In the turbulent years under the reign of Tiberius…
In the turbulent years under the reign of Tiberius, Christus, a man of notable reputation, suffered the ultimate penalty—crucifixion—at the hands of procurator Pontius Pilate. To the Roman populace, this figure's followers were deemed abominable, their practices hated and misunderstood. For a time, this fledgling movement was suppressed, but it soon rose again, spreading beyond its origins in Judaea to Rome itself—a city that often absorbed all manner of ideas, both hideous and wondrous, into its teeming culture.
Accounts of Christus paint him as a wise and virtuous man, lauded by his disciples, who came from both Jewish and other communities. Even after his crucifixion under Pilate's orders, these followers did not falter. They declared that Christus had appeared to them three days after his death, alive, fulfilling the prophecies of old.
The impact of this movement rippled through the Roman Empire. In one account, disturbances caused by the Jews at the instigation of a figure named Chrestus led to their expulsion from Rome. Elsewhere, informers identified individuals as Christians, some of whom denied their allegiance after years, recanting faiths they once held. Those accused described their practices: gathering before dawn to sing hymns to Christ, committing themselves to moral oaths—not to steal, rob, or betray trust. They refrained from criminal acts, but societal disdain toward them remained entrenched.
Throughout history, wisdom itself has been met with scorn and oppression. Socrates, unjustly executed by the Athenians, left behind a legacy of thought preserved by Plato. Pythagoras met fiery death at the hands of the Samians, only for his name to endure through philosophy and geometry. Similarly, the Jewish King, wise and revered by some, was killed, with his kingdom soon scattered across the nations. Each of these acts of injustice carried repercussions, whether famine, destruction, or displacement, yet the wisdom of these figures lived on. God's justice, it is said, ensured their influence persisted: Socrates through Plato's words, Pythagoras in the statue of Juno, and the Jewish King through the laws he established.
To this day, Christians revere the man who introduced their unique rites—Christ, crucified for his teachings. They hold to the conviction of immortality, emboldened by their belief, which fosters contempt for death and self-sacrifice. Their lawgiver instilled the notion of brotherhood among them, calling them to renounce Greek deities, worship the crucified sage, and live according to his principles.
Critics of this faith, such as Celsus, have sought to challenge its foundations. In dialogue, Celsus introduces a Jewish critic who questions the legitimacy of Christ's origins, arguing that his birth from a virgin was a fabrication. The critic paints a picture of Christ as the son of a poor woman cast out by her husband, a carpenter, for alleged infidelity. According to this narrative, Christ lived in obscurity, hired himself out as a servant in Egypt, and later returned to his homeland, having gained miraculous abilities admired by the Egyptians.
Amid these conflicting accounts, natural and supernatural events intertwine. A darkness blanketed the world during Christ's crucifixion, accompanied by earthquakes that rent rocks and brought destruction to regions in Judaea and beyond. Thallus, in the third book of his history, attempted to explain this darkness as a solar eclipse—an explanation that fails to account for the profoundness of the event.
