Worshipers establish empires. While armies are good for defending an empire against all enemies foreign and domestic, armies don’t build empires. Worshipers do.
The Roman Empire didn’t have a problem with Christian believers, but with Christian worshipers.
While all worshipers are believers, not all believers are worshipers. When Rome caught a Christian worshiper in the act, Rome first tried to turn the worshiper back into a mere believer. But if the worshiper stood fast, he or she was put to death before sunset.
The Christian worship services Rome feared were typically over in twenty minutes and lacked music to stir the emotions or sermons to gird the mind. While the nature of these services may be a mystery to many of us modern Christians, Rome knew they were a supreme threat to the Empire. What did Rome know?
Rome knew a lot about worship. Roman Emperors were the lead worshipers of the Empire. The Caesars of Rome, no less the Pharaohs of Egypt, weren’t just kings. They were also priests. Rome’s priest-kings regularly officiated over pagan worship services––services with no music or sermons. These services made the Roman Empire the Roman Empire. To understand this is to understand worship.
Worshipers establish empires. While armies are good for defending an empire against all enemies foreign and domestic, armies don’t build empires. Worshipers do. Liturgical and ceremonial acts of priest-kings build and sustain empires. Only after the priest-kings have done their job do believers have a place to call home.
The Road to Treason
Imagine you’re a Christian within the Roman Empire some time in the first three centuries of the Christian era. It’s 4:30 am on Sunday morning. You’re getting ready for work because, during these centuries, Sunday is a workday. You slip a miniature loaf of bread in your pocket as you leave home. This bread isn’t for lunch, but for a special Secret Counsel meeting you’re participating in before work, one held every Sunday morning.
You head to a neighborhood with a large home owned by a wealthy Christian family. Looking over your shoulder to be sure no one is following, you quietly make your way to the backside of the house and slip in the backdoor. A man guarding the door, a Deacon, checks you out to be sure you’re one of the regulars. He recognizes you, smiles and waves you in.
In the large central room, a couple dozen people have already gathered. You know most of them. At the far end of the room sits an older, stately, bearded man, the Bishop. Two Deacons stand to his left and right. They occasionally bend down to say something to him. In the middle is a semicircle of chairs for the Presbyters, who have already taken their seats.
The Traitors Assemble
The Bishop stands and greets the room saying, “The Lord be with you.” In unison all respond, “And also with you.” At once there is silence and order. In front of the Bishop is a waist-high table. You and the rest of the worshipers pack into the space before the Bishop flanked by the Deacons within the semicircle bounded by the Presbyters. Now the Church is assembled. Now the meeting begins––this meeting for liturgical Eucharistic worship. You won’t be there more than twenty minutes. It wouldn't be wise. After all, as far as Rome is concerned, you're committing treason.
Everyone turns to one another, extends a blessing, saying, “The peace of Christ.” The two Deacons flanking the Bishop spread a white tablecloth on the table. One of the Deacons holds out a plate, signaling everyone to file forward to offer their small loaves. The Deacon sets the plate on the table and the Bishop adds his own small loaf to the pile. The other Deacon adds a little water to a cup of wine. All stand in silence.
The Presbyters stretch out their hands toward the table. The Bishop stretches his hands over the table and begins a dialogue form of prayer with the worshipers. After the initial dialogue, the Bishop prays another five minutes in the Holy Spirit, thanking the Father for the work of Christ. When the Bishop finishes, in unison all say, “Amen.”
Committing a Capital Offense
The Bishop takes and breaks one of the loaves, then tears off a piece and eats it. He takes a sip from the cup. The Deacons break the loaf into enough pieces for everyone. You and the rest of the worshipers file up to the table to receive a piece. The Bishop places it into your hands saying, “The Bread of Heaven in Jesus Christ.” You respond, “Amen.” One of the Deacons then offers you a sip from the cup, saying, “In God the Father Almighty and in the Lord Jesus Christ and in the Holy Spirit in the Holy Church.” You respond, “Amen.”
After everyone has filed back to their spot, all pause for a moment of silence. Then, for the third and final time during this Secret Counsel meeting, everyone files back to the table to receive one of the small loafs from the plate. You’ll take this home and celebrate communion with your family later that day after work, that is if you get home.
As you take your loaf, you remember your friend John, who was spotted, arrested, and executed a few months ago after attending one of these liturgical Eucharistic worship gatherings. You say a prayer for John’s widow and three kids.
"Christians! Christians!"
After the distribution of the loaves, the Deacons clean the plate and cup. One of the Deacons pronounces a blessing and commissions all to go in the joy of the Lord. If this is like most Sundays, then over the next ten or fifteen minutes everyone will file out the back door individually or in pairs and quietly slip out of the neighborhood. Doing it this way helps prevent some neighbor from becoming alarmed that Christians have gathered in the neighborhood and alert the authorities.
But this Sunday is not destined to be like most. From out in front of the house comes a shout, “Christians! Christians!” Within moments, windows and doors fly open up and down the street. A crowd gathers. The crowd becomes a mob.
The Bishop, flanked by the two Deacons, comes out on the front steps as shouts of “Christians! Christians!” continue to erupt from the crowd. The first soldier arrives, looks at the Bishop and demands, “What is this? Are you a Christian?” “Yes I am,” replies the Bishop. Someone in the crowd blurts out, “They’re all Christians!” More soldiers arrive. You’re among ten people still in the house with no way out. You’re all arrested for committing the capital crime of Christian Eucharistic worship. You have challenged the authority of the Emperor and now will face the consequences. You’re bound and hauled before the local Roman magistrate where “justice” will be served that day.
Guilty or Not Guilty?
The soldiers escort you and the others into a stark room. On one side sits the magistrate in front of a table. On the opposite side of the room is an imposing statue of the deified Emperor. In front of the statue is a small bowl of incense next to a burning, brazen altar.
One by one, soldiers bring your friends before the magistrate. He asks each one a simple question, “Do you plead guilty or not guilty?” If you answer, “Guilty,” then your fate is sealed. But at the critical moment some falter, blurting out, “Not guilty.” Immediately, these are grabbed by the arm and hauled in front of the statue of the Emperor. A test of their confession is required. They must take a pinch of incense, toss it on the brazen altar and declare, “Caesar is Lord.” Do this and you're free. But if you do, from this day forward you will be excommunicated from the Table of the Lord, remaining a believer, but not a worshiper.
Now it’s your turn to face the magistrate. What will you do?
The magistrate asks the group of the guilty if any more would like to repent and burn incense to the Emperor before judgment is passed. All stand firm. You are among worshipers now, not just believers. The penalty is death. There is no appeal. The law is final: non licet esse chrstianos (“Christians may not exist”). There is no delay. The sentence is carried out that day.
Which Empire?
Not by power or by might, but in the Secret Counsel meeting of the ecclesia where the Spirit makes the bread and wine the body and blood of Christ–this is how the Empire of God is built. Every empire is built by such acts of worship. Just ask Caesar.
All believers are members of some empire. The only question is which empire.
Do we think that the Kingdom of God is merely some belief system? No. The kingdom of God is way more dangerous than that. The Kingdom of God is a world system. It is the Empire of God.
Have we so sentimentalized and sanitized Jesus’ title, “King of kings and Lord of lords,” that it escapes us that this is the title of an Emperor?
Let’s give believers everywhere a home in the Empire of God. Let’s worship!
Boyd+
The Second Week after Pentecost, 2015
Boyd writes a new Secret Counsel blog every couple weeks. Click here to see the whole collection.