The next time you experience a surge of despair concerning the chaos and unpredictability of America’s political landscape, or perhaps hear someone say, “It can’t get any worse than this,” call to mind what it must have been like to live in the Roman Empire about 25 years after the resurrection of Christ.
In A.D. 54, a teenager ascended to the emperor’s throne. Nero was 17 years old when he became the most powerful leader of the world’s most powerful domain.
Things did not go well.
Nero was, to put it simply, boundary challenged. He quickly became known for his narcissism and cruelty. From time to time he would dress like a commoner, leave the palace at night with friends, and mug people on the streets – just for the thrill of it. He occasionally dressed in animal skins and attacked both men and women tied to stakes.
Those around him, whether imperial staff or members of his own family, were never entirely safe. Nero beat to death his pregnant wife and ordered the execution of his mother.
Through it all, he insisted on being worshiped as a god who humbly consented to live among mere mortals.
On July 19, A.D. 64, fire broke out in a working-class section of Rome. Having recently witnessed the ferocity of wind-whipped flames in Los Angeles, we can only imagine the destruction of a metro area that had no firefighting equipment or access to water hydrants. Over a period of seven days, 10 of the city’s 14 wards were completely destroyed.
Nero’s enemies (and there were many) suspected he had a hand in the fire’s origin, since he had openly declared his interest in urban renewal. The rumor began that he had “fiddled” while Rome burned – likely an aspersion aimed at his fanciful dream of composing the equivalent of a hit musical.
Unsurprisingly, the emperor immediately seized a generous tract of incinerated property and began construction of his Golden Palace – at public expense, of course.
What he needed, in order to redirect the inevitable grumbling, was someone to blame for the fire.
He found it in a new religious sect known as the Christians.
There were many reasons to admire the followers of a young, crucified Jew from the backwaters of the empire. These individuals lived peaceably and paid their taxes. They cared for the sick and the poor – even those who had expressed no interest in their beliefs. Slaves and women felt particularly at home in this movement, since it openly appealed to both upper and lower classes.
But there were also reasons to suspect that Christians might be up to no good.
They gathered to eat the body and drink the blood of their hero. Were they cannibals? Their common meals were called “love feasts.” Were they morally degenerate? They refused to recognize the divinity of the emperor and bow before his altar. Were they enemies of the state?
Romans, in general, offered at least a passing acknowledgement of hundreds of deities. The troublemakers were those who insisted on the existence of just one. Because Christians refused to pray to the pantheon of Roman gods, they were branded (interestingly enough) as atheists.
Followers of Jesus had long been associated with the Jews, earning them the same umbrella of protection granted to that faith. But as more and more Jews insisted, “These heretics aren’t with us,” the noose began to tighten around the Christian community.
In the aftermath of the fire, Nero decided to pounce.
He launched what became history’s first major wave of persecution. Nero hunted down hundreds of Christians. Some he soaked with oil and set afire to illuminate his garden parties. Tradition tells us that the emperor eliminated two of Christianity’s earliest leaders. Paul, a Roman citizen, was beheaded (a more humane punishment), while Peter was crucified – although he apparently insisted, as an act of humility, to be crucified upside-down.
Identifying the Antichrist (also known as “the Beast” in the book of Revelation) has long been an object of evangelical fascination.
Who is this God-defying tyrant? Insert here the name of your least favorite politician, one of your exes, or the coach of the team you just can’t stand.
In the minds of many Bible commentators, the number one candidate for this ultimate dishonor has already come into the world and inflicted profound damage. We’re speaking of none other than Nero.
In the ancient world, alphabets often served double duty as numbering systems. Think of Romans letters like X (10), L (50), and C (100). The Hebrew spelling of Nero’s name was Nrwn Qsr (pronounced Neron Kaiser). When converted to numeric equivalents, those letters add up to a figure that is well-known to Bible readers: 666.
Were the New Testament authors insinuating that Nero was the “man of lawlessness” predicted to swagger onto the stage of history at a particularly dark moment? Perhaps.
What we know for sure is that his persecution represented a turning point for the Church – the first time that it clearly became publicly dangerous to be a follower of Jesus. Nero’s persecution came to an end in A.D. 68 when he took his own life. But spasmodic bursts of persecution would recur in various corners of the empire for the next 250 years.
Jesus said it would happen, and it did.
“All this I have told you so that you will not fall away. They will put you out of the synagogue; in fact, the time is coming when anyone who kills you will think they are offering a service to God. They will do such things because they have not known the Father or me. I have told you this, so that when their time comes you will remember that I warned you about them” (John 16:1-4).
Rome’s emperors would ultimately make a surprising discovery: Every time they turned the heat up on Christians, more of them seemed to appear.
Tertullian, the second century theologian, famously declared, “Blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.”
It’s still dangerous to be a follower of Jesus. It’s estimated that more Christians died for their faith in the 20th century than the previous 19 centuries combined – even as Christianity continues to explode in Asia, Africa, South America, and the Pacific islands.
And what of those of us who live in places where there is virtually no threat of martyrdom?
One of the church leaders who emerged in Eastern Europe following the late 20th century collapse of communism has reflected, “For many years I knew what it meant to be ready to die for Jesus. Now I know what it means to have to live for Jesus. I can assure you: It is much harder to live for Jesus than to die for him.”
It is hard to live for Jesus.
Long after the waves of persecution in the early centuries petered out, Christians learned just how hard is to “carry one’s cross” every day.
Day by day, step by step, we die to ourselves so we might live for the Lord – giving up a life we cannot keep in order to gain a life we cannot lose.
Which means it can be just as dramatic and consequential to live in Las Vegas, Miami, or Terre Haute, Indiana, as in ancient Rome.
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