For the last two thousand years, and especially in the last fifty or sixty years, Christians of all traditions and theological commitments have talked a great deal about what it means to be part of the Church. How should we understand our collective identity? How are we to live as the Body of Christ? How did the early Church understand itself? As part of this ongoing mass conversation, Rowan Williams, former archbishop of Canterbury, has presented some fascinating thoughts in his book Why Study the Past? The Quest for the Historical Church (he was acting archbishop at the time the book was published). There is one particular stream of thought in this book that, I think, is immensely insightful and helpful for discussions about the Church. In order to help others benefit from his thoughts, I will here present some background information and then present and interact with the relevant discussion from the book.
Martyrdom Stories
It has often been noted that some of the most important and fascinating things about groups of people are the stories they tell. This is no less the case, I think, for Christians than for anyone else. As such, we would do well to listen to the stories Christians have told each other throughout the centuries. In this post we will be giving attention to one specific type of story from one particular era, namely the stories of martyrdom in the period we typically call ‘the early Church’.
The most central of stories in the early Church was, of course, the execution and resurrection of Jesus. Interestingly, early Christian literature includes many stories about Christians suffering and being killed, similarly to Jesus, for their faithfulness and allegiance. One, recorded by Luke in his Acts of the Apostles, is the martyrdom of Stephen (Acts 6:8—7:60). In this story Stephen defends the legitimacy of Jesus and the Christian movement against accusing Jews and as a result is stoned to death.
Other martyrdom stories of a slightly later date are especially important for the early centuries of the Church. Perhaps the most emotionally charged of these is the Martyrdom of Saints Perpetua and Felicitas. The focus of this story is the martyrdom of a young Christian woman named Perpetua, who refuses to participate in the Roman imperial cult and is consequently killed. Also noteworthy is the Martyrdom of Polycarp, which tells of the execution of Bishop Polycarp of Smyrna for the same reasons as that of Perpetua. Many other stories follow the same pattern.
Why were these stories so important to the early Church? Why did they warrant recording, copying, and sending in an era in which all of these activities were rather difficult?
Williams’s Exegesis of the Martyrdom of Polycarp
Williams provides some fascinating thoughts on this matter. Building on a discussion of ways in which the early Church understood itself (pp. 32–34), he identifies two fascinating themes in the Martyrdom of Polycarp. First, Polycarp upheld the universal kingship of Jesus by standing in opposition to the Roman Empire and its power claims. It is for this reason he is brought to the arena to be executed, and when given the chance to recant, he uses the opportunity to declare his allegiance in dramatic fashion (p. 35).
Second, the narrative presents the death of Polycarp as something sacred. It does this primarily by drawing connections between his terrible death and the eucharist, the weekly Christian celebration and sacrifice (p. 36; Mart. Pol. 15–16).
Williams’s discussion at the beginning of this chapter brings these ideas into clearer focus. Related to Polycarp’s allegiance to Jesus is the idea, evident in other early Christian texts as well, of Christians being resident aliens who have citizenship in heaven (pp. 33–34; see also p. 37). By renouncing the imperial cult and declaring his allegiance to be with Jesus, he asserts his identification with this kingdom and the superiority of the kingdom of heaven(/God) over against the worldly political system of the Romans (see p. 36). This martyrdom account, then, asserts a fundamental truth about the Christian identity.
Regarding the sacredness of the sacrifice, Williams notes that it has implications for the conception of the Church as sacred. “The holy body,” he says, “like Polycarp’s body, must be one that is consumed by the divine . . . ” (p. 38). Of course, these two themes are related: Polycarp’s holiness “is perfected” when he is expelled from the Roman world through death (p. 36).
Interestingly, there are other martyrdom texts that contain similar features. To continue with the example of Stephen’s martyrdom, Luke portrays him as delivering a scathing oration in favour of Jesus (Acts 7:2–53) and then, while being stoned to death, witnessing “the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God” (7:55 NRSV). Similarly to Polycarp, Stephen appears here as one who aligns himself with the kingdom of heaven and, while being expelled from an earthly community, is overcome with the divine presence, in this case in a primarily visual way.
These narratives, then, are not just heroic tales but stories with a powerful theological charge. Their striking and moving depictions implicitly contain essential information about what it means to be in Christ’s holy Church.
Living Our Exegesis
As Christians have repeatedly stressed, proper biblical exegesis without application is pointless. The same holds true, I would argue, for Williams’s exegesis of the Martyrdom of Polycarp. With this in mind, I will offer a few thoughts about applying the preceding discussion.
This theology provides a helpful test for theology. Does a particular idea or scheme fit with the Church’s unique identity? Does it square with the nature of the Church as a society with heavenly citizenship? Williams explains how this thinking appeared throughout the period of the early church (pp. 37–53), noting that we can make sense of early Christian doctrine by seeing it as an “exegesis of martyrdom . . . with martyrdom itself being an exegesis, a lived exposition, of taking Christ seriously as the one through whom the definition of God’s people has been changed” (p. 53). Contemporary Christians would do well to follow the same method.
This exegesis, however, should not be applied only to particular doctrines or systems of theology. It belongs everywhere in the life of the Church, from music to décor to architecture. Are the songs we sing consistent with the Church’s identity? Does the look and layout of our church buildings signify the presence of God? Now, I should clarify here: I am not proposing these reflections as a way of identifying people who are in the wrong. It is not essential to present the Church’s holy identity in a clear fashion through our buildings. I am proposing these reflections as a guide for improvement. How might we better embody the Church’s identity in the way our buildings look? If we learn to think in this way, I think we will bring more glory to God and convey important ideas about the Church and the Christian faith in a more effective way.
Conclusion
Rowan Williams, in keeping with his reputation as an impeccable scholar, has given us a wonderful tool for understanding ourselves as members of the Church and for making decisions. And at a time when Western Christians are constantly wrestling with what it means to be members of the Body of Christ, we are in dire need for a tool like this. Brothers and sisters, let’s use it together.
Bibliography
Williams, Rowan. Why Study the Past? The Quest for the Historical Church. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005.
Echoes in the Catacombs 