Empire and the Johannine Epistles

Empire and the Word of life

In what ways are the Johannine Epistles a response to the ideology and propaganda of the Roman Empire? If we read these Epistles in canonical order, and take into account how Stoic philosophy shaped political thought and behavior in the Roman Empire, we would probably pause first at the elder’s early testimony to “the word of life” (τοῦ λόγου τῆς ζωῆς, tou logou tēs zōēs) (1 John 1:1). ¹ Jesus Christ, the son of God the Father, is “the λόγος of life” in the first Epistle (1 John 1:3,7), but this testimony would have been subversive to a Roman political perspective. ² The term λόγος (logos) already carried heavy freight in Greek and Roman thought.

Diogenes Laertius, the third century BCE biographer of Greek philosophers, describes the logos in Stoic teaching as “the law common to all things” and “the right reason which pervades all things.” It is the “active principle of the universe, the maker of all things.” For Zeno and his Stoic disciples, the logos is identical to God or Zeus, “the lord and ruler of everything that is.” The Stoics also use the terms nature (φύσις, physis), reason (νοῦς, nous), and fate (εἱμαρμένη, heimarmenē) to identify the logos in their deliberations. The logos as God is “the seminal reason of the universe” (τοῦτον στερματικὸν λόγων ὄντα τοῦ κόσμου, touton spermatikon logōn onta tou kosmou). ³ The Stoics therefore bring their rather impersonal concept of a universal creative principle into dialogue with popular mythology.

According to Laertius, the Stoics further maintain that the logos is the nature (physis) of both the universe and the individual human being. Because the logos is reason, those who live by it are rational (τοῖς λογικοῖs, tois logikois). Stoicism describes the virtuous life as living in accordance with the logos or “life in agreement with nature” (τὸ ὁμολογουμένους τῇ φύσει ζῆν, to homologoumenous tē physei zēn). ⁴ Diogenes Laertius predates the compositional period of the Johannine Epistles, but the influence of the Stoic thought he describes certainly extends into the Roman Empire during this period.

Seneca the Younger (4 BCE–65 CE), the Roman consul and Stoic philosopher, does not use the term logos for the principle of creation. Instead, he uses the terms “cause” (causa), “reason” (ratio), and nature (natura). Seneca explicitly draws upon Stoic doctrine to explain that “cause” and “matter” are the sources of all creation. Matter, however, is inert and formless until cause or reason acts upon it. The variegated forms of creation are the result of cause acting upon matter. For Seneca also, cause or reason is God. ⁵

Seneca also acknowledges that the ethical ideal among humanity is to “live according to nature” (secundum naturam vivere). Seneca refers to this achievement as virtue (honesta). In this way, “life according to nature” determines lawmaking and government at the level of cities, provinces, and kingdoms, for friendships, marriage, childrearing, and other aspects of domestic life, and for conduct in both the private and the public spheres. ⁶

The logos or ratio in Stoic cosmology was the creative script and rule of order for the universe, but in ethics and politics it was the rational principal, the molder of sound judgment, right behavior, good government, and the foundation of Roman pedagogy. Anyone influenced by Roman culture and education would recall imperial reference to the logos, and would probably be struck by what appears to be an aggressive takeover of the term in the Johannine Epistles.

The term logos does not always indicate the preexistent and incarnate Christ in the Johannine Epistles. Sometimes it only refers to the teachings of Jesus or the preached gospel (1 John 1:10; 2:5, 14). In one place, it refers only to human speech in contrast to action (1 John 3:18). In this first verse of the first Epistle, however, the preexistent and incarnate Christ is in view. Startled reaction to such a reprisal may have already occurred for the acculturated pupil who heard or read the prologue to the Gospel of John. The audacious declaration that “the logos became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory” (John 1:14) would have startled anyone familiar with Stoic rhetoric. The impersonal, non-material logos of Stoic philosophy suddenly became a divine person who lived among us. The opening salvo of 1 John clearly draws upon the prologue to the Gospel of John or a common tradition, and it cannot be without intention to snatch the logos from imperial control.

The elder even claims superior knowledge of the logos from first-hand, eyewitness experience. This experience constitutes the primary criterion of apostleship (Acts 1:22; 1 Cor 9:1; 15:5–8). What “we” know of the logos is based upon what “we” have heard, seen, and physically touched (1 John 1:1). This is a striking contrast to knowledge that results only from logical deduction and speculation about abstract principles. Superior knowledge of the logos, of course, means superior authority to guide the lives of the hearers and summon their allegiance. The elder proclaims what “we” know so that “you” may have “fellowship with us,” and so that “our” joy may be fulfilled (1 John 1:3–4). In the Johannine Epistles, the “fellowship with us” is the true church. “Fellowship with us” is also “fellowship with the father and his son Jesus Christ” (1 John 1:3). The elder will also speak of this bond as “the fellowship we have with one another” (1 John 1:7).

Philo of Alexandria (20 BCE–50 CE) also appropriates the logos from Greco-Roman culture, but in accordance with Hebraic commitment to the transcendence of God. He holds that the logos was the second God referenced in Gen 9:6. The human being could not have been formed in the image of the supreme father of the universe, but only in the image of a subordinate being, namely, the logos of God. First, the logos of God was the allegorical “man” made in the image of God (Gen 2:15), and then the logos in turn molded the human in the image of the logos. The rational soul of human beings, therefore, reflects the logos. The logos within us and the logos above us are both the image of God, and they are indivisible. ⁷

Although God is the chief of all causes (πρεσβύτατου τῶν αἰτίων, presbytatou tōn aitiōn), the logos is the “cause” (αἰτία, aitia) of all that came into being. The logos is God’s true word and firstborn son (ὀρθὸν αὑτοῦ λόγον καὶ πρωτόγονον υἱόν, orthon autou logon kai prōtogonon huion ) who governs earth and heaven like a vice-regent (ὕπαρχος, hyparchos). ⁸

In his allegorical interpretations of Holy Scripture (Exod 29:4; Lev 26:2; Ps 64:10), Philo refers to the logos as high priest, the cupbearer of God, the master of the feast, and the city of refuge. ⁹

In Philo’s thought, the logos of God is interchangeable with wisdom (σοφία, sophia). ¹⁰ He describes both the logos and wisdom as the “artificer of the universe” (τοῦ τὸν κόσμων δεδημιουργηκέναι, tou ton kosmōn dedēmiourgēkenai). Wisdom is “born of the father and cause of all things.” Through wisdom the universe came into existence. Wisdom is “sublime” and “heavenly.” Moreover, “beginning,” “image,” and “vision of God” are among her names. ¹¹

Philo portrays wisdom as a “creature” (ἔσπειρε, espeire), the result of union between God and an unnamed metaphorical mother. The created world is in turn the result of marital union between wisdom and knowledge. Strangely, however, as the architect (δημιουργον, dēmiourgon) who made the universe, wisdom is the “father” of what was born, and knowledge is the mother. As such, the created world is “the only beloved son” of wisdom and knowledge. Nevertheless, wisdom speaks of “herself” in Prov 8:22, saying, “God obtained me as the first of his works and founded me before the ages.” ¹² Heavenly wisdom is the archetype of earthly wisdom. It is the tabernacle of Exod 26:1 and God’s dwelling place. ¹³

Philo’s interpretation of the logos is informative background for the appearance of the logos in the Gospel of John and 1 John, but Philo nevertheless attempts to reconcile Hebraic thought to Hellenistic philosophy. The elder does exactly the opposite in the Gospel of John and 1 John. He poses an altogether counter-cultural interpretation of the logos.

In the thought of Roman philosophers, living “according to nature” (or “according to the logos”) was indistinguishable from true Roman identity and civic behavior. Moreover, Roman imperial power was the earthly counterpart of universal rule exerted by the logos principle.

Cicero (106–64 BCE), Roman consul in the days of the Republic, believed in correspondence between the invisible world of nature and reason (natura ratioque) and the visible world of the senses. He maintained that the principles of fellowship and society (communitatis et societatis) have their source in nature. These principles are justice, equity, and goodness. ¹⁴

In his letter to the emperor Nero, Seneca said that nature (natura) itself conceived kingship, and that mercy best expresses kingly power. In more colloquial language, Seneca said that a prince should model himself after the gods. He should be to his subjects what he wants the gods to be to him. ¹⁵

Cicero and Seneca, among others, show that Roman thought ties cosmology, imperial rule, and Roman identity together. With his re-articulation of the logos, the elder proclaims an alternative cosmology as grounds for an alternative identity in Jesus Christ. Membership in the Johannine community therefore preempts citizenship in the empire.

Empire and the greater light

The elder furthermore recasts the contrast between light and darkness and what each represents. God is light. Fellowship with God is fellowship with light or, as the elder states it, “walking in the light.” Furthermore, fellowship with God is inseparable from “the fellowship we have with one another.” The elder is clear that to have fellowship with God is to have “fellowship with us,” and vice versa. Not to have “fellowship with us,” then, is to walk in darkness (1 John 1:5–7). It is this assertion that discloses the character of 1 John as a response to schism in the church. Most likely, the schismatics are Gentile members breaking away from at least mostly Gentile congregations. If they were disaffected Jewish believers, we would expect echoes of Jewish heritage similar to what we hear in the Letter to the Hebrews. ¹⁶ A distinctively insider meaning is assigned, then, to both schism and apostasy in the church. Schism and apostasy are not necessarily the same phenomenon, but in the Johannine Epistles they might as well be. They both mean departure from the “fellowship with us.” Such breaking away is stark evidence that the schismatics are no longer in fellowship with God, nor any longer walking in the light. Therefore, anyone who walks in darkness but claims to have fellowship with God is lying (1 John 1:6).

According to Plutarch (ca. 45–120 CE), the Greek philosopher and Roman official, the idea of light or brightness as a category of the good, and darkness as a category of evil, originated with Pythagoras (570–500 BCE). These and other dualities were considered “underlying principles of creation” (ἀρχὰς γενέσεως ὑποκειμένας, archas geneseōs hypokeimenas). ¹⁷ Diogenes Laertius also acknowledged the teaching of Pythagoras on light and darkness which, like other dualities, are “balanced equally in the universe” (ἰσόμοιρά τ΄ εἶναι ἐν τῷ κόσμῳ, isomoira t’ einai en tō kosmō). ¹⁸

Most likely, however, Gen 1:3–5, 14–19, and Ps 27:1 are the sources of the elder’s identification of God with light, just as these Scriptures were the most likely sources for the identification of Jesus with the light in John 1:4–9. Nevertheless, the elder’s identification of God with light seems further provoked by a religio-political application of light and darkness within empire rhetoric and propaganda.

In a letter of consolation, Seneca urges a Roman official who was bereaved of his brother to find strength and solace in the sponsorship of the divine Caesar (Claudius), whose brilliance (fulgor) dazzles the eyes. Claudius is a sun who has shed light on a world plunged into darkness by the prior emperor (Caligula). He will bring recovery to Germany and Britain, and celebrate the triumphs of his “father” the deified Augustus (divi Augusti). ¹⁹

In his fourth speech against Catiline, Cicero envisioned the city of Rome as “the light of the world.” As he said, “A vision came to me of this city, the light of the world and the citadel of all nations (lucem orbis terrarum atque arcem omnium gentium).” ²⁰

Moreover, in Cicero’s orations, “Jupiter blazing with heavenly fire, turns, and illuminates the whole world with the light of his divine glory (aetherio flammatus Iuppiter igni vertitur et totem conlustrat lumine mundum, menteque divina caelum).” ²¹ Jupiter (or Zeus) is the chief god in the Roman pantheon, and is in no way to be identified with God the Father of Jesus Christ.

Later, Aelius Aristides (117–181 CE) portrayed the Roman Empire as “a glorious light in life and government” during the Pax Romana and after the conquest of its subject lands. For Aristides, the ascendancy of the empire was parallel to Zeus’s conquest of Olympus. He said:

Indeed, the poets say that before the rule of Zeus everything was filled with faction, uproar, and disorder, but that when Zeus came to rule, everything was put in order and the Titans were banished to the deepest corner of the earth, driven there by him and the gods who aided him. So too, in view of the situation before you and under you, one would suppose that before your empire everything was in confusion, topsy-turvy, and completely disorganized, but that when you took charge, the confusion and faction ceased and there entered in universal order and a glorious light in life and government and the laws came to the fore and the altars of the gods were believed in. ²²

The assertion that God is light in the Johannine context entails a denial that the same should be said of the city of Rome, the emperor, the empire, or even Jupiter. This assertion by close association, however, is just as much about the “fellowship with us” as it is about God. The elder is saying that light (as a metaphor for truth, goodness, knowledge, and salvation) is only to be found in the Johannine church community. An alternative and more enlightened koinōnia is therefore offered against the Roman fraternal order.

It does not matter that the elder was not responding specifically or directly to Cicero, Seneca, Aristides, or other Greek and Roman writers we might cite. What matters is that these writers provide a window into the ideological heritage and climate of the Roman Empire at the time of the elder. We speak of a heritage and climate characterized by religio-political hegemony along with a sense of entitlement, exceptionalism, and cultural superiority. The elder responds to this heritage and climate, however obliquely.

Empire and sin

The elder introduces yet one more term in his indictment of the schismatics. That term is sin (ἁμαρτία, hamartia). Later, the term “sin” will take on the same insider meaning as the terms “walking in darkness” and “not doing the truth.” In other words, “sin” will become a synonym for schism or apostasy (1 John 5:16–18). In 1 John 1:7–10, however, the term conveys a more intuitive and generic sense despite the fact that the elder is taking aim at the schismatics. The elder speaks here only of the transgressions against God’s will that result from human weakness and frailty. Members of the Johannine church and the schismatics share this shortfall. All are sinners in this sense. The difference is that “our fellowship with one another” also means that “the blood of Jesus cleanses us from all sin” (1 John 1:7). Moreover, “if we confess our sins he is faithful and just so that he forgives us of our sins and cleanses us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9). To deny that we have sin is to lie. It is to show that the truth and his logos is not in us (1 John 1:10). The point is that the denial of this common failing leads the schismatics to the fatal mistake of breaking ranks with the fellowship.

The elder’s indictment of those who “say they have no sin” may allude to a doctrine of perfectionism among the schismatics. This raises the possibility that he may be referring to a central feature of proto-Gnostic teaching and influence. Gnostic texts say, “He who has knowledge of the truth is a free man, but the free man does not sin.” In this case, “the free man” is “the perfect man,” the one who has attained the liberating knowledge of the truth. The Gnostic writer nevertheless makes a distinction between “the free man” and “those who think that sinning does not apply to them.” These latter are merely arrogant, because they lack love. ²³ Moral and behavioral perfection is also attributed to “the immoveable race” who “will be saved and become perfect” and who are worthy of “eternal life and the calling.” ²⁴ Those who possess instruction “are the truth; and the Father is within them and they are in the Father, being perfect, being undivided in the truly good one, being in no way deficient in anything.” ²⁵ Similar attributions of perfection are assigned to “the elect,” “the anointed,” and “the spiritual resurrection.” ²⁶ The terms πνευματικοὶ, ψυχικοὶ, and ὑλικοὶ (pneumatikoi, psychiκoi, and hyliκoi) describe the division of humanity into three parts, and it is the pneumatikoi who are “the spiritual race” who “will receive complete salvation in every way.” ²⁷

These Gnostic texts date from the second to the fourth century, but they may reflect teachings and practices that had their beginnings in the time of the elder. Even when we postpone judgment on 1 John 4:2 and 2 John 7, there are still indications of nascent forms of Gnosticism in the New Testament (1 Cor 8:1; 15:12; 2 Cor 11:4; Phil 3:12; 1 Tim 1:4; 6:20; 2 Tim 2:18).

The elder, however, may be alluding to another source for perfectionist thinking among the schismatics. The Stoics taught that wise men are godlike, having something divine within them. Moreover, they are worshippers of God, having acquaintance with the rites of the gods and being expert in knowledge of how to serve the gods. Among the Stoics, Cleanthes and his disciples particularly taught “the perpetual exercise of virtue-(δια παντὸς χρῆσθαι τῇ ἀρετῇ, dia pantos chrēsthai tē aretē).” Chrysippus held that virtue could be lost, but Cleanthes maintained that virtue could never be lost. The good man is always exercising his mind, which is perfect. ²⁸

It may be that the elder is alluding to Roman ideology and the influence of its Stoic heritage when he refers to those who deny that they have sin. Alternatively, he may be alluding to an inseparable mix of both proto-Gnostic and Stoic influence. In any case, by rejecting perfectionistic doctrine, the elder advocates a true soteriology or salvation against the false salvation of the schismatics.

Empire and the Savior of the world

One should not take for granted that the elder assumes the role of a father while instructing his family. “My children” is more than a salutation; it is an indication of rank and order in a family hierarchy (1 John 2:1). In the same place, we have more of the elder’s alternative soteriology. Although the family is encouraged to avoid sin, they are nevertheless saved from despair if sin occurs anyway. This is because they have an advocate (παράκλητος, paraklētos) before the father, Jesus Christ the righteous, who is the atonement (ἱλασμός, hilasmos) for our sins and those of the whole world (1 John 2:1–2). Later, the elder will more pointedly say that Jesus is the Savior (σωτήρ, sōtēr) of the whole world (1 John 4:14). The proof that we know him is that we keep his commandments. In this way, our love for God is perfected, and we know that we are in him (1 John 2:3–5). Notably, “to keep his commandments” is inseparable from “fellowship with us.” The insider character of the Johannine message reappears. Therefore, anyone who has broken ranks with the fellowship neither knows Jesus, nor keeps his commandments, nor loves God. Anyone who says otherwise is a liar.

The confession that Jesus is the “atonement for us and the whole world” or the “Savior of the whole world” may be a direct response to imperial rhetoric and propaganda. The Priene Calendar Inscription (9 BCE) preserves a significant feature of this imperial rhetorical heritage. Augustus Caesar was “savior for us and those who come after us (ἡμεῖν καὶ τοῖς μεθ’ ἡμᾶς σωτῆρα, hēmein kai tois meth’ hēmas sōtēra).” Moreover, Augustus was “God” (θεός, theos), whose day of birth was “the beginning of good news for the world” (ἦρξεν δὲ τῶι κόσμοι τῶν δι’ αὐτὸν εὐαγγελίων ἡ γενέθλιος, hērxen de tōi kosmoi tōn di auton evangeliōn hē genethlios). ²⁹ The deification of Augustus Caesar was a pivotal point in Roman imperial history.

The Senate conferred deification upon Roman rulers, usually after their deaths, as in the case of Julius, Augustus, Claudius, Vespasian, and Titus. ³⁰ The Senate tried to deify Augustus, however, while he was living with resistance from Augustus himself. ³¹ A few emperors, namely Caligula, Nero, and Domitian, attempted to deify themselves. ³² The deification of rulers and emperors was never without controversy; nevertheless, it was a feature of Roman culture. The closely related belief that certain emperors were divinely ordained or fated to rule was also engrained in the culture.

The Roman historian Suetonius (69–122 CE) therefore acknowledges Vespasian as the fulfiller of prophecy, saying:

There had spread over all the Orient an old and established belief that the ruler of the world (rerum potirentur) at that time was fated (esse in fatis) to come from Judea. This was a reference to the Emperor of Rome (imperatore Romano) as demonstrated by subsequent events, but the Jews applied this prediction to themselves. ³³

The Jewish historian Josephus (37–100 CE) and the Roman historian Tacitus (55–120 CE) also point to Vespasian as the fulfiller of such prophecy. ³⁴

The Johannine Epistles probably date to the reign of the emperor Domitian (81–96 CE), second son of Vespasian (69–79 CE). ³⁵ This means that the elder probably contended also with the belief that the imperial dynasty at his time was divinely ordained. In the face of this, the elder bears witness to Jesus as the true redeemer and Savior of the world (1 John 2:2; 4:14).

Empire and the new commandment

The elder speaks of an old commandment that his audience has heard from the beginning (1 John 2:7–8). His language (“I do not write a new commandment, but an old commandment”) recalls the scene in John 13:34, and paradoxically refers to Jesus’ “new commandment” to love one another. Of course, it is understood that the elder and the other apostles are the true custodians and transmitters of the entire range of Jesus’ teachings. Only membership in the “fellowship with us” guarantees access to these teachings and their authoritative interpretation. The elder nevertheless declares, “I write a new commandment to you,” which is not a reference to a single commandment but to a range of multiple teachings, namely, the teachings that will follow in 1 John 2:18–5:21. The section 1 John 1:1–2:17 is therefore a preamble to “the new commandment” that follows.

The elder returns to a light/darkness contrast, but intertwines it with a love/hate dichotomy (1 John 2:8–11). We have already noted the unique insider way that the elder deploys distinctively Christian terms. To “hate” one’s kin is not simply to harbor antipathy toward the person, but it is to break ranks with the fellowship, whereas to “love” one’s kin is to maintain the fellowship. To hate one’s kin, like walking in darkness, is a metaphor for schism and apostasy. The term “kin” (ἀδελφός, adelphos) is not just a generic reference to a fellow human being; it is a specific reference to a member of the Johannine church.

In the construction of this insider platform the elder reprises three Roman civic roles in one, namely, that of paterfamilias, paedagōgus, and doctor (housemaster, guardian, and teacher). He offers his reprisals as alternatives to the Roman civic versions of these roles. This is indicated in his fourfold address to the Johannine congregation, as children (τεκνία, teknia), fathers (πατέρες, pateres), pupils (παιδία, paidia), and young men (νεανίσκοι, neaniskoi), saluting each for a particular spiritual victory. These are not merely salutations but indications of rank and order in a set of hierarchical relationships (1 John 2:12–14).

Seneca held that the emperor is “the father of the country” (patrem patriae), that the slave master is the “father of the household” (patrem familiae), and that the wise man is the pedagogue of the human race. ³⁶ In the family of God, however, the elder serves as the chief pater, and exercises the inherent roles of chief guide and teacher. At once, the elder counters imperial ideology and propaganda with an alternative paterfamilias, a more reliable pedagogy, and a truer doctrine.

The elder’s concluding instruction before launching into his “new commandment” is “not to love the world or the things in the world.” The known world (κόσμος, kosmos) for the Johannine church may have extended beyond the Roman Empire, but it was still primarily the Roman Empire, which roughly stretched from Africa to India. This empire represented the “lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life.” The world (including the empire) is “not of the Father,” and it will pass away along with its lusts (1 John 2:15–17).

Seneca may represent the more official evaluation of the world and the empire. He said, “God is good, and no good person is grudging of anything that is good. Therefore, God made it the best world (mundum) possible.” ³⁷

Cicero also used a “triple classification of goods” (tripartita ratio bonorum) to evaluate the world. He therefore spoke of the goods of the flesh (corpore), the goods of the mind (animo), and the goods of life (vita). ³⁸

If Cicero and Seneca are any indication of the prevailing imperial attitude, the imperium and the elder are diametrically opposed in their evaluations of the world. The larger implication is that schismatics and apostates from the Johannine congregation have been seduced by worldly ideology. They have become aficionados of the empire.

Empire and the antichrists

The section comprising 1 John 2:18–25 is the interpretive key to the Epistle. The problem is schism. The schismatics are characterized as antichrists. Their appearance signifies “the last hour.” They deny that Jesus is the Christ. They deny both the Father and the Son. They are liars. These characterizations are possible because the schismatics have in various ways departed from the “truth” of apostolic teaching as presented by the Johannine leadership. This “truth” is what the recipients of the letter have heard from the beginning. For the recipients, the beginning refers to the time of their evangelization by the elder and his peers. They are encouraged to allow what they have heard from the beginning to remain in them. If the word remains in them, then the Father and the Son will remain in them and they will receive the promise of eternal life (1 John 2:24–25). They will be able to stand with confidence before Jesus at his coming. The recipients of the letter do not really need the elder to tell them this. The “anointing” they have received reveals these truths to them (1 John 2: 26–29).

The implications of the elder’s reference to the parousia of Jesus would not have been lost upon subjects of the Roman Empire. The Caesars Julius and Augustus were both deified rulers. The triumphant arrival of each to take possession of conquered lands and peoples was referred to as a parousia (Latin: adventum). ³⁹ Early Christian application of this military-political term to the arrival of Jesus was nothing less than placing Jesus above the emperor and his empire in power and authority.

Notably, the elder’s reference to the parousia of Jesus presupposes the resurrection and ascension of Jesus. Although the Johannine Epistles do not explicitly acknowledge the resurrection and ascension of Jesus, the presence of these themes in the undercurrent of the elder’s claims is undeniable. These are, after all, Johannine themes (John 20:6–10, 17–18).

Our calling as children of God manifests God’s love for us, and, at the same time, our alienation from the world (empire). The empire does not know us because it does not know God. There is even greater glory to come when “he” appears; then we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is (1 John 3:1–2).

An axiom shared by the pre-Socratic Ionic philosophers was “like is known by like” (γινώσκεσθαι τὸ όμοιόν τῷ ὁμοίῳ, ginōskesthai to homoion tō homoiō). ⁴⁰ In the Hermetic literature, this principle reappears in the admonition of Nous to Hermes: “Therefore, if you do not make yourself equal to God, you cannot know God, because like is known by like” (τὸ γὰρ ὅμοιόν τῷν ὁμοίῳν νοητόν, to gar homoion tōn homoiōn noēton). ⁴¹ Accordingly, to know the highest good, we must become like the highest good through the exercise of our rational faculties. Johannine doctrine reverses this, however. We come to know Jesus first, and then we become like him; furthermore, it is through sanctification, not through the exercise of our rational faculties. It is this hope that moves us to become holy, as he is holy (1 John 3:3).

In the contrast between sin and righteousness, or between those born of the devil and those born of God, the elder declares that those born of God do not sin (1 John 3:4–10). Some have imagined a contradiction between 1:5–10 and 3:4–10. Yet, the key to this latter section is 3:10, where “he who does not love his kin” is parallel to “he who does not do righteousness.” As we have already seen, “not loving one’s kin” in the Johannine Epistles is insider code for schism or apostasy. Likewise, the terms “sins” and “lawlessness” in 3:4–10 refer to schism and apostasy, and not to the mundane transgressions mentioned in 1:5–10.

The elder recalls the command to love one another as the message they had heard from the beginning. Like the mention of “an old commandment” in 1 John 2:7, this mention of “the message heard from the beginning” in 3:11 refers back to John 13:34.

Those who fail to love others are like Cain, who killed his brother Abel out of jealousy. Those who hate their kin are murderers. Love for one another is the hallmark of the Johannine community, but again, it is also that which draws the ire of an ungodly empire. The fellowship is therefore told not to be astonished that the world hates them (1 John 3:11–16). Here, the elder equates the apostate and schismatic spirit with the attitude of the empire (world) toward the Johannine church. It is hate without differentiation. Schismatics and apostates actually become the face of the empire, no less so than the oppressive imperium and pontificate.

One sure sign of hate is failure to extend hospitality to kindred in need (3:17–18). The elder as pater summons the church to manifest love publicly through the practice of hospitality. The elder therefore urges the church to “not love in word or speech, but in deed and truth” (3:18). President Barack Obama cited this Scripture in a masterful address in Dallas during the Interfaith Tribute to Dallas Police Officers on Tuesday, July 12, 2016, as he sought healing for interracial tensions in that city and the nation. Although he misattributed this verse to the Gospel of John (a forgivable lay mistake), his citation still showed the enduring relevance of the elder’s teaching. ⁴²

The members of the Johannine church are of the truth. They keep the commands of God and do what is pleasing to him. They believe in the name of Jesus and love one another. They receive what they ask of God. They can have confidence that they abide in God and God abides in them, because the Spirit that is given to them tells them that this is so (1 John 3:19–24).

In the Johannine Epistles, the empire or the “world” represents sexual depravity, arrogance, and greed; it also represents false religious teaching (1 John 2:16,22). The empire is a religio-political entity, but one full of heresy and idolatry (1 John 5:21). The church is warned that many false prophets have gone out into the world. Therefore, they must not follow every spirit, but test the spirits to see if they are of God (1 John 4:1). Every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is of God, and every spirit that denies it is of the antichrist (1 John 4:2–3). This certainly sounds like a response to docetism (from δοκέω, dokeō, “to appear”), the Gnostic belief that Jesus was a spirit-being who only “appeared” to be a flesh and blood human being. ⁴³ On the other hand, there are several stories in Greek and Roman literature of gods pretending to be human after they came to earth.

Ovid (43 BCE–17 CE), the Roman lawyer and poet under Augustus Caesar, tells the story of Jupiter coming to earth on an investigative mission as “a god disguised in human form” (deus humana lustro). More famously, Ovid tells the story of Jupiter and Hermes (Mercury), each “in the guise of mortals” (hue specie mortali) coming to earth in search of kind-hearted people, only to find none except the hospitable couple Baucis and Philemon in the land of Phrygia. ⁴⁴ First John 4:2–3 and 2 John 7 may address this Roman type of docetism.

To raise the possibility of a Roman type of docetism in the background of the Johannine Epistles is not to deny that a proto-Gnostic form of docetism can be the target of 1 John 4:2–3 and 2 John 7. It is likely that the two influences are inseparable in the syncretism of the empire. After all, the Greek and Roman docetic myths are most likely the source of Gnostic docetic thought. Anyone seduced by Roman culture would also be drawn to the religious syncretism that includes stories of the gods on earth.

The schismatics who left the Johannine fellowship were probably drawn to this syncretism and adapted their Christology to fit the pattern. In the view of the elder, they have allowed themselves to be assimilated into the empire. The spirit of the empire is the spirit of the antichrist. In contrast, those of the church are not of the empire; they are of God and have conquered the antichrists. The elder tells them, “Greater is he that is in you than he that is in the world” (1 John 4:4).

Empire and the fellowship of love

The elder returns to his core message: “let us love one another” (1 John 4:7). This is evidence that we are of God and God is in us. “God is love” (1 John 4:8). God manifested God’s love for us when God sent God’s only son into the world as atonement for our sins so that we may live through the son. No one has ever seen God, but if we love one another, God remains in us and God’s love is perfected in us. We love God because God first loved us, and if God loves us, we ought to love one another. Love guarantees our confidence before God in the day of judgment. There is no fear in love. Perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4: 9–18).

We must acknowledge the special insider sense in which the elder uses the term “love one another” in this section (1 John 4:19–21). Love is the opposite of schism and apostasy. Keeping the commandments of God and believing that Jesus is the Christ, the son of God, are the signs that we are born of God and have overcome the world (5:1–5).

The cryptic description of Jesus as “he who came by water and blood” is a liturgical statement. It refers simultaneously to the historical events of Jesus’ own baptism and suffering unto death, and also to believers’ reenactment of these events through water baptism and sharing in the Lord’s Supper (1 John 5:6).

Although unrecoverable, the actual water used to baptize Jesus and the blood he shed become memorialized and personalized as witnesses to Jesus and his gift of eternal life. A third witness, the Spirit, joins the water and the blood. These are the witnesses of God; and they dwell mystically in the believer (1 John 5:7–10).

Plutarch describes how Roman soldiers preparing for battle would name their heirs in an “unwritten will” (διαθήκας ἀγράφους, diathēkas agraphous) in the presence of three or four witnesses. ⁴⁵ Cicero observed that even the gods themselves considered the decision of three Roman pontiffs sacred and binding. ⁴⁶ Paul the Apostle required that the evidence of two or three witnesses must support any accusation in the church. ⁴⁷ Notably, 3 John 12 personifies “the truth herself” (αὐτῆς τῆς ἀληθείας, autēs tēs alētheias), and she becomes a witness to the character of Demetrius. The truth herself is joined by the collective “every one” (πάντων, pantōn) and the elder himself to once again give us three witnesses.

Acculturated hearers would recognize the “three witnesses” of 1 John 5:8 as meeting a cross-cultural judicial standard for establishing the truth. Yet, the testimony of these three witnesses is greater than the testimony of any number of mortals. The testimony of these three witnesses is identical to the testimony of God. The elder therefore says, “if we receive the testimony of mortals, the testimony of God is greater” (1 John 5:9). God’s testimony is the witness that he has borne to his son. In the end, the truth that the elder and other apostles speak is greater than the “truth” that Rome speaks.

The elder wrote this Epistle so that his hearers may know that they have eternal life, and that they have God’s ear. God even attends to our prayer for others for the forgiveness of their sins as long as they do not commit “sin unto death.” This is the sin of apostasy or schism. No one born of God commits the sin of apostasy or schism. We, then, are of God, whereas the whole world is of the evil one (5:13–21).

Empire and the truth

In 2 John, the elder claims that the truth abides in “us,” and we know the truth, and this truth becomes a bond of love for the elder and the children of the elect lady. The language of 1 John reappears in 2 John. The elder celebrates his discovery that his children are walking in the truth. The truth in the elder’s discourse specifically refers to the doctrine proclaimed by the apostolic leadership of the Johannine church (2 John 1–4).

Although there is an intuitive, generic sense in which we can understand the injunction to love one another, 2 John has a specific meaning, which is to preserve and uphold Johannine doctrine. Whereas “love” in 1 John means preserving the unity of the fellowship, in 2 John it refers more to the preservation of doctrine. An insider sense of love again replaces a more intuitive, generic sense of the term, although it never leaves that sense far behind (2 John 5–6).

The truth or doctrine as proclaimed by apostolic leadership of the church is identical to “the commands of him.” The elder grounds his instruction in Jesus’ command that they have heard from the beginning, “that we should love one another” (2 John 5). The elder therefore establishes several expressions that are identical in meaning, i.e., “to love,” “to obey the commandments,” and “to walk in the truth,” all of which are equivalent in meaning with “to abide in the teaching.” Conversely, “to hate,” “to disobey the commandments,” “to sin,” “to walk in the lie” are also identical in meaning, and all are equivalent to breaking away from the teaching. This apostasy is the hallmark of the deceivers or antichrist. Moreover, they are the ones “not confessing Jesus Christ coming in the flesh,” as observed also in 1 John as well. The elder warns the elect lady and her children to have no fellowship with them (2 John 7–11).

Notably, these deceivers, many in number, have gone out into the world. The elder may be aware of “the world” beyond the Roman Empire, but even in this case, the empire is still the primary referent for the term kosmos. The empire is therefore the primary abode of the deceivers. Violence, oppression, persecution, coercion, and exploitation are not the only traits of the empire; so also are falsehood, deception, and heresy. In the Johannine Epistles, the ideological threat is more pressing than the physical threat.

The elder’s witness of the truth clashes with “the gospel of Augustus Caesar,” which is the “truth” frequently rehearsed in popular culture. Virgil (70–19 BCE) provides probably the most prosaic version of this “truth” in the Aenied, his foundational epic of Roman national identity and imperial rule. Here Anchises is in the underworld Elysian Fields when Aeneas, his son by the goddess Aphrodite, visits him. On this occasion, Anchises voices the “truth” while showing Aeneas the destiny of his descendants waiting to be born:

Look here with both of your eyes,

and look upon these people,

your people, the Romans.

Here is Caesar and all the descendants of the Julian line,

Passing under the great dome of heaven.

This is the truth, this is the man (hic vir, hic est) of whom you have heard,

Whose coming was so often promised to you,

Augustus Caesar, son of God (divi genus),

Who will again establish a golden age in the Italian lands

formerly ruled over by Saturn, extending

the empire beyond Africa and India

to build in a land beyond

the stars, beyond the annual cycle of the sun,

where Atlas who bears up the heavens, spins the fiery

field of stars on the axis of his shoulders.

And the kingdoms around the Caspian Sea are alarmed at

his imminent arrival (adventum iam), and the peoples around the

Maeotian Lake are terrified by the divine prophecies, and the sevenfold

mouths of the River Nile are frightened into chaos. ⁴⁸

Here are the themes of prophesied coming, divine sonship, apocalyptic arrival, and kingdom rule in Roman legend. This does not mean that Christian tradition is an imitation of the Roman, but only that Christian teaching faced competition in a religiously charged environment. The elder is not simply claiming ownership of a greater truth, but the only truth; furthermore, this truth is preserved in the Johannine community.

Empire and hospitality

In 3 John, the elder loves Gaius in the truth, and declares his joy to hear that “my children are walking in the truth” (3 John 1–4). The elder celebrates Gaius’s ministry of hospitality to “the kindred.” Hospitality of this type is different from what usually occurs in Roman society. It is a departure from the patron–client system that governs social interaction in the empire. Well-to-do patrons receive honor, accolade, prestige, and social capital in exchange for material goods, economic assistance, and social support for clients. Nothing is done unless something valued is received in return. ⁴⁹ The elder, however, commends Gaius for a higher level of practice. He renders service and support even to “kindred” who are strangers, not to receive honor or prestige, but for the sake of “God’s service,” and so that we might be “fellow workers in the truth” (3 John 5–8). In this way, the elder continues to affirm the creation of a new koinōnia operating under different rules.

One member of the community, however, does the opposite of Gaius. His name is Diotrephes, “who loves to put himself first.” He rejects the authority of the elder; he defames the character of the apostolic leadership, and he refuses to extend hospitality to “the kindred.” A situation of schism appears to be in process with one side represented by the elder and Gaius, and the other side by Diotrephes. It is a situation that the elder will address when he arrives (3 John 9–10).

Is Diotrephes only an isolated challenge to the apostolic mission or a local example of a larger threat? It would seem that the elder’s warning in 1 John 5:21 to “keep yourselves from idols” shows consciousness of an antithetical religious presence in the background of all three Epistles. In the Roman Empire of the late first century, this antithetical presence can only be the Roman religious hegemony. This presence was not innocuous to the elder and his community, and it should not be innocuous to us. It overshadowed everything, including the conflict between the elder and Diotrephes.

Empire and the Roman religious hegemony

The Roman religious system traces back to the legendary Numa Pompilius (ca. 700 BCE) and Roman custom. ⁵⁰ Its structure is basically a hierarchy of priestly control and regulation.

The Pontifex Maximus was the supreme pontiff, or chief high priest, and presided over the college of pontiffs. He was usually a senator elected by his peers. Nevertheless, Roman rulers or emperors at times served in this office through self- or senatorial appointment (e.g., Julius Caesar, Augustus Caesar, Titus, and Trajan). ⁵¹

The Pontifex Maximus furthermore expounded and interpreted the will of Jupiter and other gods. He oversaw and directed the sacred rites, presided over public ceremonies, suppressed innovations, prevented departure from custom, policed private sacrifices, taught all that is necessary to worship and propitiate the gods, and oversaw the Vestal Virgins. He maintained and guarded the rights and doctrines of the established religion in Rome. ⁵² When we remember the dictum of Cicero that “religion is coequal with the city itself” (sacra … quae ipsius urbis), there is little question about the power the Pontifex Maximus had. ⁵³

The Pontifical College, over which the Pontifex presided, was the council of pontiffs or high priests, who presided over sacrifices to the gods, ceremonies in their honor, and the consecration of sacred spaces. They also instructed the people of Rome in the methods and rites suitable for public and private sacrifice. The Pontifical College was an adjunct to the Roman Senate, although the two collectives shared many of the same members. ⁵⁴ In the time of Augustus Caesar, there were seven hundred senators, and 170 of them were pontiffs. ⁵⁵

Augurs comprised a college of priests within the Pontifical College. They were divinators or soothsayers. They practiced their craft through the reading of auspices. They were skilled at discerning the will of the gods through movement of the stars, flight patterns of birds, lightnings, prodigies, and interpretation of the Sibylline oracles. They recognized signs of future events and announced them before they occurred. ⁵⁶ They were inspired to prophesy through frenzy and dreams. Kings and magistrates deployed augurs to interpret auspices before transacting business or launching military campaigns. They also advised in matters of agriculture, affairs of state, and capital punishment. ⁵⁷ Romulus, the legendary founder of Rome, was known to be an augur. Cicero was also an augur. Even though they were subordinate to the Pontifex Maximus, Cicero felt that members of the college of augurs were the highest and most important authorities in the state. When a vacancy occurred by death in the college of augurs, election in the Senate filled the vacancy. ⁵⁸

The King of the Sacred Rites (rex sacorum) was also a priest subordinate to the Pontifex Maximus. He performed a single function once performed by the actual king of Rome, but which had been long since taken away by senatorial decree. He was therefore a king in name only. Moreover, he was not allowed to hold any other office or address the people. His only function was to offer a sacrifice to the gods at the Comitium (open air amphitheater) in the forum, and then immediately withdraw from sight. ⁵⁹

The Vestal Virgins, the only female order of priests, were six in number. They had charge of the worship of Vesta and were the keepers of the city hearth (focum urbis), or “perpetual fire,” located in the circular temple of Vesta in the forum. Unlike the male priests, they vowed to remain virgins upon penalty of death should they not. Consecrated as young girls, they spent ten years learning their duties, ten years performing their duties, and ten years teaching replacements their duties. ⁶⁰

Whereas the other priests served all the gods, the Flamens (flamines) were priests exclusively assigned to hold sacrifices and rituals for a single god. The three most important of these were the priests of Jupiter, Mars, and Romulus, respectively known as the Flamen Dialis, the Flamen Martialis, and the Flamen Quirinalis. The name flamen comes from the skullcaps worn by this order of priests. ⁶¹

The Fetiales were the ambassadors and diplomatic core of the Pontifical College. They were guardians of the peace, intermediaries in disputes, and the priests who gave or withheld permission to go to war. ⁶²

The Salii, twelve in number, were armor-wearing singers and dancers, and priests of Mars Gradivus. During an annual celebration, they carried the sacred shield (or buckler), which fell from the sky in the days of Numa Pompilius and somehow ended a pestilence that had stricken the city. As they sang and danced in procession, they celebrated “the salvation of the city.” They also carried eleven decoy shields to frustrate thieves. ⁶³

Satisfactory private worship required assistance from the pontiffs, who were in charge of the public rites. Even private worship was subject to regulation.

The Lares and Penates were household gods who were worshipped and upon whom people depended to guard their homes. The Lares was the chief ruler and guardian of the house.

Both master and slaves were required to worship this god. Dead family members, or Manes, were also worshipped as gods. ⁶⁴

The Genius was the guardian spirit of a person, and the avenger of wrong. A person, however, could have either a good or evil Genius, depending on whether the Genius brought good or bad fortune. ⁶⁵ Statuettes placed in the household represented these various gods. Statues of major gods and heroes in temples and shrines, along with these household statuettes, were the “idols” mentioned in 1 John 5:21. ⁶⁶

Private worship was allowed, but not worship of private gods. The outlawing of private gods also meant that the mysteries, nocturnal rites, and the Bacchanalia were illegal. ⁶⁷ Eventually, this meant that Christianity was also illegal in the Roman empire. ⁶⁸

The elder has an organizational countermand to Roman religious hierarchy and ideology; it is, however, not altogether explicit in the Johannine Epistles. Still, we are not without strong indication of what the elder’s organizational answer to Roman religion might be in this case. After all, Johannine Christianity was part of a larger stream having a single source and heritage.

Apostles were the highest authority in earliest Christianity, including the Johannine community, and although they are never called a “college” they were a fellowship with a leadership hierarchy (Acts 15:1–29; 1 Cor 12:27–31; Gal 2:9). The chief criterion for being an apostle was to have seen the risen Lord Jesus Christ during the eyewitness period of gospel history, that is, that period of time when the original eyewitnesses to the resurrection of Jesus were still alive. This is why Paul was an apostle even though he was not physically among the eleven surviving disciples or the original 500 plus eyewitnesses (Acts 1:22; 9:5; 1 Cor 9:1; 15:5–11). The “inner limits” for the eyewitness period were approximately 30–65 CE because during this period the majority of original eyewitnesses to the resurrection of Jesus were still alive (1 Cor 15:6; 2 Tim 4:6–8). The “outer limits” for this period were approximately 30–100 CE because near the end of this period the last remaining original eyewitnesses and apostles died. According to early church tradition, the last apostle was John the son of Zebedee, or “the disciple whom Jesus loved.” ⁶⁹ In any case, after the death of the last original eyewitness and apostle there could be no more apostles.

At first, apostles and elders were equivalent terms (Acts 15:6, 22), and this is certainly still the case in the Johannine Epistles, where the author calls himself “the elder” (ὁ πρεσβύτερος, ho presbyteros) (2 John 10; 3 John 1). The term “elders of the church” (πρεσβύτεροι τῆς ἐκκλησίας, presbyteroi tēs ekklēsias) came to be applied to non-apostolic leadership at an early stage (Acts 20:17; 1 Tim 5:17), however. At this point, the terms “bishops” (ἐπίσκοποι, episkopoi) and “elders” also became interchangeable (Acts 20:28; Titus 1:5,7).

Clearly, the author of the Johannine Epistles is an apostle, elder, and bishop; in time, however, the term “bishop,” like “elder,” became applied to non-apostolic leadership in the church. Moreover, other non-apostolic leaders of the church were designated ministers (διάκονοι, diakonoi; Rom 16:1; Phil 1:1; 1 Tim 3:1–13; 5:17; Titus 1:5,7; cf. Ignatius, Polycarp 6). Both men and women served as “ministers of the church” (Acts 18:2, 18; Rom 16:1, 3, 12; 1 Cor 16:19).

Ministers were leaders of individual house churches (Rom 16:5; 1 Cor 16:19; Col 4:15; Philemon 2; 2 John 10). These churches formed a regional network, over which a bishop or elder presided (2 John 1, 13). In each church or local area of churches, individual members functioned in a variety of other offices and ministries (Rom 12:4–8; 1 Cor 12:4–11, 27–30).

There is only one God the Father in Johannine Christianity and his son is Jesus Christ, who is the atonement for our sins and those of the whole world (1 John 1:3; 2:1–2; 4:10). Whoever confesses that Jesus is the son of God abides in him and in God (1 John 4:15). Moreover, the Spirit of God abides in us and bears witness that we abide in him (1 John 3:24; 4:13). Jesus is the Savior of the world (1 John 4:14). The church of Jesus Christ is a network of congregations built around this message.

The mission of the elder was to nurture and grow this network of churches so that he might call people out of Roman religious idolatry into the Christ-centered fellowship of light. Diotrephes interfered with this work. In this way, Diotrephes was a front man for the beast of Rev 13:11–17, the Roman religious hegemony. It does not matter whether this was intentional or not on the part of Diotrephes. By challenging the authority of the elder, he was serving the goal of the Roman religious bureaucracy, the suppression of all other religious expression.

Conclusion

In what ways, then, are the Johannine Epistles a response to imperial ideology and propaganda? These Epistles proclaim a more complete and correct cosmology, a greater Savior and soteriology, a better pedagogy, a truer doctrine, a sounder koinōnia, and a more nurturing paterfamilias; they do so while indicting schismatics who, in the view of the elder, represent the face of the Empire. Although the resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ drive the elder’s witness and ministry, he must still shape his message to counter the encroachment of Empire in the church and on the mission field.