Tertullian · a new plain-English translation from the original language
[1] It happened just recently. A donative from our most gracious emperors was being distributed in camp, and the soldiers came forward wearing laurel crowns. One man was there, more truly a soldier of God, more steadfast than the rest of his brothers who had presumed they could serve two masters. He alone stood out, his head uncovered, his crown-garland idle in his hand -- for by now the custom of wearing it had spread even to Christians. [2] At once the others began pointing him out, jeering at him from a distance, gnashing their teeth at him up close. A murmur ran through them; word was carried to the tribune, and the man's identity along with it: he had, in fact, already stepped out of the ranks. The tribune at once demanded, "Why are you so differently dressed?" He replied that it was not lawful for him to do as the rest did. When pressed to explain, he declared, "I am a Christian." O soldier, glorious before God! From there the votes were cast, the case was blown up larger, and the defendant was brought before the prefects. [3] There on the spot he laid down his heavy military cloak, took his first taste of relief, unlaced the tight-fitting soldier's boot from his feet, and began to stand instead on holy ground; he handed back the sword, unnecessary anyway for the Lord's defense; and the laurel shone out of his hand for what it was. And now, flushed red with expectation of shedding his own blood, his feet fitted instead with the readiness of the gospel, girded about with the keener sword of God's word, armed from head to foot after the apostle's pattern, and crowned -- better than with laurel -- with the white wreath of martyrdom, he waits in prison for the gift Christ will give. [4] From there judgments were passed upon him -- I hardly know whether they were the judgments of Christians, for they were surely not those of pagans -- that he was reckless, headlong, eager to die, a man who, being merely asked about his dress, made trouble over a name; the only brave one, forsooth, among so many brother soldiers, the only Christian. Clearly it only remains for men who reject the prophecies of that same Holy Spirit to think of refusing martyrdoms too. [5] They mutter, in short, that so good and so long a peace is now put at risk on his account. And I do not doubt that some are already packing up the scriptures, gathering their bundles, girding themselves to flee from city to city. For that is the only memory of the gospel they trouble to keep. I know their shepherds too: lions in peacetime, deer in battle. But I will teach elsewhere on the subject of confessions. [6] For now, though, since they also raise this very objection -- "But where is it that wearing crowns stands forbidden?" -- I will attack the more local substance of the present case, so that those who ask out of anxious ignorance may be instructed, and those who press the point in defense of their own fault may be refuted -- Christians, of all people, wearing laurel, for whom this alone is in question, as if the offense they are undergoing an inquiry about could be either nonexistent or at least uncertain. That it is neither nonexistent nor uncertain I shall now show.