Miracles convert! Whether they happen or not. That’s been my thesis in this thread. And now I keep piling on the evidence. (See my book Triumph of Christianity. [Simon and Schuster])
In addition to such legendary tales of apostolic adventures, we have two narratives from the early centuries that describe missionary activities of later evangelists, one active in the third Christian century and one in the fourth. Even though these are presented as ostensibly historical accounts, they more easily align themselves with “tales of a holy person” known as “hagiography” – a highly pious and legendary kind of writing that celebrates the miraculous deeds of a Christian saint.
The Life of Gregory the Wonderworker
The third-century figure of Gregory “Thaumaturgus,” that is, the “Wonderworker,” is known to us from a biographical sketch produced over a century after his death by a namesake, Gregory of Nyssa (335-394 CE). Gregory of Nyssa was a major theologian in the Christian church, most famous for his contributions to the ongoing discussions centered on the doctrine of the Trinity. His narrative of the Wonderworker shows how in the fourth-century imagination, the earlier conversion of the pagan masses came through clear and compelling demonstrations of divine power. The God of the Christians routed the gods of the pagans in a series of direct confrontations. The Life declares that whereas Gregory could find only seventeen Christians when he arrived in New Caesearea, a city in the region of Pontus (northern Turkey), when he completed his missionary campaigns only seventeen pagans remained.

The account’s first episode provides a foretaste of what is to come. The entire region is said to have been filled with pagan temples, altars, and idols. When Gregory arrives, a violent rain storm forces him to enter a pagan temple. It is filled with the filthy stench of sacrifices, and he purifies it by making the sign of the cross and invoking the name of Christ, putting the terror of God into the resident demons – that is, the pagan gods. Gregory spends the night in the temple saying prayers and singing hymns. The next morning, when the custodian of the temple arrives, the demons appear to him and inform him that they are now barred from the temple. He is furious with Gregory, but the saint tells him that his God has the power to order the pagan demons at will.
The temple custodian asks for proof, so Gregory tears off a piece of paper and writes a command to the demons: “Gregory to Satan, Enter!” [1] The custodian places the message on the altar, and only then is he able to perform his customary sacrifices. “When these things happened he began to grasp the fact that Gregory possessed a divine power, by which he appeared to have overwhelming superiority over the demons.” He asks for a further demonstration of divine power and the saint is more than happy to comply. Outside the temple is a large boulder, far too heavy for a human to lift. Gregory orders it to move. It levitates on its own and glides through the air to settle in another place. “When this had happened, the man straightaway believed in the word, and left everything (including his family) to follow Gregory.” The Life explicitly states that “he was converted to the true God,” not “by some sound or word,” but by the great miracle.
That was just the beginning. Soon, “the inhabitants of the town poured out en masse as to some account of a new marvel, and all were eager to see who that Gregory is who, though a human being, has power like an emperor over those whom they deemed gods, apparently able to order the demons to and fro like slaves wherever he might will.” By the end of Gregory’s impressive displays of divine power, virtually the entire region converts.
The Life of Martin of Tours
Within about twenty years of Gregory of Nyssa’s description of the remarkable missionary endeavors of the Wonderworker, the Christian writer Sulpicius Severus (355-420 CE) produced an account of another missionary saint, Martin of Tours, in Gaul, modern France. In this case, however, the subject was a contemporary of the author. He was, in fact, his spiritual mentor. Sulpicius claims he based his narrative on personal interviews with the saint.
Here too we find numerous accounts of amazing deeds, as Martin is empowered by God to cast out demons and raise the dead. But it was the miracle of a falling pine tree that converted the masses.
Martin is said to have come to a village with a pagan temple, and to have begun to chop down a sacred tree, because, he maintains, it is dedicated to the resident demon. A crowd of pagans gathers and objects to his proceeding – naturally enough, as it is a desecration of their sacred site. After an angry exchange, one of crowd offers to chop down the massive tree if Martin agrees to stand beneath it to see if he can avoid being crushed. Martin is not one to back down from a challenge. He stands beneath the tree, the pagans cut it down, it begins to fall with a loud crash, but before it can land on the saint, he makes the sign of the cross, and then “you would have thought it had been repelled by a kind of tornado. The tree fell in a different direction, so that it almost flattened the country men who had been standing all around the place.” The miraculous aversion of disaster has its desired effect. “It was agreed that on that day, salvation had come to those regions. For there was almost no one from that immense multitude of pagans who did not believe in the Lord Jesus, and who did not renounce the impiety of their error.”[2]
As Martin travels around from one village to another, destroying more pagan temples, the miracles continue to occur. In one place the villagers stand by helplessly as he tears their sacred place down to the foundation, smashes its altars, and reduces the idols “to dust.” Once he is finished, the pagans realize they had been frozen in place and unable to move, transfixed by a divine power to prevent them from interfering with the man of God. As a result: “Nearly all of them believed in the Lord Jesus, claiming openly and confidently that they should worship the God of Martin and forsake the idols that had been unable to assist either them or others.”
[1] Gregory of Nyssa, “On the Life and Wonders of Our Father Among the Saints, Gregory the Wonderworker.” I have used the translation of Michael Slusser, Fathers of the Church: St. Gregory Thaumaturgus Life and Works (Washington DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1998).
[2] “Life of St. Martin,” 13.8-9. I have used the translation of Richard J. Goodrich in Ancient Christian Writers. Suplicius Severus: The Complete Works (New York: Newman Press, 2015).
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Interesting use of GRAND and MOMENTUS (my adjectives) miracles. Contrast with modern day small miracles I’ve heard people cite, i.e. “Oh, god provided that parking space for me.”
In his book Crucifixion, Martin Hengel cites Roman sources that some crucified people were viewed as overcoming their humiliating death and crucifiers. GRAND miracles. Although this view is not found in Greek culture.
Accepting this Roman ‘Overcoming’ theme (my terminology) this seems exactly how the gospel authors portray Jesus’ death and resurrection.
Two part question: First, could this be a reasonable parallel used by the gospel authors, particularly Mark, portraying Jesus as overcoming his death by crucifixion?
Second, would ordinary, i.e. unlettered, people have understood such ‘overcoming’ meaning and therefore understood this story basis as consistent with known crucified Roman figures?
If so, could help explain how hearers of the crucifixion and resurrection stories also accepted Jesus being removed from the cross, buried, stone rolled away, Jesus resurrected, etc. even though the reality was so different, i.e. Hegel also provides multiple sources confirming crucified victims were not removed but were food for crows, vultures and wild dogs, etc.
Thoughts? I know I packed a lot in this comment. Sorry.
I can’t remember what Hengel means by that, but we don’t have accounts of people who died by crucifixion returning to life otherwise. And yes, the only accounts we have of crucified victims are of them being left on their crosses for a time.
Dr. Bart Ehrman:
Forgiveness:
Daughter did something bad.
She repented.
I forgave her.
Atonement:
Instead of forgiveness, he tells her:
I need to kill your kitten, Tammy. Then, we will be fine.
Steefen:
If the Father kills Tammy, he will bring Tammy back to life. [Not atonement, then.]
C.J. Cornthwaite:
There is atonement in the Temple (Sadducees).
Steefen:
Atonement in the Temple is all of the sacrificed animals.
C.J. Cornthwaite:
Jesus teaches there is forgiveness outside of the Temple (atonement is unnecessary).
Christians override Jesus and say Jesus is atonement for the sins of the world which is exactly what he never taught.
Dr. Bart Ehrman:
Yea…God doesn’t need sacrifices.
Steefen:
Thank you Bart. Thank you for pointing out the contradiction. So, ignore the faulty interpretation of Jesus’ death. ( 1) resurrection takes away atonement 2) the Father only forgives )
= = =
Forgiveness vs atonement? There is also crime and punishment.
Forgive the sins of the world, atone for the sins of the world, punish the criminals.
QUESTION: Was Jesus’ death atonement or punishment?
The world did not commit a crime against Jewish authority. Jesus committed that crime.
Jesus’ death was punishment.
In light of yesterday’s encyclical about AI, I have to make the connection: the strongest supporters of AI are predicting miracles from AI, such as a cure for cancer.
Please God, so to say…
Miracles happen! I prayed to Saint Anthony to help me find my lost car keys and I found them. So there!
Hey, what more does one need to say??
How would you explain why Christian miracle claims successfully won over the ancient world, while similar claims from groups like the cult of Glycon, the followers of Atargatis, or mystics like Apollonius of Tyana ultimately fizzled out? Additionally, how much weight should we give to early Christian martyrdom for its spread? Or their reputation for charity, generosity, and kindness?
That’s my point. These other stories may have converted people to follow other pagan gods, but they didn’t contribute to the demise of paganism. Only an exclusivistic religion could do that. It’s the *combination* of evangelism based on miracles and exclusivism that can lead to a massive change in religoius perspective.
So you’re saying that, unlike most ancient religions, early Christianity operated something like a one-way valve. People could enter the movement, but its demand for exclusive fidelity made it much more difficult to leave or simply blend Christian beliefs with other religious systems. At the same time, Christianity’s strengths acted like a pump, continually driving growth. Reports of miracles, care for the poor and sick, strong community bonds, a compelling message of hope, the example of martyrs willing to die for their convictions, and an effective communication network stretching across the empire all helped attract and retain converts.
In other words, Christianity’s exclusivity, universal accessibility, and appeal across ethnic and social boundaries produced a steady stream of new converts. Yet its greatest advantage may have been that once they became part of the movement they abandoned their former beliefs and relatively few people left. So its success was driven not only by conversion, but by an unusually low rate of defection? And over time this snuffed out paganism?
The rate of defection is not a hugely significant factor so long as it wsa not significantly close to the rate of conversion. I’d say it would be hard to call it an “unusually” low rate for Christians, since there is no way to calculate, or even really to imagine, defection from Greek and Roman religions generally. Deciding to worship Apollo didn’t ever mean abandoning the worship of Zeus.
You say here ‘As a result (of a miracle): “Nearly all of them believed in the Lord Jesus, claiming openly and confidently that they should worship the God of Martin and forsake the idols that had been unable to assist either them or others.”
What would this ‘believing in the Lord Jesus’ entail? Would they just accept that ‘this God’ was very powerful and worship him in the same way as they followed the pagan gods or would they have accepted all the doctrine that accrued to belief in Jesus? Do these accounts which you cite go on to speak of the miracle worker preaching and teaching the converts? Do we know what Christian beliefs they held? Thanks
Ah, tha’ts a hugely important question, and one that can’t be answered, since for different “Christians” being a “Christian” meant (and means) different things. But in the ancient context, it at least involved the belief that there is only one God, Jesus is his son, and somehow he brought salvation. And the salvation did not involve sacrifices and prayers to other gods, but only, in some sense, following/believing in Jesus.
Thank you for your answer to my question re what would those converting having seen a miracle do and believe when worshipping Jesus. In some measure my query was linked to what we read elsewhere in NT when we find that a person ‘and all his household’ convert.
We see this with the jailer at Philippi (Acts 16:31–34) and Cornelius (Acts 10). Lydia is baptised “and her household as well.” (Acts 16:15), Crispus “believed in the Lord, together with his entire household.”
(Acts 18:8). Also, Paul mentions baptising the household of Stephanas in 1Corinthians 1:16.
Do you not find this rather suspect? It prompts me to ask if you think these people REALLY accepted Christianity and if we have any evidence which allows us to count those swayed by a miracle as true members of the faith? Thanks
Yes, I agree that it’s unlikely that these “households” came to “believe” in any actual sense right away. Presumably they hadn’t even heard about Jesus yet! But in the ancient world the head of a household established which religion(s) would be followed, and the other family members fell into line. My sense is that if the jailer, e.g., got rid of all the household gods and required his family to attend the Christian community’s activities instead of pagan ones, over time they would indeed become Christian “believers” in the sense of really believing it.
Great comments everyone. I think three other factors need to be considered.
First, magic, superstition and a naive psychology were pervasive during that time. By naive psychology I mean relating events that aren’t really connected because people just believed they should be connected. Constantine believing that the Christian god helped his soldiers win the battle of Milvian bridge is an ancient example. Finding car keys because one prayed for that is a modern example. Note: Cause and effect for either can’t be demonstrated.
Second, even more so than Judaism, Christians were encouraged to associate, pray, share, read or listen to someone read uplifting faith stories, etc. Psychologically and emotionally this strengthened people’s personal commitment – even as church attendance, fellowships, etc. do today.
Third, and this relates to an exclusivistic religion, moving from proto-orthodox to orthodox and a formal church authority structure. The church became the exclusive authority to tell people what to believe and how to pattern their belief behavior.
Question about the wedding at Cana.
Decades ago now Dr. Robert Gundry explained to our Johannine Lit class that the miracle of turning water to wine was really a metaphor, i.e. changing Jewish ceremonial water to the best wine: the ceremonial water represented the old and stale Jewish religious state while Jesus’ message represented a refreshed, superior and true belief system.
Most people think of this story as a true miracle rather than understanding the evident message and I have not read the metaphor explanation in any articles or texts. Admittedly Dr. Gundry’s explanation was a looong time ago.
Question: Any references that corroborate this story as a metaphor rather than a true miracle?
Bob Gundry was a terrific NT scholar, and often in trouble with his fellow evangelicals for his views (especially because of his commentary on matthew). In this case he is trying to “save” the text from relating a “miracle” that (in his judgment) (and most virtually all other critical scholars) didn’t actually happen, by saying that John was presenting it as a metaphor rather htan a historical event. I don’t see a single think ih the text itself or in its ancient history of interpreation that would suggest that view. I think he just wanted to keep and treasure the passage while realizing that it didn’t actually happen.
I can say from earlier in my life that the most convincing current outcomes from these miracle stories happen because Christians only hear of Christian miracles—the more fantastic, the better. What else is there that could compare? After studying Buddhism for over a decade, I can tell you that Buddhist hagiographies are full of miracle stories. I can only assume that most traditional religions are similarly adorned with the fantastic. I don’t doubt that unexplained things occasionally occur, or that the mind may have generally unrecognized potentials, but things that might fall into that category are unlikely to cause purported mass conversions.
Thanks and I agree with your characterization. He often held upper level classes evenings at his house. Great family. I am familiar with the travesty the Evangelical Theological Society committed by sanctioning him. My thought at the time was “WHAAATTT?”
I studied with his brother Stan at Moody Bible Institute. He introduced me to Kierkegaard! (Not a typical author for an MBI student to read!)
Kierkegaard: recollection family ties s6 e8. when Jennifer enquires.
20 years later when I talk to my older friend George in Hong Kong: he replies I am a Neanderthal!