Why did the early Christians refuse to bow down to the King?
I don't understand the exact objection in bowing down to the King, which is a universal practise in line with the Bible (Rom 13) and does not seem to violate monotheism, as it is not a worship of him as God, but simple worship or reverence as King. From Japan to England, all bow down to the King. Then why did the early Christians refuse to bow down to the King, was it just the bowing or a refusal to participate and enlisting in some official imperial cult ceremony? Did they outright refuse to submit to the King? I am aware about some modern Marxist authors promote a theory that the early Christians rejected the national emperor altogether in favour of their spiritual king Jesus, which does not seam reasonable, as the NT does not promote a Marxist resistance to national rulers or politics. Also related is the story of Daniel.
Were those early Christians being overzealous in their political resistance or non-compliance? It seems the Roman official apostle Paul would've no problem in honouring the King, even though he may refuse to obey the official rules that go against his religion.
Background: (from a basic web search: in which sense early christians refuse to bow down to the emperor? what was their objection?)
Early Christians refused to bow down to the emperor for several reasons. One primary reason was their monotheistic belief in the exclusive worship of one God, which conflicted with the polytheistic Roman religious practices, including the imperial cult. The refusal to participate in the imperial cult and worship the emperor was considered disloyal and rebellious by the Romans, as emperor worship was a significant aspect of Roman society, expressive of the character and aspirations of Roman society. The Christians' objection was also theological, as they could not participate in the cultic events due to their allegiance to their new king, Jesus Christ. This refusal to participate in the imperial cult and worship the emperor could lead to persecution on both local and provincial levels, as it was perceived as a threat to Roman rule and order. The worship of the Roman emperors was a central part of the imperial cult, which was a significant aspect of Roman religion and society
1 answer
Early Christians were in conflict with the Roman imperial cult for a variety of reasons:
Tolerance as control: Religious freedom with imperial strings attached
While often cited for its religious tolerance, Roman acceptance of different cults was far from the modern understanding of religious freedom. Rome primarily tolerated cults that were compatible with its own overarching religious and political system, viewing religious practices as a tool for integrating provinces and ensuring the empire's unity and homogeneity.
From a Jewish perspective, religious and some kind of political autonomy even under foreign rule were inseparable. But such a perception was inconceivable from the perspective of Roman rule. To be under the rule and domination of Rome implied more than to be willing to pay tribute. All aspects of life, including cult/religious practice had to be controlled. Thus in Rome’s perception there could be no aspect of life which was free from their dominating control and influence, not even when so-called religious freedom was granted to subordinate peoples.[1]
Rome's tolerance was contingent on its own interests and the stability of the empire. Judaism, with its exclusive devotion to the God of Israel, presented a fundamental challenge to this imperial policy, as its singular loyalty and identity-shaping nature were seen as incompatible with the desired integration and homogeneity. Even Cicero recognized this tension, viewing Jewish practice as contrary to the empire's grandeur.[2] This inherent incompatibility created ongoing insecurity and ambiguity in Roman-Jewish relations, a context that significantly impacted the early Christian as well, given its origins within Judaism and its connection to a leader executed by Roman power. Therefore, Rome's religious tolerance was limited to those cults that did not threaten its authority or the cohesion of its imperial structure, placing monotheistic faiths like Judaism and early Christianity in a precarious position.
Roman emperors' claims to divinity
The Roman Senate declared some emperors were divine (some of whom made this claim concerning themselves as well). As such, their images were displayed among the Roman pantheon of gods for worship. This practice evolved, and was not initially popular among the emperors themselves nor the Roman Senate.
Tiberius resisted all honors offered to himself ... and his mother, Livia.... In 25 C.E. he refused to permit the province of Farther Spain to build a temple in his name, declaring in a famous speech to the Senate: “I am a mortal, and divine honors belong only to Augustus, the real savior of mankind....” Suetonius ... referred to an edict issued by Tiberius which forbade other forms of deification, including swearing allegiance and the erection of statues. Nevertheless, the title divus appeared on a denarius of Tiberius and a papyrus from 37 C.E. called him “son of the god....”[3]
Augustus permitted his own veneration, whereas Gaius Caligula is credited as the first to proclaim his own divinity during his reign (in fact, he demanded to be worshiped in spite of protests from the Roman Senate at that time). Later emperors followed suit, including Nero and Domitian.[4] Domitian's brother and predecessor, Titus, was hailed as “savior of the world.”[5]
Because of this, venerating / bowing before these emperors ceased to be solely about paying respect and showing fealty, but became an act of worship.
From divine name to imperial claim
Domitian took this further and began to be addressed as dominus et deus: "Lord and God."[6] The corresponding Greek word for the Latin dominus ("Lord" or "master") was κύριος (kyrios). This title held profound significance for early Christians as it was the primary translation of the Hebrew tetragrammaton (YHWH) in the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Old Testament. To them, kyrios was intrinsically linked to the one true God. However, the Roman imperial cult increasingly adopted this very term to refer to the emperor, effectively claiming divine (or semi-divine) status and demanding recognition as "Lord." This linguistic collision created a fundamental point of contention. For Christians (and also for many Jews), acknowledging Caesar as kyrios in the same way they understood God as Kyrios was an act of profound idolatry and a direct betrayal of their monotheistic faith. The shared vocabulary, therefore, became a battleground, forcing early Christians to carefully articulate their allegiance and ultimately leading to persecution for their refusal to bestow upon the emperor the sacred title they reserved for God alone.
God's servants, not Gods
Romans 13 is often cited as a straightforward endorsement of obedience to governing authorities, yet reading it within the historical context of the burgeoning imperial cult reveals a more nuanced and implicitly subversive message. In a world where emperors were increasingly claiming divine status and demanding worship, Paul's assertion that "there is no authority except from God, and the authorities that exist are appointed by God" (Romans 13:1, NKJV) takes on a different hue. By grounding all earthly authority in divine institution, Paul subtly but firmly positioned the emperor not as inherently divine, but as a servant of God. His subsequent description of rulers as "God's servants" ("λειτουργοὶ τοῦ θεοῦ") further reinforces this point, implying a functional role delegated by a higher power, rather than an intrinsic divinity.
The Christian response is to be subject to them precisely as God’s agents (Rom 13:1, 5) and to give them the taxes, respect and honor that is their due. This is, however, precisely to give the emperor less than the Christians’ neighbors believe to be his due, namely, cultic honors. Such obedience, which should show the unbelieving critics of the church that Christians are not a dissident and base element (1 Pet 2:15), is at the same time a critique of the extravagant and idolatrous displays of loyalty and obedience. While the emperor may be supreme among human authorities, the Christian’s response to the emperor is qualitatively different from his or her response to God: “Revere God; honor the emperor” (1 Pet 2:17).[7]
Therefore, rather than a blanket endorsement of the imperial state's claims to divine authority, Romans 13 (and 1 Peter) can be interpreted as a carefully crafted argument that acknowledges the legitimacy of worldly governance while implicitly denying the emperor's self-proclaimed godhood, thereby offering a subtle yet significant act of theological resistance within the Roman Empire.
Citizens of heaven, strangers on Earth
Early Christians fundamentally understood themselves as πάροικοι (paroikoi), or sojourners, strangers, and aliens within the earthly realm.[8] Their true citizenship was in a heavenly kingdom (cf., e.g., Ephesians 2:19). This core identity profoundly shaped their relationship with the Roman imperial culture, particularly its demand for expressions of allegiance through religious practices. In Roman society, offering sacrifices to the state gods, including the deified emperors, was not merely a religious act but a fundamental demonstration of loyalty and "patriotism." It was a visible affirmation of one's place within the Roman order and a recognition of its divine favor. Consequently, the refusal by Christians (and also Jews) to participate in these rituals was not interpreted as a difference in religious belief, but as an act of defiance against the empire itself, akin to treason. By denying the divinity of Roman gods and emperors, Christians were seen as rejecting the very foundations of Roman society and its divinely sanctioned authority. This refusal to participate in the imperial cult, rooted in their identity as citizens of a heavenly realm, led to the paradoxical accusation of atheism — not because they lacked belief in a divine power, but because they denied the existence and authority of the Roman pantheon, the very gods that were believed to protect and legitimize the empire.
The price of piety
The burgeoning Christian faith in the early centuries of the Roman Empire had consequences that extended beyond the purely religious sphere, significantly impacting the economic fabric of Roman cities, villages, and rural districts.
A compelling illustration of this can be found in the correspondence between Pliny the Younger, governor of Bithynia and Pontus, and Emperor Trajan in the early second century. Pliny noted with concern a marked decline in the demand for sacrificial animals in regions with a significant Christian presence, indicating a direct economic impact on those involved in the rearing and sale of such livestock:
For this contagious superstition is not confined to the cities only, but has spread through the villages and rural districts; it seems possible, however, to check and cure it [through the persecution and execution of Christian dissidents]. ’Tis certain at least that the temples, which had been almost deserted, begin now to be frequented; and the sacred festivals, after a long intermission, are again revived; while there is a general demand for sacrificial animals, which for some time past have met with but few purchasers.[9]
This real-world observation echoes earlier accounts found within Christian scripture itself, such as the uproar among silversmiths in Ephesus whose livelihoods depended on the production and sale of idols of Artemis (Acts 19:23-41). As Christianity spread and its adherents refused to participate in traditional pagan rituals, the associated economic activities — from the sale of sacrificial offerings and incense to the crafting of idols and the maintenance of temples — experienced a downturn. This economic disruption inevitably created opposition to Christians from various segments of Roman society, including merchants, artisans, and even local leaders whose revenues were tied to the traditional religio-political economy. The perceived threat to their livelihoods, alongside the theological and political challenges posed by the new faith, contributed significantly to the growing animosity and persecution faced by early Christians within the Roman Empire.
No mere bow: The sacrificial demands of the imperial cult
The early Christian refusal to "bow down" to the emperor was not simply a matter of declining a gesture of political homage or respect. The Roman imperial cult demanded something far more profound: worship. Emperors and imperial officials actively sought religious adoration, blurring the lines between political allegiance and divine veneration. This is starkly illustrated in the above-cited letter exchanged between Pliny the Younger and Emperor Trajan. Pliny described his practice of testing suspected Christians by forcing them to repeat a sacred formula invoking the Roman gods, to offer wine and incense before a statue of the emperor and images of other deities, and crucially, to curse Christ. Failure to comply resulted in capital punishment.[10]
These acts were not mere demonstrations of civic loyalty; they were explicit acts of religious worship directed towards Roman gods and the emperor as a divine figure. Similarly, the account of Polycarp's martyrdom reveals the same demand. He was ordered to swear by Caesar, a form of religious oath, and to denounce his "atheism" — his refusal to acknowledge the Roman gods. I here below will quote this at some length as it illustrates the coercion of the Roman empire and resolve of early Christians:
[Polycarp] was met by Herod, the chief of police, and his father Nicetas. They had him transferred to their carriage and, seated at his side, tried to win him over.
“Really,” they said, “what harm is there in saying ‘Lord Caesar,’ and offering incense”—and what goes with it—“and thus being saved?”
At first he did not answer them; but when they persisted, he said: “I am not going to do what you counsel me.”
. . .
So when he had been led up [to the arena], the proconsul questioned him whether he was Polycarp, and, when he admitted the fact, tried to persuade him to deny the faith.
He said to him, “Respect your age,” and all the rest they were accustomed to say; “swear by the Fortune of Caesar; change your mind; say, ‘Away with the atheists!’ ”
But Polycarp looked with a stern mien at the whole rabble of lawless heathen in the arena; he then groaned and, looking up to heaven, said, with a wave of his hand at them: “Away with the atheists!”
When the proconsul insisted and said: “Take the oath and I will set you free; revile Christ,” Polycarp replied: “For six and eighty years I have been serving Him, and He has done no wrong to me; how, then, dare I blaspheme my King who has saved me!”
But he again insisted and said: “Swear by the Fortune of Caesar.”
He answered: “If you flatter yourself that I shall swear by the Fortune of Caesar, as you suggest, and if you pretend not to know me, let me frankly tell you: I am a Christian! If you wish to learn the teaching of Christianity, fix a day and let me explain.”
“Talk to the crowd,” the procounsul next said.
“You,” replied Polycarp, “I indeed consider entitled to an explanation; for we have been trained to render honor, in so far as it does not harm us, to magistrates and authorities appointed by God; but as to that crowd, I do not think it proper to make an appeal to them.”
“Well,” said the procounsul, “I have wild beasts, and shall have you thrown before them if you do not change your mind.”
“Call for them,” he replied; “to us a change from better to worse is impossible; but it is noble to change from what is evil to what is good.”
Again he said to him: “If you make little of the beasts, I shall have you consumed by fire unless you change your mind.”
“The fire which you threaten,” replied Polycarp, “is one that burns for a little while, and after a short time goes out. You evidently do not know the fire of the judgment to come and the eternal punishment, which awaits the wicked. But why do you delay? Go ahead; do what you want.”[11]
Notice that Polycarp is recorded as explicitly stating that Christians had "been trained to render honor, in so far as it does not harm us, to magistrates and authorities appointed by God." This was no mere bow that he (and other early Christians) were being asked to do. Polycarp's steadfast refusal to perform these acts of worship, not just to offer a polite gesture, ultimately led to his execution.
These examples underscore that the conflict was not about a simple refusal to acknowledge the emperor's earthly authority, but a fundamental clash over the exclusive worship due to the one true God, a demand that placed early Christians in direct opposition to the religious foundations of the Roman imperial system.
Allegiance to Christ, not class struggle
The question raises the concern that some modern Marxist authors interpret early Christian refusal to worship the emperor as a form of proto-Marxist resistance against a national ruler in favor of their "spiritual king" Jesus. While early Christians certainly held a deep allegiance to Christ as their Lord and King, framing their resistance solely through a Marxist lens is misguided.
But before examining the potential for "political" interpretations, it's crucial to acknowledge a significant shift in modern biblical studies. The long-held Western scholarly assumption of a clear separation between "religion" and "politics" in the ancient world is increasingly seen as anachronistic, particularly in the context of the Middle East. Rather than distinct spheres, these aspects were deeply intertwined in the Roman Empire. Therefore, while exploring potential political dimensions of early Christian resistance, we must avoid imposing modern, rigid categories onto a context where religion and politics were inherently interconnected.
Applying a nineteenth-century Marxist lens, focused on industrial capitalism and class struggle, to early Christian resistance against emperor worship is anachronistic. The first-century Roman world, based on slavery and agrarianism, lacked these concepts. More importantly, the core of Christian objection was theological: their monotheistic faith prohibited the idolatrous worship of any human, including the emperor. While their stance had social and political effects, the primary motivation was religious fidelity, not a materialist revolution. The New Testament emphasizes spiritual transformation and God's kingdom: "we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places" (Ephesians 6:12, NKJV). This indicates early Christians had a spiritual, not a Marxist, understanding of their struggle. Thus, interpreting their refusal as Marxist resistance imposes a modern framework onto a distinct historical and theological context.
Faithfulness to Christ over fealty to the emperor
In conclusion, the early Christian refusal to "bow down" to the emperor stemmed from a multifaceted objection rooted in their core theological convictions. The evolving Roman imperial cult, with its emperors claiming or being ascribed divinity, demanded not mere respect but outright worship, a practice directly violating the Christians' monotheistic faith. The appropriation of the title kyrios, a sacred designation for God in Jewish and Christian scriptures, by Roman emperors (not to mention many other titles used by Christians for Jesus) created an irreconcilable conflict of allegiance.
In the context of an empire which was organized as a strictly hierarchical, autocratic structure, a structure embodied by the absolute ruler who claimed and was hailed to be ‘the Father of the Fatherland’, Saviour, Peacemaker etc., the mere claim to call no one ‘father’ except God, and to proclaim another Saviour or a peace other than the peace and justice of Rome was an act of resistance to the dominant and dominating imperial order.[12]
While the Apostle Paul advocated for submission to earthly authorities, his teaching implicitly positioned rulers as God's servants, not divine beings themselves. Furthermore, the early Christians' identity as citizens of a heavenly kingdom placed their ultimate loyalty beyond the earthly realm, leading to their refusal to participate in the religiously charged acts of the imperial cult deemed essential for Roman "patriotism," thus earning them the charge of atheism. This principled stand against idolatry also had tangible economic consequences, creating opposition from those whose livelihoods depended on the traditional pagan practices. Ultimately, the early Christian resistance was not a proto-Marxist uprising against political authority, but a deeply held theological stance against the worship of any being other than the one true God, a conviction exemplified in the Old Testament by figures like Daniel and consistently upheld by Christians like Polycarp, even unto death.
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Kathy Ehrensperger, Paul and the Dynamics of Power: Communication and Interaction in the Early Christ-Movement, ed. Mark Goodacre, vol. 325, Library of New Testament Studies (London; New York: T&T Clark, 2007), 9. ↩︎
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M. Tullius Cicero, The Orations of Marcus Tullius Cicero, Literally Translated by C. D. Yonge, B. A., ed. C. D. Yonge (Medford, MA: Henry G. Bohn, York Street, Covent Garden., 1856), 452 (Pro Flacco 69). ↩︎
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Donald L. Jones, “Roman Imperial Cult,” in The Anchor Yale Bible Dictionary, ed. David Noel Freedman (New York: Doubleday, 1992), 806. ↩︎
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Dale T. Irvin and Scott W. Sunquist, History of the World Christian Movement: Earliest Christianity to 1453, vol. 1 (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2007), 43–44. ↩︎
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Jones, “Roman Imperial Cult,” in The Anchor Yale Bible Dictionary, 807. ↩︎
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Irvin & Sunquist, History of the World Christian Movement, 44. ↩︎
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David A. deSilva, “Ruler Cult,” in Dictionary of New Testament Background: A Compendium of Contemporary Biblical Scholarship (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2000), 1029. ↩︎
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Irvin & Sunquist, History of the World Christian Movement, 69. ↩︎
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Pliny, Letters, Vols. 1 & 2, ed. T. E. Page et al., trans. William Melmoth, vol. 2, The Loeb Classical Library (London; New York: William Heinemann; The Macmillan Co., 1931), 405 (Book X, Letter XCVI to the Emperor Trajan). ↩︎
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Pliny, Letters, vol. 2, 401–405 (Book X, Letter XCVI to the Emperor Trajan). ↩︎
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Johannes Quasten and Joseph C. Plumpe, eds., The Didache, The Epistle of Barnabas, The Epistles and the Martyrdom of St. Polycarp, The Fragments of Papias and The Epistle to Diognetus, trans. James A. Kleist, 6th ed., Ancient Christian Writers (New York; Mahwah, NJ: The Newman Press, 1948), 93–95. ↩︎
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Ehrensperger, Paul and the Dynamics of Power, 10–11. ↩︎
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