Tag: Christianity

Some Developments in Early Christianity (and later)

Catholicism and Orthodoxy were the same for centuries, claiming to be the original church. A split came in the Great Schism in 1054. They share seven ecumenical councils and adhere to the decisions that are derived from them (kind of). However, the Roman Catholic church changed the Nicene Creed (AD 325) to add filioque (“the son”), which upended the doctrine of the Trinity. What changed was that the creed said the Holy Spirit came from God the Father, but by adding the filioque, it read that the Holy Spirit came from the Father and Son, thus making the Spirit subjective to both and lessening his standing in the Trinity. Orthodoxy does not acknowledge this change that was added in the Middle Ages (AD 589).  

Roman Catholicism also added doctrines through the pope’s primacy: purgatory, immaculate conception, stigmata, and praying the rosary, among others. They differ on original sin. Catholicism teaches that every person born is tainted with the guilt of the sin of Adam. This is why they “baptize infants.” Actually, they sprinkle them. “Baptize” means to immerse, which they don’t do. There’s a Greek term for sprinkling seen in Hebrews concerning the blood of bulls and goats (Heb. 9:19-21). That term is rhantizo. Orthodoxy views original sin as having the proclivity to sin because we are all born in the flesh. Still, newborns are innocents who will someday act upon that proclivity and invite sin into their lives. They immerse infants for around forty days of life. 

Ignatius of Antioch was the first to mention the catholic church (Smyrneans 8; ca. AD 107), and he did so as a call to unity around the congregational bishop who was to protect the church from heresy. The usage of “orthodox” was prevalent by the fourth century to distinguish those of the apostolic tradition from heretics. Here are changes that occurred that varied from apostolic teaching:

  • In the early second century, the local congregation’s leadership went from elders, deacons, and ministers (1 Tim. 3) to one elder being chosen as bishop among his fellow elders. Jerome later regarded this change as a “result of tradition, and not by the fact of a particular institution by the Lord” (Comm. Titus 1.7; cf. Did. 15.1; 1 Clement 42.4; Poly., Phil. 5-6; Shep. Herm. vis. 8.3). This bishop was over the elders, deacons, and congregation. At times, you couldn’t take the Lord’s Supper unless the bishop was present to preside over it unless he appointed a proxy in his absence from among the elders. More and more became tied to the bishop, so he performed baptisms exclusively (see Ignatius, Mag. 2; Trall. 2; Smyrn. 8).
  • The Protoevangelium of James is a second-century apocryphal Christian text, considered to be an “infancy gospel,” that narrates the birth and early life of Mary, the mother of Jesus. It includes details not found in the canonical New Testament, most notably the idea of her perpetual virginity; it is believed to have been written sometime around the mid-2nd century. This is the earliest evidence of special attention given to Mary, which would give rise to the practice of venerating her. 
  • By the third century, Cyprian of Carthage (ca. AD 200–258) wrote about baptizing infants as a passing matter (Epistle 58; cf. Acts 8:12, 36–37; 16:29–33), which suggests the practice was entirely common by his time. Discussions of the matter appear as early as Irenaeus (ca. AD 120/140–200/203; Contra Haer. 2.22.4) and Tertullian (ca. AD 200; On Baptism 18). 
  • In the latter third century, veneration of martyrs on the anniversary of their deaths became common. For Origen (ca. 185–254), explicitly, veneration stood with Jesus and not in competition with him (1 Tim. 2:5; cf. Lev. 19:31; Is. 8:19; Eccl. 9:5–6). In the fourth century, they were regarded as sancti, from which “saints” arose. 
  • The Council of Elvira imposed celibacy on clergy (canon 33; ca. AD 300–310), contrary to 1 Timothy 4:3. 
  • By AD 428, Pope Celestine rebuked bishops for not wearing distinguishing attire, which means clerical garbs arose sometime before then (cf. Matt. 23:5). 
  • Owing to their view of original sin, they celebrated Mary’s immaculate conception as early as the fifth century. This doctrine teaches that she was conceived without original sin so that she could bear Jesus. The doctrine was officially defined in 1854.
  • The term “mass” appears around AD 604. It derives from the Latin term missa, meaning “to go.” It was pronounced at the end of worship and is closely associated with “mission.” 
  • In AD 595, the Patriarch of Constantinople, John the Faster, assumed the title “Ecumenical Patriarch.” Gregory the Great, or Pope Gregory I, wrote to the emperor, begging him not to acknowledge it. Emperor Maurice accepted it. A few years later, Emperor Maurice was slain by a usurper—Phocas. Pope Gregory sent letters of praise to the new emperor. However, in AD 606, Phocas transferred the title “Universal Bishop” to Boniface III, the bishop of Rome, thus establishing the modern-day Catholic Church of Rome.
  • The doctrine of transubstantiation, elaborated by Scholastic theologians from the 13th to the 15th century, was incorporated into the documents of the Council of Trent (1545–63). This doctrine taught that when the priest blessed the bread and wine, it became the literal body and blood of Jesus. 
  • Papal infallibility was established in 1870. 

Perhaps the most significant difference between us is our views on Scripture. They contend that the church created the canon, thus exercising authority with and greater than Scripture. To them, the church is the proper interpreter of Scripture. I believe writings were already acknowledged as Scripture in the New Testament (2 Peter 3:15-16). Paul quoted Luke 10:7 in 1 Timothy 5:18. We also note that unanimity was taught in all the churches (1 Cor. 4:17; 7:17; 16:1). Also, New Testament writings were circulated among the churches (cf. Col. 4:16; 1 Thess. 5:27; 1 Peter 1:1; Rev. 1:4). Here are a few other factoids:

  • Didache (AD 50–60) refers to the Lord’s Prayer as it appears in Matthew. 
  • The letter 1 Clement was written near AD 95, and he alludes to the writings of Paul as Scripture and Matthew, Luke, Acts, James, and 1 Peter. 
  • In AD 110, Ignatius alludes to Matthew, Luke, and John. 
  • Polycarp, in AD 110, called Ephesians Scripture. He also references Romans, 1 Corinthians, Galatians, Philippians, 2 Thessalonians, and 1 & 2 Timothy; he quotes Matthew, Mark, and Luke.

I wouldn’t say the church created the New Testament. I would contend that they acknowledged and compiled the books identified as Scripture since the apostolic age. This was done as a reaction to proposed canons, some of which omitted the inspired books. This may have begun with Marcion, the second-century heretic who omitted all of the Old Testament and only recognized Luke’s gospel and some of Paul’s epistles as Scripture. In addition, we have Bryennios’ List, the Muratorian canon, Melito’s canon, Origen’s commentaries, and others. Many of these agree with minor variations, but they didn’t create them so much as to recognize what was a part of the apostolic tradition.

What is “Sound Doctrine?” 

The term “doctrine” derives from Latin and is related to the word “doctor,” which means “teacher.” When we think of doctors today, we think of medical practitioners, but in the Roman Empire, doctors were instructors in a specific field. Therefore, “doctrine” means “teaching.” The Greek term is also fitting for this translation. Christian doctrine derives from commandments focused on “love from a pure heart, a good conscience, and from sincere faith” (1 Tim. 1:5). Paul uses “sound doctrine” (1 Tim. 1:10) to describe how the law ought to be used, and it’s connected to one’s behavior. In Titus 2:1, Paul wrote, “But as for you, speak the things which are proper for sound doctrine.” The term “sound” also refers to those who are physically well instead of sick (Luke 5:31; 7:10; 3 John 2). When the prodigal son returned, he was received safe and “sound” (Luke 15:27). All other usages refer to doctrine, not physical health. Still, there’s a lesson herein: those who are physically healthy are sound, or well, so it may reasonably follow that those who are spiritually healthy are sound too.

Many people denounce doctrine as too divisive. It can be, but it ought not to be. Some people exclaim, “I just want Jesus, don’t give me doctrine.” The fault in that statement is that we cannot separate the truths of Jesus from the Person of Jesus, so without sound doctrine, we have no Jesus. John contended with this in his day, “By this you will know the Spirit of God: Every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is of God, and every spirit that does not confess that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is not of God. And this is the spirit of the Antichrist, which you have heard was coming, and is now already in the world” (1 John 4:2–3). The way some are today might have said, “Just give me Jesus. I don’t want doctrine,” but for John, it mattered whether or not Jesus appeared in the flesh as a matter of orthodoxy. We tend to dismiss such issues because they seem so minor. There are times when matters are minor, but there are also times when they aren’t. Paul was concerned with sound doctrine, too, and this was what Timothy was to teach and uphold. 

Those who lead sinful lives did not order their lives according to “sound doctrine” (1 Tim. 1:8–11; 6:1–5; 2 Tim. 4:3–5; Titus 2:1–10). When one reads all of these passages, we’re struck by how when sound doctrine is mentioned, behavior should follow. We can see here that those behaviors do not accord with sound doctrine, and anyone claiming to represent God is to call things what God calls them and exhort others to order their lives around sound doctrine. Sadly, many fear calling specific actions, lifestyles, or choices sinful, so we dilute orthodoxy to avoid hurting feelings. We can and should be able to call sin what it is and simultaneously be compassionate and loving towards sinners, among whom we are also counted. Sound doctrine, therefore, is spiritual health. When one is healthy, one manifests that in one’s actions. The spiritually healthy person formed by sound doctrine does the things that please God.

How do we get doctrine? Commandments, prohibitions, and examples are a few ways. When God commands something through one of his chosen prophets or mediums, we must do what is commanded. If he prohibits something the same way, we should not do what’s forbidden. If we note patterns of behavior that are commendable, we can mimic the action and know we are not doing wrong. The problem comes when we bind something that God has not bound.

Though Scripture is inspired, interpretation is not. We conclude when we take a topic and study it as a whole. Some conclusions are rather logical and can be taken at face value, but if an interpretation is questioned, there ought to be answers to justify it, or adjustments should be made. For example, “Abstain from every form of evil” (1 Thess. 5:22). In churches of Christ, I have observed some who have employed this passage to prohibit dancing. A reading of 1 Thessalonians would not have that in mind, but there is a way to use it. When Herodias danced before Herod, we might conclude that it was rather provocative (Mark 6:22). After all, he wanted to offer her anything. In this case, dancing can be viewed as sinful. We can’t say that all dancing is terrible. The older son in the parable of the prodigal son came near the house and “heard music and dancing” (Luke 15:25). This story is about rejoicing over a lost son returning to salvation, and they were dancing as a matter of celebration. 

No human is the arbiter of determining what is doctrine and shouldn’t be. One interpretation among some in churches of Christ is that the Holy Spirit indwells the believer by proxy–through the Word of God. Since some of us know more Scripture than others, do we have more of the Spirit? When you look at interpretations from the first few centuries, this conclusion hasn’t been reached as far as I have read. It’s hard for me to believe that doctrine because the earliest Christians had a different take. That doesn’t mean they’re always right, but it also doesn’t mean they’re wrong.

I believe it’s best for us to give grace to one another and assume the best. Just because I arrive at a different conclusion than you doesn’t mean I’m malicious. Some Christians read the creation account literally. I happen to take parts of it literally while considering how I understand that an ancient Near Eastern audience would have understood it. Still, I hold no ill will if someone reads it literally. We both love Jesus and want to serve God.

  

That Ugly Word: “Tradition”

In churches of Christ, the term “tradition” is a no-no. We associate tradition with creeds and confessions of faith created by denominational bodies. Many Americans were governed by the Philadelphia Confession of Faith a couple of centuries ago. The Westminster Confession of Faith led others. Then you have the Apostle’s Creed, the Nicene Creed, and more. While there are positives to having such definitive statements (“Don’t shoot me!”), our history has seen them result in division. For example, among Presbyterians were the Anti-Burghers, Auld Licht, Old-Light Anti-Burgher Seceders, and others. Among Methodists were the Episcopal Methodists and Republican Methodists. The Restoration Movement advocated doing away with these creeds and confessions of faith and going by the New Testament as our guide for being Christians and, therefore, the church. There are still splits among us: Disciples of Christ, Christian Church, Churches of Christ. Just among the churches of Christ are non-instrumental, non-institutional, one-cuppers, and others. We had noble intentions, but humanity is flawed no matter how hard we try to help ourselves. 

Matthew (15) and Mark (7) tell the story of Jesus rebuking tradition. Matthew wrote that the scribes and Pharisees accused Jesus’ disciples of “transgressing” the tradition of the elders (15:2). Mark explains washing hands for his audience. At the same time, Matthew assumes his audience understands this, hence some of the differences in the accounts. Jesus’ gripe with them was that their traditions nullified the word of God in how they circumvented the command to honor their father and mother. They used a loophole they created by saying that any funds that might be used to care for their elderly parents have been devoted to God. The Mishnah discusses how if something is consecrated to God, no one could benefit from it, similar to what Jesus says in Matthew 15:5 (cf. m. Ned. 5.6). These “traditions” circumvent God’s clearly stated will and when bound on others, cast them as transgressors. Here’s the deal: Scripture is inspired; interpretation is not inspired. Their interpretations of how to be pious and faithful to God contradicted the will of God. In this case, tradition is bad. 

What we sometimes do is view all traditions as “bad.” Yet, we have our own. The most obvious one in churches of Christ is the invitation at the end of a sermon, and the invitation song is meant to conclude with a public response. You will not read about this in the New Testament; it grew out of the altar call in early American evangelicalism. If we used our logic against ourselves, we’d be violating the interpretation we have bound on another. Sunday school and Wednesday night services are also traditions. God hasn’t decided that we meet twice on a Sunday or once midweek. Sometimes, what we see as a tradition should fall under Christian liberty (cf. Rom. 14). If something doesn’t violate a commandment of God’s or apostolic tradition (“don’t shoot me”), we might find a method of doing something. We notice that the early church sang, but how isn’t specified. They chanted, but we sing in four-part harmony. We’re told to go into the world with the good news, but we aren’t told how to do it. We do this by radio, live stream, airplane, and other methods.  

Another bad kind of tradition is human tradition (Col. 2:8). Paul links this to philosophy, but philosophy itself wasn’t bad. He likely meant it so broadly in his context to include the occult, as we might understand. When he refers to “the basic principles of the world,” he uses a word that seems to be a designation for spiritual beings (cf. Col. 2:10, 20–23). This was, after all, how the term was often used in literature across the board. Simply put, he is thinking of the demonic, which was why I used the term occult. You might also include superstitions in this. For example, believing it to be bad luck to open an umbrella inside or to walk under a ladder is nonsense. Another may be when you spill salt, how you’re supposed to throw a handful of salt over your right shoulder. I don’t know where these originated, but we don’t hang our hopes on luck; we live by faith. 

Paul also uses tradition to convey the practices pleasing to God (2 Thess. 2:15; 3:6). For Paul, it can be given first-hand or in writing. With many centuries between us and the apostles, we rely on what’s written. Some groups contend that what they practice was preserved throughout the centuries as tradition. I believe that’s a way of stopping further inquiry into their practices. Is it to say they’re wrong? Not necessarily, but it’s like a get-out-of-jail-free card to reply with, “It’s holy tradition.” It could be, or that could be a way not to justify what one does. Plus, with the great schism, whose traditions are we to rely on? There are separate traditions in Orthodoxy and Catholicism, though there are similarities. This is where Christian liberty may be most helpful and why I tend to side with the forebearers of the Restoration Movement. As best as we can, let’s live by Scripture. Even with that, someone can become a legalist, so room for grace and liberty is necessary. At the end of it, we’re all trying to do our best to live for God. No one gets it perfectly.   

Does Luke’s Research Nullify Inspiration?

The past few years have been ripe with disinformation, misinformation, alternative facts, etc. Facebook has become a catalyst for spreading such, with algorithms set to pop up what suits one’s fancy. We have no certainty about what is trustworthy anymore, but truth-seekers can sift through the material—identifying both the true and false. Using our preferred sources is easy because they validate our preconceptions, but we should use caution because they may blind us in the process.

When Luke wrote his good news account (see Luke 1:1–4), he wrote against the backdrop of other circulating versions. He carefully investigated the matter, knew eyewitnesses, and drafted an orderly arrangement to straighten the record. Since he indicates research, does that nullify inspiration given by the Holy Spirit? I don’t believe so. Since research was an element of this writing, who is anyone to say that the Holy Spirit didn’t tell Luke to consult with certain people or documents? After all, Luke emphasizes the work of the Holy Spirit (Luke 1:15, 35, 41, 67), and that could have included talking with certain people. Remember, God directed Saul of Tarsus to Ananias, who then told him the gospel when God could have told it to him (see Acts 9:6).

Luke followed things closely and used various sources, one of whom might have been Mary, the mother of Christ. The first two chapters contain information she would have known (Luke 2:19, 51). Peter (cf. Luke 6:14) and Mark might have also been a source for Luke, given the call for Mark—Peter’s companion—in 2 Timothy 4:11 and his presence in Colossians 4:10 and Philemon 24 with Luke.  As Paul’s travel companion, Luke would have undoubtedly received information from him. Paul quoted from Luke 10:7 in 1 Timothy 5:17–18 and referred to his gospel (Rom. 2:16; 16:25; 2 Tim. 2:8).

Luke noted that “many” had tried to write narratives (Luke 1:1), so he wrote in response to inadequate or false gospels. His own, however, was from “eyewitnesses and ministers of the word” (Luke 1:2)—neither of which he was as far as we know. The other accounts contributed to confusion rather than clarity. Luke wanted to give an orderly arrangement (Luke 1:3). His meaning of “orderly” differs from what we might initially think. He doesn’t give a chronological but a topical account. His arrangement differs from Matthew’s and Mark’s but contains some of the same material, though placed in a different order. 

Living in the Kingdom (Matt. 7:6-29)

People today treat their dogs better than humans. I have three dogs, two of which live outside and one inside. I love them but would never grill a steak or pork chop for them. If anything, they might get the leftovers. Jesus’ phrase “what is holy” could refer to meat because it necessitated a banquet whenever an animal was sacrificed. Eating what had been sacrificed to God was considered holy, and to give it to dogs was unthinkable. Also, no one would throw pearls to pigs because they don’t understand their value. Therefore, the gospel, represented as what’s holy and pearls, shouldn’t be wasted on those who scorn them. We want to share the good news, but some people don’t like it. Don’t waste it on them. If anything, pray for them to be receptive, but you can lead a horse to water. 

There are several ways to interpret the ask, seek, and knock passage. The first is relative to prayer, and the second to the kingdom of God as the church. When you look at Acts, the latter is understood in the context by some and see how all resources are pooled together so that no one is lacking. This interpretation focuses on verses 9–11 regarding basic needs and that God, through his church, provides for the saints. It’s not a flawed interpretation, but prayer is truer to the context given Matthew’s usage of “ask” concerning it(cf. Matt. 18:19; 21:22) and Jesus’ focus on prayer in the sermon (Matt. 5:44; 6:5–13). Compared to God, who is the absolute good (Matt. 19:17), parents, regardless of how loving they are of their children, are evil. If evil parents can give good gifts to their children, how much more will God? This doesn’t mean that every prayer we pray is answered “yes.” God gives us good things, and not everything we ask for is 1) a necessity (“bread” and “fish”) and 2) good. 

The golden rule was meant to guide the interpretation of the Law (7:12). It parallels similar statements from other civilizations. 

Watch yourself, my son, in everything you do, and discipline yourself in all your conduct. And what you hate, do not do to anyone. (Tobit 4:14–15; second century BC)

Let us show our generosity in the same manner that we would wish to have it bestowed on us. (Seneca, De Beneficiis 2.1.1; contemporary of Jesus)

What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor. That is the whole Torah. The rest is commentary. Go and learn! (Hillel, b. Sabb. 31a; 70 BC–AD 10)

Do not do unto others what you would not want others to do unto you. (Confucius, Analects 15.23)

Anything that might seem like we should treat another in a certain way must be turned on ourselves and asked whether or not we’d wish to be treated that way. 

Verses 13–14’s two ways have parallels in other passages (Deut. 30:15; Ps. 1:1–2). The false prophets of whom Jesus speaks (7:15–20) must be set in the backdrop of how he said we should regard our enemies. In the decades following Jesus, prophets arose, leading revolts against the occupying Romans. Theudas (AD 44–46) led a band of people massacred by a squadron, the head of Theudas being paraded through Jerusalem. During Felix’s reign (AD 52–60), an Egyptian led several thousand people to the Mount of Olives, where he promised to command the city walls to fall and subsequently be installed as Israel’s king. Hundreds were killed, and hundreds were imprisoned, the Egyptian man having escaped. They could tell who the false prophets were by their fruits—if contrary to what Jesus taught them (non-violence), they were known to be untrue. 

Once more, he emphasizes proper action over confession (7:21–23). The false prophets would be known by their fruits. His disciples were to let their light shine through their good works (5:16). He wanted their righteousness to exceed that of the Pharisees and scribes (5:20). At every turn, Jesus wanted his disciples to show, by their actions, fidelity to God. They’re not to make a show of it for others but to quietly serve God, trusting in him. Their house will stand if they heed his instructions (7:24–27). The response to Jesus’ teaching as having authority stems from his teaching coming directly from himself. Pharisees and rabbis would have cited the collective wisdom of the rabbis, the Law, or other Jewish writings. Jesus alludes to them but speaks with authority and settles the matter. He taught, unlike any other teacher who lived, not citing different sources. 

Judge Not! (Oh, really?)

Everyone and their mother knows this verse (Matt. 7:1), and they use it—often inappropriately. Yet, there’s more to this passage than telling people not to judge. For example, just a few verses later, Jesus warns against false teachers. To dub a person a false teacher, you have to be willing to judge what they teach and how they live (Matt. 7:15–20). When a teacher grades an assignment, they are making a judgment. To call one thing good and another thing terrible is ultimately making a judgment. How did Jesus mean this? First, the term translated as “judge” denotes a habit of sharp, unjust criticism. The Greek term is krinete, from which our English word, “critic,” comes. We’re not talking about judging in the sense that we may think of it, but criticism. Notice what follows: how we judge is how we will be considered (7:2). This critical person sees only the fault in others but none in themselves (7:3–5; cf. Rom. 14:4, 10, 13).

We’re to judge righteously (John 7:24). Unrighteous judgment is according to appearance. Righteous judgment, however, is with grace, mercy, and God’s will as the standard. There’s always what we see and reality. Sometimes the two are the same, but sometimes they’re not. When we look for the worst, that’s what we’ll find every time. This was what the Pharisees did—look to find fault. They are the ones who are judged harshly and not with righteousness. In matters of righteousness, we’re to judge our brethren and not outsiders (1 Cor. 5:12). Judgment here isn’t a condemnation but discernment. When a Christian doesn’t bear the fruits of the Spirit but works of the flesh, we must address the issue. When you read the thought uninterrupted, it flows into the next chapter, which denounces lawsuits among brethren. This matter is one of discipline (cf. Deut. 17:6–7; Matt. 18:15–20).

A few standards of judgment would be good to avoid. The first would be judging someone by the worst thing they’ve ever done. This can be difficult because Jeffrey Dahmer did some pretty horrible things. Yet, you may not know that before he died, he became our brother, obeying the gospel while in jail thanks to Oklahoma minister Curt Booth and Wisconsin minister Roy Ratcliff. F.B. Meyer once said that when we see a brother or sister in sin, there are two things we do not know. First, we do not know how hard he or she tried not to sin, and second, we do not see the power of the forces that assailed him or her. We also do not understand what we would have done in the same circumstances. It can be challenging for some to fathom that a person like Dahmer could now be in heaven after all he did, but we cannot negate how powerful Jesus’ death was in comparison. If it isn’t powerful enough to wash away those sins, then it isn’t capable of anything. 

Another standard of judgment is imposing modern morals on the past. Slavery is agreed to be abhorrent. Yet, it has existed since the dawn of time, or pretty close to it. It still exists, believe it or not. The latest Global Estimates of Modern Slavery from Walk Free estimates that 49.6 million people live in slavery, either through forced labor or marriage. A quarter of those are children. North Korea has the highest percentage of slaves, and Africa and the Middle East have countries with considerably high numbers of slaves. Slavery didn’t begin with the trans-Atlantic slave trade. Yet, you don’t see activists caring much for these slaves, only those of the past. However, had we lived in that time and had the means, would we have had slaves? Would we have been slaves? We must remember that an evolving interpretation of Scripture led to its abolition in England and the United States. 

Our time would be better spent attending to our own blind spots (Matt. 7:3–5). How can we be a light to the world when we occupy our time with the judgment of others as if it were a spiritual gift given by the Holy Spirit? For some of us, being judgmental comes easy. It’s an all-too-tempted way to operate. Yet, how we judge is the same way we shall be judged. If we are harsh, we will receive harsh judgment. If we are gracious, we can receive God’s grace in judgment.  

Treasures in Heaven (Matt. 6:19-34)

Who hasn’t worried? We all do it, and sometimes with good reason. Worrying is not a sin, as some might persuade us to believe. There is, however, a component of faith that is absent when we worry because we have forgotten the sovereignty of God over all things. Yet, before worrying, fasting and prayer are things you’ll note in the sermon that were observed in the church a lot (cf. Acts 10:30; 13:1–3; 14:23). Psychologists teach such methods as meditation, mindfulness, breathing, and so on. These are grounding techniques when, in a moment of anxiety, someone centers themselves to face whatever worries them. Sometimes, we live in a lane so long that it becomes home, but neuroplasticity suggests that our brain is equipped to rewire itself. Praying the Our Father reminds us that God is outside time and space and greater than us and our worries. Plus, when we pray for his will to be done on earth as in heaven, we must submit to his will, whatever it may be. When we place our worries in the context of prayer and fasting, we give ourselves to God and entrust him in the process. 

We have contrasted riches and necessities. The two are different. If we are fortunate enough to amass wealth, Jesus says, it should be in heaven, where it cannot be destroyed or diluted in value. We are acquisitive by nature. It’s easier to accumulate things than to give them. In high school, I returned home one day—the first to leave and return home—to find the door ajar. I knew I had closed it all the way, but I went in to discover the house ransacked and robbed. My great-grandfather’s 12 gauge shotgun was gone. He used it when he was young, so I prized that possession. That robbery taught me then and there that placing meaning in things is meaningless. The relationship we had and the love we shared were more valuable than the shotgun. It was sentimental, and that’s why the loss hurt so much. However, that taught me not to lay up treasures on earth because thieves break in and steal. 

No matter how much you have, it’s never enough (Eccl. 5:10; cf. 1 Tim. 6:10). No one can serve two masters. No one can serve God and mammon. That word is Aramaic; some translations render it “riches” or “wealth.” The root of the term means “trust” or “reliance.” We cannot trust or rely on stuff against God. This point is no better illustrated than in the parable of the rich fool (Luke 12:13–21). This man did what Jesus warns against here—he “stored” up treasures for himself. The very word Matthew uses as “lay up” (Matt. 6:19–20) appears at the end of this parable (Luke 12:21). Cyril of Alexander (ca. AD 412–444) described being rich toward God as having one’s “hand … open to the needs of the poor, comforting the sorrows of those in poverty according to his means and the utmost of his power. He gathers in storehouses that are above and lays up treasures in heaven” (Luke, Homily 89). Another example of trusting in riches is illustrated differently than the rich young ruler (Matt. 19:16–22).

The relationship of the eye to the soul has been a staple of philosophy for centuries. When I used to live in Central Kentucky, there was an Amish man people went to because he was an iridologist. He could look into your eyes and tell you if you’ve had your gallbladder removed or diagnose other issues you may have. In antiquity, people believed your eyes projected light, hence the eye/lamp connection. We now know that the eye’s receptors convert light into electrical signals that our brains interpret. We’ve heard phrases such as the all-seeing eye, the evil eye, and the stink eye. What is it that we will set our gaze upon? That determines whether it is good or bad. 

Saying not to worry is easier sometimes than actually doing it. If we fast, we won’t worry about food and drink. If we pray, we give our worries to God (cf. Phil. 4:6–7). Paul knew what it was to suffer from want, so he replaced his worry with contentedness (Phil. 4:12–13). In the community of Jesus, we share our bread and drink. We look out for one another to ensure everyone isn’t lacking (Matt. 25:34–45). Plus, when we look at nature, we see that everything is provided for nature, so why wouldn’t we have faith that God will provide for us? Unlike nature, we sow and reap but can learn a lot from it. So, strive for God’s kingdom, and all else falls into place. Years ago, a college student was preparing for a nursing degree, and she was a cheerleader and belonged to a sorority. She hadn’t been at church, so my wife and I met her for lunch, and I told her that if she prioritized God, her worries and pressures would be resolved. It’s human nature to sacrifice Bible study, worship, and fellowship to ensure things are handled. However, when we prioritize them, we are saying to God that he is more important, and we trust that all we have to face is something he will tend to. 

Praised by God, Not By Men (Matt. 6:1-18)

Jesus wants his disciples not to be show-offs. A balance must be struck between personal piety, the salt of the earth, and letting our light shine (Matt. 5:13–16). When we compare these, it all boils down to intention. To be the salt of the earth isn’t to show off but to be a blessing. Just as salt has taste and color affects whatever it touches when used. It can preserve, melt, season, and other such things. By being what we are, we are meant to be a blessing by being that salt. Just as there are various uses for salt, so there is for light. Many of us remember that plants require light to grow. Solar panels harness direct sunlight’s power, which can be stored in batteries. My house has several solar paneled motion lights and string lights. The string lights illuminate every night around our deck, and whenever the dog or someone walks by the motionlights, it illuminates. It’s very dark in the country, and these lights are helpful and cheaper than running electricity everywhere. You may have heard that darkness is the absence of light. When God ordered the cosmos, he commanded light as the first act of creation (Gen. 1:3).  When the final, heavenly Jerusalem appears, there will be no more night (Rev. 22:5). We’re told to let our light shine so that our good works are seen, and we glorify our heavenly Father. Where’s the balance?

Jesus mentions almsgiving, prayer, and fasting as three areas of piety. He stresses that we do things to be rewarded by our Father and not people (Matt. 6:3–4, 6, 18). So, here are the two areas of tension that will be resolved by noting the intention. Here’s an example that helps me: let’s say you’re out to eat at a restaurant. When your food comes, you and your family bow your heads and offer a prayer. You’re not doing it for attention but to give thanks. That’s letting your light shine because, let’s say, an elderly couple walks by and commends you for that, saying it’s nice to see a young family give thanks without shame. Your light has shone, but you have done it not for praise but out of personal devotion and commitment to God. On the other hand, if you prayed so loud that everyone around you was forced to notice, that’s not good, and the showing off is of concern here. In closing chapter five, Jesus said to be perfect as our Father is, so the instructions that came before and follow that statement show us how to do that. Our word, translated as “perfect,” doesn’t mean “without fault.” I advocate that it should be translated as “complete.” At least, that’s how we’d understand it today.  

The conclusion of intention is shown in each example. In almsgiving, don’t blow the trumpet (Matt. 6:2). In prayer, it’s to be seen by men (Matt. 6:5). With fasting, it’s appearing to men (Matt. 6:16). This is the motivation of the hypocrites. They want to be seen. However, as this chapter closes, we seek God’s kingdom and righteousness first (Matt. 6:33). The law made caring for the poor a central command (Deut. 15:11). What’s interesting is that the term translated “almsgiving” is tzadik. The word for righteousness is tzedakah, which shows the relationship between the two. Doing it for public recognition should not be our motivation. What we give isn’t so much a matter as well, but how we give (cf. Mark 12:41–44). 

Similar sentiments could be said of prayer. This doesn’t rebuke corporate prayer because that’s commanded (1 Tim. 2:1–3) and observed in the early church (Acts 12:5, 12). The emphasis should be on God and not the one praying. Sometimes, people use prayers as sermon times. They give a little sermon for those listening more so than addressing God himself. So, Jesus identifies the praying person who wants to be seen; then, he points out the one who uses vain repetitions. 

The Gemara asks: And one who prolongs his prayer; is that a virtue? … Anyone who prolongs his prayer and expects it to be answered, will ultimately come to heartache … How does he prolong his prayer? By increasing his supplication. (B. Ber. 55a)

A professor once corrected me in a paper by telling me to stop bloviating. I looked the word up because I didn’t know what it meant. Essentially, use fewer words rather than extra unnecessary words. Don’t say in fifty words what can be said in ten. This is why the disciples ask Jesus to teach them how to pray. Rabbis often gave their disciples prayers to pray verbatim. In the early church, the Lord’s Prayer was to be prayed thrice daily (Didache 8.2–3). The Psalms are also a good blueprint. Fasting is also to be private. This religious devotion was associated with mourning, repentance, discipline, or waiting upon the Lord. 

Jesus’ View of the Law and Murder (Matt. 5:17-26)

Rumors had undoubtedly circulated about Jesus’ view on the Law and Prophets—two of the three divisions of the Hebrew Scriptures; the last is the Psalms. The Law entails the first five books of the Bible. We usually only think of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and the like regarding the prophets. However, Joshua, Judges, the books of Samuel, and the Kings are considered former prophets in Jewish circles. He spoke of it with great reverence since Jesus and his disciples were living under the law. The “jot” is the Hebrew yod, and the tittle is the extension of the dalet when compared with the resh or vav. Any minor alteration in the law could have changed the meaning, so scribes were meticulous to preserve the text. No matter how insignificant someone believes it is, every part is meaningful. We can learn much from Jesus’ regard for the law, which should also inform how we view Scripture. We can also look at his call to righteousness in one of two ways: denigrating the scribes and Pharisees or as a high bar. There is an element of the former, but the latter seems to be more accurate. 

In Jesus’ commentary on the law, he says, “You have heard it said,” and then follows up with, “But I say to you.” We see this six times in the remainder of chapter five. The first commandment he addresses is murder. There’s a difference between murder, killing, manslaughter, and justice. Murder is premeditated with malicious intent. Even the commandment in Hebrew reads, “You shall do no murder.” If I were to strike a pedestrian with my truck because they ran in front of me and they died, I would not have murdered them. However, if I see this person and target them, then that’s murder. Were I negligible in hitting them, say because I was inebriated, I could be charged with manslaughter. When the state executes a criminal, it’s supposed to be in the name of justice, and murder was a capital offense (cf. Num. 35:16–18). The murderer being put to death is justice and not another murder or killing. What’s interesting, though, is how God protects Cain after he murdered Abel and Moses after he killed the Egyptian. 

Words matter, and “murder” is the appropriate term in both Greek and Hebrew. Yet, Jesus takes it farther than murder. He builds a hedge around the commandment, much like rabbis in his time. He begins with anger and progresses to insults—something that could be a legal offense.  Depending on your translation, you may have the wording as having anger “without a cause.” Most translations, if they don’t include the phrase, have some sort of note ascribing it to some ancient manuscripts. The earliest manuscript of Matthew 5:22 is dated between AD 125–50 and is designated as the Barcelona papyrus (P67). This fragment doesn’t contain the phrase “without a cause.” Two other manuscripts contain it—Coptic and Old Syriac (third–fourth centuries). Its appearance or disappearance doesn’t affect the overall meaning of our faith. Jesus teaches us to rid our lives of anger if it’s excluded. If it does appear, we later read how to handle someone we may be angry with in the following verses (cf. Matt. 18:15–17). 

A person becomes angry with another, then begins to insult them, and they call them the worst thing imaginable in that culture (cf. Eph. 4:29–32). The progression builds up to murder, which is why Jesus begins with anger. Rather than getting that far, Jesus urges reconciliation before worship, possibly alluding to Cain and Abel. Jews taught that you had to seek peace with your neighbors before reconciliation with God (Prov. 6:1–5). Today, however, most Christians give this no mind. If you’re offended, you just go somewhere else. Sometimes, people may not even know that you feel wronged. Meanwhile, you carry the weight of the hurt, expecting the offender to lift it when they might be clueless. In his context, Jesus urged reconciliation, and Paul urged suffering wrongdoing rather than seeking retribution (cf. 1 Cor. 6:1–6). Please remember that the context is within the community of faith (church), as indicated by the term “ brother.”

Ancient Interpretations (Romans 10:9–13)

When studying a passage, I enjoy reading commentaries, word studies, and other research materials. Yet, I’ve learned to also consult Christians who lived closer to the time of Jesus than the scholars and commentators who give us great work. Neither the early church leaders nor modern scholars are always right, but it doesn’t mean they didn’t get anything right.

Some good neighbors instruct a person to be saved using Romans 10:9–13, and they even use this passage and say, “Invite Jesus into your heart,” or, “Pray the sinner’s prayer.” Allow me to say that I don’t question a person’s sincerity in their beliefs. As the late Antonin Scalia once said, “I attack ideas. I don’t attack people. Some very good people have some very bad ideas.” Neither the sinner’s prayer nor asking Jesus into your heart is in the Bible. This notion can be traced back to Billy Graham popularizing it in his crusades.

Historian Thomas Kidd traces it back to Anglo-American Puritans in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The Puritan devotional writer John Flavel spoke of those who heard the gospel but would “receive not Christ into their hearts.” Thomas Boston, a Scottish Calvinist, encouraged Christians to take communion to receive “Christ into their hearts.” Benjamin Colman wrote in the early eighteenth century that Christians should “receive Christ into their hearts and hold him forth in their lives.” The phraseology became more and more formalized as time passed.

How should this passage be interpreted? Let’s ask some ancient Christians. While many have commentaries on this passage, I want to introduce you to Augustine. Augustine lived from the middle of the fourth century into the fifth century. He was a rather worldly fellow until he heard the preaching of Ambrose of Milan. Ambrose communicated the gospel in a way that appealed to Augustine because the sinner was also a philosopher and very intelligent. Most of the preachers he heard preached so simply that it turned him away, but Ambrose helped him. Later on, Augustine would become the bishop of Hippo (now Algeria). Western civilization owes a lot to Augustine. He lived to see the fall of the Roman Empire, and his writings have shaped much of Western civilization.

In his writing entitled The Christian Life, Augustine writes, “This condition is fulfilled at the time of baptism when faith and profession of faith are all that is demanded for one to be baptized.” Just as we do today, we ask for their confession before baptizing someone. They confess that they believe that Jesus is the Son of God. We also see it in verses such as Acts 2:21, 9:14, 22:16, and 1 Corinthians 1:2 in one form or another.

The Frequency With Which We Partake of the Lord’s Supper (i.e., Communion, Eucharist)

One unique feature of Christ’s Church compared to many other fellowships is the weekly observance of the Lord’s Supper. Many others take it daily (Catholic Church), while some observe it quarterly or on “holidays” (e.g., Easter, Christmas). Nevertheless, the weekly observance is observable when looking at Scripture and early church history. The book of James is likely the earliest written letter of the New Testament (AD 45–48), but 1 Corinthians, written in AD 55, contains the earliest description of a worship service (1 Cor. 11–16). From that passage, we can draw out what they did by how Paul rebukes them for not doing it correctly. 

In 1 Cor. 11:17–18, Two phrases stick out in this passage: 1) “when you come together” in verse seventeen, and 2) “when you come together as a church” in verse eighteen. The phrases “coming together” (1 Corinthians 11:20) and “same place” are most often to be understood as the worship assembly unless the immediate context determines otherwise. We see a variant of these phrases in 1 Corinthians 14:23—“If, therefore, the whole church comes together …” A rather famous passage used of Christian worship in this respect is Hebrews 10:25, “Not neglecting to meet together …” 1 Cor. 11:20 explained the purpose of their coming together—the Lord’s Supper. Who partook? The church, or Christians (1 Cor. 11:22; cf. 12:13). Paul spoke of Christians, not visitors or outsiders. His entire discourse in chapter 12 was regarding the body, the church. Prophecy and the speaking of tongues that he spent so much time on would have been their equivalent of our modern notion of preaching since they were revelatory (1 Cor. 13:1–2, 8–9; 14:1–5). Prayer and singing are next mentioned. Each of these was followed by a congregational “Amen” (1 Cor. 14:14–16; cf. v. 26). At the portion of the worship where praying, singing, and preaching occurred, we read of visitors being present in the assembly (1 Cor. 14:23–24).

We note from 1 Cor. 14:33–35 that women were to have been silent in teaching/preaching since Paul was coming off the heels of speaking about preaching (1 Cor. 14:27–32). This may reflect his earlier mentioned women praying and prophesying (1 Cor. 11:5). Some people say this was a command only for the Corinthians. However, Paul told the Corinthians other things he told all the other churches (1 Cor. 4:17; 7:17; 14:33; 16:1). Paul takes a momentary detour and talks at length about the resurrection in 1 Cor. 15. However, he twice notes that the things he speaks of were “according to the Scriptures,” which suggests that the Scriptures (likely the OT) were read during the assembly as well (1 Cor. 15:3–4). Finally, in 1 Cor. 16:1–3, he mentions a contribution for the relief of those in Jerusalem that was to have been collected “on the first day of the week.” Some versions insert the term “every,” but it’s not present in the Greek, though Paul might have meant it. Everything he mentioned from 1 Cor. 11:17–18 are the “acts of worship.” There was the Lord’s Supper, preaching, praying, singing, Scripture reading, and a collection. We mention the five acts of worship, but there are six here when you account for Scripture reading. This was done, according to 1 Cor. 16:2, “on the first day of the week.”

Another passage regarding the weekly partaking of the Lord’s Supper is in Acts 20:7–12. This passage implies that they broke bread on the first day of the week or Sunday. The Sabbath was the last day of the week, the seventh day of the week. Along with this supper was the proclamation of the word. Luke writes as if his audience is aware of the custom, so he doesn’t go into detail but mentions what they did. 

Even in Christian history, we see a weekly observance. In a writing that was likely written around the same time as 1 Corinthians or thereabouts, we read, “Having earlier confessed your sins so that your sacrifice may be pure, come together each Lord’s day of the Lord, break bread, and give thanks.” (Didache 14). Often referred to as “breaking bread,” the Lord’s Supper was under discussion here since the author(s) mentioned it only a few verses earlier.  

Even 100 years later, Justin Martyr wrote to the Emperor a defense of Christianity called his 1 Apology, in which he describes the weekly Christian worship meeting. 

Having ended the prayers, we salute one another with a kiss. There is then brought to the president of the brethren bread and a cup of wine mixed with water; and he taking them, gives praise and glory to the Father of the universe, through the name of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, and offers thanks at considerable length for our being counted worthy to receive these things at His hands. And when he has concluded the prayers and thanksgivings, all the people present express their assent by saying Amen. This word Amen answers in the Hebrew language to γένοιτο [so be it]. And when the president has given thanks, and all the people have expressed their assent, those who are called by us deacons give to each of those present to partake of the bread and wine mixed with water over which the thanksgiving was pronounced, and to those who are absent they carry away a portion. And this food is called among us Εὐχαριστία [the Eucharist], of which no one is allowed to partake but the man who believes that the things which we teach are true, and who has been washed with the washing that is for the remission of sins, and unto regeneration, and who is so living as Christ has enjoined … 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 before said, 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 participation of that over which thanks have been given, and to those who are absent 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 succours 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 Saviour on the same day rose from the dead.

1 Apology 64-66

By the fourth century, it was observed daily. The medieval church required penance before taking it, so many believers only took it annually, the absolute minimum permitted by the clergy. This was right before the Reformation. “The Lord’s Table should have been spread at least once a week for the assembly of Christians, and the promises declared in it should feed us spiritually” (Calvin, Inst., 4.17.46; c. 1536). The powers-that-be in Geneva, where Calvin reformed, were unwilling for the Reformation to go this far, but they permitted it to be taken four times a year. This is why many Protestant churches observe it as infrequently as they do, while the ancient Christians observe it weekly.

Now, infrequency will not make it more meaningful as much as weekly partaking makes it less significant. God has given the supper its meaning, and nothing can change that. Moreover, why not only give once a quarter or have the preacher deliver a sermon only infrequently? If someone finds it too familiar, that’s a heart problem, not the observation. We partake in the manner of our forebearers because they, having the apostles of Jesus, were so instructed.

Early Christianity on Abortion & Exposure of Children

What we must admit is that there are no clearly stated prohibitions against abortion in the New Testament. However, early Christianity—having itself consisted of Jewish adherents to the Way in the first decade after Christ’s ascension— continued to adopt their moral understanding of various issues from Judaism. We, first, look the Jewish historian, Josephus (c. 37–100 CE) and what he wrote about the Jewish prohibition against abortion. It was a prohibition according to Jewish law.

The law, moreover enjoins us to bring up all our offspring, and forbids women to cause abortion of what is begotten, or to destroy it afterward; and if any woman appears to have so done, she will be a murderer of her child, by destroying a living creature, and diminishing humankind: if anyone, therefore, proceeds to such fornication or murder, he cannot be clean.

(Against Apion 2.202)

The Ten Commandments were used by early Christians just as they were by Jews—as teachings that pertained to moral living. Notably, the sixth commandment, “You shall not murder,” was given a greater exposition in Christian thinking and applied specifically to the termination of a pregnancy. When in the late first, early second century, a document known as Didache was written, attention turned to the sixth commandment and stated, “You shall not murder … you shall not engage in sorcery; you shall not abort a child or commit infanticide” (2.2). This document understood the sixth commandment as extending to the unborn. The reason I included “sorcery” as a part of this understanding is that the Greek term translated “sorcery” is the word from which we get “pharmacy.” Therefore, “sorcery” here likely included taking abortifacients—drugs that induced miscarriage. Our modern understanding of the sixth commandment was clearly understood as extending to the life of the unborn.

Also in keeping with the Mosaic Law, the paths of life and death (Deuteronomy 27–28) are recast as darkness and light in another early Christian writing.

But the path of darkness is crooked and full of cursing, for it is the path of eternal death and punishment, in which way are the things that destroy the soul …  Here are they who are persecutors of the good, haters of truth, lovers of lies; they who know not the reward of righteousness, who cleave not to what is good nor unto just judgment … murderers of children.

(Epistle of Barnabas 20.1–2)

Christian writers believed that life in the womb was no different than life outside it. Clement of Alexandria (c. 160–215 CE) inferred from Luke 1:41 when John leaped in Elizabeth’s womb that very belief (Instructor 2.10.96). Athenagoras, in the late-second-century, pointed to Christianity’s rejection of abortion as proof that Christians were moral when he wrote that the Christians “say that those women who use drugs to bring on abortion commit murder, and will have to give an account to God for the abortion” (Leg. 35).

Later church councils forbade abortion and actually levied punishments against any who murdered their unborn. The Council of Elvira (c. 4th century) reflects such beliefs.

If a woman conceives in adultery and then has an abortion, she may not commune again, even as death approaches, because she has sinned twice. (Canon 63)

A catechumen who conceives in adultery and then suffocates the child may be baptized only when death approaches. (Canon 68)

Even some of the most notable early church theologians supported this stance. Both Augustine (c. 354–430) and John Chrysostom (c. 347–407) viewed abortion as murder, and exposure—abortion’s ugly cousin—was no less an evil.

Moses’ Law encouraged caring for orphans (Exodus 22:22–24; Deuteronomy 14:29).[1] God administered justice for orphans, so Israel was not to pervert justice towards them (Deuteronomy 10:18; cf. 24:17; 27:19). The Essenes—a Jewish sect that lived around the Dead Sea in the first century CE—were known for taking them in and caring for them. Their community resembled a modern idea of a monastery in that everything was common property. Josephus records that they would take in children not their own because they did not wed, and they would care for those children and teach them their ways (Wars 2.8.2).

I don’t wish to enter into a discussion about the legitimacy of orphanages or children’s homes, but the order of widows cared for orphans as a part of their ecclesial duties.[2] Theologically, caring for orphans is missional in its practice. Even Jesus was adopted by Joseph, and Christ identified Himself with the “least of these my brothers” (Matthew 25:40). To care for orphans is to see Christ in the orphan as one of the least of those in society. As Christians, we have been adopted into God’s family. We are orphans made children by adoption through Christ (Romans 8:15, 23).[3]

A testimony of early church history also demonstrates that such were cared for by Christians. The late first-century bishop, Clement of Rome wrote, “Let the [elders] be compassionate and merciful to everyone—bringing back those who wander, visiting all the sick, and not neglecting the widow, the orphan, or the poor.” The second-century Greek apologist, Aristides, wrote that Christians “do not turn away their care from widows, and they deliver the orphan from anyone who treats him harshly.” The second-century Christian work, Shepherd of Hermas, noted, “Therefore, instead of lands, buy afflicted souls, according as each one is able. And visit widows and orphans.”[4]

Christianity’s stances on exposure led to a shift in Roman law in later years.[5] By 374 CE, one could incur a penalty for exposing a child. Obviously, by this time, Constantine had reigned and obliterated the persecution of Christians with Christianity later becoming the state religion in the Roman Empire. This elevation of the faith was good in some respects but bad in others. The good that came from the legalization of Christianity and its adoption as the state religion was that Christian theology began to have a say in legal matters.

The Cappadocian Fathers of the fourth century, as well as Latin theologians, helped shape the thinking of the Empire with some of them even having strong connections in government, For example, the Cappadocian Father, Basil the Great was familiar with Julian the Apostate since the two had been educated together. These two figures began competing, Basil through Christianity and Julian through the pagan rites, to win the hearts of people to their respective faiths. By this time, however, paganism had little influence but Christianity flourished.

With abortion as with exposure, while a rather defined orthodoxy was to not abort or expose children, not all Christians were blameless in these areas. Christians both participated in aborting unborn and exposing newly born infants.[6] One may wonder why these unique features taught in Christianity were violated by adherents to the faith. After all, wouldn’t that make these unique features unworthy of the world? Would it not nullify the faith of Christ itself and might we be justified in labeling those who did such “hypocrites?” The frustration is inevitable. However, there is no excuse for why Christians did such things.

I might remind the reader that many of the writings that comprise the New Testament were written as reactionary letters to communities of faith who were skating perilously close to an edge of heresy or infidelity to God. Christians are no different from any other person or group of people. We have our trials and temptations. We try rather hard to weather the storms, but despite our profession of faith, we still sin. It may be with a purpose that Christians sin, and sometimes it may be accidental. We still sin. However, the lives we are supposed to live are to be mirrored after that of Christ Himself. Yet, we often fall short. The early Christians did, and we still do today. If we can but recapture the uniqueness of our faith once again, perhaps we’ll be able to make the kind of changes that those believers did in their own time

[1] The Hebrew term often translated as “fatherless child” in the NKJV is elsewhere translated as “orphan” (cf. Lamentations 5:3; Malachi 3:5), so when I mention orphan and you reference the passage to find the translation as “fatherless child,” I’ve referenced from the Hebrew and not the English. Interestingly enough, many passages where “orphan” appears also has “widow” in the same verse or immediate context. At other places, “stranger” appears alongside them both. The point being that God cares for those most vulnerable to abuse in society. It must be mentioned that the Thebans outlawed exposure, but allowed the sale of children. This is the only recorded government, alongside the practice of Jews and Christians, to have taken a rather different approach for the newborn when compared to the rest of the ancient world.

[2] See Michael J. Gorman, Abortion and the Early Church: Christian, Jewish and Pagan Attitudes in the Greco-Roman World (Eugene: Wipf and Stock Publishers, 1982).

[3] Russell D. Moore, “Abba Changes Everything: Why Every Christian Is Called to Rescue Orphans,” Christianity Today 54, no. 7 (July 2010): 18–22.

[4] David W. Bercot, ed., A Dictionary of Early Christian Beliefs, s.v. “Orphans and Widows,” 1998.

[5] See Joshua C. Tate, “Christianity and the Legal Status of Abandoned Children in the Later Roman Empire,” Journal of Law and Religion 24, no. 1 (2008/09): 123–41.

[6] Everett Ferguson, Thinking-Living-Dying: Early Apologists Speak to the 21st Century (Vienna: Warren Christian Apologetics Center, 2011), 27, 29.