Buddhist Catholic Contemplative Evangelical General Christian Hindu Jewish Latter-day Saint Muslim New Visions Progressive Christian

Beliefs

Topics

Columnists

Resource Library

Research Tools

Video

Podcasts

Thought Readers

Faith In Media Tracker

Newsletters

Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In Subscription Support

Follow Patheos

Home
Evangelical
BRITAIN, AFRICA, AND THE END OF ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY

BRITAIN, AFRICA, AND THE END OF ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY

Last updated on: January 25, 2013 at 3:20 am by Philip Jenkins

BRITAIN, AFRICA, AND THE END OF ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY 2013-01-22T15:01:56-04:00 Philip Jenkins

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

I have recently been discussing the destruction of the church that flourished in Roman Britain up through the fifth century. Historians differ greatly on how far they think the fifth and sixth centuries marked a major change of population in the country, or at least the south and east of the island – what became southern and eastern England. In my view, the old society really was devastated, and the best argument for that is the linguistic transformation. Neither Latin nor Celtic British shows the slightest signs of survival in these regions, which spoke Germanic Anglo-Saxon, and later English. If genocide in any modern sense was far beyond the technologies of the time, we are nevertheless thinking of harsh subjection.

I have been trying to find analogies to this situation elsewhere in the Roman world at the time, and I think one region in particular does offer important comparisons, namely North Africa. In particular, it does suggest how a religious structure and system could be utterly destroyed, without necessarily imagining a wholesale annihilation of populations. If any earlier scholar has ever compared the end of Roman Britain with that of Roman Africa, I am not aware of it – but the comparison is useful, especially for the critical role of language as a vehicle of religious belief.

To begin with the obvious point, Christianity was well established in Roman Britain by c.400, and it had a solid institutional structure. There were four metropolitans – at London, York, Lincoln and Cirencester – and perhaps twenty or more territorial bishops below them, based in the capitals of each civitas. Judging by the few material goods that survive, this church was wealthy, and it was intellectually lively enough to generate an influential heresy in Pelagianism. There were also substantial Christian landed elites.

Historians can argue at length about the nature of the transformation that occurred after the formal end of Roman rule. Perhaps the catastrophes described by some early authors weren’t so bad as rumored; perhaps there was continuity in this town or that region; perhaps here and there we see ancient British people surviving. What we cannot deny, though, is that the old episcopal structure was definitely not in existence by the end of the sixth century.

Originally, when Pope Gregory the Great in the 590s sent his mission to Anglo-Saxon England under Augustine, he envisioned setting up something like the old imperial Roman structure, with metropolitans at London and York, each presiding over a dozen bishops. However, at no point did Augustine encounter any surviving bishops or episcopal structure in the south and east of the island. (They certainly flourished in Wales and the western parts). If Augustine had met or even heard of bishops in (say) London, Lincoln, Leicester, Canterbury, Winchester, Silchester or Colchester, he might not have enjoyed the encounter, but he assuredly would have mentioned them, as they would have played such an important part in Gregory’s long-term scheme.

The lack of bishops in the south and east demands attention. Noting the low intensity of major Anglo-Saxon remains in some regions, scholars have suggested that enclaves of British population might have continued fairly unmolested in some areas, including London, Lincoln, St. Alban’s and the Chilterns. But if that was the case – and, more important, if these communities were still Christian – where were their bishops? When in 603 Augustine of Canterbury wanted to meet British bishops, he traveled to a conference at Aust near Bristol, a convenient gathering place for Wales and the West Country. He evidently did not hold a similar conference in London or Lincoln, presumably because there was nobody to meet there.

We are not dealing with some kind of Roman-orchestrated conspiracy of silence. British populations might have survived the onset of the Anglo-Saxons in fair numbers, and isolated Christian communities might have continued, but the institutional church – the episcopate – had perished. And that was critical, in a way that might not be appreciated by modern adherents of decentralized or non-hierarchical churches. In the context of early Christianity, the lack of bishops meant that the church itself had ceased to exist. Among other things, it meant the absence of any capacity to ordain clergy, and to maintain the liturgy.

By far the most likely date for the end of the old structure is the mid-late fifth century, following the wars and plagues that began in the 440s, and which may have continued for some decades. Although it is a guess, I suspect that the old roster of bishops and their sees would have ceased to function by, say, 470. At some point in this era, there would have been a cadre of men who would have been the last incumbents of their particular sees.

As I have written elsewhere, these crises would have meant that cities, bishops and the Latin language perished together. Britain’s great sixth century Latin author was Gildas, who would have been born around 500, but we know that he learned his language as an academic subject in a school or monastery, not as a spoken vernacular. The obvious lesson is that British Latin must have been close to extinct by that point.

Very significantly, moreover, we see no effort by surviving Christians to erect any new kind of episcopal structure. Now, the fact that old Roman towns had faded away meant that it made little sense to try and restore an episcopate in fading centers like Calleva Atrebatum (Silchester) or Venta Icenorum (near Norwich). But if Christianity survived in southern and eastern England, why did surviving priests and laity not restore the episcopal structure, even if that meant sending envoys to Gaul or Spain for assistance? If they did make any such effort, it failed utterly because, as I have said, Augustine did not report finding bishops in the south and east. Either the surviving British in southern and eastern England were too poor and oppressed to contemplate any such effort; or else the faith no longer functioned.

For me, this lack of bishops is decisive evidence that Christianity no longer functioned in southern and eastern Britain by the late sixth century, or if it did, it was at the most rudimentary level, with vague memories of some shrines and martyr-sites, such as St. Alban’s. What we have here is a classic example of the destruction of a church. The process would have taken around a century, from c.450 to c.550.

And that brings me to the experience of Roman Africa, the region that we would call Tunisia and coastal Algeria, where a thriving Christianity also ceased to exist. (I base the following on my 2008 book The Lost History of Christianity).

In its day, the African church had been one of the wonders of the Christian world. Latin Christian traditions developed in Carthage rather than Rome, and Africa was the home of such great early leaders as Tertullian, Cyprian, and Augustine. By the late fifth century, North Africa had an astonishing five or six hundred bishoprics, while monasteries were a familiar part of the local social landscape. Even after long struggles between rival Christian sects, North Africa in the century after 560 was a potent center of spiritual, literary and cultural activity.

Yet within fifty years of the completion of the Arab conquest in 698, local Muslim rulers were apologizing to the Caliphs that they could no longer supply Christian slaves, since Christians were now so scarce. Most sequences of bishops end suddenly, and even in the few surviving sees, we find gaps of decades or centuries at a time. Long centuries of darkness are illuminated only briefly, as when a tenth century pope consecrated a new Archbishop of Carthage, but it is far from clear how many bishops survived within his province. And although isolated Christian communities of African Christians (Afariqa) do appear in the eleventh or twelfth centuries, there little evidence of a semi-tolerated Christian presence continuing little noticed, away in the boondocks. For all intents and purposes, though, North African Christianity had largely perished centuries before – mainly between 650 and 750.

African Latin also faded fast, and eventually disappeared as thoroughly as it did in England.

Some of the reasons that a modern observer might identify as causes of the African church’s decline need not necessarily have been fatal. In the fifth and sixth centuries, African Christians had suffered appalling sectarian divisions between various groups, each denouncing the others as heretics. Orthodox Catholics faced puritanical Donatists, Vandal Arians, and insurgent peasant Circumcelliones, and dominant factions were not shy about enforcing their rule through blood and terror. Yet such a statement could equally well be made about most other regions of the late Roman world, including Syria and Mesopotamia, where some churches at least took the coming of Islam in their stride. Indeed, we might take the depth of partisanship as a measure of the passion that believers felt about their religion, making it all the more unlikely that they would renounce it overnight. And the Muslim conquerors had no interest whatever in persecuting Christians as such.

Where the African church failed was in not carrying Christianity beyond the Romanized inhabitants of the cities and the great estates, and not sinking roots into the world of the native peoples. Like most regions of the western empire, such as Gaul and Spain, Africa was divided between Latin-speaking provincials and old-stock natives, who spoke their ancient languages, in this case, varieties of Berber. Unlike these other provinces, though, the African church had made next to no progress in taking the faith to the villages and the neighboring tribes, and nor, critically, had they tried to evangelize in local languages. Evidence of the neglect of the countryside can be found in the letters of St. Augustine, by far the best known of African bishops, whose vision was sharply focused on the cities of Rome and Carthage, and he expressed little interest in the rural areas or peoples of his diocese. (In contrast, the Egyptian church did make such efforts, and it rode out the Arab conquest without too much difficulty).

If Africa’s Christian elites had remained in place long enough, then ultimately their faith, and their language, would have permeated the cultures of the lower classes. But the lack of deep roots meant that Christianity was vulnerable to a sudden decapitation, which would remove the Christian upper classes while leaving no infrastructure. In that case, nothing would be left.

Christianity in this region remained as much a colonists’ religion as it would be once again during the French empire of the twentieth century, and just as in that later period, when the colonists left, so did the religion. Long wars during the sixth and seventh centuries forced many Romanized Africans to flee to other parts of the Mediterranean, and the Arab conquest virtually completed this process. As a Victorian scholar noted, ”the African churches were destroyed not because they were corrupt but because they failed to reach the hearts of the true natives of the province… They fell because they were the churches of a party and not of a people.” Muslims did not have to eradicate African Christianity, because the believers had already fled.

I wonder whether similar remarks apply to Roman Britain, especially the point about decapitation. In the western regions, like Wales and Dumnonia (Devon and Cornwall) Christian kings and secular elites survived long enough for their faith to penetrate the lower orders, particularly through the influence of monasteries and local shrines. These parts therefore entered the early Middle Ages with a thoroughly rooted Christian culture – albeit with plenty of pagan survivals.

In southern and eastern Britain, though, the crises of the fifth century came at too early a stage, when the faith had not yet traveled far outside the cities and the villas, and when as yet monasticism was still at a very rudimentary stage. As W.H.C. Frend pointed out many years ago, the British church seems not to have developed a serious parochial structure – although it is always hard to argue from silence. Assume, though, that this view is correct.

With the head struck off, then, the church’s roots withered quickly. Christianity would therefore have faded at roughly the same stage as British Latin, by the start of the sixth century

So yes, I do think the experiences of these two very distant parts of the Roman Empire do illuminate each other quite powerfully.

africa

Philip Jenkins

Augustine of Canterbury

destruction of churches

Previous Post

January 24, 2013

Anne Applebaum's The Iron Curtain

Next Post

January 27, 2013 Sunday Night Odds and Ends

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category abolitionism Abortion Abraham Joshua Heschel Abraham Kuyper Abraham Lincoln Academia Activism Adam Renberg Advent Adventist africa African American Religion Agnes Howard Albert Camus American History American Religious History American Revolution American West Anabaptists Ancient History Andrea Turpin Andrei Tarkovsky Anglicanism Annales Ansley Lillian Quiros anti-Catholicism Antisemitism Anxious Bench apologetics Apparitions Arash Azizi Archaeology archives art Artificial Intelligence Asia Asian Americans Augustine Authors Bad Bunny Baptism Baptists Barack Obama Battle of Hastings Benjamin Franklin Bernard-Henri Levy Beth Allison Barr Beth Moore Bethany Mannon Bible Bill Cunningham Billy Graham Black Music Bob Dylan Body Boenhoffer Books Breastfeeding Bruce Springsteen C.S. Lewis Calvinism Cancel Culture Capitalism Carmelites Catholicism Cedric Robinson Cesar Chavez Charismaticism charity Charles Dickens Charles Lindbergh Che Guevara Chicago Children Chinese Christianity Chris Gehrz Christ Christian death Christian Higher Education Christian life Christian Nation Christian Nationalism Christianity Today Christmas Church life Church Practice cinema Civil Religion Civil Rights Movement Civil War civility Classics Climate Change Cold War Colonial Mexico colonialism Comer Communism community complementarianism Conference on Faith and History Congregationalism Conspiracies Conspiracy Conversion Narratives Coronavirus Costa Rica Council of Nicaea Covid-19 Creation Critical Race Theory Crusades Culture culture wars Daniel K. Williams David Barton David Swartz Death Ways death with dignity DEI democracy Democratic Party Devotion Digital Age Diplomacy discipleship diversity Donald Trump Drama Dua Lipa Early Church early modern Early modern Catholicism Easter Eastern Christianity economic exploitation Education elections Elie Wiesel Elizabeth II Elizabeth Taylor emotions Empire Engineering England enslavement Entertainment Episcopal Church Erica Ramirez eschatology Eurocentrism Evangelicalism Evangelicals Exegesis Family Feminism Film Flannery O'Connor folk music Food Foreign Policy founding fathers Franciscans Franciscus Junius fundamentalism Funerals G.K. Chesterton Gender Genocide genre geography George W. Bush George Washington George Whitefield Global Christianity Global church Grief Guadalupe guest post Guest Post gun control gun violence Gustavo Gutierrez Hamid Dabashi Harold John Ockenga Harvest Hate Hawaiian Christianity Healing health care Heather Cox Richardson Hell Heresy Hermeneutics Higher Education Hinduism Hippocratic oath Historical Fiction Historical Methodology Historical Profession Historical Profession Historical Theology Historical Thinking historiography Holidays Holocaust horror movies Human rights Humanitarian Work humanities Hummingbirds Hungary hymns Imago Dei Immigration Injustice Interviews Iran Islam Islamophobia Israel Ivan's Childhood Jacob Randolph James Bratt Janine Giordano Drake Japanese history Japanese Literature Jean Paul Sartre Jesse Miranda Jesus Jesus Christ Jimmy Carter Joan Baez Joan Didion Joanne Freeman João B. Chaves Joao Chaves Joey Cochran John Calvin John Fea John Tillotson John Turner Johnny Cash Jonathan Edwards Jonathan Tran Joseph Smith Josh Howerton Journalism Jr. Judaism Jürgen Moltmann Just War Justice Justin Brierley Karl Barth Katelyn Beaty koi ponds Kris Kristofferson Kristin Kobes Du Mez Latin American Religious History Latino Americans Lectio Divina Leisure Lent Leonard Cohen liberal arts liberalism Liberation Theology Linda Ronstadt Lisa Clark Diller Literature Lou Reed Lynchings Lynneth Miller Renberg Mainline Protestantism Malcolm Foley Marilyn Monroe Maritime history Mark Noll Marriage Martin Luther Martin Luther King Martyrdom Marxism Mary Masih Alinejad mass shootings material culture medieval Christianity Medieval Ethiopia Melissa Borja memory Mennonites Mental Health Mental Illness Methodism Mexican Americans Mexicans Mike Madrid Miles Mullin Min Jin Lee Miscarriage Missionaries Mister Rogers Mitt Romney modernity Monasticism Mormonism Motherhood Mothers of the Church Moving Music Musicals Nadya Williams Nahua Christianity Native Americans Natsume Sōseki New Contributor New England New Year New York Nico Non-Violent Protest Orthodoxy pacifism Paleo Evangelicals Palestinians Parenting Patti Smith Paul Kingsnorth Pedro Calderón de la Barca Pentecostalism Philip Jenkins Phillis Wheatley physician-assisted suicide pilgrimage Pilgrims pluralism Plutocracy Poetry Politics Pope Francis Pope Leo XIV post-modernism prayer preaching Presbyterians prosperity gospel Protest Public history Publishing Puritans purity culture Quakers race Race Massacres Racial Capitalism racial reconciliation racialization Racism Raha Bahloulipour Re-Enchantment reading Reformation Refugees religion and the university religion and war Religious Freedom Religious Nones Religious Pluralism Religious Symbols religious violence Republican Party Revival Rita Coolidge Ritual Roger Williams Roman Catholic church Royalty Russell Moore same-sex marriage Sarah Irving-Stonebraker Scandinavia Science Science and Technology Scopes trial Scriptural Interpretation secularism Selena Quintanilla seminary Seventh-Day Adventists sexual morality Sexuality Sikhs Silence slaveholders theology Slavery Slavoj Zizek social justice Social Media Southern Baptist Convention Southern Religion Spain Spiritual Autobiography Spiritual but not religious Spiritual Discipline Sports Stanley Hauerwas Suffering Summer Camps Sunday Night Odds and Ends Supernatural Supreme Court Syriac Christianity Tal Howard Taylor Swift Teaching Technology Television Thanksgiving The Beatles The Mission theater TheoBros Theology Thomas Dixon Thomas Jefferson Thomas Kidd Thomas Merton Tim Gloege Tim Walz Tom Holland Tourism tradition Tragedy Translation Transnationalism Travel Trump Ukraine Uncategorized Unitarians United Methodist Church US History Vanessa Chan Velvet Underground Verónica A. Gutiérrez Veronica Gutierrez Vikings Violence Virgin Mary Virtue Virtue ethics Visions Voting War WCTU Wendell Berry Westminster Assembly White Evangelicalism Wildfires Winnie the Pooh Witches women Women in Ministry Women's and Gender Studies Work Worship writing Yasunari Kawabata Zena Hitz

Select a Month October 2026 September 2026 August 2026 July 2026 June 2026 May 2026 April 2026 March 2026 February 2026 January 2026 December 2025 November 2025 October 2025 September 2025 August 2025 July 2025 June 2025 May 2025 April 2025 March 2025 February 2025 January 2025 December 2024 November 2024 October 2024 September 2024 August 2024 July 2024 June 2024 May 2024 April 2024 March 2024 February 2024 January 2024 December 2023 November 2023 October 2023 September 2023 August 2023 July 2023 June 2023 May 2023 April 2023 March 2023 February 2023 January 2023 December 2022 November 2022 October 2022 September 2022 August 2022 July 2022 June 2022 May 2022 April 2022 March 2022 February 2022 January 2022 December 2021 November 2021 October 2021 September 2021 August 2021 July 2021 June 2021 May 2021 April 2021 March 2021 February 2021 January 2021 December 2020 November 2020 October 2020 September 2020 August 2020 July 2020 June 2020 May 2020 April 2020 March 2020 February 2020 January 2020 December 2019 November 2019 October 2019 September 2019 August 2019 July 2019 June 2019 May 2019 April 2019 March 2019 February 2019 January 2019 December 2018 November 2018 October 2018 September 2018 August 2018 July 2018 June 2018 May 2018 April 2018 March 2018 February 2018 January 2018 December 2017 November 2017 October 2017 September 2017 August 2017 July 2017 June 2017 May 2017 April 2017 March 2017 February 2017 January 2017 December 2016 November 2016 October 2016 September 2016 August 2016 July 2016 June 2016 May 2016 April 2016 March 2016 February 2016 January 2016 December 2015 November 2015 October 2015 September 2015 August 2015 July 2015 June 2015 May 2015 April 2015 March 2015 February 2015 January 2015 December 2014 November 2014 October 2014 September 2014 August 2014 July 2014 June 2014 May 2014 April 2014 March 2014 February 2014 January 2014 December 2013 November 2013 October 2013 September 2013 August 2013 July 2013 June 2013 May 2013 April 2013 March 2013 February 2013 January 2013 December 2012 November 2012 October 2012 September 2012 August 2012 July 2012 June 2012 May 2012

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz

Who was the first appointed deacon?

Select your answer to see how you score.

Barnabas Nicolas Philip Stephen