Three Parts of the New Testament that are Enriched By Knowing Roman Culture and History 

For Christians, it is a core belief that God came in human flesh as Jesus and made himself known in a specific time and place —  1st Century C.E. Palestine. While Christians have long held that our beliefs can be translated into every language and culture (unlike other religions such as Islam, which holds the Q’aran is only the perfect word of Allah when it’s written in Arabic), it is nevertheless the case that one’s understanding of Jesus and his teachings will be enhanced if we bear in mind the contexts and cultures he was speaking to. There are two immediate ways that this must be applied. First, I strongly believe Christians need to increase their understanding of ancient Jewish laws, customs, and culture. Without that, Jesus’ references to things like Jubilee, Sabbath, and even his death on the cross during Passover lose much of their significance. I strongly believe that much of what makes Christianity unique and special is lost when we ignore the Jewish underpinnings of the New Testament. 

However, the second cultural context that we must keep in mind is that of the Roman Empire, which by the time of Jesus had displaced the Greek empire and established control of the entire Mediterranean region. While in our time it has become fashionable in elite circles to jettison learning about the “Classics” in favor of non-Western perspectives, Christians of all backgrounds will always derive benefits from learning about ancient Greek and Roman culture because it is in that context that the New Testament was written. When Paul, Luke, Mark, and others write to their readers, they include many words, phrases, and concepts that are loaded with meaning that would have been commonly understood by those who lived in this Greco-Roman context, but that are harder for us modern readers to grasp. Thus while the Good News of Jesus is simple enough that even a child can understand it, modern adults can benefit from a more thorough understanding of Roman history and culture. Jesus could have come at another time in history (say, during the Babylonian or Persian empires), but he was born right at the dawn of the Roman Empire—which has significance for how we understand his teachings and ministry. 

Here are three specific insights that have been on my mind recently. 

1. Adopted by God

While Julius Caesar was the man who effectively ended the Roman Republic by crossing the Rubicon with his army and assuming emergency powers in 49 BCE, it was his adopted son Octavian (known now as Caesar Augustus) who really ushered in the age of Roman Empire. It is this same Caesar Augustsus who is named in the beginning of Luke, and every person in the Roman Empire would be well familiar with his story. After Julius Caesar was assassinated in 44 BCE, his will stated that Octavian, who was biologically only a great nephew, was to be considered as his adopted son. As historian Adrian Goldsworthy writes in Augustus: First Emperor of Rome, “Adoption was taken very seriously by the Romans, and an adopted son became to all intents and purposes the same as a true son…a young man who received Julius Caesar’s wealth and name inevitably also took on the political expectations of continuing the family’s success.” Interestingly, Julius Caesar was soon to be consecrated as a god, and Augustus therefore became known as “the son of god.” This Augustus, the son of a god, would go on to defeat all his enemies, both domestic and foreign, conquer the entire known world, and establish a long era of “peace” through overwhelming military might. Moreover, he would also be installed as “pontifex maximus”, or “high priest,” therefore solidifying his status as both ruler of the physical world and interceding for his people to the gods in the spiritual realm.

[As one example of how this was understood by the people of this time, in 9 BCE an inscription in western Turkey described Augustus this way: “Since Providence, which has ordered all things and is deeply interested in our life, has set in most perfect order by giving us Augustus, whom she filled with virtue that he might benefit humankind, sending him as a savior, both for us and for our descendants, that he might end war and arrange all things, and since he, Caesar, by his appearance (excelled even our anticipations), surpassing all previous benefactors, and not even leaving to posterity any hope of surpassing what he has done, and since the birthday of the god Augustus was the beginning of the good news/gospel/evangelion [εὐαγγέλιον] for the world that came by reason of him.” Notice how much of this language about Caesar would later be appropriated by early Christians to refer to Jesus! To call Jesus as savior and lord was to say that Caesar was not—a very controversial and dangerous claim.]

Augustus would die in about 14 CE, when Jesus was a teenager, dying at about the ninth hour of the day (the same hour Jesus would later die on the cross). Augustus’ face was the most recognized in the entire ancient world, having been copied onto millions of coins. It is very likely that the coin that Jesus held in the Temple when questioned about the matter of taxation had Caesar Augustus’ face on it. 

Denarius (Coin) Portraying Emperor Augustus | The Art Institute of Chicago
Caesar August, son of the “Divine Julius” –aka the “son of god”

 With all this in mind, it is incredibly interesting to me that in Paul’s letter to the Roman Christians, he explicitly uses the imagery of “adoption” to describe our relationship to God. In Romans 8 he writes, “The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship….Now if we are children, then we are heirs — heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his suffering in order that we may also share in his glory.” These Roman Christians would be well aware of Augustus’ adoption as a son of god, and now, Paul was using similar imagery to describe the status of Christians in relation to God! Paul was stating that in the same way that Augustus inherited his adopted father’s kingdom, with all of the rights and responsibilities, so we as Christians now inherit our adopted Father’s Kingdom! And unlike Augustus, who died and left his kingdom to others, as Christians we believe that Jesus rose again and continues to reign, as our brother and co-heir to the Kingdom of God. However unlike the peace that Rome brings, which comes through violence and domination, the peace of Christ comes through love, servanthood and suffering. Thus Romans 8 —a powerful passage even without these insights— becomes even more potent and interesting once we know the cultural and historical context. 

2. Crowned as King

In the Roman Empire, emperors were seen as quasi-gods, worthy of worship and elaborate ceremonies establishing their status and right to rule. Interestingly, the coronation ceremony for a Roman Emperor is directly adapted in the Gospel of Mark in reference to the crucifixion of Jesus. Compare the following description of a Roman emperor’s inauguration to how Mark describes Good Friday (taken from Shane Claiborne’s Jesus For President): 

A Roman Coronation

The Praetorian Guard (six thousand soldiers) gathered in the Praetorium. The would-be Caesar was brought into the middle of the gathering. 

Guards went to the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, got a purple robe, and placed it on the candidate. The candidate was also given an olive-leaf wreath made of gold and a scepter for the authority of Rome. 

Caesar was loudly acclaimed as triumphant by the Praetorian Guard. 

A procession began through the streets of Rome, led by soldiers. In the middle was Caesura. Wlalking behind him was a sacrificial bull, whose death and blood would mark Caesar’s entrance into the divine pantheon. Walking next to the bulls as a slave, who carried an axe to kill the bull. 

The procession moved to the highest hill in Rome, the Capitolene hill (“head hill.”) On this hill is the Capitoleum temple. 

The candidate stood before the temple altar and was offered, by the slave, a bowl of wine mixed with myrrh. He took as if to accept, and then gave it back. The slave also refused, and then the wine was poured out either onto the altar or onto the bull. Right after the wine was poured, the bull was killed. 

The Caesar-to-be gathered his second in command on his right hand and his third in command on his left. Then they ascended to the throne of the Capitoleum. 

The crowd acclaimed the inaugurated emperor. And for the divine seal of approval, the gods would send signs such as a flock of doves or a solar eclipse. 

VERSUS

Jesus’ Coronation in Mark

Jesus was brought to the Praetorium in Jerusalem. The whole company of soldiers (200+) was gathered there.

Soldiers brought Jesus a wreath (of thorns), a scepter (an old stick), and a purple robe.

Sarcastically, the soldiers acclaimed, mocked, and paid homage to Jesus. 

The procession began. But instead of a bull, the would-be king and god became the sacrifice, the bull. But he could not carry the instrument of death and be the sacrifice, so they stopped Simon of Cyrene and gave him the cross to carry. 

Jesus was led up to Golgotha, which means “head hill.” 

Jesus was offered wine, and he refused. Right after, it is written, “and they crucified him.”

Next came the account of those being crucified on his right and his left. The word for them —lestes—can mean terrorist or insurrectionist. 

Jesus was again acclaimed (mocked) and a divine sign confirmed God’s presence. The temple curtain ripped in two, the sky darkened, and an earthquake hit. Finally, the Roman centurion (who had undoubtedly pledged allegiance to Caesar, the other ‘son of god”), converted and sincerely acclaimed this man as the ‘son of God.” 

Once we notice these parallels, which are so similar that they have to be intentional by Mark, it gives us more insight into the significance of Jesus’ death on the cross. Some Christians only view his death as comparable to that of a sacrificial lamb, taking on sins like that of a Jewish sin offering. While that is certainly part of the metaphor, we see here that Jesus’ death on the cross is also connected to his enthronement as the son of God and ruler of the kingdom. But in contrast to the enthronement and deification of a Caesar, which was all about praising Caesar’s strength and giving honor to him, Jesus’ enthronement comes through suffering, dishonor, and weakness. Jesus’ upside-down Kingdom stands in market contrast to the Kingdom of Caesar. And similarly, if Jesus tells his followers to take up our crosses and follow him, then we must understand that our path to glory will similarly involve suffering and weakness, rather than worldly strength and domination. 

3. Jesus as the Ultimate “Trophy” 

I wrote in a previous blog post how Jesus’ death on the cross seems incredibly similar to the ancient Greek practice of erecting “trophies”, which involve placing the empty armor of one’s defeated and disarmed enemy on a tall wooden post to display to everyone. What I recently learned was how this practice was adopted by the Romans and even explicitly put in place in Jerusalem, very near to where Jesus would be crucified! Adrian Goldsworthy writes that around 20 BCE, King Herod (operating under Rome’s authority) built a massive hippodrome (amphitheater) in Jerusalem in honor of Augustus Caesar. This hippodrome was decorated with “mounted trophies commemorating his victories and listing them by name. The trophies were to the traditional Roman design, representing a post and crossbeams bearing shields and topped by a helmet, all supposedly taken from the enemy. A crowd of [Jewish] Jerusalemites mistook the shapes for crude figures of men and immediately broke into an uproar,” since it seemed to be a violation of the commandment against graven images. King Herod, eager to calm the mob, had the helmet and shields removed, showing that it was not a figure of a man at all but merely a post and crossbeam. At this the crowd was relieved and able to move on. 

 Trophée des Alpes photo turbie-trophy0021_22b.jpg
The “Roman Trophy of Augustus,” built in 6 BCE near Provence, France

BUT— think about the significance of this imagery, that just a few football fields from where Jesus would be crucified, stood a massive Roman hippodrome decorated with wooden…crosses! The connection may be lost to us, but would have been very clear to the early Christians—Jesus death on the cross would have been seen as a victory for Rome and Jesus’ opponents; his beaten and bloody body nailed on a cross a visual trophy of who really had power—Caesar. But for the early Christians, it was this very death on the cross that was actually the emblem of Jesus’ power and victory, because it was there that he exhausted and overcame all the power of sin and evil, triumphing over them through his resurrection on the third day. Thus we see Christians appropriating the very symbol of Roman power and authority—the cross—and using it as an illustration of the way that Jesus conquers his enemies. But unlike Rome, which uses the cross to dominate and humiliate the opponents of Caesar, Jesus is the one who willingly chooses to be killed and humiliated—and it’s in this way that he shows his true power. Christ crucified is a “stumbling block to the Jews and foolishness to the Gentiles” (1 Corinthians 1:23), but for Christians, Jesus on the cross is the ultimate trophy of the great victory he accomplished there. While a Roman trophy is showing that the victim has been disarmed, at the cross it was Jesus who “having disarmed the powers and authorities, made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross” (Colossians 2:15). Do you see how much more potent and interesting these Bible verses become when better understand the historical context? 

There are many more examples that we could go into, of obscure Roman customs and traditions that give greater insight into the New Testament. But hopefully for now these three serve to whet your appetite, illustrating just how vital it is that Christians study history and culture—otherwise we are only scratching the surface of what the authors of the New Testament wanted us to know about Jesus. 

What Will Star Wars Mean to the Next Generation?

I recently wrote my final guest editorial for Eleven-ThirtyEight, a Star Wars blog site that I have written for a number of times in recent years (you can view my previous ETE pieces here). As ETE prepares to come to a close, I wanted to take some time to reflect on the lessons I hope my kids will learn from Star Wars. Below is my introduction, and if it seems intriguing to you I invite you to click here to read the entire piece:

For a franchise that began almost fifty years ago when the Baby Boomers were barely adults, Star Wars remains incredibly popular. Now, as a fan who has recently become a father of two children, I have been taking some time to ponder the question of what I hope Star Wars will mean to them. While my children are still quite young—two and a half years and ten months—I’ve already enjoyed the opportunity to introduce them to some Star Wars characters via children’s books, cartoons, and kid-friendly clips from the films.

“It’s an interesting balance though, because while I love Star Wars, I don’t want to force my kids into a hobby they aren’t interested in, and because I want to be careful about what exactly they absorb from Star Wars. Besides scary images or intense themes, there are moral questions that the series raises. For example, there are fair concerns one can raise about representation (or lack thereof) in the broader Star Wars universe. Additionally, I recall a pacifist mentor of mine who deliberately kept his preteen children from watching Star Wars because it arguably portrays violence as a solution perpetrated by the good side and bad side alike. As a pacifist myself, I once wrote an ETE piece specifically reflecting on the question of violence in Star Wars, but it’s become a bit less of a hypothetical question now that I have to warn my son not to swing his toy lightsaber at me, nor to pretend to point blasters at people. 

But even aside from these specific questions, I think it is important to be thoughtful about any movie series that is likely to be watched ad nauseam by children, for the simple reason that these films may become some of their foundational blocks of understanding. Philosopher and theologian James K. A. Smith argues that more so than our specific ideological or moral beliefs, it is the activities that we love and the habits that we practice which shape us at a foundational level. He argues that when it comes to our inner identity, it’s not so much a case of “We are what we think”, but instead “we are what we love”. 

So if I raise my kids to love Star Wars, how am I hoping it will shape them? What are the core values that I hope it communicates to them? I have three in particular...”

Click here to keep reading!

Would Learning About The Biblical Case for Nonviolence Help American Evangelicals Engage Culture in a More Healthy Manner?

[The essay below is adapted from an email I originally wrote to David French, a prominent American evangelical who is also a notable Never-Trumper, NYT columnist, and co-leader of “The AfterParty,” a new movement designed to help American evangelicals engage in politics in a more healthy manner. Mr. French has not yet replied to my email, but if he does I will ask for permission to share his response here.]

Hi David, 

I hope you are doing well.  My name is Andrew Berg, and I work for InterVarsity Christian Fellowship as an Area Director in Central Pennsylvania. I’ve been a fan of yours for a while, and recently started listening to the Good Faith podcast, including your recent AfterParty live event. There you invited listeners to email you with any thoughts or questions we may have, so I’m taking you up on that. (I’ve also been inspired to create a 12-week Bible study guide on the theme of politics, and hope to try it out later this year!) 

One piece of context for you to know is that I am now a member of an Anabaptist denomination, the Brethren in Christ (BIC), after growing up in the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod. Among other Anabaptist commitments like adult baptism, in the BIC we value nonviolence and oppose war. That leads to the following question to you as I consider how to help American evangelicals engage in politics in a more Christ-like manner.  

My question is: Do you think that American evangelicals would disproportionately benefit from a thorough exposition of the biblical foundations of nonviolence and pacifism?  

I know you yourself are an advocate for Just War Theory, and I listened to you share on the Good Faith podcast about that topic a couple months ago. I certainly don’t expect to argue you out of your view, which is very well thought-out and articulated. However, unlike yourself, I don’t think most evangelicals have ever considered the biblical reasons someone might choose not to pick up arms. Having access to deadly weapons feels as American as apple pie, and most evangelicals don’t feel any tension whatsoever with that. But I wonder if maybe they should, at least a little.  

There’s a few ways I could see this being uniquely beneficial to American evangelicals as we think about helping them engage in civic life in a more healthy manner: 

First, we have seen many Americans be quick to use weapons to defend themselves when it is absolutely unnecessary. Just this week there have been two incidents where a teenager accidentally knocked on the wrong door, and was answered by gunfire. And there have been other incidents where a gun owner’s child was sneaking back in the house after seeing friends late at night, and was shot dead for fear of a burglar. To be fair, I don’t want anyone to break into my house either, but there’s not a single possession I own that is worth killing another human being made in God’s image. Or take the case in Texas where Gov. Abbott seeks to pardon the man convicted of killing a BLM protester: when violent self-defense is assumed as a core right, it means that people may be tempted to seek out situations where they will be able to kill others in the name of “self-defense”. In contrast, Jesus says that whoever wants to save their life will lose it, and that we must take up our crosses and follow him—the exact opposite of self-defense. (I don’t think this means a total avoidance of “force”; I used to teach middle school students and forcefully broke up 22 fights in just two years of teaching. But I did so without the use of a gun, or even any physical “violence.” If Costa Rica can remain the most peaceful nation in Central America without a standing army, and if UK police officers can maintain the peace without carrying weapons beyond a stun gun, I think in 99.9% of cases Americans could also find a path to resolve conflicts without resorting to violence–and I think evangelicals would particularly benefit from more thinking in how to do that well.) 

Secondly, I think American evangelicals would benefit from hearing more about passages like Romans 12-13 about submitting to authorities in its full context. Writing to a persecuted community living under the Emperor Nero, Paul tells them to not resist the authorities, to love their enemies, and to bless their persecutors! To me this is more in line with an ethic of nonviolence than it is to the standard American evangelical perspective, which assumes a right to resist and overthrow any government that they don’t like. (And that’s not even getting into the more strongly worded principles of nonviolence espoused by Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount.) My point is that perhaps evangelicals would feel less free to join armed antigovernment militia movements like The Three Percenters, Boogaloo Bois, Patriot Front, etc. if they understood Scripture’s clear calls to eschew violence—even at the cost of our own lives, if necessary.  

And that gets to my third and final point: I think that as long as American evangelicals think that armed violence against one’s opponents can easily be justified biblically, it will inevitably lead to more division and animosity than if they remain committed to nonviolence. After all, why bother negotiating with someone that you are physically, emotionally, and spiritually prepared to kill? Nonviolence is a far harder path than violence, which is why so few choose it, but ultimately I would argue it’s more successful in the long run. You only have to look at MLK’s leadership in the Civil Rights movement, and the firm discipline of nonviolence he required of his followers. MLK did not shrink back from harsh words for his opponents, but his commitment to nonviolence means that he always held out hope for them. In contrast, to pick up arms (whether in reality or metaphorically) means that one has given up hope for change, and instead are counting on the overwhelming use of power and force to achieve one’s aims. That is certainly how the kingdoms of this world work, but it is not what Christians are called to. I suspect that as long as there are least some situations where evangelicals think violence is biblically justified, there will exist a slippery slope wherein more and more situations feel justified, until we have shootings at nightclubs, libraries, and pizza parlors because they’re “grooming children” or some other ridiculous reasons.  

Or maybe I will put it another way: Is it better for a Christian to go to war and kill non-Christians, or to go to war and kill Christians? To kill a non-Christian (potentially) dooms him or her to an eternity in hell, whereas to kill a Christian is to kill a brother or sister in Christ. Either option feels unacceptable to me. But I worry that far too many evangelicals are not only fine with the idea of killing others, but excited about it! I don’t imagine that a better understanding of the Bible or a theology of nonviolence would stop every mass shooter or disrupt every Christian militia movement, but if it helps to lower our political temperature even a little bit, it feels worth it.  

Granted, there will always be hard cases where violence feels necessary, like defense of the innocent, or resistance to evil regimes like Nazi Germany or Putin’s Russia. Yet as I think about 1930s Germany and 2020s Russia—in each of those countries, a majority of the population proclaimed themselves Christian. What if all of the Christians there —or even a substantial minority—had practiced nonviolence? I don’t think Hitler ever could have invaded Poland, nor Putin invaded Ukraine, if Christians in Germany and Russia had risen up and declared violence an unacceptable choice for serious followers of Jesus Christ. 

What do you think? Do you think a more prominent theology and biblical understanding about nonviolence would help more American evangelicals pursue politics in a more healthy way? Or would that be a fruitless errand compared to other levers of change? 

I’m curious about your thoughts—thanks and God bless!