It is perhaps best to let Irenaeus, a contemporary bishop in southern France, introduce our next guest:
But Polycarp also was not only instructed by apostles, and conversed with many who had seen Christ, but was also, by apostles in Asia, appointed bishop of the church in Smyrna, whom I also saw in my early youth. For he tarried on earth a very long time, and, when a very old man, gloriously and most nobly suffering martyrdom, departed this life, having always taught the things which he had learned from the apostles, and which the Church hands down, which also alone are true.((Irenaeus, Adversus haereses, III.3.4 in Stevenson, A New Eusebius, 126.))
Irenaeus was making the argument that, unlike with recent heretical upstarts like Valentinus, Marcion, and their like, ‘orthodoxy’ was neither new, nor innovative, but a passing down of the traditions and teachings of the disciples. Polycarp was Irenaeus’ champion of truth.
Christianity, you see, had a bit of an awkward transition. Eventually the apostles — the real-life heroes or superstars of the earliest communities, traveling to and fro, proclaiming the man whom they had watched die and be resurrected as the current King — were passed. But many Christians had sat at their feet, bridging the gap of leadership and direction as the Christian movement adjusted to not being able to direct a letter to Peter, John, or James asking, ‘What exactly did Jesus say about such-and-such?’ These are the very individuals who had sat at the feet of Peter, John, and James and asked them just that (though with 2000 years between us, sometimes we wished they’d asked them a few additional questions that would aid us in sorting a few modern puzzles of our own). One of their number was Polycarp, probably born along the western coast of Asia Minor in the 60s — the decade which saw the deaths of James, Peter, Paul, and others and is remembered in Roman history as the terror of Nero, the ‘year of four emperors’, and the sacking of Jerusalem and destruction of the recently-completed Jewish Temple.
Here, it appears, in the bustling city of Ephesus, the apostle John remained active until his death at the close of the first century. He may be behind the Gospel of John, the letters bearing that name, and (less probably) Revelation — but his primary concern would have been for the sheep he cared for. Of his many grateful sheep, two are known: Papias and Polycarp.
At some point, Ignatius is elected (or selected) as the young bishop of Smyrna (near modern Izmir, just north of ancient Ephesus) — a town which lacking a letter from Paul, has faded mostly into obscurity, but it would have been anything but obscure as the influential and aging bishop left his mark. It was he, as a young bishop, who received a personal letter from Ignatius as he wound his way to martyrdom in Roma.
Polycarp’s own thoughts are captured in a letter (or perhaps two letters?) written to the community at Philippi (better known thanks to Paul’s warm letter to that city — which incidentally Polycarp references in chapter 11). The letters were apparently bundled with a collection of the letters of Ignatius of Antioch which the community at Philippi had specifically requested — a very bit of evidence in itself, suggesting the close camaraderie of the incipient Christian gatherings. (If only we could do better to follow such ideals…?)
The letter expresses an interest in combating heretical teachings (he had the gospel straight from John after all…), as well as encouraging remarks, borrowing heavily from (quite appropriately) 1 Peter
Stand fast, therefore, in these things, and follow the example of the Lord, being firm and unchangeable in the faith, loving the brotherhood, and being attached to one another, joined together in the truth, exhibiting the meekness of the Lord in your intercourse with one another, and despising no one. When you can do good, defer it not, becausealms delivers from death...Be all of you subject one to another. ((Polycarp, Philippians 10, at https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/0136.htm))
Thus, we can peak at Polycarp’s early life, but also a much later time, thirty or forty years later. Now, a respected bishop of Smyrna, he visits the magisterial Rome to visit with the bishop of Rome (or Pope) Anicetus. The apparently cordial meeting was to discuss the dating of Easter. Asia Minor (and Polycarp) clung to the Jewish dating of Passover on the fourteenth of the month of Nisan, whereas much of the rest of the Christian community was moving to a more familiar means of calculating the date, following the solar calendar. Most Christians, even if they had been ethnic Jews, no longer retained the cultural associations. Keeping the Hebrew calendar around to determine when Easter landed seemed unnecessary.
The church historian Eusebius writes ((in Historia ecclesiastike, V.24.16f; in Stevenson, A New Eusebius, 157)):
When the blessed Polycarp stayed at Rome in the time of Anicetus, although they had some trifling disagreements on other matters, they immediately made peace, nor did they care to quarrel on this head. For neither could Anicetus persuade Polycarp not to observe what he had always observed with John the disciple of our Lord and the other apostles with whom he consorted; nor yet did Polycarp persuade Anicetus to observe it, for he said that he ought to hold to the custom of the elders before him. And though such was the case they held communion with one another, and in the church Anicetus yielded the [celebration of the] Eucharist to Polycarp, manifestly out of respect. So they parted from one another in peace, and the whole Church was at peace, both they who observed and they who did not observe.
This reciprocity was not granted in the succeeding generations, as eventually the position held by Polycarp was deemed heretical.
The reasons for these decisions are not important here, for we shall follow the eighty-plus year old Bishop Polycarp on his return to Smyrna, where he is shortly martyred. A wonderful account of his martyrdom (with its typical ambiguity regarding fact and allegory) contains the immortal cry of the martyr:
Eighty and six years I have served Him, and He has done me no wrong…How then can I blaspheme my King and Savior? You threaten me with a fire that burns for a season, and after a little while is quenched; but you are ignorant of the fire of everlasting punishment that is prepared for the wicked.
Martyrdom of Polycarp
After Polycarp, Asia Minor retains importance in early Christianity, being the site selected((or, really close: the main city is on the European side, but much of the city sprawls into Asia Minor)) by Constantine in 324. All seven ecumenical councils were housed in this region with bishops traveling from across (and even outside) the Roman Empire.
The fourth century also saw the rise of the Cappadocian Fathers (discussed previously) and their working out of the doctrine of the Trinity; and John Chrysostom whose many works are only exceeded by Augustine.
Asia Minor continues as the center of Eastern Christianity (though Coptic Christians and ‘Oriental Orthodox’ may dispute that designation) even after the fall of Asia Minor and Constantinople to the Ottomans by the fifteenth century. Many churches and monasteries (including Hagia Sophia) were converted to mosques, but the region retained a thriving Christian minority until the twentieth century. The aftermath of the First World War with growing ethnic/nationalist tensions in the region led to the departure, deportation, or murder of many Christians who identified as Greek or Armenian.
Close to 400,000 Christians of various stripes remain in modern Turkey((https://www.pewforum.org/2015/04/02/religious-projection-table/2020/number/all/)), able to walk the streets where once, many years ago, their theological and religious forbearers sought to make sense of the life and teachings of a young prophet from Galilee. And it was to these men and women, whom the apostle Peter addressed a letter, and in which we too can turn our ears and participate in this larger story.