In Hoc Signo Vinces
Constantine’s conversion to Christianity has to be one of the most ironic developments in the history of the West. Think of it — the Roman Empire, the political entity whose soldiers killed Jesus by hanging Him on a cross, adopted Christianity as the state religion, and painted crosses on the shields issued to soldiers. Nobody is really sure if Constantine was sincere about becoming a Christian or if it was just a political move, but if he was sincere, he got it all the way wrong. And then he channeled piles of money into church coffers and started persecuting people of other religions. And that is how Christianity in the West went right off the rails.
The story of Constantine’s conversion was probably made up, but it goes like this — before a significant battle — Battle of the Milian Bridge, 312 — Constantine had a vision in which he saw a cross of light in the sky with the words “Ἐν Τούτῳ Νίκα”, or “in this sign, conquer”. He had crosses — or possibly Chi-Rho — painted on his soldiers’ shields and they won, which allowed Rome to continue to be the Dragon portrayed in Revelation for a while longer.
If Constantine did have the vision described, he misunderstood it as hard as possible. The cross is presented in the NT as Christ’s throne — He “conquered” and assumed His kingdom by allowing Himself to be killed. If Constantine had understood, he would have abdicated as emperor, given all his possessions to the poor and gone about ministering to the sick and needy.
But he didn’t, and the Christians of the fourth century accepted the devil’s bargain that he offered. They married themselves to the State, got some nice houses and figured out how to twist the Sermon on the Mount to fit a brutal, militaristic empire. The Nicean Creed did get written — I suppose that’s something, though I prefer the Apostles’ Creed, myself.
1,700 years of history can’t be swept under the rug. I wouldn’t want it to be, actually. I’m a Lutheran and I like the pomp and ceremony of the Lutheran Mass. I really like the art and architecture that Christianity has inspired over the centuries. What I don’t like is the Crusades, Inquisitions, endorsements of slavery and other atrocities, and the power that money still has in nearly all Christian institutions. Christians shouldn’t have any more money than they need — that’s about as blatant as it can be if you read what Jesus said. Jesus actually spoke of money as if it was a deity in opposition to God — Mammon.
There have surely been people all through the centuries since Constantine who really were trying to live the way Jesus instructed His followers to live. Francis of Assissi is the first one who comes to mind. Saint Patrick was pretty decent. Hildegard von Bingen is one of my favorites — I like mystics, and Hildegard was a pretty impressive woman. Doubtless, many more people seriously tried to follow Jesus, but didn’t get famous.
I have thought, on occasion, that the word “Christian” might be too tainted, that those of us who are really trying to love our neighbors as ourselves, help the marginalized, and get by on as little as possible, might be better off calling ourselves something else. It’s a fleeting thought — I’m a firm believer that one should never give ground, and “Christian” is what we are. The fact that some folks have sullied the word in the public arena is no reason to give it up.
There’s been some discussion in the ELCA about the fact that our “E” stands for “Evangelical”, a word that the American media uses to refer to a very vocal and very visible minority of Christians in the US who somehow manage to justify supporting political positions that Jesus would not. Some people think we should drop it. I, no surprise, oppose this notion. “Evangelical” comes from Greek, “εὐαγγέλιον”, “good news” — specifically the good news that the kingdom of God has come in the person of Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ.
It’s kind of annoying sometimes, having to explain that I’m not “that kind” of Christian, but it does give me the opportunity to inform people that Jesus wasn’t a member of the NRA, wasn’t a racist, and certainly didn’t hate gays. There’s actually nothing in the Bible that indicates that loving, consensual same-sex relationships are wrong. People don’t believe me when I tell them that, but if you examine the “clobber passages” — the ones that are used as weapons against LGBTQIA people — in context, they don’t mean what people think they mean.
It’s an uphill battle — pulling Christianity out of the money-grubbing, bigoted ditch that it’s gotten into. If it was up to humans to do it, even very nice humans, I’d say it couldn’t be done, but then I remember Matthew 19:26 and I think, “Well, we might as well try.”