(Please note: This is not typical of the book reviews I publish here on the blog. It’s an assignment for one of my seminary classes. Enjoy this peek into a little-known portion of Church history.)
Tucked away from the pressing crowds of pilgrims, the processions of ornately-robed priests with censers swaying, and all the glittering decor of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem is a quiet, cave-like chapel. It belongs to the Armenian Church but is used by Syrian Orthodox worshippers, also known as Jacobites. The first time I stepped inside this sparsely-furnished room I felt transported to the fourth century. It’s not much to look at, but it’s my favourite corner of this famous holy site. It was also the first place I ever heard tell of what is commonly referred to as the Church of the East (not to be confused with the Eastern Orthodox Church).
After reading The Lost History of Christianity: The Thousand-Year Golden Age of the Church in the Middle East, Africa, and Asia — and How It Died by Philip Jenkins, I feel like I’ve read a significant chapter that was altogether missing in my knowledge of church history. Jenkins outlines in great detail how various streams of Christianity diverged from the early ecumenical councils and continued to develop to the East, pushing further into Asia than many realize, even as far as China by the sixth century. Many Christians in the West would be surprised to learn, for example, that “…Iraq was through the late Middle Ages at least as much a cultural and spiritual heartland of Christianity as was France or Germany, or indeed Ireland” (p. 19).
In terms of the number and splendor of its churches and monasteries, its vast scholarship and dazzling spirituality, Iraq was through the late Middle Ages at least as much a cultural and spiritual heartland of Christianity as was France or Germany, or indeed Ireland (p. 19).
The Church of the East has deep roots, tracing its history to apostles who travelled eastward from Antioch, just as the Western Church built upon Peter’s and Paul’s ministries in Rome. The cultures encountered and foes faced in either direction shaped those churches very differently. In time, both became quite liturgical and hierarchical, but the Church of the East developed a worship style that appealed more to the senses, and their evangelism relied more heavily on miracles than on reason (p. 113). They highly valued monasticism and mysticism, prioritizing union with God and cultivating practices that were promoted by earlier Gnostics. They prized learning and scholarship, and Jenkins claims the Arabs learned most of their science from Christian scholars who translated Greek writings into Syriac and later into Arabic (p. 34).
Jenkins details the gradual spread of Islam from its inception to modern times, emphasizing that it was anything but straightforward. The relationship between Christianity and Islam was complicated, and it is difficult to untangle religious from political motivations. For a time, in some places, Christianity survived as a minority religion, but as Muslim identity developed, the persecution of religious minorities intensified.
The deeply rooted Christianity of Africa and Asia did not simply fade away through lack of zeal, or theological confusion: it was crushed, in a welter of warfare and persecution (p. 145).
As Jenkins chronicles the rise of Islam, you get the sense that it began as a perversion of Near East Christianity. Today, the two religions look very different in faith and practice, but the contrasts would not have been so stark in early centuries. Indeed, some writers of the time saw Islam not as a new religion but as a Christian heresy (p. 262).
In the West, we take for granted Tertullian’s claim that “the blood of martyrs is the seed of the church” (p. 56). Linking persecution with church growth helps make sense of such atrocious suffering. But this paradigm does not translate to the experience of Christians who faced severe oppression and even genocide at the hands of the Turks, for example. I agree with Jenkins’ assertion that we need a “theology of extinction” (p. 346). He urges us to remember that what looks hopeless today could look very different in another century or millennium. Consider the various waves of Christianity flowing into China over the centuries. Each time the wave receded, it looked like extinction, but was it? Today we are witnessing a tidal surge of growth in China’s underground churches (p. 353). Jenkins urges us to remember that Jesus’ promise of a prevailing church was not tied to any particular place or people (p. 66). The Church is a global, living organism.
…as far as particular regions or continents are concerned, Christianity does not come with a warranty (p. 67).
It’s easy to look back and assume that the Church of the East could have been more resilient if it had been less centralized or institutionalized. But I appreciated the author’s reminder that the mindset and innovations required for such a Protestant model of church would not exist for centuries to come (p. 329).
Jenkins concludes with some lessons today’s Church can learn from the demise of its historical counterpart in the East, such as the following:
- Don’t align too closely with one particular cause or political movement.
- Make sure your members do not represent only one social class or ethnicity.
- Invest globally. When the Church falls on hard times in one region, it will blossom in another.
- Don’t mimic societal models for success; they won’t endure and will hamper your ability to adapt quickly.
His conclusions can be summed up in two words: diversity and flexibility. Sadly, much of evangelicalism is not exemplifying either of these well at the moment.
Some readers may be tempted to denounce the Church of the East as heretics whose branches of the faith were doomed to wither. But having recently read Jason M. Baxter’s book An Introduction to Christian Mysticism: Recovering the Wildness of Spiritual Life, I think I was primed to be more receptive to the spirituality of the Non-Chalcedonian churches and more open to Jenkins’ arguments against dismissiveness.
Honestly, though, this book is laborious to get through. I found the overall premise fascinating, but it’s not a story that can be told in an entertaining way. There are too many names and dates and details to cover. It likely didn’t help that I was unfamiliar with the historical figures and geography in question. The complicated political and religious history of the region requires close consideration of the details, and Jenkins seems to include them all, making for an informative but tedious read. I felt as if I were drowning in a sea of unfamiliar names and places and wished there had been more foundational knowledge provided at the outset. Maps throughout would also have been helpful.
I sometimes found Jenkins had a habit of overstating his point. For example, after listing some deeply-cherished traditions of the Ethiopian Church, he writes,“With so much evidence to hand, who could doubt that Ethiopia was the true Israel?” (p. 86). The “evidence” he provides does not seem convincing to me, and I imagine many would doubt it.
I found it interesting when he pointed out how Christians have changed their views of the Jewish people over time, moving from a position of widely-held anti-semitism to an eschatology that greatly favours God’s chosen people (p. 359). This caught my attention, as the winds of change on this very topic seem to be blowing again, with many Christians wrestling with the political actions of the modern-day State of Israel.
Jenkins also urges Christians to reimagine their relationship with Islam. Books such as Miroslav Volf’s Allah: A Christian Response are evidence that theologians are indeed giving thought to this touchy topic.
Christian theologians must of necessity give thought to the nature of Islam, whether they see it as a global adversary in a spiritual Cold War, as a Christian heresy, or as an equally valid path to God (p. 360).
I think many Christians would be unsatisfied with Jenkins’ list of options, preferring one characterized by peaceful coexistence while maintaining that salvation is found only in Jesus.
Jenkins’ book left me asking many hard questions. Is it valid that orthodoxy should be defined by “the last men standing” (p. 47)? Where is God when His people are facing genocide? It also uncomfortably unearthed any assumptions linking earthly success to God’s approval.
After reading this book, Esther’s Persia doesn’t sound so foreign to me, and the magi don’t seem so out of place in the Christmas story. It has also been a good reminder that, unlike Judaism and Islam, Christianity has no consistent, geographical epicentre (p. 44). Its growth is as unpredictable as the wind. Like Jesus said, we don’t know where the Spirit comes from or where He is going (John 3:8). No one knows how the story of the Church will unfold over the centuries to come, but one thing is certain — God is and always has been at work in all directions…east, west, and everywhere in between.
Find The Lost History of Christianity on Amazon here.
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