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Marcus Aurelius and the Martyrs: Stoic Resignation vs. Christian Resurrection

/ Jason Conrad / Leave a comment

When Antoninus Pius died in AD 161, the throne passed to his adopted son Marcus Aurelius Antoninus. For the first eight years he ruled jointly with Lucius Verus; after Verus’ death in 169, Marcus reigned alone until 180.

Marcus is remembered as the philosopher-emperor. His Meditations, written in Greek during military campaigns, are one of the most famous works of Stoic philosophy. They counsel calm acceptance of death and resignation to the fleeting nature of life.

Yet in these same decades, Christians were being persecuted across the empire. They too left writings — apologies, theological treatises, and martyrdom accounts. These voices allow us to set Stoicism and Christianity side by side in the years of plague and persecution.

Marcus Aurelius on Life and Death

In the Meditations, written in the 170s during the wars on the Danube frontier, Marcus constantly reminded himself of life’s brevity:

“Of man’s life, his time is a point, his substance a flux, his sense dull, the fabric of his body corruptible, his soul spinning round, his fortune dark, his fame uncertain. Brief is all that is of the body, a river and a vapour; and life is a warfare and a sojourning in a strange land; and after-fame is oblivion.” (2.17, Loeb)

“Consider how swiftly all things vanish — the bodies themselves into the universe, and the memories of them into eternity. What is the nature of all objects of sense, and especially those which attract with pleasure or affright with pain or are blazed abroad by vanity — how cheap they are, how despicable, sordid, perishable, and dead.” (9.3, Loeb)

He urged himself not to despise death but to welcome it, since dissolution is as natural as birth or growth:

“Do not despise death, but welcome it, since nature wills it like all else. For dissolution is one of the processes of nature, just as youth and age, growth and maturity, teeth and beard and grey hairs and procreation and pregnancy and childbirth, and all the other natural operations which the seasons of life bring. To be not only not resisted but welcomed by the wise man is no less fitting.” (9.3, Loeb)

For Marcus, death was inevitable dissolution into the cosmos; memory itself was destined to fade into nothing. Stoicism offered dignity and calm acceptance, but no hope beyond the grave.

Justin Martyr: Death Cannot Harm Us

At the very same time in Rome, the Christian philosopher Justin Martyr was writing his apologies to the emperor. In his First Apology, written about 155–157, Justin described how Christians worshiped:

“And on the day called Sunday, all who live in cities or in the country gather together to one place, and the memoirs of the apostles or the writings of the prophets are read, as long as time permits. Then, when the reader has ceased, the president verbally instructs, and exhorts to the imitation of these good things. Then we all rise together and pray, and, as we said before, when our prayer is ended, bread and wine and water are brought, and the president in like manner offers prayers and thanksgivings, according to his ability, and the people assent, saying Amen; and there is a distribution to each, and a sharing with those who are absent, and to those who are not present a portion is sent by the deacons. And they who are well to do, and willing, give what each thinks fit; and what is collected is deposited with the president, who succors the orphans and widows and those who, through sickness or any other cause, are in want, and those who are in bonds and the strangers sojourning among us, and in a word takes care of all who are in need. But Sunday is the day on which we all hold our common assembly, because it is the first day on which God, having wrought a change in the darkness and matter, made the world; and Jesus Christ our Savior on the same day rose from the dead. For He was crucified on the day before that of Saturn (Saturday); and on the day after that of Saturn, which is the day of the Sun, having appeared to His apostles and disciples, He taught them these things, which we have submitted to you also for your consideration.” (First Apology 67, Loeb)

While Marcus mused on life’s futility, Christians were meeting every week to proclaim eternal life through Christ’s resurrection and to share the Eucharist as a pledge of incorruption, with their offerings supporting the poor, the sick, the imprisoned, and strangers.

In the same work, Justin explained why Christians did not fear persecution:

“We are accused of being atheists. But we are not atheists, since we worship the Creator of the universe… Him we reasonably worship, having learned that He is the Son of the true God Himself, and holding Him in the second place, and the prophetic Spirit in the third… For though beheaded, crucified, thrown to wild beasts, in chains and in fire, we do not renounce our confession; but the more such things happen, the more others in turn become believers.” (First Apology 13, Loeb)

In his Dialogue with Trypho, written in the 160s, Justin emphasized that the soul does not perish with the body:

“For not as common opinion holds, the soul dies with the body. We say that souls survive, and that those who have lived virtuously shall dwell in a better place, while those who have done wickedly shall suffer a worse fate, and that the unjust are punished with everlasting fire.” (Dialogue 5, Loeb)

And in his Second Apology, probably written after Marcus came to power, Justin summed it up in one line:

“You can kill us, but cannot hurt us.” (Second Apology 2, Loeb)

The Martyrdom of Justin

Justin’s philosophy became confession, and his confession became death. In about 165 he and six companions were brought before the prefect Junius Rusticus in Rome. The Acts of Justin’s Martyrdom, preserved in Greek, record the trial.

Rusticus commanded them to sacrifice:

“Approach and sacrifice, all of you, to the gods.”

Justin replied:

“No one in his right mind gives up piety for impiety.” (ch. 5–6, Loeb)

Rusticus pressed him:

“If you are scourged and beheaded, do you believe you will go up to heaven?”

Justin answered:

“I hope that if I endure these things I shall have His gifts. For I know that all who live piously in Christ shall have abiding grace even to the end of the whole world.” (ch. 6, Loeb)

The prefect pronounced sentence:

“Let those who have refused to sacrifice to the gods and to obey the command of the emperor be scourged and led away to suffer the penalty of capital punishment according to the laws.”

And so, the account concludes:

“The holy martyrs, glorifying God, went out to the customary place, and were beheaded, and completed their testimony in confessing the Savior.” (ch. 8, Loeb)

Justin was condemned not for crimes but for refusing to renounce the name of Christ. And this was nothing new. The same policy had been in place since Nero, carried on by every emperor in one form or another.

  • Nero (54–68): After the fire of Rome in AD 64, Nero did something new in Roman history. Unlike any other group, he chose the entire class of people called Christians for punishment. Tacitus says they were convicted “not so much of the crime of firing the city as of hatred of the human race.” Anyone associated with the name was liable to arrest, and an “immense multitude” was executed. Their punishments were grotesque public spectacles: some torn apart by dogs while covered in animal skins, others crucified, others burned alive as torches in Nero’s gardens. This marked a turning point: from then on, Christians carried the deadly liability of the name itself.
  • Vespasian (69–79) and Titus (79–81): Christians in Judea perished in the Jewish War; across the empire, Jewish-practicing Christians bore the fiscus Judaicus, the humiliating tax imposed on all who “lived like Jews.”
  • Domitian (81–96): Remembered by Christians as a new Nero. Dio Cassius says he executed Flavius Clemens for “atheism.” Revelation, likely written in these years, calls Rome “Babylon” and portrays the beast as Nero reborn. For the church, Domitian was Nero come again.
  • Trajan (98–117): His rescript to Pliny set the empire-wide rule: Christians were not to be sought out, but if accused and refusing to sacrifice, they must be punished — “for the name itself.”
  • Hadrian (117–138): Required due process but left the liability of the name untouched.
  • Antoninus Pius (138–161): Reaffirmed the same: Christians could be prosecuted “merely as such.”
  • Marcus Aurelius (161–180): And under Marcus the pattern continued — Justin executed in Rome, Blandina and Pothinus tortured in Gaul, Speratus and companions condemned in Africa.

From Nero to Marcus, the empire’s stance was consistent: Christians were punished not for ordinary crimes but for the name of Christ.

Athenagoras of Athens: Resurrection vs. Dissolution

Written around AD 177 and addressed to Emperor Marcus Aurelius and his son Commodus, Athenagoras’ Plea for the Christians (also known as the Embassy for the Christians) is one of the most eloquent defenses of early Christian faith. A philosopher by training, Athenagoras used the very language of Greek reason to defend the Christians against the charges of atheism, immorality, and political disloyalty. He explains the Christian understanding of God, the Trinity, resurrection, and the endurance of persecution with remarkable clarity.

From Plea for the Christians (Loeb)

“Who, then, would not be astonished to hear men who speak of God the Father, and of God the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, and who declare both their power in union and their distinction in order, called atheists? For we are not atheists, since we acknowledge one God, uncreated, eternal, invisible, impassible, incomprehensible, illimitable, who is apprehended by mind and reason alone, who is surrounded by light and beauty, and spirit and power unspeakable.

We are persuaded that when we are removed from this present life we shall live another life better than the present one, heavenly, not earthly, where we shall abide near God and with God, free from all change or suffering in the soul, and not as flesh but as spirits; or, if we shall again take flesh, we shall have it no longer subject to corruption, but incorruptible.

For as we acknowledge a God, and a Son His Logos, and a Holy Spirit, united in power—the Father, the Son, and the Spirit, because the Son is the Mind, Reason, and Wisdom of the Father, and the Spirit is the effluence as light from fire—so we declare that there is a God, and that the universe came into being by His will.

And though we are beheaded, crucified, thrown to wild beasts, chains, fire, and all kinds of torture, we do not renounce our confession; but the more such things happen, the more others in turn become believers, who observe the extraordinary patience of those who suffer and reflect that it is impossible for them to be living in wickedness and pleasure. For when they see women and boys and young girls preserving the purity of their bodies for so long a time under tortures, and others who had been weak in body becoming strong through the name of Christ, they are moved to understand that there is something divine in this teaching.”
— Athenagoras, Plea for the Christians 10–12, 18 (Loeb Classical Library)

Key Insights

Contrast with Stoicism: While Marcus’ Stoicism accepted death as dissolution, Athenagoras presents death as transformation — a passage into the incorruptible life of God.

Addressed directly to Marcus Aurelius: Athenagoras wrote from Athens to the same emperor who condemned Justin, appealing for reason and justice.

First philosophical articulation of the Trinity: He names “God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit” and explains their unity and distinction.

Immortality and incorruption: Christians believe that after death, they live near God — not dissolving into the cosmos, but sharing in incorruptible life.

Persecution as proof of truth: Athenagoras insists that the courage, purity, and endurance of Christian martyrs demonstrate that their faith is divine.

Theophilus of Antioch: Immortality and Resurrection

Around AD 180, Theophilus, bishop of Antioch, wrote To Autolycus — a three-book defense of the Christian faith addressed to a learned pagan friend. His work is especially important for two reasons:

  1. It contains the earliest known Christian use of the word “Trinity.”
  2. It presents the Christian doctrine of creation, resurrection, and incorruptibility in contrast to Greek philosophy.

Writing from one of the great intellectual centers of the empire, Theophilus appeals both to reason and to Scripture, insisting that faith in the one God — revealed through His Word and Spirit — is the true path to eternal life.

From To Autolycus (Loeb)

“God, then, having His own Word internal within His own bowels, begat Him, emitting Him along with His own Wisdom before all things. He had this Word as a helper in the things that were created by Him, and by Him He made all things. He is called the beginning, because He rules and is Lord of all created things, fashioned by Him.

For God will raise up your flesh immortal with your soul; and then, having become immortal, you shall see the immortal, if you now believe in Him. Then you shall know that you have spoken unjustly against Him. For if you disbelieve, you shall be convinced hereafter, when you are tormented eternally with the wicked.

In like manner also the three days which were before the luminaries are types of the Trinity: of God, and His Word, and His Wisdom. But to us who bear the sign, God has given eternal life. For he who has believed and has been born again has been delivered from death and shall not see corruption.”
— Theophilus of Antioch, To Autolycus 2.10; 1.14; 2.15 (Loeb Classical Library)

Key Insights

Connection to Marcus’ world: Writing at the end of Marcus Aurelius’ reign, Theophilus gives voice to a Christianity fully confident in both reason and revelation — a faith that promises incorruptible life amid an empire obsessed with decay and death.

Earliest known use of “Trinity”: Theophilus is the first Christian writer to use the term explicitly — describing “God, His Word, and His Wisdom.”

Creation through the Word: Theophilus presents the Logos (Word) as God’s agent in creation, echoing both Genesis and John 1.

Promise of bodily resurrection: Unlike Stoicism, which saw the soul dissolve back into nature, Theophilus proclaims the raising of the flesh “immortal with the soul.”

Moral urgency of faith: Belief in God’s Word leads to immortality; unbelief results in corruption and loss.

Melito of Sardis: Christ’s Victory

During the reign of Marcus Aurelius, Melito, bishop of Sardis in Asia Minor, wrote one of the most beautiful early Christian homilies ever preserved — the On Pascha (Peri Pascha). Preached during the annual Paschal celebration, it interprets Christ’s death and resurrection as the true fulfillment of the Jewish Passover.

Melito was deeply versed in both the Scriptures of Israel and the language of Greek rhetoric. His sermon combines poetic intensity with precise theology: Christ is both God and Man, the Creator who entered His own creation, suffered, and destroyed death. In the face of Roman Stoicism’s resignation to mortality, Melito proclaimed a faith that saw the cross as cosmic victory and the resurrection as the end of corruption.

From On Pascha (Loeb)

“He who hung the earth in place is hanged. He who fixed the heavens in place is fixed in place. He who made all things fast is made fast on a tree. The Master has been insulted; God has been murdered; the King of Israel has been destroyed by the right hand of Israel… He who raised the dead is himself put to death. He who has power over the dead is himself made subject to corruption. But he is lifted up on a tree, and nailed thereon, not for any evil he had done, but for the sins of the world.” (96)

“This is He who made the heaven and the earth, and in the beginning created man, who was proclaimed through the law and the prophets, who became human through a virgin, who was hanged upon a tree, who was buried in the earth, who was raised from the dead, who ascended to the heights of heaven, who sits at the right hand of the Father, who has the power to save all things, through whom the Father acted from the beginning and forever.” (105)

“This is the Passover of our salvation. This is He who patiently endured many things in many people: This is He who was murdered in Abel, and bound as a sacrifice in Isaac, and exiled in Jacob, and sold in Joseph, and exposed in Moses, and slaughtered in the lamb, and hunted down in David, and dishonored in the prophets. This is He that was made human of a virgin, that was hanged upon a tree, that was buried in the earth, that was raised from the dead, that was taken up to the heights of heaven.” (69–71)
— Melito of Sardis, On Pascha 69–71, 96, 105 (Loeb Classical Library)

Key Insights

A Message to Rome: Preached while Marcus Aurelius ruled, Melito’s words directly contradict Stoic despair: God has entered history, conquered corruption, and opened immortality to humankind.

Christ as Creator and Redeemer: Melito proclaims that the very One who made heaven and earth is the One who was crucified — uniting creation and redemption in a single act.

The Cross as Victory: Where Stoicism saw death as natural dissolution, Melito sees it as the moment when death itself was destroyed.

The True Passover: Christ fulfills every Old-Testament figure — Abel, Isaac, Joseph, Moses, David — revealing the unity of Scripture in Him.

Poetry and Power: The sermon’s rhythm and parallelism show how early Christian preaching rivaled classical oratory yet centered on the suffering God.

The Martyrs of Lyons and Vienne (177)

In AD 177, while Marcus Aurelius was still emperor, a violent persecution erupted in the Gallic cities of Lugdunum (modern Lyons) and Vienne. The empire was ravaged by plague, and popular suspicion fell on the Christians, whom many blamed for angering the gods. The hostility grew into mob violence, imprisonment, and finally public executions in the amphitheater.

The account was written by the local churches and sent to their brothers in Asia and Phrygia; Eusebius later preserved it in his Church History (Book 5, chapters 1–3). It is one of the earliest detailed descriptions of martyrdom in the western provinces of the Roman Empire and vividly records the endurance of ordinary believers—men, women, the elderly, and slaves—who suffered joyfully for the name of Christ.

From Eusebius, Church History 5.1–3 (Loeb)

“From the very beginning they endured nobly the injuries heaped upon them by the populace, clamors, blows, dragging, despoiling, stonings, imprisonments, and all things which the enraged mob are wont to inflict upon their adversaries and enemies.

They were shut up in the darkest and most loathsome parts of the prison, stretching their feet into the stocks as far as the fifth hole, and left to suffer in this condition. Yet though suffering grievously, they were sustained by great joy through the love of Christ.

Through her [the slave girl Blandina] Christ showed that things which appear mean and obscure and despicable to men are with God of great glory. For while we all feared lest, through her bodily weakness, she should not be able to make a bold confession, she was filled with such power that the insensible and the weak by nature became mighty through the fellowship of Christ. She was hung upon a stake and offered as food to the wild beasts; but as none of them touched her, she was taken down and thrown again into prison, preserved for another contest.

Pothinus, the bishop of Lyons, being more than ninety years old and very infirm, was dragged before the judgment-seat, beaten unmercifully, and after a few days died in prison.

They were all finally sacrificed, and instead of one wreath of victory which the Lord has given, they received many; for they were victorious in contests of many kinds, and endured many trials, and made many glorious confessions.”
— Eusebius, Church History 5.1.5, 14, 17, 29, 55 (Loeb Classical Library)

Key Insights

Legacy: The courage of these Gallic believers inspired churches from Asia Minor to North Africa. It shows how far Christianity had spread—and how deeply its followers trusted in resurrection over resignation.

A Letter from the Churches: This account was written by eyewitnesses—ordinary believers, not historians—making it one of the most authentic voices from the 2nd-century church.

Suffering Across Social Lines: The martyrs included nobles, slaves, and clergy. Blandina, a young slave girl, became the central figure of courage; Pothinus, a bishop over ninety years old, died from his wounds in prison.

Joy in Suffering: The letter repeatedly says the prisoners were filled “with great joy through the love of Christ.” Their faith turned the instruments of torture into testimonies of hope.

Public Spectacle: Their deaths were staged in the amphitheater, just as Nero had done a century earlier in Rome—proof that the name itself still carried a death sentence.

Contrast with Marcus’ Philosophy: The emperor wrote that life is vapor and fame oblivion; his subjects in Lyons believed their suffering crowned them with eternal victory.

The Scillitan Martyrs (180)

In July of AD 180, only months after Marcus Aurelius’ death, twelve Christians from the small North African town of Scillium (near modern Tunis) were brought before the proconsul Saturninus at Carthage.

Their brief hearing—preserved in Latin as the Acts of the Scillitan Martyrs—is the earliest surviving Christian document in Latin, a legal transcript of their words before the Roman governor. The Christians were offered mercy if they would swear by the emperor’s genius and return to “Roman custom.” Instead, they calmly confessed their allegiance to Christ and accepted execution.

From the Acts of the Scillitan Martyrs (Loeb)

Saturninus the proconsul said: “You can win the indulgence of our lord the Emperor if you return to sound mind.”

Speratus, the spokesman for the group, replied: “We have never done wrong, we have not lent ourselves to wickedness, we have never spoken ill; but when we have received ill treatment, we have given thanks, for we pay heed to our Emperor.”

Saturninus said: “We too are religious, and our religion is simple: we swear by the genius of our lord the Emperor, and pray for his welfare, as you also ought to do.”

Speratus said: “If you will listen to me quietly, I will speak the mystery of simplicity.”

Saturninus said: “I will not listen to you when you speak evil of our sacred rites; but rather swear by the genius of our lord the Emperor.”

Speratus said: “I do not recognize the empire of this world; rather I serve that God whom no man has seen, nor can see with these eyes. I have not stolen; but whenever I buy anything I pay the tax, because I recognize my Lord, the King of kings and Ruler of all nations.”

The others with him said: “We too are Christians.”

Saturninus said: “Do you wish time to consider?”

They said: “In such a just cause there is no deliberation.”

Saturninus read from the tablet: “Speratus, Nartzalus, Cittinus, Donata, Secunda, and Vestia, having confessed that they live as Christians, and refusing, after opportunity given them, to return to Roman custom, are hereby condemned to be executed with the sword.”

And they all said: “Thanks be to God.”
— Acts of the Scillitan Martyrs (Loeb Classical Library)

Key Insights

A calm defiance of Stoic fatalism: Stoicism accepted death with indifference; the Scillitan believers accepted it with thanksgiving, certain that life eternal had already begun.

Earliest Latin Christian text: The Acts are the first known Christian writing in Latin, showing that the faith had already taken root far beyond its Greek-speaking heartlands.

Execution “for the name”: The martyrs are charged with no crime but refusal to renounce the Christian name or sacrifice to the emperor’s genius.

Civic loyalty without idolatry: Speratus insists that Christians are not rebels: they pay taxes and pray for the emperor—but cannot worship him.

Quiet confidence: Their composure is remarkable. They require no “time to consider” and meet the death sentence with “Thanks be to God.”

Empire-wide continuity: Their trial in North Africa mirrors Justin’s in Rome and the martyrs’ in Lyons—proof that by the late 2nd century, persecution for the Christian name extended from the capital to the provinces.

Stoicism and Christianity Contrasted

  • Marcus Aurelius (Stoicism, 170s): Life is fleeting vapor. Death is dissolution. All things vanish. After-fame is oblivion. The best that can be done is to endure with dignity and accept fate calmly.
  • Christians under Marcus (Justin, Athenagoras, Theophilus, Melito, the martyrs of Lyons and Vienne, and the Scillitan Martyrs, 155–180): Life is fleeting, but Christ has conquered death. The soul endures. The body will rise. Judgment is certain. Incorruption is promised. Suffering is not meaningless fate but victory with Christ. Death itself becomes thanksgiving and triumph.

This was not new in Marcus’ time. From Nero to Domitian to Trajan, Hadrian, Antoninus Pius, and now Marcus, Christians faced the same charge: death for the name.

Conclusion

The reign of Marcus Aurelius brought plague without and persecution within. The emperor’s Stoic meditations gave him dignity to accept dissolution. The Christians’ writings and martyrdoms gave them courage to proclaim resurrection.

From Nero to Marcus, the story was the same: Christians were executed not for ordinary crimes but for the name. The philosopher-emperor wrote that life is vapor; the martyrs declared that life is eternal in Christ.

Plague may ravage. Governors may condemn. Emperors may command. But the Christians of Marcus’ reign — and every reign since Nero — bore witness that Christ has overcome death, and in Him incorruption and eternal life have already begun.

Slaves as Deacons, Christians on Trial: The World of Pliny and Trajan

/ Jason Conrad / Leave a comment

Christians had already been singled out under Nero in AD 64, when they were executed as scapegoats for the great fire of Rome. Tacitus explained that this was possible because the movement was already “a pernicious superstition” spreading from Judea to Rome itself.

Under Trajan we find something new: the earliest preserved imperial correspondence about Christians. Around AD 111–113, Pliny the Younger wrote to the emperor, uncertain how to judge these people who seemed to be everywhere in his province. His letter, and Trajan’s reply, provide the first official window into how Rome defined the Christian movement: not for crimes committed, but for stubborn loyalty to Christ.

Pliny’s First Provincial Post

Pliny the Younger had served in Rome as a lawyer, senator, and consul, but in AD 111 Trajan appointed him governor of Bithynia-Pontus in Asia Minor. This was his first post outside Rome, and very early in his service he encountered Christians.

Bithynia-Pontus was no small territory. It stretched across the Black Sea coast of northern Asia Minor, covering about 50,000–80,000 square kilometers — comparable to a modern U.S. state like South Carolina or a country like Ireland. Its population likely numbered one to three million people, scattered across major cities such as Nicomedia (the capital), Nicaea, Amisus, and Sinope, as well as countless villages and rural communities.

It was a wealthy and strategically important province, close to Rome’s troubled eastern frontier. Pliny had been sent there with special imperial authority to repair corruption in the local cities and restore order to provincial finances. He wrote dozens of letters to Trajan on everything from aqueduct projects to fire safety. Among them is this extraordinary letter — the earliest Roman testimony we possess about Christians.

Pliny’s Letter to Trajan (Letters 10.96, Loeb)

“It is my rule, Sir, to refer to you all matters concerning which I am in doubt. For who is better able either to direct my hesitation or to instruct my ignorance? I have never been present at any trials of Christians; therefore I do not know what is the customary subject-matter of investigations and punishments, or how far it is usual to go. Whether pardon is to be granted on repentance, or if a man has once been a Christian it does him no good to have ceased to be one; whether the mere name, apart from atrocious crimes associated with it, or only the crimes which adhere to the name, is to be punished—all this I am in great doubt about.

In the meantime, the course that I have adopted with respect to those who have been brought before me as Christians is as follows: I asked them whether they were Christians. If they admitted it, I repeated the question a second and a third time, with a warning of the punishment awaiting them. If they persisted, I ordered them to be led away for execution; for I could not doubt, whatever it was that they admitted, that stubbornness and unbending obstinacy ought to be punished. There were others similarly afflicted; but, as they were Roman citizens, I decided to send them to Rome.

In the case of those who denied that they were or had been Christians, when they invoked the gods in the words I dictated and offered prayer with incense and wine to your image, which I had ordered to be brought for this purpose together with statues of the gods, and furthermore cursed Christ—none of which things, I am told, those who are really Christians can be forced to do—I thought they ought to be discharged.

Others, who were named by an informer, first said that they were Christians and then denied it; true, they had been of that persuasion, but they had left it, some three years ago, some more, and a few as much as twenty years. All these also worshiped your image and the statues of the gods, and cursed Christ.

They maintained, however, that the sum and substance of their fault or error had been that on a fixed day they were accustomed to meet before daylight and to recite by turns a form of words to Christ as to a god, and that they bound themselves by an oath—not for any crime, but not to commit theft, robbery, or adultery, not to break their word, and not to refuse to return a deposit when called upon to restore it. After this it was their custom to separate, and then meet again to partake of food—but ordinary and harmless food. Even this they said they had ceased to do after the publication of my edict, by which, in accordance with your instructions, I had forbidden associations.

I thought it the more necessary, therefore, to find out what was true from two slaves, whom they call deaconesses, by means of torture. I discovered nothing else but depraved, excessive superstition.

I therefore postponed the investigation and hastened to consult you. The matter seems to me to justify consultation, especially on account of the number of those in danger; for many of every age, every rank, and also of both sexes are already and will be brought into danger. For the contagion of this superstition has spread not only through cities, but also through villages and the countryside; and yet it seems possible to check and cure it. It is certain at least that the temples, which had been almost deserted, have begun to be frequented, and the sacred rites, long suspended, are again being performed, and there is a general demand for the flesh of sacrificial victims, for up till now very few purchasers could be found. From this it may easily be supposed what a multitude of people can be reclaimed, if only room is granted for repentance.”

Trajan’s Reply (Letters 10.97, Loeb)

“You have followed the right course, my dear Secundus, in examining the cases of those who had been denounced to you as Christians; for it is impossible to lay down any general rule which will apply as a fixed standard. They are not to be sought out; if they are brought before you and convicted, they must be punished. With this proviso, however—that if anyone denies that he is a Christian and proves it by worshiping our gods, he is to obtain pardon through repentance, even if he has incurred suspicion in the past.

As for anonymous accusations, they must not be admitted in any proceedings. For that would establish a very bad precedent and is not in keeping with the spirit of our age.”

Commentary on the Exchange

Pliny’s confession, “I have never been present at any trials of Christians,” shows both his inexperience and the fact that trials were already happening elsewhere. Christianity was under continual pressure across the empire, and now the problem landed on his desk.

The chilling reality is revealed in his line about “the mere name ….” To bear the name Christian was itself a death sentence. No crimes were needed. Identity alone was enough.

The procedure Pliny used shows just how brutal this was. He explains, “I asked them whether they were Christians. If they admitted it … I repeated the question a second and a third time … If they persisted, I ordered them to be led away for execution.” Imagine the horror of answering three times, knowing each affirmation sealed your fate.

He explains why: “stubbornness and unbending obstinacy ought to be punished.” His uncle, Pliny the Elder, had written:

Pliny the Elder, Natural History 28.3 (Loeb):
“There is no doubt that obstinacy (pertinacia) in every case is a kind of mental disease; and it is certainly detestable.”

Romans believed stubborn refusal to yield was itself madness. For Christians, refusing to recant was not insanity but faith. For Rome, it was intolerable.

Pliny even notes that apostates could prove themselves by worshiping Trajan’s image, since “none of which things … those who are really Christians can be forced to do.” This shows the fame of Christian commitment: even outsiders knew real Christians would never deny Christ.

He describes their worship: “on a fixed day … to Christ as to a god … by an oath … not to commit theft, robbery, or adultery … and then partake of food—but ordinary and harmless food.” This is the earliest pagan testimony to Christian worship of Jesus as divine.

Pliny adds they ceased such gatherings “after the publication of my edict … I had forbidden associations.” Christianity was caught in Rome’s general ban on private clubs. The suspicion of associations is illustrated vividly in another letter. When the city of Nicomedia asked to form a small fire brigade to deal with frequent blazes, Pliny petitioned Trajan for permission:

Pliny to Trajan (10.33): “The city of Nicomedia has been visited by frequent fires, and its narrow streets and the lack of aqueducts make this danger greater. They beg you to permit them to establish a fire brigade of 150 men. I will see to it that none but firemen are admitted into it. But still, it will be easy to keep them under control.”

Trajan flatly refused:

Trajan’s Reply (10.34a): “You are doubtless aware that societies of this sort have greatly disturbed the peace of the provinces, and particularly of your province. Whatever name we give them, and for whatever purpose they may be formed, they will not fail to degenerate into political clubs. Therefore we must not sanction the existence of such a body. It will be sufficient if private individuals bring help, and slaves too, when a fire breaks out.”

If Trajan would not allow even a fire brigade for public safety, how much less would he permit Christians to form weekly gatherings for worship.

Pliny then reports that he tried to get more information “from two slaves, whom they call deaconesses, by means of torture.” The Latin ancillae makes clear these were slaves. Roman law allowed slaves to be tortured for testimony, while free citizens were usually protected from such treatment.

What is remarkable is not only that slaves were tortured — that was routine — but that these enslaved women held the office of deacon (ministrae), functioning as ministers and leaders in their Christian community. To Rome, they were property; to the church, they were shepherds of the flock.

The Didache, written only a decade or two earlier, had instructed Christians to “appoint for yourselves bishops and deacons worthy of the Lord” (Did. 15). Now Pliny, in a completely different province, confirms the same office. This is the earliest Roman testimony that Christians had recognized offices — and it reveals something astonishing: the church entrusted even slaves, even women, with the role of deacon.

This convergence is remarkable. The Didache exhorted churches to choose deacons for their character; Pliny identifies two women who bore that title. To their fellow believers, they were leaders in worship. To Roman law, they were vulnerable bodies fit for torture. This single line in Pliny’s letter accidentally reveals the radical social reversal inside the Christian movement.

It is important to remember, however, that this is only one governor’s correspondence. Pliny was just one official among some forty provincial governors who administered Rome’s empire under Trajan. Their letters on taxation, roads, temples, and law were constant. It is reasonable to assume that similar exchanges about Christians were being carried on elsewhere, even if those letters have been lost. Trajan’s consistent instructions suggest this was not a one-off ruling, but an imperial policy applied across the empire.

Pliny also reports the movement’s scale: “many of every age, every rank, and also of both sexes … the contagion of this superstition has spread not only through cities, but also through villages and the countryside.” For a province the size of Bithynia-Pontus — with millions of inhabitants across urban and rural settings — this meant Christianity was embedded in every layer of society. He calls it a “contagion” to be “checked and cured,” echoing Tacitus who wrote that Christianity had been “checked for the moment” in Judea, but then broke out again in Rome.

Finally, Pliny admits that “the temples, which had been almost deserted, have begun to be frequented … the sacred rites … again being performed.” Christianity had already drained pagan practice. Only persecution revived it.

Trajan’s reply solidified the pattern: Christians were “not to be sought out; if … convicted, they must be punished.” Apostasy and sacrifice to the gods could secure pardon. Anonymous accusations were disallowed, but the danger remained.

And since this correspondence occurred in AD 111–113, it reflects how Christians had been treated from the beginning of Trajan’s reign in 98. For nearly two decades, the policy had been consistent: tolerated in silence, condemned if confessed.

Christian Voices Under Trajan

Ignatius of Antioch (c. 110–117)

Ignatius, Romans 6 (Loeb):
“Permit me to be an imitator of the passion of my God. If anyone has him within himself, let him consider what I long for and let him sympathize with me, knowing the things which constrain me.”

Ignatius explicitly calls Jesus “my God” and embraces death as imitation of his Lord’s passion.

Ignatius, Ephesians 20 (Loeb):
“Come together in common, one and all without exception in grace, in one faith and in one Jesus Christ … breaking one bread, which is the medicine of immortality, the antidote that we should not die but live forever in Jesus Christ.”

Ignatius shows the same worship Pliny described — but where Pliny saw superstition, Ignatius saw immortality.

Polycarp of Smyrna, Letter to the Philippians (c. 110–115)

Polycarp, Philippians 2 (Loeb):
“Stand firm, therefore, in these things and follow the example of the Lord, being strong and unchangeable in the faith, loving the brotherhood, cherishing one another, joined together in the truth, forestalling one another in the gentleness of the Lord, despising no man.”

Here Polycarp echoes the oath Pliny heard — not to crime, but to virtue.

Polycarp, Philippians 2 (Loeb):
“If we please him in this present world, we shall also receive the world to come, as he has promised us that he will raise us from the dead, and that if we live worthily of him we shall also reign with him, if indeed we have faith.”

Moral living is bound to resurrection hope and the lordship of Christ.

The Didache (c. 100–110)

Didache 1.2 (Loeb):
“The way of life, then, is this: First, you shall love God who made you; second, your neighbor as yourself; and all things whatsoever you would not have done to you, do not do to another.”

This is the oath Pliny summarized — binding oneself to moral life.

Didache 10 (Loeb):
“We give you thanks, holy Father, for your holy name which you caused to tabernacle in our hearts, and for the knowledge and faith and immortality which you made known to us through Jesus your servant. To you be the glory forever.”

Here the Eucharist is described in prayer form, matching Pliny’s “ordinary and harmless food,” but revealing its sacred meaning.

The Shepherd of Hermas (Rome, c. 100–117 for earliest layers)

Hermas, Vision 3.2.4 (Loeb):
“Those who endure cheerfully the things that happen, these are the ones who are blessed. It is they who will inherit life.”

This is the Christian redefinition of “stubbornness”: not madness, but blessedness.

Hermas, Mandate 8.6 (Loeb):
“Keep the commandments of the Lord and you will be approved and enrolled among the number of those who keep his commandments. But if you do any other thing, you will not be saved, nor your children, nor your household, since you have despised the commandments of the Lord.”

Hermas shows the seriousness of moral life, binding salvation to obedience.

Papias of Hierapolis (c. 110–130)

Eusebius, Church History 3.39.3–4 (Loeb):
“I shall not hesitate also to set down for you along with my interpretations whatsoever things I learned with care from the presbyters and stored up in memory, guaranteeing their truth. For I did not, like the multitude, take pleasure in those who spoke much, but in those who taught the truth, nor in those who related strange commandments, but in those who rehearsed the commandments given by the Lord to the faith and proceeding from the truth itself. And if by chance anyone who had been a follower of the presbyters should come my way, I inquired into the words of the presbyters, what Andrew or what Peter said, or what Philip or what Thomas or James or what John or Matthew or any other of the Lord’s disciples; and what Aristion and the presbyter John, the disciples of the Lord, say. For I did not think that what was to be gotten from the books would profit me as much as what came from the living and abiding voice.”

Eusebius, Church History 3.39.15–16 (Loeb):
“And this the presbyter used to say: Mark, having become the interpreter of Peter, wrote down accurately whatever he remembered of the things said and done by the Lord, but not however in order. For he had neither heard the Lord nor followed him, but afterward, as I said, he followed Peter, who used to frame his teaching to meet the needs of his hearers, but not as making a connected narrative of the Lord’s discourses. So then Mark committed no error while he thus wrote down some things as he remembered them; for he took thought for one thing not to omit any of the things which he had heard, nor to falsify anything in them.

So then Matthew composed the oracles in the Hebrew language, and each man interpreted them as he was able.”

Papias, bishop of Hierapolis in Asia Minor, was writing during or soon after Trajan’s reign — in the same region Pliny governed. While Pliny dismissed Christianity as a superstition to be cured, Papias was carefully preserving the traditions of the apostles. His testimony shows that Christians of this time were not inventing novelties, but guarding what they believed came from Andrew, Peter, John, Matthew, and others.

Why Rome Considered Christianity a Superstition

Pliny the Elder had explained decades earlier:

Pliny the Elder, Natural History 30.12 (Loeb):
“Among foreign rites, it is only the ancient ones that have gained recognition; the rest are held accursed.”

Judaism was tolerated because it was ancient. Christianity, though born out of Judaism, was treated as new — and therefore dangerous. Rome did not see it as a venerable faith, but as an illegitimate superstition.

Conclusion

Pliny’s letter and Trajan’s reply give us the earliest imperial window into the treatment of Christians. They were punished not for crimes but for their name, not for sedition but for stubborn loyalty.

Rome called it obstinacy; Christians called it faith. Rome called it superstition; Christians called it worship. Rome called it contagion; Christians called it life.

And because this exchange took place late in Trajan’s reign, it shows that from AD 98 to 117 the policy never wavered: Christians were not to be hunted, but if accused and refusing to recant, they must die.

At the very same time, Ignatius longed to die for “my God,” Polycarp exhorted believers to live worthily of Christ, the Didache described the Eucharist as thanksgiving through Jesus, Hermas taught endurance as the path to life, and Papias preserved the sayings of the apostles.

Even Pliny, though hostile, could not deny the truth: Christianity was everywhere — men and women, rich and poor, city and countryside. It had weakened the pagan temples. It could not be forced into silence.

The empire tried to check and cure it. But history shows that the “contagion” of Christ only spread further — carried even by slaves who bore the title of deacon, ministers and leaders in their assemblies, and by all who confessed his name three times, even unto death.

Lord and God: Domitian’s Demand and the Church’s Response

/ Jason Conrad / Leave a comment

Domitian ruled the Roman Empire from AD 81 to 96. Unlike his predecessors, he didn’t wait for the Senate to deify him after death—he demanded divine honors while still alive. In his reign, we find the clearest clash yet between the Roman emperor’s claim to absolute authority and the growing Christian conviction that Jesus alone is Lord.

We will examine how Domitian reshaped imperial religion, how Jews and Christians were affected, and how John’s Gospel and Revelation responded. Then we’ll look at Nerva, his successor, who briefly reversed these policies and allowed the apostle John to return from exile.

Imperial Title: “Lord and God” — Claimed by Domitian, Confessed by Thomas

Multiple Roman sources record that Domitian required subjects to refer to him with divine titles.

Suetonius (c. AD 69–122), a Roman biographer, writes:

“He even dictated a circular letter in the name of his procurators, beginning: ‘Our Lord and God commands that this be done.’”
— Suetonius, Life of Domitian 13.2

Cassius Dio (c. AD 155–235), a Roman senator and historian, adds:

“Domitian was not only bold enough to boast of his divinity openly, but compelled everyone to address him as Lord and God.”
— Cassius Dio, Roman History 67.4

At the same time, the Gospel of John (written c. AD 90–95, near the end of Domitian’s reign) records the only place in the New Testament where someone addresses Jesus with both titles:

“Thomas answered and said to Him, ‘My Lord and my God!’”
— John 20:28

The Greek, ho Kyrios mou kai ho Theos mou, mirrors the very language demanded of Domitian in the Greek-speaking east. In a world where Caesar was called “Lord and God” by force, John records a disciple saying it freely of Jesus.

Emperor Worship in Asia Minor

Domitian’s divine status was especially prominent in Asia Minor, the region addressed by Revelation (written c. AD 95).

  • Ephesus: A temple was constructed during Domitian’s reign and dedicated to him. Archaeology has recovered fragments of a colossal statue and inscriptions honoring him.
  • Pergamum: Already home to the first imperial cult temple in Asia (to Augustus and Roma, 29 BC), it continued to be a center of emperor worship under Domitian. Revelation 2:13 calls it “where Satan’s throne is.”
  • Smyrna and Sardis: Inscriptions name Domitian with divine epithets like Sebastos Theos (“August and God”). Public festivals and civic life revolved around his cult.

These local realities explain why Revelation portrays emperor worship as unavoidable and coercive.

Economic Pressure and the “Mark of the Beast”

Revelation describes a system where worship and commerce are inseparable:

“No one could buy or sell except the one who had the mark or the name of the beast.”
— Revelation 13:17 (written c. AD 95)

Participation in the emperor cult was often required for guilds, festivals, and trade. In Domitian’s Asia Minor, refusing to honor Caesar could mean exclusion from economic life, imprisonment, or worse.

The Number of the Beast and the Nero Legend

Revelation 13 ends with one of the most famous verses in the Bible:

“This calls for wisdom: let the one who has understanding calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man, and his number is 666.”
— Revelation 13:18

Most scholars recognize this as gematria—a system where letters represent numbers. When “Nero Caesar” is written in Hebrew letters (נרון קסר, Neron Qesar), the total is 666. Some manuscripts of Revelation even read 616, which fits the Latin spelling “Nero Caesar” without the final n.

This shows the beast first pointed to Nero, remembered as the emperor who initiated state persecution of Christians. But why would John use Nero’s name when writing 25–30 years later under Domitian?

Because Romans themselves believed Nero was not really gone.

Suetonius: The Rumor of Nero’s Return

Suetonius (c. AD 110–120) explains that the rumor of Nero’s return never died:

“Although Nero was now dead and already missed by no one, yet in the course of many years, there were still people who dressed up like him and pretended to be him, and they met with such success that they stirred up serious disorders.”
— Suetonius, Life of Nero 57

This wasn’t harmless theater. People believed these impostors. The disturbances Suetonius describes show that Nero’s return was taken seriously enough to cause riots and uprisings.

Cassius Dio: False Neros and Domitian as a New Nero

Cassius Dio (c. AD 220) confirms the same phenomenon:

“In his time and afterward, many pretended to be Nero, and this caused great disturbances.”
— Roman History 66.19

And when he describes Domitian, Dio makes the connection explicit:

“He was a man of Nero’s type, cruel and lustful, but he concealed these vices at the beginning of his reign… Later, however, he showed himself the equal of Nero in cruelty.”
— Roman History 67.1–2

So the link is clear:

  • The legend of Nero’s return haunted the empire.
  • Domitian’s cruelty made many see him as a “new Nero.”

Why This Matters for Revelation

For John’s audience in Asia Minor, Nero was the archetype of the beast. The rumor of his return kept that fear alive. Under Domitian, those fears became present reality.

Thus, the number of the beast (666) was not a mystical code about the far future. It was a way of saying: the same spirit of persecution that lived in Nero now lives again in Domitian.

John’s Exile to Patmos

Irenaeus (c. AD 130–202), bishop of Lyons, records:

“It [Revelation] was seen no long time ago, but almost in our generation, at the end of Domitian’s reign.”
— Against Heresies 5.30.3

Eusebius (c. AD 260–340), the early church historian, confirms:

“John… was banished to the island of Patmos by the tyrant Domitian.”
— Ecclesiastical History 3.18

And John himself (c. AD 95) writes:

“I, John… was on the island called Patmos for the word of God and for the testimony of Jesus Christ.”
— Revelation 1:9

John’s exile reflects Domitian’s broader repression of religious dissent.

The Jewish Tax and Identity Pressure

Domitian enforced the fiscus Judaicus with severity.

Suetonius (writing c. AD 110–120) records:

“The tax on the Jews was levied with the utmost rigor. Those who lived like Jews without publicly admitting it were prosecuted.”
— Suetonius, Life of Domitian 12.2

This created legal confusion. Christians were caught between identities:

  • If they looked Jewish, they were taxed.
  • If they weren’t legally Jewish, they had no protections.
  • If they refused emperor worship, they were called atheists.

Revelation reflects this tension:

“I know the slander of those who say they are Jews and are not, but are a synagogue of Satan.”
— Revelation 2:9 (c. AD 95)

This is not anti-Jewish polemic—it’s a real-time response to legal and political accusations in Smyrna, where Jewish communities may have denounced Christians to Roman authorities.

Martyrdom: Clemens and Domitilla

In AD 95, Domitian executed his cousin Flavius Clemens and banished his wife Domitilla.

Suetonius (c. AD 110–120) writes:

“He put to death his cousin Flavius Clemens… and banished his wife Domitilla… on the most trivial of charges.”
— Suetonius, Life of Domitian 15.1

Later Christian sources, such as Eusebius (c. AD 260–340), identified them as Christian sympathizers. Whether or not that is precise, their fate shows even Rome’s elite were not spared when religious loyalty was questioned.

Did Domitian Persecute Christians?

There is no formal edict against Christians from Domitian’s reign, but the evidence suggests targeted repression:

  • John exiled to Patmos (c. AD 95)
  • Clemens executed, Domitilla banished (AD 95)
  • Christians accused of atheism or tax evasion

Persecution was not empire-wide, but under Domitian, Christians could be criminalized for their faith.

1 Clement — A Contemporary Voice from Rome

Around the same time, Clement of Rome (c. AD 95–96) wrote to the church in Corinth. His letter, 1 Clement, is the earliest Christian writing outside the New Testament.

Clement begins:

“Because of the sudden and repeated misfortunes and reverses that have happened to us, we have been somewhat tardy in turning our attention to the matters in dispute among you.”
— 1 Clement 1.1

This likely refers to Domitian’s persecutions in Rome. Clement adds:

“Many are in fear and distress, enduring torments and imprisonment.”
— 1 Clement 6.1

He recalls the deaths of Peter and Paul:

“Peter… endured many trials, and thus, having given his testimony, went to the place of glory.”
— 1 Clement 5.4

“Paul… having preached in the East and in the West… was martyred under the prefects.”
— 1 Clement 5.6–7

And he instructs believers to endure persecution without revolt:

“Let us submit ourselves to every decree of the rulers and authorities… For the rulers are God’s servants, and their judgment is not without purpose.”
— 1 Clement 61.1

Like Revelation, Clement reflects a church under pressure—calling for endurance, peace, and loyalty to God over Caesar.

Persecution in Revelation’s Own Words

Revelation itself (c. AD 95) bears witness to persecution under Domitian:

  • Smyrna:

“Do not fear what you are about to suffer… The devil is about to throw some of you into prison… Be faithful unto death.” (Rev. 2:10)

  • Pergamum:

“Antipas, my faithful witness… was killed among you.” (Rev. 2:13)

  • Philadelphia:

“You have kept my word about patient endurance… I will keep you from the hour of trial.” (Rev. 3:10)

  • The Martyrs Under the Altar:

“I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain for the word of God…” (Rev. 6:9–11)

  • Conquering Through Death:

“They loved not their lives even unto death.” (Rev. 12:11)

  • Beheaded for the Testimony:

“I saw the souls of those who had been beheaded for the testimony of Jesus.” (Rev. 20:4)

These passages are contemporary witnesses, showing the churches in Asia were suffering imprisonment, slander, and even martyrdom under Domitian.

The Broader New Testament Context

Critical and atheist scholars, who reject early Christian tradition about the dating of New Testament writings, place almost all of the New Testament (outside of Paul’s seven undisputed letters) into the very decades between Nero and Domitian (AD 65–96).

  • Mark is usually dated just after the destruction of Jerusalem (c. AD 70).
  • Matthew and Luke-Acts are typically placed in the 80s or 90s.
  • John’s Gospel and letters are often dated to the 90s, during or immediately after Domitian’s reign.
  • 1 Peter, Jude, and other Catholic Epistles are also slotted into this time period.

If that critical dating is correct, then the majority of the New Testament was written in an atmosphere of persecution and repression — either Nero’s violent purges, or Domitian’s pressures on Jews and Christians alike.

And these writings don’t minimize persecution — they emphasize it.

  • 1 Peter explicitly refers to Christians suffering not for crimes, but simply for the name “Christian”: “If anyone suffers as a Christian, let him not be ashamed, but let him glorify God in that name.”
    — 1 Peter 4:16
  • Hebrews urges perseverance in the face of social rejection and suffering: “Recall the former days when, after you were enlightened, you endured a hard struggle with sufferings, sometimes being publicly exposed to reproach and affliction, and sometimes being partners with those so treated.”
    — Hebrews 10:32–33
  • The Gospels repeatedly stress Jesus’ warnings that his followers would be “hated by all nations” and “delivered up to tribulation” (cf. Matt. 24:9; Mark 13:13; Luke 21:17).

Even if one accepts the most skeptical dating, the consensus of critical scholarship places much of the New Testament in a context of Roman suspicion, Jewish-Christian conflict, and persecution.

The Witness of the Didache

The Didache (“Teaching”), one of the earliest non-biblical Christian writings (c. AD 80–100), echoes the same themes of persecution and endurance:

“The world-deceiver will appear as a son of God… and the earth will be delivered into his hands… many will fall away and perish; but those who endure in their faith will be saved.”
— Didache 16.4–5

Even outside the New Testament, Christians at the close of the 1st century were being taught to expect tribulation, resist deception, and endure to the end.

Common Themes Across the First-Century Witnesses

From Paul’s letters in the 50s to Revelation, Clement, and the Didache in the 90s, one theme unites the earliest church: faith in Christ expressed through endurance and moral living.

  • Faith in Jesus as Lord:
    Thomas confessed, “My Lord and my God” (John 20:28), words that in John’s Gospel belong to Christ, not Caesar. For Clement of Rome, writing near the end of Domitian’s reign, this same allegiance framed his encouragement to endure faithfully, even as believers in Rome suffered “torments and imprisonment” (1 Clement 6.1).
  • Endurance under persecution:
    Paul praised the Thessalonians for imitating the persecuted churches in Judea (1 Thess. 2:14). Peter told believers not to be ashamed of the name “Christian” (1 Pet. 4:16). Hebrews reminded its readers of their “hard struggle with sufferings” (Heb. 10:32–33). Revelation called the church in Smyrna to be “faithful unto death” (Rev. 2:10). Clement honored Peter and Paul as models who suffered faithfully (1 Clement 5). The Didache urged endurance against the “world-deceiver” in the final trial (Didache 16.4–5).
  • Commitment to moral living:
    Paul urged the churches to “live in a manner worthy of God” (1 Thess. 2:12). Hebrews stressed the “holiness without which no one will see the Lord” (Heb. 12:14). The Gospels and John’s letters call for love, purity, and obedience. Clement rebuked envy, pride, and strife as the causes of disorder, urging humility, peace, and good works (1 Clement 38–39). The Didache contrasted the Way of Life (love, generosity, self-control) with the Way of Death (greed, idolatry, violence).

Across these writings, the earliest Christians are consistent: they were not revolutionaries seeking to overthrow Rome, but a people set apart in loyalty to Christ and in moral living. They endured slander, imprisonment, and death while maintaining their baseline confession:

  • Jesus is Lord, not Caesar.
  • The church must endure suffering.
  • The church must live a holy, distinct life.

Nerva and the Reversal

Domitian was assassinated in AD 96. The Senate chose Nerva (r. AD 96–98) as emperor, who immediately reversed many of Domitian’s harsher policies.

Cassius Dio (writing c. AD 220) records:

“He forbade the accusation of those who were living a Jewish life without admitting it.”
— Roman History 68.1

Nerva also released those unjustly banished, likely including John, who then returned to Ephesus and lived out his final years there.

Nerva’s short reign resembles Claudius (r. AD 41–54): both followed unstable emperors, restored legal balance, and unintentionally created space for Christianity to grow.

Conclusion

Domitian demanded worship, punished dissent, and blurred the legal categories that had once sheltered Christians under Judaism. John wrote Revelation from exile in Patmos, Clement wrote from a pressured Rome, and the churches of Asia endured imprisonment, slander, and death. The Didache echoed the same warning: the “world-deceiver” would arise, but those who endured to the end would be saved.

Then came Nerva, who reversed Domitian’s harsh policies, released exiles, and brought a short reprieve. Like Claudius before him, his unexpected moderation gave the Christian movement room to breathe, to write, and to expand.

From Paul’s earliest letters to the Didache, one message ties the first-century church together:

  • Jesus is Lord, not Caesar.
  • The church must endure suffering.
  • The church must live a holy, distinct life.

In the end, Domitian’s title “Lord and God” died with him. But the words recorded by John endure:

“Thomas said to Him, ‘My Lord and my God.’”