1-6. The Problem of Church and State
Christianity differed forsooth very little from the better sort of heathenism. They could both be brought under the broad shield of monotheism, if the heathens would give up their idols and immoral worships, and the Christians would not insist too rudely on that awkward doctrine of the deity of Christ. On these terms the lion of Christianity might lie down with the lamb of Eclecticism, and the guileless emperor would be the little child to lead them both.
The problem of Church and State was new, for the old religion of Rome was never more than a department of the State, and the worshippers of Isis and Mithras readily “conformed to the ceremonies of the Roman people.” But when Christianity made a practical distinction between Caesar's things and God's, the relation of Church and State became a difficult question. Constantine handled it with great skill and much success. He not only made the Christians thoroughly loyal, but won the active support of the churches, and obtained such influence over the bishops that they seemed almost willing to sink into a department of the State. But he forgot one thing. The surface thought of his time, Christian as well as heathen, tended to a vague monotheism which looked on Christ and the sun as almost equally good symbols of the Supreme: and this obscured the deeper conviction of the Christians that the deity of Christ is as essential as the unity of God. After all, Christianity is not a monotheistic philosophy, but a life in Christ.
When this conviction asserted itself with overwhelming power at the Council of Nicaea, Constantine gave way with a good grace. As it had been decided at Saxa Rubra that the Empire was to fight beneath the cross of God, so now it was decided at Nicaea that the cross was to be the cross of Christ, and not the Sun-god's cross of light.
We may doubt whether Constantine took in the full meaning of the decision: but at any rate it meant that the Christians refused to be included with others in a monotheistic state religion. If the Empire was to have their full friendship, it must become definitely Christian: and this is the goal to which Constantine seems to have looked forward in his later years, though he can hardly have hoped himself to reach it. Heathenism was still strong, and he continued to use vague monotheistic language. Only in his last illness did he feel it safe to throw off the mask and avow himself a Christian. “Let there be no ambiguity,” said he, as he asked for baptism; and then he laid aside the purple, and passed away in the white robe of a Christian neophyte (22 May 337).
This would seem to be the general outline of Constantine's religious life and policy. We can now return to the morrow of Chrysopolis, and take it more in detail. Now that he was master of the Empire, he made his alliance with the Christians as close as he could without abandoning the official neutrality of his monotheism. His attitude is well shown by his coins. Mars and Genius P. R. disappear aflcr Saxa Rubra, or at latest by 317: Sol invictus by 315, or at any rate 323. Coins of luppiter Aug. seem to have been struck only for Licinius. Later on, the heathen inscriptions are replaced by phrases as neutral as the cross itself, like Beata tranquillitas or Providentia Augg. or Instinctu Divinitatis on his triumphal arch at Rome.
His laws keep pace with the coins. In form they are mostly neutral but they show an increasing leaning to Christianity. Thus his edict for the observance of "the venerable day of the Sun" only raised it to the rank of the heathen feriae by closing the law-courts; and the Latin prayer he imposed on the army (the first case known of prayer in an unknown tongue) is quite indeterminate as between Christ and Jupiter. So too when before 310 he sanctioned manumissions in churches, he was only taking a hint from the manumissions in certain temples. Yet again, when in 313 (and by later law) he exempted the clergy of the Catholic Church — not those of the sects — from the decurionate and other burdens, he gave them only the privileges already enjoyed by some of the heathen priests and teachers. But the relief was great enough to cause an ungodly rush for holy Orders, and with it such a loss of taxpayers that in 320 he had to forbid th,e ordination of anyone qualified for the curia of his city. None but the poor (and an occasional official) could now be ordained, and those only to fill vacancies caused by death. The second limitation may not have been enforced, but the first remained. To save the revenue, the Church was debased at a stroke.
Other laws however lean more to a side, like the edict of 319 which threatens to burn the Jews if they stone “a convert to the worship of God.” No doubt such converts needed protection; and Roman law was not squeamish about burning criminals, if they were of low rank. Upon the whole, this policy of official neutrality and personal favour powerfully stimulated the growth of the churches. The time-servers were all Christians now, and Eusebius plainly denounces their “unspeakable hypocrisy.” At least in later years, Constantine himself had to rebuke bishops for flattery. The defeat of Licinius enabled him to come forward more openly as the patron of the churches. His letter to the provincials of the Empire (Eusebius naturally gives the copy which went to Palestine) begins with high praise of the confessors and strong denunciation of the persecutors, whose wickedness is shown by their miserable ends. They would have destroyed the republic, if the Divinity had not raised up me, Constantine, from the far West of Britain to destroy them. He then restores rank and property to all the victims of persecution in the islands, the mines, and the houses of forced labour, and finishes with an earnest exhortation to the worship of the one true God.
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