Is the legal and political downstream from culture, or vice versa? That’s the debate going on in religious conservative circles today. A rising number of voices, mostly in reaction to the excesses and missteps of the Religious Right, have been arguing that religious conservatives have been largely blind to the way that culture is upstream from law. In an effort to secure legal ground against progressive advances, the Right was ceding the deeper war for the imagination and affections of the populace. Gay marriage is an obvious example of this. As social conservatives secured dozens of temporary political victories, the vision of the general population was being captured through media narratives that were laying the groundwork for the generation-shaping, sea-change in popular opinion we’ve witnessed in the last few years.
While many of us might have been nodding our heads in agreement with this line of critique over the last couple of years, a jaunt into early church history might complicate the picture a bit. Peter Leithart’s fascinating cultural analysis of the Roman spectacles and their proscription by Constantine in Defending Constantine: The Twilight of An Empire and the Dawn of Christendom suggests a more intricate relationship between the two spheres than any strict dichotomy can capture.
A School of Romanitas
“A microcosm of Rome”–that’s how Peter Leithart describes the gladiatorial shows. Identifying a number of threads present in the contest that made them more than just entertainment, Leithart reveals that they were one of the primary means of inculcating the populace with a sense of romanitas–the guiding cultural-political spirit of Imperial Rome.
Roman military culture was a complex of “devotio, patriotism, self-sacrifice to chthonic deities” which supported an attitude and practice “closely resembling human sacrifice”—what better description can one find of the games? (pg. 192) Drawing on Tertullian’s analysis of the bloody spectacles, Leithart points out they were also were called munera because they were regarded as offering services to the dead. In the games, men were trained to kill and die as a sacrifice for gods of Rome. Following the thread of sacrifice, Leithart also sees the combat in the arena as enacting the founding myth of Rome, that of Remus by his brother Romulus. Remus was put down by his brother for daring to cross the line that separated Rome from the “non-Roman.” As the slaves died in the arena, the line between the nobility and everyone else was symbolically drawn and reinforced. (pp. 192-193)
Spectacular events also functioned to show “Rome on parade,” (pg. 193) Rome exhibited itself in all of its many-splendored and hierarchically socially-structured glory in amphitheatres across the Empire. Leithart points to the way that everyone from the lowest peasant to the Emperor himself was present and yet simultaneously carefully separated, “visually and spatially” depicting and reinforcing the social order.
The presence of the Emperor made the games political. He served as a sort of master of ceremonies, overseeing, approving, and expected to be involved, approving and enjoying himself just as the crowds did. (pg. 193) It was a time for politicking and displaying the “common touch” that would endear him to the people, as well as for the crowds to call out policy advice. “The arena was also an instrument of imperial policy the provinces.” (pg. 194) Architecturally, amphitheatres functioned to display Roman glory. The bloodshed on the sand inside served as a reminder of the threat of Roman violence against provincials who would oppose them.
Perhaps most importantly, the spiritual aspirations of the gladiatorial games are what knit the populace together most, inculcating romanitas across social boundaries. While gladiators were usually socially-disgraced slaves, even the most noble military officers and aristocrats could recognize “the gladiators’ pursuit of glory” as a mirror to their own pursuit on the battlefield for the glory of Rome. (pg. 194) Pliny the Younger praised Trajan’s games for promoting manliness and courage in the face of death. Even critics such as Seneca and Cicero found , attitudes worth praising in the games and used them as metaphors for moral development.
Leithart summarizes, “Rome was the arena, and the arena was Rome, What would the empire be without it?” (pg. 196)
Constantine the “Christian” Culture-Shaper?
What would Rome be indeed? That was the question Rome had to ask itself when Constantine the Great banned the games in 325. “Bloody spectacles are not suitable for civil ease and domestic quiet”, and as such, those who were typically sentenced to participate in the games should now be sent to the mines so that they might be punished bloodlessly. (pg. 196) While not a total condemnation, Constantine’s proscription marked a significant step forward from his own sentencing of criminals to the gladiatorial games earlier in his career in 315. Leithart shows how, while not explicitly attempting to form a Christian empire, or quoting chapter and verse to justify legislation, much of Constantine’s legislative activity springs from Christian concerns, specifically citing the case of the gladiatorial spectacles. One has to look only at the writings of Lactantius, Tertullian, or Cyprian to find a ready witness to broad Christian teaching against the spectacles from which he was able to draw.
My interest in outlining all of this has been to set up Leithart’s analysis of Constantine’s edicts concerning gladiatorial spectacles, which are worth quoting at length:
When Constantine outlawed gladiatorial contests, he may have believed he was doing no more than opposing the decadence of bloody spectacles. But his law had much wider effects on Roman culture. Gladiators continued to perform for some time after Constantine, and Christian emperors were still legislating against them into the middle of the fifth century. Already with Constantine, however, we see the beginning of a revolution in public spectacle, and that revolution, perhaps unwittingly, subverted much of what made Rome Rome. Not only did he outlaw bloody entertainments, by by eliminating one of the main public venues for the display and inculcation of Romanitas he began to chip away at the pagan civilization that had preceded him. It is too much to say that Constantine’s legislation “Christianized” public entertainments, but he clearly de-Romanized them. (pg. 204)
So, Politics or Culture?
Constantine’s political outlook was increasingly shaped by the minority culture of the Church throughout his career. This had an effect on the legislation for the empire as a whole, which then began to shift the majority culture. In this specific instance, it created an “‘atmosphere’ of public disapproval and played its part in forming a world without sacrifice”, (pg. 204) that had far-reaching effects for the empire’s self-understanding. In other words, Constantine’s proscription of the games are an example of politics shaping culture and culture shaping politics in a complex, inter-related manner that prevents us thinking of either as a non-determinative factor for Roman culture in the years to come.
As Michael Gerson and Peter Wehner observe in City of Man: Religion and Politics in a New Era, “The problem is this: culture is upstream from politics, except in those important cases when politics is upstream from culture.” (Kindle Location 1994). While it might be easier to tell ourselves that we can’t simply legislate morality (as philosophically suspect of a claim as that is), or evangelize via political coercion, the concrete realities of history suggest that the situation is far more complex. Yes, we ought to be humble about our political engagement as Christians in our pluralistic society, wary of our own motives, guarding against idolatry, superbia, and libido dominandi that is so blatant in much Christian involvement on both the Left and the Right, as well as wise about the particular battles we choose to fight. And yet it isn’t hard to imagine that a hasty retreat from the realm of the legal and the political to the purely cultural will lead to the loss of a prophetic voice in either realm.
Leaving aside the particulars of gay marriage, abortion, or legislation about poverty, Gerson and Wehner call our attention to another historical instance where Evangelical withdrawal from the political in the hope of broad, slow work at the cultural level was naive and unjust. In the case of the Civil Rights movement, it was the seven white ministers telling Martin Luther King Jr. to slow down, to be patient for that steady turning of the tide instead of hastily raising a political clamor. Gerson and Wehner write:
A distrust of political action—a preference for gradual cultural change—would have left legal segregation in place to this day. Changing a culture of bigotry required both the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act: coercive measures that created a social expectation of equal treatment and shifted the political balance of power in America. And none of this would have happened without idealism, impatience, and the single-minded pursuit of justice. (Kindle Locations 2030-2033).
Of course, it’s possible to think that by the point segregation might still have moved along in its own way in time. It is undeniable that this, in fact, was the way the culture shifted.
Again, none of this is meant to imply that Christians are not called to make prudential judgments about those issues in which we will engage, or that churches should be explicitly politicking from the pulpit. As an officer in my church I make it a point to refrain from making any sort of public endorsement of candidates or parties that would compromise my witness for the Gospel.
As a recovering political idolater, calls for sobriety in these matters are important and the danger of relapse strikes real fear in my heart. A brief look at Constantine and the gladiators, however, ought to warn us against a too reactionary or naive withdrawal into political teetotalism.
Derek Rishmawy is the Director of College and Young Adult ministries at Trinity United Presbyterian Church in Orange County, CA, where he wrangles college kids for the gospel. He’s been graciously adopted by the Triune God. That God has also seen fit to bless him with lovely wife named McKenna. He got his B.A. in Philosophy at UCI and his M.A. in Theological Studies (Biblical Studies) at APU. His passions are theology, the church, some philosophy, cultural criticism, and theology. He has been published at the Gospel Coalition and Out of Ur blog. He writes regularly at his Reformedish blog, and is a staff writer at Christ and Pop Culture. You can also follow him on Twitter.
[…] You can read the rest of the piece here at Mere Orthodoxy. […]
“[Marcus Aurelius] surrounded himself with the most upright of the Romans, especially those families whose Stoicism, uniting with the high old Roman cirtue, had been proof against the evil Caesars.
This high-principled domination would be dissolved only a few years after Marcus Aurelius, worn out at the age of fifty-nine, died in the midst of a campaign near Vienna, in the year 180. The moral degradation of the masses, the condition that led to the rule of the barracks-emperors, is glimpsed with a terrible clarity when one reads of Marcus Aurelius at the gladiatorial shows. Detesting those ghastly displays, still he was compelled by the force of depraved public opinion to be present and to receive the salutes of the doomed men below in the arena. Refusing ot watch that slaughter, the Emperor read books, or gave audiences, during the shows. And the ninety thousand human brutes, the spectators packing the Colosseum, with the jackal-courage of anonymity, jeered him for his humanity.
Yet the Stoic philosophy, and the integrity of the Good Emperors, could not regenerate the Roman masses. Stoicism was a high and austere creed, too abstract and intellectual for popular acceptance. Even the imported Egyptian cult of Isis had more votaries, in those days, than did Stoicism. In the long run, the Christian faith which Saint Peter and Saint Paul had brought to Rome would renew the moral order, even though it could not save the state. But Christianity was a revealed religion, the worship of a crucified God, and it would touch the heart.”
Russell Kirk, The Roots of AMerican Order 123-125
Stanley Hauerwas made a good point when he said, “The Church is political by being the Church”
The problem is not whether culture changes the state or the state changes the culture. The problem is whether or not the Church is even being faithful to its Lord. Paul said, in the context of the sexually immoral, not to judge those outside the Church but those within. Where all other nations are built on death, the congregations (small and weak as they are) of Jesus Christ need to be built on Him alone.
The lie is to think that fundamental change can actually occur. I’m glad the gladiatorial games ended, but the reality of state sanctioned death and murder has never gone away. The lie is to think Constantine really shifted anything. The State was never de-sacralized, it just began to adopt Christianized imagery and language. Constantine wanted himself seated with the 12 other apostles on his crypt mosaic.
No, it doesn’t mean Jesus people ever cease to promote good in the city, like the Jews in Babylon, and no, it doesn’t mean Christians aren’t publicly involved in showing the Gospel through society. However, Babylon is still Babylon, and the only means of life is in each heart of a man turned to Christ, engrafted onto that true Israel.
Yeah, I don’t think we can convert the State, or even create a “Christian” nation in the sense that people often talk about it. I do think that we can love our neighbors by promoting the common good. See, I think right there in your statement:
“The lie is to think that fundamental change can actually occur. I’m glad the gladiatorial games ended, but the reality of state sanctioned death and murder has never gone away. The lie is to think Constantine really shifted anything.”
I think that the now and not yet of the kingdom prevents us from thinking that we can bring in the fullness of the Kingdom of God right now, while still admitting that things can change in a penultimate, limited way. Every culture still stands under God’s judgment at different points, but certain aspects of it can shift, change, and become more aligned with God’s creational order. Governments and cultures that respect human rights are, in some sense, better and more aligned with God’s will for humanity that those that don’t. Babylon is still Babylon, but some neighborhoods in Babylon, all else being equal, are better than others. South Korea and North Korea both stand under God’s judgment, but NK is ruled by a murderous, God-hating tyrant who suppresses the worship of God. In SK you can get caught up in materialism and worship false gods in other ways, but you’re still allowed to go to a church and hear the Gospel in order to be converted.
I agree that some neighborhoods are better than others: some have food and housing where others don’t. Yet, even the comparison of NK and SK is naive to the dark realities underneath. You recognize the false gods and materialism, and while the NK leader openly proclaims himself to his people as god and king, the West does exactly the same in subtler manners.
Our children are indoctrinated to say the pledge of allegiance to a country indivisible that is a promise of liberty and justice, standing as the “one nation under God”. This may sound like a bizarre complaint but I speak as one who was in the cult of patriotism and was ready to give my life for country in the USMC. Thankfully the Lord saved me before I went through with my contract. I had sworn an oath to demons. Again, I’d offend many with such a statement (sic).
My only point is that it is delusion to deny the demonic reality behind the State, even if it is providentially arranged as the ground for the Kingdom. Yes, like you said, we can work for the common good. I just don’t see that coming from the methods of Constantine. Call me biblicist, but I don’t see any such push in Paul and Peter for such an arrangement, and I won’t let anyone get away with a “they just didn’t have the chance” argument. Scriptures are sufficient for the Church’s mission.
So in the context of abortion or gay marriage (two big ones), maybe the Church should be a place of healthy marriages and a place of adoptive love for the orphaned. Maybe if we start living that reality as communities, many will be drawn to true life (i.e. life in Christ). Much of the Church in America has lost its vision as itself as a pilgrim people living in foreign cities. Like the Epistle to Diognetus, we talk the same, dress the same, live day to day the same, but our hearts are affixed by another Lord and we are known by our other-worldly love, the love our King showed that turned everything upside down (and thus right side up!).
I certainly don’t have the historical education to make any strong conclusions, but it strikes me that for further examination one could (and perhaps should) look at Calvin’s time in Geneva and Kuyper’s in the Netherlands for further examples of men trying to develop a Christian nation by changing culture through the power of the State. Even if they wouldn’t take quite as strong of an approach as Constantine by “mandating” Christianity, one can’t argue that they weren’t developing a political system that encouraged and promoted faith in Christ.
And actually, Constantine didn’t even mandate Christianity. He supported it and privileged it in a number of ways, but he didn’t forbid paganism. That came later.