To send content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about sending content to .
To send content items to your Kindle, first ensure email@example.com
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about sending to your Kindle.
Note you can select to send to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be sent to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
This chapter tests the argument of the book in contexts beyond the scope of the study. It first looks at the trajectory of the status of Christians in Turkey and Muslims in France after 2010. Second, it examines state policies toward Jewish minority in Turkey and religious sects in France. Finally, it discusses how the argument raised in the book can be helpful in understanding state policies toward religious minorities in places other than France and Turkey.
This chapter introduces the research puzzle of the study, provides a brief background on Christians in Turkey and Muslims in France, and reviews existing work on religious minorities in these contexts. The chapter examines existing explanations (modernization theory, historical institutionalism, ideology and rational choice theory) and elaborates the argument of the book. It also discusses how the theory developed in the book can contribute to scholarly debates in the study of religion and politics. It defines relevant concepts and describes data sources and methodological tools.
During the manuscript age, the Talmud belonged to the scholarly few. But with the invention of the printing press in the early sixteenth century, Jewish life, and the place of the Talmud within it, changed forever. With abundant new printed volumes available, yeshivahs grew and Talmud study flourished, making the status of “Talmud scholar” open to larger numbers of Jewish males and transforming the values of Jewish society forever. Religious Jewish life for men came to be devoted to Talmud study as never before, and the most esteemed citizen was the greatest scholar. This valorization of Talmud provoked reaction, but even when early Hasidim sought to promulgate a populism that was open to all, the terms of their reaction were shaped by the Talmud. While printing propelled these dynamics in Jewish society, it made the Talmud available to Christians, who could now learn Hebrew and Aramaic from polyglot Bibles. Christians could gain greater understanding of Jesus’ Jewishness, while being reminded of some of the hateful things the rabbis said about Jesus. Due to the latter, the Talmud was burned or censored, though it was also prized by some as a compendium of Jewish wisdom and practice.
The rabbis did not emerge as leaders of the Jewish community until at least the seventh century. So how did the Talmud, a product of ancient rabbinic culture, become so influential? The acceptance of the Bavli was due to several factors, including the fact that the academies that sponsored it were located in the center of the new Islamic empire, Bagdhad. But this did not assure the authority of the rabbis or their Talmud, and some Jews opposed rabbinic authority for centuries. In this chapter, we trace the growing authority of the Talmud in different sections of the Jewish world, along with different approaches to studying the document. We come to recognize the medieval Jewish world as the world of halakhah (Jewish law), conceived as an outgrowth of Talmudic deliberations. We consider the reception of the Talmud in Christian Europe, in which the Talmud represented the error of the Jews from the time of Jesus onward. We recount disputations in which prominent rabbis were forced to defend the Talmud against Christian condemnation, and we detail the earliest burnings of Talmuds, so hateful was the text in the eyes of many in the church.
In the upper Tembris valley, some 175 kilometres north of Eumeneia, there is another group of Christian gravestones, many of which use the phrase ‘Christians for Christians’. Only two extant ‘Christians for Christians’ epitaphs are dated, one to 249 and one to 305. There is a case for believing that many of these gravestones were made in the same workshop. This workshop expected to have more Christian than non-Christian customers. Gravestones were prefabricated in a range of decorative schemes and sold when only lettering remained to be done. Modern scholars have wondered if the ‘Christians for Christians’ gravestones commemorated people from a Montanist community, but the idea remains unproven. Stephen Mitchell has argued that the ‘Christians for Christians’ formula continued to be used until late in the fourth century, but Elsa Gibson’s view that the latest inscriptions in this category are from early in the fourth century is preferable. The first-century Colossian church, a place with distinctive characteristics perhaps not widely shared in the Christian churches of its time, may be a relevant comparison with the Christian community of the upper Tembris valley.
Chapter II identifies the first readers of the New Testament gospels in their social and economic environment. Who were the people who met to read and study the accounts of the life of Jesus of Nazareth, who owned or had access to these manuscripts, and who were able to read these texts? What use did they make of these texts in their daily lives and to what extent did these writings influence their own prose? Knowing more about the early readers sheds light on how contemporaries in the second and third centuries CE understood and interpreted these New Testament texts. What associations, memories or feelings did the stories of the life of Jesus elicit in them? Which elements of these accounts did they consider ordinary or exceptional—potentially contrary to those a modern reader would identify?
Plant-based diets are considered healthier than many omnivorous diets. However, it is unclear that restriction of animal products necessarily motivates increased consumption of nutrient- and fibre-rich plant-based foods as opposed to energy-dense but nutrient-poor plant-based foods containing refined grains and added sugars and fats. The present study examined FFQ and food record data from ninety-nine individuals in the USA with varying degrees of adherence to the Orthodox Christian tradition of restricting meat, dairy and egg (MDE) products for 48 d prior to Easter to investigate whether restricting MDE products in the absence of explicit nutritional guidance would lead to increased consumption of healthy plant-based foods and greater likelihood of meeting dietary recommendations. Multiple linear regression models assessed changes in major food groups, energy and nutrients in relation to the degree of reduction in MDE consumption. Logistic regression analyses tested the odds of meeting 2015–2020 Dietary Guidelines for Americans on plant-based foods in relation to MDE restriction. Each serving reduction in MDE products was associated with small (approximately 0·1–0·7 serving) increases in legumes, soya products and nuts/seeds (all P values < 0·005). MDE restriction was not associated with higher odds of meeting recommendations on vegetable, fruit or whole-grain intake. Consumption of refined grains and added sugars did not change in relation to MDE restriction but remained above recommended thresholds, on average. These findings demonstrate that a reduction of MDE products for spiritual purposes may result in increases in some nutrient-rich plant-based foods but may not uniformly lead to a healthier dietary composition.
The idea that the churches became agents of empire through their missionary activity is very popular, but it is too simple. Established Churches, such as those of England and Scotland, could certainly be used by government, usually willingly; so could the Roman Catholic Church in the empires of other countries. But the position of the smaller churches, usually with no settler community behind them, was different. This study examines the effects of the Chilembwe Rising of 1915 on the British Churches of Christ mission in Nyasaland (modern Malawi). What is empire? The Colonial Office and the local administration might view a situation in different ways. Their decisions could thus divide native Christians from the UK, and even cause division in the UK church itself, as well as strengthening divisions on the mission field between different churches. Thus, even in the churches, imperial actions could foster the African desire for independence of empire.
In the Journal of Roman Studies of 2015, I argued that the evidence in Tacitus for a state-directed punishment of Christians in Rome in 64 ce was too weak to sustain the historical interpretation of it as a persecution. In a reply in this journal last year, Christopher Jones argued that knowledge of Christians under that name could well have reached Rome by the mid-60s, that the vulgus of the city could well have accused such persons, and that the Tacitean account is therefore generally credible. While admitting the justice of some of his criticisms, I attempt in this reply to clarify some of my arguments and to restate my original claim that a persecution of Christians by the emperor Nero in connection with the Great Fire of 64 seems improbable given the context of the relations between officials of the Roman state and Christians over the first century ce.
Aquinas and Barth both describe the Christian life in light of who God is and how God acts, rather than with a primary concern for morality or apologetics. They differ in that Aquinas describes a single, essentially monastic, and normative form of discipleship that, because it cannot be taken up by most Christians, issues in practice in a two-tier conception of the Christian life. By contrast, Barth's account of vocation individualises the call to each Christian so that it is possible for everyone to lead the Christian life equally well yet in very diverse ways. For this reason, and because our true relation to God is hidden, even to ourselves, we may conclude that it is dangerous to make negative judgement as to anyone's standing before God – and therefore their relative standing in the church, too – based upon a view of the normative form of the Christian life.
A conventional certainty is that the first state-driven persecution of Christians happened in the reign of Nero and that it involved the deaths of Peter and Paul, and the mass execution of Christians in the aftermath of the great fire of July 64 c.e. The argument here contests all of these facts, especially the general execution personally ordered by Nero. The only source for this event is a brief passage in the historian Tacitus. Although the passage is probably genuine Tacitus, it reflects ideas and connections prevalent at the time the historian was writing and not the realities of the 60s.
This chapter explores the biblical use among new churches, a designation that is itself rather arbitrary, especially given that the preponderance of new churches is Pentecostal in nature. The bulk of new-church Christians in the world are not a part of any formal denomination, making their classification difficult. Classical Pentecostals are typically defined as those who hold that baptism in the Holy Spirit has as its initial evidence speaking in tongues. Pentecostals are stereotypically viewed as spiritual enthusiasts who blindly follow the Spirit more regularly than they follow the Bible. Pentecostalism originally was rather paramodern in that it paralleled modernism as a historical movement. Nevertheless it did not accept modernism's thorough going rationalism. The Pentecostal biblical hermeneutic was motivated negatively by the belief that turn-of-the-twentieth-century Christianity was lacking in power. The Pentecostal hermeneutic is learned mostly through the church's kerygmatic practice.
This chapter traces the reception of the Bible in the Greek-speaking world, Slavic region, Romania, Georgia, and the Arab-speaking world from the seventeenth century. From the time of the fall of Constantinople in 1453 Greek-speaking Orthodox lived within the Ottoman empire. The church continued to fulfil its educational role, with Scripture at its heart. Methodius translated the Bible into Slavonic and laid the foundations for the development of a literary culture among all the different Slavic peoples. The Orthodox Church of Romania traces its roots back to the first century CE, when Christianity was first brought to the land of the ancient Dacians. The translation of the Gospels into Georgian in the fifth century was based on early Syro-Armenian versions. Of the various translations of the Bible made in the Arab Orthodox context, the efforts of the monks of the Monastery of Balamand stand out as significant.
This article discusses two characteristics of the Jewish-Christian source in Recognitions 1.27–71, namely its fierce opposition to sacrifices and its emphasis on the historical ties between the Jews and the land of Judea. There is reason to think that this document expresses the reaction of Jewish-Christians of Judaea to the disaster of the Bar-Kokhba uprising. On the one hand, they considered the military defeat and its consequences as a divine punishment for the rebels’ attempt to renew the sacrificial cult; and, on the other hand, they fought the paganisation of Judea by defending the historical right of the Jews to possess this land.
In his Church History, Eusebius quotes a passage from Hegesippus's lost Memories in which he relates the martyrdom of James the Just; according to this account, the latter was called ᾽Ωβλίας. This article proposes to examine this odd term whose precise meaning remains obscure. Beyond issues related to its signification, the analysis of this word is likely to shed new light on the milieu in which the tradition quoted by Hegesippus appeared. This study seeks to demonstrate through various examples that the figure of the ᾽Ωβλίας was particularly popular in Jewish literature following the destruction of the Second Temple.
This chapter summarizes what is known of Augustine's access to the text of the Nicomachean Ethics (N.E.) and, in general, Aristotle's naturalistic account of human agency and happiness. It considers the impact of the Aristotelian conception of eudaimonia on Augustine's own treatment of human beatitude. The appropriation of this Aristotelian notion of eudaimonia is already evident in Augustine's early philosophical dialogues. Yet, in the same works one also finds a transformation and extension of Aristotle's philosophical conception of happiness. The chapter provides a paradigmatic account of the role Aristotle's ethics played in Augustine's thought. Among Latin Christians of the fourth century, Aristotle's reputation was largely that of a dialectician. Aristotle provided the necessary ontological connection in N.E., where he establishes the nature of the highest human good on the foundation of a functional analysis of human nature in terms of the capacity for rational activity.
Poverty, whether spiritual or material through renunciation of wealth, lay at the core of the twelfth century's search for religious perfection and its embrace of apostolic ideals. Monks, nuns, canons, canonesses, lay people and dissidents espoused the same scripture-based ideals. Lay people also aspired to lead a life marked by poverty, preaching, chastity and manual labour. Bernard of Clairvaux and the Cistercians at times dominate the telling of twelfth-century religious history and overshadow Benedictine monasticism. The Cathars, as criticised by Evervin of Steinfeld and later writers, demonstrated remarkable austerity and command of Scripture. An anonymous chronicler of Laon, writing around 1180, compared the Humiliati and the Waldensians for their rejection of oath-taking. Walter Simons' study of beguines in the Low Countries signals the region's advanced level of urbanisation and literacy and women's contribution to economic production. The ideals of poverty and religious perfection motivated twelfth-century Christians across Europe.
This chapter shows that many acts of veneration shown to saints after their death had their origin in the connections of the faithful to living holy men. The Christian notion of personal sanctity can be understood from its cultural context. The idea that certain individuals held an elevated status among humans because of their connection to the divine was common in ancient culture. In pre-Constantinian times, individual Christians proved their faith through martyrdom, and Christian communities derived their group identity from witnessing the death of their martyrs. The cult of a saint was prepared long before that person's death. The chapter illustrates the interplay between discipleship, the production and dissemination of texts, and patronage in creating a cult by presenting three examples from different regions of the later Roman empire: Martin of Tours in Gaul, Felix of Nola in Italy and Symeon the Stylite in Syria. Central to the cult of saints are their relics.