One of the most startling facts of early Christianity – yet one seldom commented upon – is that complete obscurity surrounds the foundation of its churches in all of the major cities of the Roman Empire. Those very churches which would define dogma, marshall the legions of the faithful and wield state power for millennia, present the interested enquirer with a mystery: How did they begin?
Legends and “traditions” abound, of course, and apologetics is quite insistent that the “rapid growth of the church” is a primary proof and validation of the Resurrection and the claims of Christianity. But sober historical evidence is absent.
Into this void in real history leaks a wondrous tale of the pioneers of the faith, Acts of the Apostles. This fable synthesizes an idealized version of events in a world of tireless apostles and bold evangelization; of recalcitrant Jews easily neutralized; of fraternal disputes quickly resolved; of cruel persecutions met with stoicism and forbearance; of divine and angelic interventions; and of immediate, mass conversions.
Reality, however, tells a different story. Unlike in the later centuries of Christian conquest, when ambitious missionaries, backed by armies, destroyed indigenous gods and compelled the acceptance of Christ, early Christianity of necessity spread by an entirely different method. But the idea that the mechanism at work was the “bold evangelism” of a handful of charismatic apostles, armed only with the power of the Holy Spirit, is a fairy tale which should convince only the faithful.
“There is something close to a black hole in the Christian story which lies tantalisingly between the events described in the New Testament and the emergence of something that looks more like conventional history in the second century.”
– Edward Stourton, In the Footsteps of Saint Paul, p181.
In truth, even the Church itself, reliant primarily on the first ecclesiastical historian Eusebius, has absolutely NO IDEA how its cardinal institutions began. Below the headline heroics of a handful of star performers, is conjectured numberless ranks of unnamed believers, who migrated their faith across the Mediterranean world in an unstoppable wave of Christian devotion. No thought is given to the possibility that “Christian-like” cults arose independently of any melodrama in Judaea, or that the antecedents of the Imperial cult, Mithraism, and myriad pagan enthusiasms fed into a nebulous “solar deity movement” in many towns and cities, a movement that lacked cohesion and direction until the Roman state itself adopted the ideology and regularized its dogmas.
Of Rome, Alexandria, Antioch and Carthage – the four leading capitals of the Roman empire – secular history has much to say about their churches and acrimonious sectarian disputes from the 4th century onward, that is, from a time after the church had grasped power. But the first faltering steps of the organized Christian faith remain opaque. Even churches which “feature” in the New Testament story, such as at Ephesus, Damascus and Athens, have curiously uncertain origins.
Many of the micro-dramas of Acts are confined to marginal settlements and towns which disappeared from the historical record. The tale, even excusing the miraculous as pious embellishment, is a poor fit with what little “fact” can be gleaned from secular history, a handful of epistles ostensibly written by the main player, and commonsense. Every step of the supposed epic evangelical achievement – the glorious winning of hearts and minds for Christ – raises conundrums and “difficulties” for those compelled to believe that, somehow, “truth” is to be found here.
“It was probably largely through the witness of unknown Jewish converts from the earliest days that the Christian faith spread throughout the Empire and beyond in the first few decades, though Acts reveals little about this.”
– W. Ward Gasque, The History of Christianity, p58.
Acts of the Apostles is a misnomer because most of “the twelve”, commissioned by the Lord to take the good news to “to the uttermost ends of the earth“, are not even mentioned. The original disciples, chosen by Jesus to be “fishers of men“, actually fade into oblivion soon after JC himself exits the holy melodrama. There is a curious switch of dramatis personae half way through the Acts of the Apostles – and the substitutes are “Grecians”.
Two of Jesus’ “inner circle” – James and John, the sons of Zebedee and witnesses to such key events as the “transfiguration” – disappear from the story after Acts 12.2, when James supposedly is killed by the Jewish king Agrippa I. Odd as it might seem, a few verses later, Peter, arrested in the same “persecution”, escapes (with the assistance of an angel!) and tells the faithful “Go show these things to James and the brethren.” (Acts 12.17). Up to this point, the only James we know anything about is James the son of Zebedee.
It required the creative genius of 2nd century Christian “historian” Hegesippus to gloss over this particular slip. Hegesippus managed to conflate the passing references at Matthew 13:55 and Mark 6.3 to the brethren of Jesus (“James, and Joses, and Simon and Judas”) with Paul’s references to a James “brother of the Lord” in Galatians 1.19 and “James and Cephas and John, the ones who seemed to be pillars” in Galatians 2.9. He produces a new, super-James, a James who is fast-tracked behind the scenes into the leading position of “first bishop of Jerusalem.” This new James makes a favourably ruling on circumcision for the Gentiles of Antioch, Syria and Cilicia – and never says another word!
Brother John Zebedee also disappears after Acts 12.2 but “John Mark” takes over at this point – “Mark” of course being a quintessential Roman name.
Peter, the illustrious third member of the triumvirate and star performing in the early chapters, is not
Peter, the illustrious third member of the triumvirate and star performing in the early chapters, is not heard of again after the “Council of Jerusalem” of Acts 15 – and in this story he certainly does not turn up in Rome to play Pope. It is a a curious anti-climax for the “rock” on which the church is supposedly to be built.
Matthias, the replacement for the hapless Judas, is never mentioned again after his election at Acts 1.26 and of th
Matthias, the replacement for the hapless Judas, is never mentioned again after his election at Acts 1.26 and of the rest of the original posse, seven* of the twelve are not mentioned after a listing in the first chapter of Acts. An eighth disciple, variously known as Thaddeus, Lebbaeus or Jude, is not mentioned in Acts at all.
So much for three years on the road with a miracle-working godman!
To Infinity … and Beyond!
“Acts gives the impression of being written, from a developed theological standpoint, a very considerable time after the events which it records.”
– G. Lampe, Peake’s Commentary on the Bible, p882.
To expedite his improbable tale of evangelical triumph, the author of Acts invented a cover story. It required an early persecution of the church followed by the scattering of the brethren. The palpable fairy tale is betrayed not only by the unconvincing (and isolated) martyrdom of Stephen, a late arrival to the Jesus yarn, but by the simultaneous claim that the scattering excluded the twelve disciples who stay put in Jerusalem!
The execution provided a pretext for the “dispersal” of the brothers and the seeding of churches across the world.
Curiously, the first missionary mentioned by Acts of the Apostles is Philip the deacon (NOT to be confused with Philip the disciple, not heard of again), who as one of “the seven Hellenists” is apparently appointed to “wait on tables” (it’s true, Acts 6.2) and care for widows.
But Philip spends little time on welfare work. Fleeing Jerusalem after the death of the first martyr, he makes a foray to the city of Samaria where it just so happens that a rival magician Simon has long bewitched “all the people from the least to the greatest“. Empowered with Jesus magic, the new man Philip stages a coup – he is able to upstage the hugely popular Simon with better “signs and miracles” and wins both men and women for Christ. Even Simon himself converts!
It’s an odd story and actually serves as a pretext for disciples Peter and John to leave Jerusalem and belatedly join the party in Samaria where they deliver the Holy Ghost by the laying on of hands – evidently one magic trick Philip could not perform! The baptized Simon now sours the jubilation by trying to buy the power of hand-delivery of the Holy Ghost and gets cursed mightily for his audacity.
What all this nonsense suggests is that the early Jerusalem-based Jesus cult faced a serious rival centred on Samaria. The fanciful easy triumph wrought by the apostles was a propaganda weapon in the struggle to eliminate the competition. It is significant that “Simon Magus” would ever after be regarded by the Church as the father of all gnostic heresies.
Beyond the early communistic church of Jerusalem itself (Acts 2.42-47; 32-37), which in every sense is presented as a collective endeavour, there is nothing to suggest that the original twelve apostles had a hand in established churches. True, Acts reports that Peter made a sortie to towns close to Jerusalem – Lydda, Joppa and Caesarea – but it is far from clear that the “prince of the apostles” actually established churches. At Lydda, says Acts, there were brethren already in residence:
“And it came to pass, as Peter passed throughout all quarters, he came down also to the saints which dwelt at Lydda.” – Acts 9.31-32.
At Joppa Peter raises a woman from the dead (really!) – but the dead woman, Tabitha-Dorcas, was herself a disciple and Peter had been summoned by yet other disciples from the same town.
The pioneer evangelist of Lydda, Joppa and Caesarea again appears to have been Philip the deacon who “passing through he preached in all the cities, till he came to Caesarea.” (Acts 8.40). It seems that the pagan capital became Philip’s permanent residence and the centre of a family prophecy business – as we learn later in Acts:
“And the next day we that were of Paul’s company departed, and came unto Caesarea: and we entered into the house of Philip the evangelist, which was one of the seven; and abode with him.
And the same man had four daughters, virgins, which did prophesy.” – Acts 21.8-9.
After the preliminary chapters Acts stars one apostle above and beyond all others, St Paul, a super-apostle who is nothing less than a religious genius. Paul is both groundbreaking theorist and dynamic practitioner, whose contribution to Christian doctrine eclipses the words of the godman himself, whose vast peregrinations overshadow the local meanderings of the Galilean carpenter, and whose practical skill in allegedly establishing churches is without parallel. And all this from one who was never chosen to be a “fisher of men”, a pugnacious character whose work transcends the collective efforts of “the twelve” and yet never met the saviour in life nor heard his words.
Did Paul, self-proclaimed Apostle to the Gentiles, really establish churches?
Read closely, Acts of the Apostles actually relates that when the super-apostle Paul arrived in towns along his itinerary there were, in most cases, already Christians there to greet him – shadowy, unnamed brethren who meet, host and proclaim the star missionary and help the great man on his way. Without their timely presence the tale could scarcely amble along.
For example, Paul’s story begins on the road to Damascus, where, as the unredeemed “Saul”, Paul is intent on bringing “disciples of the Lord … bound to Jerusalem.” – Acts 9.1-2. After divine intervention the blinded apostle is guided by “a certain disciple at Damascus, named Ananias” and with his sight restored Paul is “in the company of disciples” (Acts 9.19). Clearly the church at Damascus has non-Pauline origins – although it is the farcical “escape” of the apostle from the city that wins the plaudits.
The base for Paul’s legendary journeys of course was Antioch – third greatest city of the Roman empire and military headquarters for the eastern provinces. Yet clearly a highly successful church had been established before Paul entered the drama – the work of Jews from Cyprus and Cyrene.
The base for Paul’s legendary journeys of course was Antioch – third greatest city of the Roman empire and military headquarters for the eastern provinces. Yet clearly a highly successful church had been established before Paul entered the drama – the work of Jews from Cyprus and Cyrene.
“And the next day we that were of Paul’s company departed, and came unto Caesarea: and we entered into the house of Philip the evangelist, which was one of the seven; and abode with him.
One oddity about this “success story” is that zero kudos accrued to the Jews of Cyprus and Cyrene who first evangelized the great pagan city – even their names are unrecorded. What a contrast to the eternal fame accorded Peter for converting Cornelius! Instead, Acts records the oft-quoted tidbit that “disciples were first called Christians in Antioch” but with no shred of explanation as to how or why. Antioch went on to shine as a capital of Christianity for several hundred years but its beginnings are, as they say, “lost to us”.
In contrast to the enigma of Antioch, Acts records in copious detail Paul’s adventures in such hick towns as Lystra and Derbe, whose very existence was forgotten by the Middle Ages. Paul, who supposedly got his start in the evangelizing business from the church of Antioch, goes first to Cyprus – the very island that had itself evangelized Antioch! – and his brief visit basks in eternal glory (à la Peter) for the conversion of a single Roman official!
Just where did those disciples come from?
At the end of his first missionary journey Paul passes through Phoenicia and Samaria, “brought on his way by the church“, where his tale of Gentile conversions brings “great joy to all the brethren” (Acts 15.3).
But who has established churches in Phoenicia? Again, we are presented with the spontaneous emergence of believers with no obvious evangelical crusader to credit.
The same riddle is found at the start of the second missionary journey when Paul goes through Syria and Cilicia “confirming the churches” (Acts 15.41) – that is to say, churches already in existence. For Paul this is no return to a previous foundation – the regions were not part of his first evangelical odyssey. Important centres of early Christianity, like Edessa, Samosata, Mopsuestia and Apamea, know nothing of the great evangelist.
“Brethren” of unknown origin now conduct Paul to Athens (Acts 17.14-15) where Paul chalks up just two converts, Dionysius the Areopagite and Damaris. Despite the obviously limited success in the city Dionysius was upgraded to “first bishop” of Athens by his namesake, a late 2nd century bishop of Corinth. “Tradition” makes Damaris the wife of Dionysius and paradoxically introduces “Hierotheos the Thesmothete” as another “first bishop”, a name unknown to Acts. Christian apologists at Athens include Quadratus, Aristeides and Athenagoras but they all date from the 2nd century. It seems certain that Christianity came late to Athens – and in the teeth of pagan resistance.
On his third mission Acts tells us that Paul was “strengthening all the disciples” throughout Galatia and Phrygia. Clearly the creed had spread and that had precious little to do with Paul. This is made explicit at Ephesus where Paul arrives and “finds certain disciples” (Acts 19.1). He had previously, of course, been forbidden by the Holy Spirit from entering Asia and had passed quickly through the city on his earlier journey.
Perhaps the brethren of Ephesus were converts made by Apollos, active in the city before Paul; or Aquila and Priscilla, relocated from Corinth. The neophytes might even be the result of the mission of St John and the Blessed Virgin Mary, by “tradition” and bogus artifacts long-term residents of Ephesus, although their presence is completely unknown either to the author of Acts or Paul himself.
In Ephesus there were even, it seems, “vagabond Jews” (Acts 19.13) pirating Paul’s exorcism tricks! Paul passed two years in the city, selling “handkerchiefs from his body” to cure sickness (Acts 19.12) and provoking a riot of silversmiths, worried about their jobs (Acts 19.26-41) – both events which, if ever true, would have surely drawn the gullible and insecure into the church. But in no sense can it be said Paul was a founder of the Ephesian church. And “tradition” concurs:
“About 200 we find the churches of Asia Minor looking back to St John as their founder and treasuring his tomb at Ephesus.”
– Henry Chadwick, The Early Church, p17.
After a three-month stay in Greece, Paul reaches Troas, and on the first day “disciples came together” (Acts 20.6). Yet Paul had passed straight through the city on his earlier journey, having been called urgently to Macedonia by a vision. The assembled group in the “upper room”, including the boy who falls to his death and is resurrected by Paul, could only be the acolytes of another guru.
On his return from the third missionary journey Paul lands first at Tyre and “finding disciples, tarried there seven days” (Acts 21.3-4.) and then at Ptolemais, where he “saluted the brethren, and abode with them one day.” (Acts 21.7.). At Caesarea, Paul lodges with Philip the evangelist and meets “disciples of Caesarea” (Acts 21.16) – one assumes the converts of Philip.
Although the book of Acts knows nothing of Paul’s seminal letters it does however reproduce – in full – a letter supposedly sent by the commander of the Jerusalem guard, Claudius Lysias, to the provincial governor Felix following the arrest of Paul. By what miracle the letter came into the hands of “Luke” one can but marvel.