the pagan gods.  Lastly in early 304, the last edict demanded pagan sacrifice from Christians throughout the entire Roman Empire.  The Great Persecution, as it became known later in history, had officially begun (Rusten 113).
            Serious illness forced Diocletian to abdicate his throne to Galerius. After convincing Maximian to join him, the two emperors both stepped down from office in 305 (Knox, “Emperor Diocletian”). Galerius, now emperor alongside Constantius I Chlorus, became responsible for the majority of the persecution that Diocletian started. (Mindeman 206).  After a power struggle amongst Constantine (Constantius I’s son), Maxentius (Maximian’s son), and a third man named Severus, Constantine and Maxentius rose to the position of Caesar (Hicks 264).  In the West, Galerius did everything in his power to destroy the Christian movement but to no avail. In the West, Constantius, who did not support the persecution and gave Christians peace instead, crippled Galerius’ efforts and divided the mission of the Empire (Rusten 113).   
Multiple stories arose out of this time that act as examples of what Galerius’ persecution was like. Early church father Eusebius collected these stories and compiled them in his book The History of the Martyrs in Palestine.  One of these stories tells of Romanus, a deacon in Caesarea, who faced death in 303 or 304 towards the beginning of the persecution.  Romanus was sentenced to be burned after refusing to make a sacrifice to the Roman gods, but Diocletian ordered that the saint’s tongue be cut out instead.  Even after his tongue was gone, Romanus continued to preach the gospel to his Roman persecutors (Eusebius Loc. 231-43).  His death came swiftly afterwards by what Eusebius referred to as “the strangling instrument” (Loc. 245).  Another story involved Timotheus in 305 (Loc. 249 ) who suffered violence at the hands of his own neighbors before being sent to the governor of Palestine (Loc. 255-62).  Timotheus was bound in fetters and whipped before he slowly burned to death after he refused to sacrifice to the pagan gods (Loc. 262-265).  Two more people, Agapius and Theckla, suffered tortured and were offered to the mercy of wild beasts (Loc. 269-270).  Perhaps the greatest story out of Eusebius’ book was of 19-year old Epiphanius (Loc. 306).  In 306, Epiphanius physically restrained Urbanus, a governmental official, from making sacrifices to the gods.  His actions warranted the worst tortures imaginable including being beaten, kicked, bridled, stretched, whipped until his innards were visible, disfigured beyond recognition, having his feet wrapped in cotton and oil and set on fire to the point that his flesh “dropped like melted wax” (Loc. 354), and finally being thrown into the sea to drown.  All this time,  Epiphanius stood firm in the faith and never denied his savior (Loc. 328-368).  Indeed, sobering brutality prevailed during the Great Persecution of Diocletian and Galerius.
            Despite Rome’s best attempts to destroy Christianity and introduce a state-wide pagan religion, Christianity persevered.  Until he died in 306 (Grant 228), Constantius I Chlorus favored Christians and saved them from persecution in places like Gaul, Britain, and Spain—an action that surely effected his son’s reign (Schaff “History of the Christian Church Vol II, Chapter 2, Sec. 24”).  When Galerius became ill and entered the last stages of his life, he realized that the persecution wasn’t having the desired effect.  The church wasn’t destroyed it was rather strengthened and encouraged by those who willingly died in devotion to God.  Galerius redacted Diocletian’s edicts and passed an edict of limited toleration in 311, which gave back to Christians the right to worship freely (Rusten 113).  The emperor even went as far as to ask the Christians to “pray to their god” for the emperors and Rome itself as an empire (Schaff “History of the Christian Church Vol II, Chapter 2, Sec. 25”).  Galerius’ death in 311 brought about the reign of Constantine (Hicks 264).
            Constantine the Great, emperor of Rome, has become one of the most important and influential political figures in Christian history.  His climb to the top of the Roman government is slightly hard to follow.  After the death of his father in 306, Constantine became Caesar under Galerius.  Maxentius became Galerius’ fellow Augustus, but Maximian took back the throne in 307.  Through a series of events involving his son, Maximian was kicked out of the seat of Augustus in 308 at the conference of Carnuntum, which also proclaimed another man, Licinius, as the new emperor in his place.  Maximian died in 310.  After Galerius’ death in 311, the seat of Augustus alongside Licinius rightfully belonged to Constantine (Grant 228).  However, Maxentius wished to take the throne that Constantine had rightfully earned and led troops against Constantine at the Tiber River in the Battle of Milvian (sometimes spelled Mulvian) Bridge in 311.  Legend has it that the night before the battle commenced God told Constantine that victory would be his if he carried the cross into battle.  During the battle the next day, Constantine’s troops, bearing the symbol of the cross, pushed Maxentius’ army back against the Tiber River and into a retreat.  In the ensuing chaos across the narrow Milvian Bridge, Maxentius fell into the river and drowned.  Constantine had successfully defended his title as Augustus (Galli 307).
            Constantine’s rule signaled the end of the Roman persecution and ushered in a completely different era of peace and prosperity for Christianity.  Like his father, Constantine was also tolerant of Christianity and let the Christians live and worship as they pleased.  Relief spread throughout the church when Constantine and his co-Augustus Licinius both left Christianity alone.  Shortly after his ascension to the throne, Constantine fully expanded Galerius edict of limited toleration into an edict of full toleration.  Constantine met with Licinius in Milan inn March 313, and passed the Edict of Milan, which gave “full toleration to the Christian faith ordering that all places of worship taken from the Christians should be restored without delay or charge, that any loss they had suffered should be made good and that Christian ministers should be released from all burdensome municipal offices” (Sell “Study 9:  The Church in Persecution—The Roman Persecutions”).  The Edict of Milan gave Christianity complete freedom throughout the entirety of Rome and acted as a testament to the resilience of the church through trial and persecution.  Unfortunately for the eastern half of the empire, Licinius rebelled against Constantine and began persecuting Christians once again. In 323 Constantine went to war against Licinius at Adrianople and Chrysopolis, effectively taking away his throne (Hicks 172).  With Licinius gone, Constantine did away with Diocletian’s Tetrarchy and became the sole Augustus of Rome.  Constantine moved the seat of government to Byzantium in the East (Galli 308).  The era of persecution ended and the Christian Roman Empire under Constantine began (Schaff “History of the Christian Church Vol II, Chapter 2, Sec. 25”).
            As with anything, Constantine’s staunchly Christian rule over Rome wasn’t perfect.  Though Christianity was preferred by Constantine, pagan practices still existed in the empire.  Not until 324 AD were pagan symbols and sayings taken off Roman coins (Hicks 173).  A large downside to Constantine’s reign was the rise of apostasy within the church. Because Constantine controlled the church politically many saw the church as a stepping stone into politics, and the church was diluted by people who were “politically ambitious, religiously disinterested, and still half-rooted in paganism. This threatened to produce not only shallowness and permeation by pagan superstitions but also the secularization and misuse of religion for political purposes” (Shelley 96).
Two specific negative movements began to appear in Roman churches: Donatism and Arianism. Donatists held to the view that those who had caved under the pressure of persecution during Diocletian’s reign and handed over Scriptures to be burned or offered sacrifices to Roman gods were false Christians that needed to be cast out of the church. Donatists believed that the real church consisted of those who bore the scars of persecution on their bodies and remained true to Christ. Because of their beliefs, Donatism claimed that the legitimacy of church rituals like communion relied on the morality of the person leading them, ultimately denying the power of the church and of God (Rusten 316). It wasn't until the Council of Ardes in 314, which excommunicated Donatus and his followers that the church began to formulate a strategy on handling these false church ideals (318).
            The church later faced Arianism, which denied the divinity of Jesus as being both fully God and fully man (Galli 336). Constantine’s political reign began to wed itself to religious affairs, and in order to combat beliefs like Arianism he called the Council of Nicea in 325—which deemed Arianism as heretical (Hicks 173). The Council of Nicea not only condemned Arianism, it set the standard for important future church councils like Chalcedon, Constantinople, and Carthage.
            Constantine’s reign brought about the finalizing of the New Testament canon.  Because of Diocletian’s persecutions, churches had to quickly decide which books in the New Testament and the New Testament Apocrypha were worth dying for.  While the finalization of the New Testament didn’t happen until the third council of Carthage in 397 AD—roughly 65 years after Constantine’s reign came to an end—the process began when Eusebius, under orders from Constantine, distributed fifty copies of the New Testament around the empire.  With the Scriptures being circulated around the empire once again, churches had to consistently agree on only one version of the New Testament (Duffield 14).
As the Bible circulated freely throughout the empire, various religious communities and organizations, namely monasticism, took shape.  After being baptized into Christianity in 313, an Egyptian named Pachomius began to live as a monk.  By 320, Pachomius began establishing monasteries (Rusten 318) and successfully established eleven monasteries before he died.  Pachomius is seen as the father of monasticism (319).
            As can be seen, Diocletian led one of the most horrific Christian persecutions in history, but God used Constantine to propel the church into a time of peace, restoration, expansion, and fortification.  Diocletian was the last emperor to heavily persecute Christianity, and Constantine was the first emperor to fully embrace the Christian church.  Constantine had, arguably, the largest impact on the church of any political leader. His reign, while not perfect, would influence many leaders after him. Under Constantine’s rule, the church and the Roman Empire left physical trials behind them and entered into a new time period of political upheaval and confusion with the marriage of the church and state.  It’s this relationship that the Roman Catholic Church finds itself in today, and one that began a mere 20 years after Diocletian’s persecution ended.  Opposites indeed.                                
__________________________________________________________________________   WORKS CITED



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