From Vision to Victory: How Gods Become Kings of Empires

In October 312 AD, Constantine stood before the Milvian Bridge and gazed into the noonday sun. He claimed to see a fiery cross superimposed upon it, bearing the words, “In hoc signo vinces” —“By this sign, conquer.” That night, he was said to have received a dream instructing him to mark his soldiers’ shields with the Chi-Rho, the emblem of Christ, and march on Rome (Odahl, 2010). He did so, transforming a minority faith’s symbol into an imperial standard and securing victory. Later coinage even depicted an angel placing a crown on his head as he clutched that same standard, proclaiming divine legitimacy for his rule.

This moment marked more than a military triumph; it signaled a radical reimagining of sovereignty. Jesus, once supposedly thought of as a Galilean preacher who refused earthly crowns, but more recently classed as a demigod within the Greco-Roman religious world, had now entered the command structure of the Roman army, and not just metaphorically, but structurally. In doing so, Constantine followed a pattern deeply embedded in the ancient world: the transformation of supposedly divine figures into cosmic sovereigns whose will shaped the laws of empire.

This phenomenon finds a striking parallel in the earlier reign of Ptolemy I Soter, ruler of Hellenistic Egypt. Ptolemy sought to unify Greek and Egyptian populations under a single imperial cult, introducing Serapis (a syncretic deity merging Greek and Egyptian traditions) as the divine patron of the Ptolemaic state (Pfeiffer, 2008). Serapis was not merely a god of healing or the underworld; he became the celestial counterpart to the ruling royal pair, Isis being his mythological consort. By aligning the king with this newly crafted divine figure, Ptolemy ensured that the monarchy could be worshipped as a living embodiment of cosmic order—a model later echoed by Constantine.

Like Constantine, Ptolemy understood that the fusion of religion and statecraft was not simply a matter of political convenience; it was a philosophical necessity. Just as Constantine saw in Christianity a unifying force capable of binding together a fractured empire, Ptolemy saw in Serapis a symbolic bridge between cultures. Both leaders recognized that gods must become kings, and kings must become gods, if they were to hold together the vast, diverse populations under their rule.

The establishment of the ruler cult under Ptolemy I was not just an extension of Pharaonic tradition, where the office of the king was divine, but the individual was not. Rather, it was a deliberate Hellenistic innovation that deified the living monarch, aligning him with the pantheon itself.

Similarly, Constantine positioned himself not just as a Christian emperor, but as a new kind of ruler, one who mediated between the divine and the temporal. His alliance with Licinius in 313 AD produced what we now call the Edict of Milan, granting legal recognition to Christian worship across the empire. Yet Constantine’s deeper strategy was theological as much as political. By convening the Council of Nicaea in 325 AD, he sought to forge a creedal unity that would serve both as spiritual doctrine and civic glue. Heresy was no longer just doctrinal error – it became a form of sedition against the cosmic order.

Just as Ptolemy I elevated Serapis above local deities to create a universal divine figure for a multicultural empire, Constantine elevated the Jesus character above all other gods. He did not “invent” orthodoxy, but he nationalized it. Through basilicas built at imperial expense, judicial privileges granted to bishops, and tax exemptions codified into law, Constantine wove the Church into the very fabric of imperial governance. The crucified Lord, once a symbol of suffering and humility, was now enthroned on the emperor’s seal, flanked by angels.

Yet both emperors understood that such transformations required careful calibration. Ptolemy’s integration of Egyptian gods like Isis and Anubis into the broader framework of Serapis-worship allowed him to maintain cultural legitimacy without erasing indigenous belief systems (Pfeiffer, 2008). Likewise, Constantine refrained from immediate theocratic dominance. Though urged by some Christian advisors to outlaw animal sacrifice outright, he instead chose selective pressure; closing temples linked to immorality, stripping others of wealth, but allowing pagan shrines to remain so long as public order was preserved (Errington, 1988). He honored his title of Pontifex Maximus, chief priest of traditional Roman religion, while posing as “God’s” chosen friend, a balancing act between majority pagan constituencies and an ascendant Christian (pagan Hellenistic Jews) elite.

The result was a new ontology of power. For Constantine, as for Ptolemy, victory and order no longer came from the capricious gods of old, but from a singular divine source whose will was interpreted through imperial decree. Just as Ptolemaic propaganda portrayed the monarch as a “god-king” embodying both Greek ideals and Egyptian symbolism, Constantine recast himself as the earthly executor of the Jesus character’s cosmic kingship.

This transformation was irreversible. Even later emperors who flirted with reviving paganism found the machinery of the state already speaking the language of the Nicene Creed. As Pfeiffer notes, once a divine figure is enshrined within the imperial apparatus, it becomes nearly impossible to disentangle theology from politics. The god has become king, not only in heaven, but on earth.

Thus, Constantine did not merely adopt a religion, he crowned its Jesus (or its Serapis) as king of an empire. And in doing so, he fulfilled ancient imperial logic: the fusion of professed divine sovereignty and worldly dominion, a vision as old as Ptolemy’s Serapis and as enduring as the pagan cross on the imperial banner.

References

Errington, R. M. (1988). "Constantine as Pontifex Maximus." Greece & Rome , 35(2), 165–180.

Humphries, M. (forthcoming). Constantine and the Conversion of Europe . Oxford University Press.

Odahl, C. M. (2010). Constantine and the Christian Empire . Routledge.

Pfeiffer, S. (2008). The God Serapis, His Cult and the Beginnings of Ruler Worship in Ptolemaic Egypt . Unpublished manuscript.

Jesus Vs. Christ: Did the Historical Jesus Even Matter?

When reviewing Paul’s overall mythology, one begins to question whether the historical Jesus even mattered, and particularly when comparing the Christ of Paul’s theology with the Jesus of the Gospel narratives. This debate touches on the very foundation of Christianity, raising concerns about whether its movement is rooted in a real historical figure or a theological construct that evolved independently of any specific individual.

Paul’s Christ Without a Historical Jesus

Paul’s letters, the earliest Christian writings, present a Jesus who is overwhelmingly mythological and theological; a cosmic Christ, whose death and resurrection define Christian theory. Unlike the Gospel narratives, Paul rarely references the life and teachings of Jesus. Instead, his Christ is the sacrificial atonement, a divine mediator between God and humanity. The implications are significant: if Paul’s Jesus was primarily theological and not based on an earthly figure, does Christianity even need a historical Jesus?

In 1 Corinthians 15:3-5, Paul states:

"For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the Twelve."

This passage, one of the few instances where Paul presents an early Christian creed, does not focus on Jesus’ earthly life or teachings but on his death and resurrection. This emphasis suggests that for Paul, the significance of the Jesus character lay not in his historical actions, but in his theological function. Paul’s Jesus is universal, transcendent, and salvific—not a rabbi or social revolutionary, but a divine intermediary.

The Gospel Jesus: A Narrative Counterbalance?

In contrast, the Gospels somewhat anchor Jesus firmly in Jewish tradition. They depict him as a prophet, a teacher of ethics, and a proclaimer of the philosophy of the Kingdom of God. The Jesus of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John interacts with his disciples, debates with religious authorities, and preaches about justice and the inward work of God the Father. His teachings, particularly in the Sermon on the Mount, emphasize morality and social ethics in ways that Paul does not.

Given that the Gospels were written after Paul’s letters, were they attempting to correct his vision of the Jesus character? Some within the field argue that the Gospel writers sought to ground the theological Christ in history, providing a biographical framework that Paul had ignored. Others suggest that Paul’s vision was the original, and the Gospel narratives were a later mythologization, an effort to make a cosmic savior more relatable to a broader audience.

Paul’s Theology: A Jewish Evolution or a Radical Departure?

Pamela Eisenbaum, in Paul Was Not a Christian, argues that Paul remained fundamentally Jewish and was not “converting” to a new religion, but rather reinterpreting Jewish messianic expectations in light of his revelations. Paul’s Jesus was not a moral teacher but, according to Paul’s perception, a fulfillment of divine prophecy, a necessary sacrifice for the redemption of humanity.

This perspective further complicates the issue of the historical Jesus. If Paul’s vision was the earliest and most influential, then the Gospel Jesus might be a theological innovation rather than a corrective. That is, Jesus the rabbi and ethical teacher may have been a later narrative construct to appeal to Jewish and Greco-Roman audiences.

Christianity Without a Historical Jesus?

If Paul’s Jesus was primarily a theological concept, can Christianity function without a historical Jesus? Some in the field argue that it already does. Christian faith, as articulated by Paul, depends not on the deeds or words of an earthly Jesus but on belief in his death and resurrection. Paul himself claims that his Gospel was received “through revelation” rather than human tradition, suggesting that historical veracity was secondary to theological truth.

Yet, the absence of a historical Jesus would create existential challenges for Christianity. Without a tangible figure to ground its beliefs, Christianity risks being seen as a philosophical or mythical system rather than a historical faith. The tension between Paul’s cosmic Christ and the Gospel’s Jewish teacher reflects an ongoing struggle within Christian thought: is faith rooted in theological necessity or historical reality?

The Question

The question of whether the historical Jesus even mattered ultimately hinges on what one considers essential to Christian theory. If Christianity is about faith in a figure of salvation, then Paul’s theological Jesus is sufficient. If Christianity seeks historical legitimacy, then the imagined narrative of the Gospel Jesus becomes indispensable for a mythological historical framework (I realize that a “mythological historical framework might sound odd, but Greek epic writers, this was literary culture, namely, to make epic appear historical). The divergence between Paul’s letters and the Gospel narratives suggests that early Christianity was simply a lively and evolving belief system—one that continues to have a losing battle with the balance between history and theology.

 References:

Bedard, S. J., J. (n.d.). Paul And The Historical Jesus: A Case Study in First Corinthians. In McMaster Journal of Theology and Ministry (Vol. 7, pp. 9–22).

Matthew, D. & Pamela Eisenbaum. (2009). PAUL WAS NOT a CHRISTIAN: the original message of a misunderstood apostle. In HarperCollins.

Taylor, N. (2003). Paul and the historical Jesus quest. Neotestamentica, 37(1), 105-126.

Was Paul the Apostle Influenced by Platonism? Reviewing Acts 17

The relationship between Paul the Apostle and Platonism has long been a subject of theological and philosophical intrigue. While Paul is traditionally seen as a Jewish thinker rooted in Hebraic traditions, his engagement with Greco-Roman intellectual currents, particularly in Acts 17, suggests a more complex philosophical landscape. Could it be that Paul was, in some way, influenced by Platonic thought? If so, what does this mean for our understanding of his theology and the early Christian movement?

Paul at the Areopagus

Paul’s speech at the Areopagus (Acts 17:16-31) is one of the most explicitly philosophical moments in the New Testament. Here, he engages with Stoics and Epicureans, quoting Greek poets and invoking the concept of an "unknown god." There is an academic debate of whether Paul’s speech aligns with Middle Platonic thought, particularly its interpretation of Plato’s Timaeus 28c, where the philosopher posits that the "maker and father" of the world is difficult to find and even harder to speak about.

Paul’s language in Acts 17 closely parallels Platonic discourse. The way he describes “God” as "maker" and "father" echoes later Middle Platonic exegesis of Timaeus 28c, which emphasized the dual role of the “Divine” as both creator and progenitor. Paul’s rhetoric places him within a Greco-Roman tradition of theological dialogue, where Platonic themes were commonly employed to discuss supposedly divine transcendence and human access to the supposedly divine.

Further evidence of Platonic influence in Paul’s address can be found in his reference to “God” as the one in whom "we live and move and have our being" (Acts 17:28). This concept bears resemblance to the Middle Platonic interpretation of “divine” or supernatural immanence, where all existence derives from and participates in a transcendent source. Origen of Alexandria later expounded upon this idea, emphasizing the Platonic distinction between the material world and the higher, intelligible reality.

Additionally, Paul’s engagement with Greek philosophy at the Areopagus reflects a broader strategy used by early Christian apologists, a strategy that he no doubt had a hand in encouraging. Second-century Christian thinkers, including Justin Martyr and Athenagoras, appropriated Platonic terminology to articulate Christian doctrine. Paul’s speech, therefore, may represent an early example of this approach, demonstrating a willingness to frame Christian theology in categories familiar to his Hellenistic audience.

Paul’s engagement with the intellectual currents of his time does not suggest he was a Platonist in a strict sense. Yet his discourse at the Areopagus reveals an awareness of and engagement with Greek metaphysical thought. Similar to Origen’s later exegetical methods, Paul strategically employed philosophical language to communicate “theological truths,” making Christian theory intellectually accessible to a broader audience.

Platonism, Early Christian Thought, and Origen

The broader influence of Platonism on early Christian apologetics is well-documented. Early Christian thinkers like Justin Martyr were deeply influenced by Middle Platonic ideas. Philo of Alexandria had already synthesized Jewish theology with Platonic metaphysics, portraying “God” as the transcendent One and employing the concept of the Logos as an intermediary between the “divine” and the material world.

A particularly important figure in this discussion is Origen of Alexandria, who engaged deeply with Platonic and Neoplatonic ideas while maintaining a critical distance. Origen saw philosophy as a preparatory tool for understanding Scripture. He drew upon Plato’s concept of likeness to God (from Theaetetus 176b) to explain humanity’s journey toward divine transformation. However, Origen did not adopt Platonism wholesale; instead, he selectively integrated ideas that aligned with Christian theology, rejecting those that were incompatible.

Origen’s approach to biblical exegesis was influenced by Platonic structures of interpretation. He, like Paul, utilized allegorical methods similar to those found in Middle Platonism, seeing multiple layers of meaning in Scripture. This mirrors Plato’s theory of reality, where the visible world is a shadow of the higher, intelligible realm. Origen applied this framework to biblical texts, interpreting them in ways that transcended their literal meanings to uncover deeper spiritual truths.

Furthermore, Origen’s doctrine of the Logos has clear Platonic resonances. Drawing from both Timaeus and the Gospel of John, he identified the Logos as the divine mediator between God and creation, akin to the role of the Demiurge in Platonic cosmology. His views influenced later Christian theology, particularly in articulating the relationship between “God the Father” and “Christ the Logos.” While Origen’s theological system was ultimately distinct from Neoplatonism, elements of its hierarchical structure and emphasis on supernatural transcendence reflect an engagement with Platonic thought.

Origen’s synthesis of Christian doctrine with Platonic principles paved the way for later theological developments. His influence extended to figures like Augustine of Hippo who, while critical of some Platonic concepts, nevertheless integrated aspects of Neoplatonic metaphysics into his Christian theology. This enduring dialogue between Platonism and Christianity highlights the philosophical complexity of early Christian thought and Paul’s own exposure to such ideas.

Paul’s Relationship to Platonism: Imitation or Convergence?

Does this mean Paul was a Platonist? Not necessarily. Paul’s theological framework remains fundamentally Jewish, centered on a Hellenistic revelation of “God” through Paul’s Christ rather than philosophical speculation. However, his engagement with Greek philosophy suggests a degree of intellectual convergence. Like Philo and Origen, Paul may have drawn on Platonic themes as a means of articulating theological truths to a Hellenistic audience.

Moreover, Paul’s opposition to idolatry and his emphasis on a personal, knowable Deity distinguish his message from Platonic abstraction. Whereas Platonism often emphasized the ineffability of “the One,” Paul presents a Deity who, though transcendent, has made himself known through “Jesus Christ.”

A Philosophical Hybrid?

Ultimately, Paul’s engagement with Platonism reflects a broader pattern in early Christian theory, where Jewish monotheism intersected with Greco-Roman philosophy. While the character Paul was not a Platonist in the strict sense, his speech in Acts 17 suggests he was conversant with Platonic themes and used them strategically in dialogue with Greek or Hellenistic Jewish thinkers.

Rather than being a mere borrower of Greek philosophy, Paul can be seen as a sophisticated thinker who navigated multiple intellectual traditions to advance his theological vision. His interaction with Platonism is not one of wholesale adoption but of selective engagement—a philosophical hybridization that helped shape the trajectory of early Christian theory. The influence of thinkers like Origen further solidifies the notion that Christian theology was enriched not by the philosophy within the Hebrew scriptures, but by its dialogue with Greek philosophy.

 

 References

Artemi, E. (2023). The Platonism and Neo-Platonism influence on Origen’s exegesis of the Bible. Mirabilia: Electronic Journal of Antiquity, Middle & Modern Ages, (36), 9.

Gaston, T. E. (2009). The influence of Platonism on the early Apologists. The Heythrop Journal, 50(4), 573-580.

Hubbard, J. M. (2022). Paul the Middle Platonist? Exegetical Traditions on Timaeus 28c and the Characterization of Paul in Acts 17: 16–31. Harvard theological review, 115(4), 477-495.