Tertullian, On the Crown 11

Before I take up the question of the military crown itself, I first have to investigate whether military service is compatible with Christianity at all. What is the point of debating the incidental details when the fault lies in the very foundation? Do we really think a human oath can override a divine one, or that we can serve another lord after Christ? Are we allowed to forsake father, mother, and every neighbor—people the Law commands us to honor and love after God, people the Gospel also honored without ranking them above Christ alone? Is it permitted to live by the sword when the Lord declared that whoever lives by the sword dies by the sword (Matthew 26:52)? Will the son of peace engage in battle when quarreling is unfitting for him? Will he administer chains, prison, torture, and execution when he is not an avenger of his own wrongs? Will he pull guard duty—perhaps even more than Christ did—or serve on the Lord's day when not even Christ did? Will he stand watch over temples he has renounced? Will he dine where the apostle says not to? Will he defend at night the very demons he exorcised by day, leaning on the spear that pierced Christ's side? Will he carry a standard that rivals Christ's? Will he demand a sign from a commander when he has already received one from God? Even in death, will a bugler's trumpet disturb him when he awaits the angel's trumpet? Will a Christian be burned by military discipline when burning was forbidden him, when Christ granted him the rewards of fire? How many other transgressions of military duty must we count as transgressions? Simply transferring the name from the camps of light to the camps of darkness is itself a transgression.

Admittedly, if faith overtakes men already in the service, the case is different—like those John admitted to baptism, like the most faithful centurions whom Christ approved and Peter catechized. Yet once faith is received and the seal given, there are only three options: desert immediately, as many have done; evade every possible way so as to commit nothing against God that the military permits; or finally, endure for God's sake, a path even pagan faith has allowed. Military service promises neither impunity for sins nor immunity for martyrs. The Christian is never anything else anywhere. There is one Gospel, and the same Jesus, who denies every denier and confesses every confessor of God, who saves the soul lost for his name and destroys the one gained against his name. Before him, a faithful pagan is as much a soldier as an unbelieving pagan is a soldier. The status of faith admits no necessities. There is no necessity to sin for those whose single necessity is not to sin. Even when someone is forced by torture or punishment to sacrifice or deny directly, discipline does not yield to that necessity, because the necessity of fearing denial and undergoing martyrdom outweighs the necessity of avoiding suffering and fulfilling duty. Moreover, this kind of justification subverts the entire substance of the sacrament, loosening the bond even for voluntary sins. The will itself can claim necessity, since it always has something to compel it. I have already established this for the other official crowns as well, where the plea of necessity is most familiar: either the offices must be avoided so we do not fall into sins, or martyrdoms must be endured so we break the offices. I will not belabor the first part of the question—the illegitimacy of military service itself—so that the second part may be addressed, lest I demolish the military entirely and then argue about its crown in vain.