circus maximus

 

In the summer of 64 CE, a great fire broke out in the cramped streets surrounding the Circus Maximus. The Circus Maximus was the largest venue in Rome for public games — the Colosseum was yet to be built — home to chariot racing, athletics, gladiator fights, and beast hunts (where artificial forests were created and wild beasts imported, the most popular being the ferocious lion). The great fire would destroy three-quarters of Rome.

The rumour rapidly spread that the fire had been set at the command of the emperor Nero — a populist, despised by the ruling class but popular with those who had no political voice — to clear ground to build a big, beautiful Golden Palace. That Nero was away from Rome, at his private villa, when the fire occurred, along with the speed with which he had his new palace constructed, only added fuel to the flames. Needing to deflect the heat, Nero pinned the blame on the city’s Christians. Perhaps a thousand were put to death, including Paul, who had come to Rome some two years earlier having claimed the right to defend himself against false claims of inciting an insurrection before no lesser court than the imperial tribunal.

Knowing that he would soon meet his death, Paul writes two letters to Timothy. It is possible that the great fire had already occurred by the time he wrote a second, and final, time — we cannot know for sure, but in any case, the imagery of the Circus Maximus is clearly on Paul’s mind, from the libation that marked the opening ceremony of an athletic games, to the gladiatorial fight, the athletic discipline of the foot race, the victor’s wreath, and the triumph of the bestiarius (hunter) over the lion.

(Very boldly, if this timescale is correct — and we know that Paul believes his death will be imminent, and we know that it was part of the scapegoating of Christians following the great fire — Paul has already told Timothy to ‘fan into flame’ the gift of God that is within him through the laying on of Paul’s hands, 2 Timothy 1.6.)

Reflections:

We are called to pour out our lives as a sign and symbol of the peace treaty between God and humanity that is established in and by Jesus.

Faith is something we wrestle with, not the absence of struggle. Some days we experience relationships, some days despair.

We are acceptable to God not on the basis of our own merit, but on the merit of Jesus.

We still get scared and run away, just as Paul’s supporters did, just as Jesus’ apprentices had done. But — as Paul prayed that it would not be held against them, and as Jesus restored Peter after Peter had denied knowing him — we can experience forgiveness, and redemption, the transformation of bad circumstances for the greater or common good.

Death is not a tragedy, but an adventure, a new journey (and in some sense, a journey home).

2 Timothy 4.6-8, 16-18

‘As for me, I am already being poured out as a libation, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. From now on there is reserved for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give to me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have longed for his appearing.

‘At my first defence no one came to my support, but all deserted me. May it not be counted against them! But the Lord stood by me and gave me strength, so that through me the message might be fully proclaimed and all the Gentiles might hear it. So I was rescued from the lion’s mouth. The Lord will rescue me from every evil attack and save me for his heavenly kingdom. To him be the glory for ever and ever. Amen.’