Peter Leithart is the source of my favourite Twitter feed going. He also keeps one of the smartest blogs in existence. And he is also one of the most compelling theological voices in the world today.
I finished his book “Defending Constantine” this lunchtime and I think that after all my armchair pacifistic ranting of the last few days, it would be good to review a book that so firmly and confidently seeks to retrieve the ground claimed in recent years by non-violent theologies.
This is a book about the Roman Emperor Constantine. But in as much as it is a history of his life it is also a polemic against the way that false histories have been propagated about Constantine. Whether it is Dan Brown style fantasies of a tyrant who “invents” Christianity or the the easy dismissal of a neo-anabaptist who blames all the problems in the church on him, Leithart’s even handed, detailed and yet pacey retelling of the Emperor’s life sets the record straight.
But to whatever ever extent it is a history book about an important figure in the development of Rome, Christianity and Europe, it is also a theological polemic against what he calls, in one unfortunately unguarded moment, the “anti-realist” political theology of Yoder, Hauerwas and that whole crew.
Hauerwas, when reviewing this book, said that if he has enemies like Leithart, he doesn’t need friends. What he means is that the book, while leaving no holds barred, is so full of Christian warmth and shared focus on the Gospel, that it would almost be a pleasure to be speared by his historical re-focusing.
The heart of the book can perhaps be found in a footnote on page 142:
Cities and kingdoms that “embraced the faith of Christ” retained “their ancient form of government”? Tell that to all the medieval kings who had to swear fealty to Jesus or the Trinity; tell that to the emperors who sought papal annointing; tell that to Alfred the Great, whose laws were expressly based on the Ten Commandments; tell that to Henry standing in the snow outside Gregory’s castle at Canossa. Locke’s is precisely the conception of Christianity that Yoder identified as “Constantinian.” I share Yoder’s abhorrence of this non- and antiecclesial brand of Christianity, but I submit that it is better described as “Lockean” than “Constantinian”.
So what does the book say? Well it says that the question isn’t whether or not Constantine’s became a Christian but rather, what kind of Christian did he become? Leithart argues that Constantine converted into a sincere Catholic faith that emphasised unity but that had many flaws around the edges. He sees Constantine as a man who from theological principles created the context for religious pluralism, sought to defend women and protect the marginalised in the empire. He also murdered his wife, his son, his father-in-law, his brother-in-law and passed laws so horrendous that you wouldn’t believe them. Leithart shares the good and the bad and admits that had he represented the data in a different shape, his portrait would not be favourable.
But his greater goal is to argue that Constantine was doing something remarkable that has been missed. Rather than the church being co-opted by the Empire, the Empire’s imagination was taken captive by the church because the Emperor had been been utterly convinced of Jesus’ Lordship. So the story that he tells is not Yoder’s tale of the fall of the church into a compromised alliance with ungodly secular power, but the transformation of the whole moral universe upon which the Empire rested.
So here is another lovely summary from page 183:
Gibbon [18th Century historian] recognized the problem: the church was already a state within a state before Constantine, and with the conversion of Constantine the church and the empire both were faced with the challenge of figuring out how the Christian polity and the Roman polity were to relate. For many Christians, such as Eusebius, the task of the hour was not to integrate the church into the empire. The empire had lost the battle with the church, and it was the empire that should make concessions. The church was not incorporated but victorious; the martyrs’ faith had been vindicated, and the task was now to integrate the emperor into the church.
It is a wonderful argument, written with verve and charity.
It doesn’t convince me. Or at least it doesn’t convince me totally. But if you want to think about political theology, the relationship between the church and states or the historical development of Christianity then this book now simply must be read. You cannot pass it over. You will be changed by reading it.
His reading of Yoder is as deeply informed as his retrieval of Constantine. One feels however that the book could be titled “Defending Constantine and Attacking Two Books By Yoder”. Judging from the footnotes, his real difficulty is with The Priestly Kingdom. And his arguments with Yoder are sweet. He uses a Yoderian reading of Yoder to defeat Yoder. In a nutshell, Yoder says that it is God who makes history (through the church), not states. But then Yoder reads the history of the church with a statesman playing a supremely critical role. By Yoder’s own best thoughts, Yoder shouldn’t be as focused as he is on Constantine. ‘Tis some slick work from Leithart, I grant you.
But he agrees with Yoder in Yoder’s most central conviction (p. 297):
I wrote above that Yoder’s vision of Jewish mission in exile is invigorating, and I meant that. It is the key vision that should guide the twenty-first-century Christian response to empire in a world after Christendom. It is what Christians should be busy doing. But it does not address the question that Constantine’s career raises: what does the church do if the emperor sees a vision and wants to help Christians…
What happens with Constantine, Leithart says, is that the earthly city awakens to the fact that the church is the true polis. What a claim!
I’m Kevin Hargaden, and I endorse this book.
Your Correspondent, Now he thanks Constantine for everything- policemen, trees, sunshine!