Love in the midst of empire

In every ancient city we visited in Türkiye and Asia Minor, the most prominent structures were the temples built to honor the emperor or one of the many gods or goddesses in the Greco-Roman pantheon. These architectural wonders were often situated atop the highest point in the city, or were in and of themselves the highest buildings in the city. They were sites of worship as well as centers of economic activity, functioning as “financial institutions, marketplaces, and meeting places.” Much of life revolved around these centers and the religious rites and civic discourse that occurred there. The danger and challenge of being a follower of Christ in the midst of an empire built on an opposing religion came alive in the ruins of these ancient cities and is writ large in the writings of John in Revelation. 

As an inhabitant of the empire, one was expected to participate in the imperial religion. Because of the imperial religion’s ties to all aspects of civic life, to not participate meant to cut oneself off from these centers of commerce, trade, and politics. In addition, “failure to participate could be perceived by others as a lack of commitment, not only to the empire but also to the protective powers of the imperial leader.” In Revelation, John exhibits no mercy for those who caved in to the pressures of their society. Using harsh language in his letters to the seven churches, which correspond to the seven largest cities within the ancient Greco-Roman empire, John rebukes not the pagan worshipers but the Christians for their failure to set themselves apart from the predominant religion of the empire. 

I wonder, as I reflect on what it means to be part of a minor religion in an empire intertwined with a major religion, what message Revelation has for us today. Although we, as members of the ELCA, are part of the predominant religion of Christianity in America, there are many ways we practice our faith that differ from the culture of “Christian Nationalism.” Today’s interlacing of Church and State have similarities to the interlacing of religion and empire in the ancient world, and we are called to set ourselves apart as Christians were called to set themselves apart from the imperial religion and way of life of the Greco-Roman world. Like the early Christians, we are called to disentangle ourselves from the “lure of social and economic progress that was promised to those who participated culturally” in the imperial religion. We are called, as the early Christians were called, to “wake up and strengthen what remains and is on the point of death” (Revelation 3:4).  

If we were the audience of John’s letters in Revelation, would he rebuke us as he rebuked the Church of Sardis for giving in to the dominant culture and abandoning what makes us unique as followers of Christ? Would John call us to revive the message of Jesus that continues to be drowned out by a form of Christian Triumphalism that favors the rich and powerful over those Jesus called us to serve and care for? Would John write to us of Jesus’ call to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and care for the sick when the government again cuts the taxes of the rich and thus fails to fund programs that serve these vulnerable ones? Would Jesus call us to welcome the foreigner when “America first!” rhetoric demands stronger borders? Would He call us to visit the imprisoned, whose crimes or convictions are too often the result of untreated mental illness, systemic poverty, and/or racism? 

I believe He would. Christianity in the early empire survived because of Christians’ interest in caring for these vulnerable groups amidst an empire that would rather eradicate them. A religion that cares for these groups today will survive long after our modern empires fall. So let us continue to do the work of God in our communities, in our nation, and in our world. Let us be the hands and feet of Jesus and all His followers throughout the millennia who put God first over political interests.