The Martyrs Who Chose Christ Over Everything | Perpetua & Felicitas
Not Peace, But a Sword: The Story of Perpetua and Felicitas
Sermon on Matthew 10:34–42 | Pentecost Season
Scripture Reading: Matthew 10:34–42
"Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. And a person's enemies will be those of his own household. Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And whoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.
Whoever receives you receives me, and whoever receives me receives him who sent me. The one who receives a prophet because he is a prophet will receive a prophet's reward, and the one who receives a righteous person because he is a righteous person will receive a righteous person's reward. And whoever gives one of these little ones even a cup of cold water because he is a disciple, truly, I say to you, he will by no means lose his reward."
Sermon: The Sword That Divides and the Cross That Saves
Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
Today our words from Jesus can sound a little confusing. Jesus says things we're not used to hearing from him: "Do not think that I have come to bring peace on the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword." Not the kind of thing we expect Jesus to say. And he goes further: "For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law, and a person's enemies will be those of his own household."
Most of the time we think about Jesus asking us to love one another — bringing peace, forgiveness, gathering us together, especially in our families, as we come together around God's Word, joining together in peace and love, serving one another. So people hear these words and they get confused. In other gospels it becomes even more striking, where Jesus says you must hate your father and mother, even your own life, or you cannot be his disciple. We hear these words and we say: what are you getting at, Jesus?
Now, I could go into a long explanation, but instead I'd like to give you an example of this working out in actual life — by telling the story of a martyr. One of the great martyrdom stories of the Christian Church: the story of Perpetua and Felicitas.
Perpetua and Felicitas: Martyrs of Carthage (203 AD)
This is one of the most famous acts of martyrdom in the early church, going all the way back to about 203 AD. It happened in Carthage — in northern Africa, around what we would call Tunisia today — during a persecution under Emperor Septimus Severus, one of the great persecutions of the early Roman era.
Perpetua was a well-educated, well-off Roman noblewoman who was recently married and had just given birth to a child. She and a number of catechumens were arrested as a group. They were taking classes to prepare for baptism, and their teacher was taken with them.
A Father's Plea and a Daughter's Answer
The story begins with Perpetua's diary. She explains that early on, when she is arrested, her father comes to her and tries to browbeat her into denying her Christian faith. "How dare you disrespect us? Don't you have any respect for your family? Don't you know what you are doing to us?"
She points to a vase and tells her father: "What is that over there?" He says, "A vase." And she asks, "Can you call it anything other than what it is?" He says no. And she says: "I am a Christian."
Before the Judge: Hilarionis
A trial was about to take place. She was placed before a judge whose name was Hilarionis — which means "cheerful" — but he had no cheerful business to carry out that day. The judge turned to her and cajoles her: "Look, don't you have a father? What are you doing to him? You are shaming your father and your family. Look at your newborn child. Don't you care about your baby? Don't you care that your child will be left without a mother? All you need to do is offer a sacrifice for the well-being of the emperor — a few grains of incense on the altar — and you can go back to doing whatever you like."
This is something many Christians don't understand about the persecutions of that era. The Romans weren't asking Christians to stop worshiping Jesus and start worshiping their gods. They didn't care what the Christians did on Sunday. "Worship whomever you want," they thought, "as long as you offer the sacrifice to the emperor." All Perpetua had to do was drop a few grains on the altar, and then she could go back to church and worship as she pleased. The Romans were confused about why the Christians would refuse.
They had no understanding of a God who might ask for singular devotion — who would say, "Worship only me and no other gods." But the Christians knew very simply: we have one God and can worship no others. And if we love father or mother or son or daughter or anything more than Christ, we are not worthy to be his disciples. But this dedication to our God points us to everlasting life. We who follow him, deny ourselves, and take up his cross will receive the same resurrection that he received.
And so Perpetua refused to offer the sacrifice. She knew that to be a Christian was simply that: to hold fast to Christ, to proclaim him before people, so that he would proclaim them before their Father in heaven.
Visions in Prison
During this time, Perpetua received a couple of visions.
In the first, before the trial, she sees a ladder going up into heaven — a dangerous ladder, lined with difficulties and sharp things along the way, with a dragon below. She climbs up the ladder, avoiding the dangers, and when she reaches the top she sees a shepherd tending his sheep, who smiles at her and welcomes her.
In the dream that comes after her trial, she is placed in an arena as a gladiator. All of a sudden, she becomes a man. She is oiled up like a gladiator about to do battle, and facing her is an Egyptian — large and powerful. They fight. She realizes that this Egyptian is not a man, but Satan, who is trying to defeat her and get her to turn away from Christ — to take the easy and safe path. She wins against the devil who only wanted her to offer that sacrifice and deny her Savior. But she knew that her Savior was worth it. Death in the arena would just be the doorway to everlasting life.
The Church Serves the Martyrs
As they waited in prison, the guards took pity on the whole group. They allowed members of the church to come and visit them. This is a beautiful example of what Jesus describes at the end of this teaching: "Whoever receives you receives me, whoever receives me receives him who sent me, and whoever gives one of these little ones even a cup of cold water because he is my disciple, truly I say to you, he will by no means lose his reward." Or as Jesus says when he divides the sheep and the goats: "When you visited me in prison, when you fed me, when you clothed me when I was naked — you did it for me."
The faithful church came and saw Christ in the martyrs who were about to go into the arena to die, and they served them just as Christ had instructed — clinging to the promise that this would not be a defeat, but a victory. For those who die in the Lord receive the crown of martyrdom.
Felicitas: Fearing She Would Miss Her Martyrdom
Perpetua was not the only one whose story is being told. There was also a slave named Felicitas. She had been pregnant this whole time — about eight months along — and Roman law forbid the execution of a pregnant woman. She was worried. Not about whether she would die, but about whether she would get to die with everyone else.
The church prayed for her. Their prayer was answered the day before everyone was to be sent to the arena: she gave birth. And so she was allowed to go with the whole group — the catechumens and their teacher — into the arena to face the wild beasts.
The Agape Feast and the Day of Victory
The night before, all of those people gathered together with members of their congregation for a final feast. Such feasts often happened before people were sent into the arena to die — but this feast was not like a normal one. It was a love feast, an agape feast: Christ's body and blood to strengthen them for the trial that would come the next morning.
I want to read to you the opening lines of what the narrator says about when they enter the arena. It begins like this:
The day of their victory dawned, and they marched from the prison to the amphitheater joyfully, as though they were going to heaven, with calm faces trembling, if at all, with joy rather than fear. Perpetua went along with shining countenance and calm step, as the beloved of God, as a wife of Christ, putting down everyone's stare by her own intense gaze.
The day of their victory dawned. They entered the arena sure and knowing that Christ would be true to his promise. They were defiant as they entered. They looked up at the judge Hilarionis and said: "You judge us, but God will judge you. Look at our faces — you will recognize us on the last day."
The Romans tried to dress them all in the robes of pagan worship as part of the ceremony, but they refused and fought against it. So instead, they were stripped naked. When the crowds looked at Felicitas and Perpetua — recently pregnant — they cried out and had mercy, and put tunics on them. And then everyone was killed: some by wild animals, Perpetua and Felicitas crushed by a cow. They were all martyred as they had hoped to be.
Conclusion: The Sword and the Cross
This is the story I think Jesus has in mind when he looks ahead to what the church will face. He says:
"Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law, and a person's enemies will be those of his own household. Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And whoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it."
In Jesus' name, amen.