We now resume the narrative of events, and the next in order to be related, is The Martyrdom of Ignatius. There is no fact in early Church history more sacredly preserved than the martyrdom of Ignatius, the bishop of Antioch; and there is no narrative more celebrated than his journey, as a prisoner in chains, from Antioch to Rome.
According to the general opinion of historians, the Emperor Trajan, when on his way to the Parthian war, in the year 107, visited Antioch. From what cause it is difficult to say, but it appears that the Christians were threatened with persecution by his orders. Ignatius, therefore, being concerned for the Church in Antioch, desired to be introduced to Trajan’s presence. His great object was to prevent, if possible, the threatened persecution. With this end in view, he set forth to the emperor the true character and condition of the Christians, and offered himself to suffer in their stead.
The details of this remarkable interview are given in many church histories, but there is such an air of suspicion about them, that we forbear inserting them; it ended, however, in the condemnation of Ignatius. He was sentenced by the emperor to be carried to Rome, and thrown to the wild beasts for the entertainment of the people. He welcomed the severe sentence, and gladly submitted to be bound, believing it was for Ids faith in Christ and as a sacrifice for the saints.
Ignatius was now committed to the charge of ten soldiers, who appear to have disregarded his age and to have treated him with great harshness. He had been bishop of Antioch for nearly forty years, and so must have been an old man. But they hurried him over a long journey, both by sea and land, in order to reach Rome before the games were ended.
He arrived on the last day of the festival, and was earned at once to the amphitheater, where he suffered according to his sentence, in the sight of the assembled spectators. And thus the weary pilgrim found rest from the fatigues of his long journey in the blessed repose of the paradise of God.
It has been asked, Why was Ignatius taken all the way from Antioch to Rome to suffer martyrdom? The answer can only be conjecture. It may have been with the intention of striking fear into other Christians, by the spectacle of one so eminent, and so well-known, brought in chains to a dreadful and degrading death. But if this was the emperor’s expectation he was entirely disappointed. It had just the opposite effect. The report of his sentence and of his intended route spread far and wide, and deputations from the surrounding churches were sent to meet him at convenient points. He was thus cheered and greeted with the warmest congratulations of his brethren; and they, in return, were delighted to see the venerable bishop, and receive his parting blessing. Many of the saints would thereby be encouraged to brave, if not to desire, a martyr’s death and a martyr’s crown. Among the number who met him by the way was Polycarp, bishop of Smyrna, who, like Ignatius, had been a disciple of St. John, and destined to be a martyr for the gospel. But beside these personal interviews, he is said to have written Seven letters on this journey, which have been preserved in the providence of God and handed down to us. Great interest has ever been, and still is, attached to these letters.
But however worthy of all honor Ignatius may be as a holy man of God, and as a noble martyr for Christ, we must ever remember that his letters are not the word of God. They may interest and instruct us, but they cannot command our faith. That can only stand on the solid ground of the word of God, never on the infirm ground of tradition. “Scripture stands alone,” as one has said, “in majestic isolation, pre-eminent in instruction, and separated by unapproachable excellence from everything written by the apostolic fathers; so that those who follow close to the apostles have left us writings which are more for our warning than our edification.” At the same time, these early christian writers have every claim to our respect and veneration with which antiquity can invest them. They were the cotemporaries of the apostles, they enjoyed the privilege of hearing their instruction, they shared with them the labors of the gospel, and freely conversed with them from day to day. Paul speaks of a Clement—a so-called apostolic father-as his “fellow-laborer, whoso name is in the book of life.” And what he says of Timothy may have been at least partly true of many others; “But thou hast fully known my doctrine, manner of life, purpose, faith, long-suffering, charity, patience, persecutions, and afflictions.” Phil. 4:33And I entreat thee also, true yokefellow, help those women which labored with me in the gospel, with Clement also, and with other my fellowlaborers, whose names are in the book of life. (Philippians 4:3) Tim. 3:10, 11.
From those who were so highly privileged, we should naturally expect sound apostolic doctrine—a faithful repetition of the truths and instructions which were delivered to them by the inspired apostles. But such, alas! is not the case. Ignatius was one of the earliest of the apostolic fathers. He became the bishop of Antioch, the metropolis of Syria, about the year 70. He was a disciple of the apostle John, and survived him only about seven years. Surely from such a one we might have expected a close resemblance to the apostle’s teaching; but it is not so. The definite and absolute statements of scripture, as coming direct from God to the soul, are widely different to the writings of Ignatius and of all the fathers. Our only safe and sure guide is the word of God. How seasonable then is that word in the First Epistle of John, “Let that therefore abide in you which ye have heard from the beginning: if that which ye have heard from the beginning shall remain in you, ye also shall continue in the Son and in the Father.” (1 John 2:2424Let that therefore abide in you, which ye have heard from the beginning. If that which ye have heard from the beginning shall remain in you, ye also shall continue in the Son, and in the Father. (1 John 2:24).) This passage evidently refers more especially to the person of Christ, and consequently to the scriptures of the New Testament, in which we have the display of the Father in the Son, and made known to us by the Holy Spirit. In Paul’s epistles, we have more fully revealed the counsels of God concerning the Church, Israel, and the Gentiles, so that we must go farther back than “the fathers” to find a true ground of faith; we must go back to that which existed from “the beginning.” Nothing has direct divine authority for the believer, but that which was from “the beginning.” This alone secures our continuing “in the Son and in the Father.”
The epistles of Ignatius have been long esteemed by Episcopalians as the chief authority for the system of the English Church—and this must be our excuse for referring so fully to this “father.” Nearly all their arguments in favor of episcopacy are founded on his letters. So strongly does he press submission to the episcopal authority, and so highly does he extol it, that some have been induced to question their genuineness altogether, and others have supposed that they must have been largely interpolated to serve the practical interest. But with the controversy on these points we have nothing to do in our “Short Papers.”
We will now resume our history from the death of Trajan, in the year 117, and briefly glance at the condition of the Church during the reigns of Hadrian and the Antonine from A.D 117 to 180.
Although it would be unjust to class Hadrian and the first Antonine with the systematic persecutors of the Church, nevertheless, Christians were often exposed to the most violent sufferings and death during their dominion. The cruel custom of ascribing all public calamities to the Christians, and of calling for their blood as an atonement
to the offended deities, still continued, and was generally yielded to by the local governors, and unchecked by the indifferent emperors. But under the reign of the second Antonine, Marcus Aurelius, the evil spirit of persecution greatly increased. It was no longer confined to the outbursts of popular fury, but was encouraged by the highest authorities. The slender protection which the ambiguous edicts of Trajan, Hadrian, and Antonius afforded the Christians was withdrawn, and the excited passions of the idolatrous pagans were unrestrained by the government. It is most interesting to the student of scripture history to see how this could take place under the reign of a prince who was distinguished for learning, philosophy, and general mildness of character.
The past sixty years of comparative peace had opened a wide field for the propagation of the gospel. During that period it made rapid progress in many ways. Christian congregations increased in numbers, influence, and wealth throughout every quarter of the Roman dominions. Many of the rich, being filled with divine love, distributed their substance to the poor, traveled into regions which as yet had not heard the sound of the gospel, and, having planted Christianity, passed on to other countries. The Holy Spirit could not thus work without awakening the jealousy and stirring up all the enmity of the supporters of the national religion. Aurelius saw with an evil eye the superior power of Christianity over men’s minds compared with his own heathen philosophy. He then became an intolerant persecutor, and encouraged the provincial authorities to crush what he considered a contumacious spirit of resistance to his authority. But the gospel of the grace of God was far above and beyond the reach of Aurelius; and neither his sword nor his lions could arrest its triumphant career. In spite of the bloody persecutions which he excited or sanctioned, Christianity was propagated throughout the known world.